Page 23 of Claiming the Tower (Council Mysteries #1)

On the whole, it was a pleasant conversation, and one with some future considerations. When she excused herself to finish her errands and get back, the others all insisted she come by again when she could. Bess sensibly said she’d try, without making any particular commitment.

The last stop was the bookstore. Bess slipped in as another woman was leaving, and the bookseller glanced up and took her in. Bess nodded. “I was wondering if you’d had any particular books in, recently?”

“Ah.” The woman came around the counter, flipped the sign on the door to indicate the shop was closed for the moment.

“I was just about to put on the tea for my lunch. Have a look in the back room, take your time.” She went to the back door, what in some other building might have been a maid’s bedroom, and opened it with a press of her hand against the warding panel.

This was the treasure trove Bess had in mind.

She understood, from conversations, that men had similar rooms in other shops, though more of theirs might be engravings or prints or something of the kind.

It was a difference in the experience and preference that deserved a proper analysis, and was unlikely to get one.

The conversations she’d had, snatched here and there, had suggested that men preferred the visual and also that men had more spaces they could store such things.

Women often found a book in an unappealing binding with a vague title easier to hide among household accounts or whatever other volumes they had.

The books here covered three sets of shelves in the narrow room, the last wall being mostly window and not suitable for shelving.

Each had been printed privately, and Bess went through the titles, running a finger along the spines.

She pulled out one that she’d long preferred for an explanation of the sort of things women might enjoy.

It was couched as a story rather than an explanatory text, two young women exploring and trying all manner of ideas, ranging from touches to toys.

The latter, Bess certainly couldn’t just bring back, absolutely not now, and the well-made ones were more money than she ought to spend besides.

But knowing the range would be helpful to Hereswith, she was sure.

After browsing a little, she selected two other volumes, new since the last time she’d been in here three years ago.

They seemed the right sort of story, even a bit of mutual adventure and care, but not focused on ingenues, either.

That was a rarer thing in the literature than it ought to be.

When she came back out, making enough noise to give the shopkeeper a warning, she found the woman perched on a stool by the counter.

“Ah, good. Close the door, if you don’t mind?” Bess did so, then brought the books over. “Wrapped up in brown paper?”

“Yes, please.” Bess caught the glance the woman gave at the particular favourite. “That’s for a friend who’s curious.”

“You always were a woman of good taste.” The bookseller— they’d deliberately never traded names— glanced up. “I heard you lost your post. Was it…” Her fingers flicked over the books.

“Oh, no. Not that. Madam Judson was in error, but I’ll not go back. I’ve a position for at least a month.” Bess hesitated, but then was brave enough to go on. “Why do you ask?”

“Sometimes a woman might help another out, in that case. Or a woman of like mind. If I hear of something, is there a way to reach you?”

“A message to the Field.” No need to slip a card across. The woman clearly knew who she was. “I’m glad I could come in again. My current place, I’ve more privacy.”

“Ah. That’s a hard burden, isn’t it? When even your bed and whatever you dream there on your own isn’t entirely safe.

” The other woman nodded at the books. “I remember those days before this. I hope you can come by again. To browse, even if you don’t buy.

Or a few of us get together for tea, evenings, if you’re ever free. ”

“Not at the moment, I’ve duties. But I’ll keep it in mind.” Bess paused. “You remember me, then?”

“Oh, I always remember the steady ones. The ones who aren’t— how to say this.

Who have the desire like a river that keeps flowing?

Not simply curious, or a matter of a schoolgirl passion.

It’s easy to see in the eyes, if you know how.

” The woman considered, then added, “I’m Maud.

Do come by if you need a friendly ear, all right?

Not so many places that can offer that.”

“Thank you.” Bess put all her earnestness into it, as Maud handed over a neatly wrapped brown paper package of the three books. “Sooner than three years, I hope, even if I don’t need the ear.” She then gestured. “I’ll leave you to your lunch?”

“Flip the sign as you go, if you wouldn’t mind? And a good day and all the best.” Maud nodded, and Bess went out, turning the sign over as she did so. It was time for her to go back to the Rowans’ home and learn more about Anglo-Saxon queens.