Page 58 of Apt to be Suspicious
Pen swallowed. “Well. All right. Is there a blanket or something of the kind for the sofa?” She could do well enough there. Five minutes later, there was a blanket, an additional pillow, and a cup of soothing tea that had apparently appeared from nowhere. Or at least nowhere that had seemed obvious to her.
Master Benton made a slight bow. “If you would ask young master Edmund to write and let us know when he’s awake and about, that would also be appreciated. If there is a concern you feel you cannot resolve on your own, here.” He presented two business cards from an inside pocket. “Magister Landry and myself. Journal would be most efficient.” Pen did not know what to say to that, but she nodded once. Then he made various civil farewells, and disappeared out the door, leaving Pen alone in the sitting room.
First things first. That meant she wrote to Audrey in her journal, asking her to cover, and got a prompt reply that Audrey was glad to. Next, there was the tisane, which was sufficiently soothing that Pen was sure it had some sort of enchantment on it, or perhaps a drop of something.
After drinking the tea, she curled up with a book, a charmlight to read by, and the blanket. The sofa was surprisingly comfortable to nap on, unlike most furniture of its sort. There were no unpleasant lumps or itchy bits. Somewhere in the middle of the night, she drifted off, only to be woken rather later by a quiet rap on the door of the conservatory. There was light there, now.
The rapping did not, apparently, wake Edmund. But it meant Pen came out to find the landlady with a tray that had a covered dish of food— two of them— and a folded newspaper. The woman did not seem startled to see Pen there, but Pen hadn’t wanted to say much, for fear of waking Edmund.
Then, of course, the paper was sitting there staring at her. She flipped through it, but then she ended up peering at the crossword. Of course, she wouldn’t actually do it. It was not her paper. Bad enough for Edmund to find her here unasked. Doing his crossword would be entirely overstepping.
Instead, she made notes on a bit of scrap paper she kept tucked in the back of her journal. She was so pleased that she’d remembered “Clough’s problematical dupes” was probably hopes. Someone at Bletchley had been fond of reciting the poem. It meant she didn’t realise there’d been a sound until Edmund coughed and she jumped.
“Pen?” She twisted on the sofa to find him rubbing his eyes. “Beg pardon.” He tugged a dressing gown around him more firmly, belting it, though she could see pyjama-clad legs and slippers beneath. “Did you— wait.” The last bit had a sound like a question to it, the raising pitch. Even just barely awake after a complicated evening, he looked as if he meant to be like that. As if there were no other way for a man like him to look. Tousled, that was the word, but in a way that suggested intimacy and trust, as well as handsomeness.
“I offered to stay. There’s breakfast when you’re ready.” She pushed herself upright. “Shall I set it out? Make a fresh pot of tea? Would you like me to go?”
“Please.” He looked better than last night at the end, not nearly so faded. And he was more or less making sense. Then he caught himself. “Please to the tea, if it’s not a bother. Do stay if you don’t need to rush off.”
He disappeared, almost silently, back to his bedroom. Pen first washed her hands— they were all smudged with ink from the paper— and then made some tea and set out the food. She was bemused by the second plate. But both had been charmed to keep steaming hot, and it was certainly a better meal than she’d get in hall.
Edmund reappeared perhaps thirty seconds after she’d set out the tray, the tea still steeping. “Oh, I’m famished. You must be too. You needn’t have stayed. I’m sure Master Benton would have if it had been necessary. And won’t you—” He cut off.
“Audrey covered for me. Quite successfully, she left me a note a few minutes ago. Do you have anywhere you need to be today?” Pen nudged the food closer. “You ought to eat.”
“Lecture at ten, though as it’s the Odyssey, I might not actually be able to keep a straight face. But we’re getting into Odysseus’s appearance at his palace, and I do always rather like the bit about the dog. Argos.” He glanced up. “We’re not really a dog family, oddly. Horses and hawks, and a cat here or there. But the idea of it appeals in that sort of story.”
“Well, you can walk me back up then, and claim, um. I don’t know. I came down this far to have a look at some bird or flower or something.” Then she grimaced. “That won’t do. Someone will ask me what.”
“Never lie like that when someone can catch you out.” Edmund rubbed his nose. “Swifts. Say you were watching how they settled. They migrate here for the summer, they’ve been here about a month. Something, something, mathematical patterns, something?” He looked up hopefully.
She snorted. “I can work with that well enough, yes. Eat your breakfast, would you?” Once he had obligingly begun to eat, she felt she could as well. Once she’d had a few bites, she asked, “Will it be a problem with your landlady?”
“Oh, no. First, I’m sure Master Benton explained something suitable. And second, well. She’s magical, much less fussy about that particular question of virtue. Not that I think virtue is determined that way. I could give you— not just yet— an exegesis on the varying definitions of virtue and whether chastity ought to play into that. But Albion works on other considerations, by and large.”
“I am not somehow ruined, as a damsel in a novel might be.” Pen shrugged. “Besides. I’m not at all your sort, am I?”
She heard him put the fork down, the clink of it. “What makes you think that, please?” She looked up to find him blinking at her, his voice absolutely neutral. It was as if someone had presented him with an unexpected fact. Surely it wasn’t unexpected.
“Men of your background don’t particularly want clever women. Or at least women who are clever in public.” It sounded ridiculous as she said it. It had always felt ridiculous in her head. But that didn’t make it less true as an accurate model of the world.
Edmund blinked at her again, then he started laughing. It was a good thing he’d set his food down, because it was the sort of laugh that went on and on, until he could barely breathe.
It infuriated her even more. Surely he had to be working by the rules she expected. She might be some use to a man like Edmund for a particular plot. She liked to think she’d been some help, anyway, in several ways. But men like him didn’t pay attention to women like her otherwise. Like Circe’s mother, though Pen was from a social class and background that wouldn’t permit being taken on as someone’s mistress, acknowledged or not. Not if she wanted Grandfather and Aunt Agnes alive and not dead from scandal.
He kept laughing annoyingly, not saying anything at all. She could only peer at him, wishing she had her glasses to look over. Pen had an idea of how to be an imperious schoolmistress. She had no idea how to be someone else. Someone for whom that laugh would be anything other than a problem.
Finally, he managed to gasp. “Not the problem. Not at all.”
Pen did not know what to do with this. Not remotely. He waved a hand at her, and she folded her hands in her lap, just waiting.
Finally, he managed to get himself sorted out, to take a sip of tea. “Being clever is not a problem. Remember, I said I’ve described you as clever in ways I am and clever in ways I’m not. I rather like both, thank you.” He waved a hand at the crossword, tucked onto a corner of the table. “As I said, I know what you were doing during the war, at least in broad strokes. I’m entirely clear you can run rings around me in your own speciality.”
“And?” Pen was certain she was missing something. Though what he’d said had a certain logical framework to it, it was not remotely sufficient for decrypting.
“That requires me to talk about my mother, in which case I will not make it to my lecture on time.” He glanced over at the shelves. “Would you be amenable to coming back here this evening? I can provide some sort of refreshment, but we should probably both appear at hall.”
Pen let out a huff of breath. “All right.” She glanced at her plate and added, “It is pleasant to have a change from that, I should have said sooner.”
