Page 3 of Claiming the Tower (Council Mysteries #1)

B y the time Hereswith made it to The Field, she was tempted to turn around and go right on home.

It had been a particularly tedious sort of day, in half a dozen ways.

Days that were tedious in one mode were entirely understandable, but this had involved two annoying but necessary meetings, two unnecessary meetings, and having to explain the basics of her work twice.

Also, far too many cups of lukewarm and over-steeped tea. The last was just an insult, honestly.

If she went home, she would fume to herself for hours.

That was not good for her. Nor was it kind to people she’d be around tomorrow.

That was mostly Marcus, who was blameless in today’s annoyances.

He’d done his best to redirect the conversation, with slightly more success than she’d had, but only slightly. So, here she was, at The Field.

At Bourne’s or Wishton’s— she had memberships at both, given her work and family— she’d just have found more reasons to be annoyed.

The Field, however, offered at least the hope of something different.

There might be some pleasant conversation she could enjoy, a card game to join, or just a quiet meal with a book with other people around.

“Mistress Rowan, a good evening. Did you wish a private room? Your favourite is open, or there’s space in the conversation room or the reading room.

” Adelaide Ledger’s glance dropped to the sheet on her podium.

“We’ve a table at half six for an early supper, or eight for a later one.

Other times, if you’re willing to share.

” Adelaide knew her preferences, of course, as she knew every member of the club.

Or at least every member who came here regularly.

She’d reigned over her particular duties for twenty years now, starting during Hereswith’s own schooldays, though she’d been employed at the club longer than that.

What Hereswith appreciated more and more was Adelaide’s deft sense of judging a situation from a few words.

Hereswith’s mood was obviously showing at least a little, given that the first offer had been for a private room.

But not so much that Adelaide had hesitated to suggest the more public spaces. It was a useful calibration.

“The conversation room, please. And a decent cup of tea and something modest to go with it. I’m likely to eat supper at home.

” She often shared a table here, but it was a question of who she’d be sharing with.

The thing about the Field was, all of them being of Horse House, it would not be sharp and tense, most likely.

But it didn’t mean that any two members had a great deal in common.

Hereswith could discuss the day’s paper and news, the current bohort matches, and the latest theatre and performances in Trellech as well as the next woman, but that only went so far over a meal.

“Of course, Mistress Rowan, this way.” The halls were quiet enough right now, making it a relatively simple process to go down to the conversation room at the end of the ground floor on the left. Only about half the chairs were taken, and Hereswith selected one by itself, near a pair.

She nodded at the woman sitting alone there, Bess Marley.

Bess was enough older, seven years, that they’d not overlapped at school.

And not here very often, only ever on a Tuesday.

It was the sort of detail that Hereswith tracked without comment these days, because those patterns could be useful in the small dance of diplomacy.

Hereswith promptly settled her skirts, letting them spread out.

The chair was deliciously comfortable, of course.

No piece of furniture at The Field was permitted to be anything else.

Adelaide waited until she was seated, then spoke quietly, sufficient it would not be overheard, and with a little shift of protocol.

“Would you have a moment in the next week or two to speak to someone? Eloise Hunter, she’s having a spot of bother in her current role. One to another.”

Eloise was a member of the Society of the White Horse, as both Adelaide and Hereswith were.

But she’d gone to Snap rather than to Schola— well, as most of the White Horse did.

That did not always prepare people as directly for the machinations of Albion’s Ministry.

Eloise had been in her role, oh, it had been about two years.

That meant the disruption of promotions and additional duties.

Hereswith nodded. “Yes, of course. Here or at a cafe she likes. Or at home, if she’d rather be more sure of privacy. Would you let her know how to get in touch with me? I’m hoping to be at the Beltane gathering near home, too. But she’s from Norfolk, yes?”

“She is. I’ll let her know to write you here or at home, and that you’re glad to find the time. She was afraid of being presumptuous. I suspect that’s part of the current problem she’s facing.” Adelaide offered her a smile.

“Glad to. And thank you for reassuring her it wasn’t a problem to ask me.

” There were times Hereswith had to say no to such things, simply because she couldn’t be in six places at the same time.

But whenever she could, she wanted to lend a hand.

Navigating bureaucracy— or worse, people who insisted there wasn’t one— was a particular skill.

Many people could learn it, but not generally without some mentoring and assistance.

Here, Hereswith wondered if Eloise had run headlong into some pillar of the Ministry who insisted on doing things a particular way.

Heaven help anyone who thought otherwise, in such cases.

Learning to go around such obstructions was a key part of her work, but an often infuriating one.

It wasted so much time and effort, entirely unnecessarily.

No use fussing over it until she had more information.

Hereswith took a breath and brought out her book.

Five minutes later, she had a pot of tea in front of her and one of the tiered tea plates. Hereswith let out a pleased sigh. Plenty of food, too, likely more than Hereswith would eat.

To her left, Bess moved a little, the sound of someone who wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be overheard.

Hereswith twisted. “Would you like to join me? There’s plenty.

I’d not mind a little conversation.” After all, she had picked the conversation room.

She’d had other options if she wanted to be left alone.

Bess offered a smile, cautious, as if someone might disapprove.

But then she moved her chair over, rather than waiting for one of the staff.

It made a comfortable little grouping, close enough to talk quietly, without feeling crowded.

“I think Adelaide noticed I’d had a more difficult day than I’d have chosen.

” Hereswith said. “She has an excellent eye for that.”

Bess glanced down. “You’re certain you want to share?”

“Oh, yes. There’s two of everything. And I admit, while the spiced biscuits are excellent, they’re not actually my favourite.”

“Which do you like best, then? You have both, and I’ll have your spice biscuit.” One, Hereswith noticed, not both.

“Have both. Please. And I like the lemon best. Or chocolate, but they have a knack with the lemon. I do like a bit of citrus.” That at least made it possible to divvy up the food on offer.

Hereswith poured tea out for both of them.

Bess added cream and two lumps of sugar to hers, a little furtively, and Hereswith considered whether to ask about that.

“You’re only ever here on Tuesdays, aren’t you? And— pardon, I forget the details.” Also, she’d heard it secondhand, she was fairly sure. “You’re a companion somewhere?”

“Tuesday, yes. Madam Judson plays whist with three friends every Tuesday and has no need of my services for the afternoon.” Bess glanced at the clock near them, ticking quietly. “I’ve an hour before I need to go meet her.”

“I’m quite certain you know it to the minute,” Hereswith said. She didn’t speak carelessly, but she was noticing the way Bess’s precision played out. “Madam Judson does not approve of cream or sugar in tea, I gather.”

Bess looked down. “I’d not speak against her.”

“Of course not. It’s not sensible for you to do so.

May I add a charm for privacy?” Hereswith knew a dozen, suited for different needs.

Of course being able to have or confirm the privacy of a conversation was an essential magical skill in her line of work.

Bess nodded once and Hereswith cast it wordlessly.

Then she added the audible charm that demonstrated it was in play.

“Oh. My. That’s deft. I appreciate the consideration. You’d said it was a difficult day. Or more difficult.” Bess’s shoulders relaxed now the charm was up. “I can’t afford for Madam Judson to hear anything that would displease her. So much does.”

Hereswith nodded once, making note of the shift in her voice, like a breeze shifting the leaves.

She was fortunate, so fortunate, that she was not dependent on any elderly relative for her well-being.

She had her own salary from the Ministry, though that wouldn’t let her live as she did on its own.

Papa was loving, generous, and entirely ready to support her spending her time as she chose.

But she could and did empathise. “It must be a constant strain to live so. And the sort of people who particularly want a companion so often want them at their beck and call, all hours of the day and night. So little time for yourself. I gather that’s part of why a certain kind of woman requires a companion, someone who will do as they bid, regardless of the rest of the world. ”

“That, yes. I treasure the Tuesdays. I get to decide the order for a few hours. Shall I have tea first, or read, or read and have tea simultaneously? On a pleasant day, I could choose to walk in one of the gardens. On a rainy one, to sit by the window.”