Chapter 34
That evening
By the time Edmund appeared, Pen was fretting herself to pieces.
She’d thought she’d learned how to deal with the waiting, knowing something big was about to happen, but not how it would go.
It turned out that code-breaking was not quite the same thing as waiting for Edmund to set off what he had in mind.
Maybe it was also about the nature of the work at hand.
At Bletchley, she’d known what would happen, the sequence of it.
Here, she not only had no idea, not really, but Edmund hadn’t either.
He’d sketched out the range of possibilities, what he’d prepared for. That wasn’t enough.
She was worried, tremendously worried, about the drink.
But Master Benton, when she looked at him, seemed entirely at ease about it.
Pen took a breath, folded her hands in her lap, and waited some more.
The good thing— well, better than the alternative— was that they could hear what was said clearly.
When Edmund asked about the name, about Circe, there was a long silence.
The next thing she heard was, “Pen, would you join us?”
Master Benton nodded once, and so Pen stood, opening the door, closing it behind her, and doing her best to walk evenly across the room. “Yes?” Now that she could see, she could tell that Cecily— Circe— whatever the name was, was pale.
“I’d like you to hear this as well, if you don’t mind.
Circe, would you shift to the other chair?
I’ll take the sofa. Oh, and Pen, don’t drink the mead, of course.
” With his free hand, the one not around Circe’s wrist, he cast some sort of charm.
“The chair, please.” He released her hand, but it was clear that if Circe made any movement that was not permitted, something would happen.
Circe cleared her throat, stood, and then moved to the chair.
Edmund stood, taking the now empty sofa, and leaving the remaining chair for Pen.
She realised suddenly that he was putting himself between her and the other woman in case of anything— well.
Anything. Once they were all rearranged, rather like chess pieces on a board, Edmund spoke again.
“I would like some answers. Those answers will determine what we do next. For one thing, I have extant oaths about reporting people who are concealing themselves with an eye to harming those of Britain.”
Circe’s eyes went wide. “Not what I expected, no.”
Edmund shrugged once. Pen felt something like being at a tennis match, watching a ball bounce back and forth, with points being scored, but with nuances she did not fully understand.
“If you had, that would be a different situation.” His voice was even, measured, though Pen thought he was not entirely as calm as he seemed.
“Now. I will call a charm that will make it clear if you are speaking the truth. I will make oath not to use magic to harm you for the duration of the conversation, if you wish, and until we figure out a suitable resolution.”
“What are you going to ask about?” Circe now seemed almost resigned. She tried to lift a hand to brush a bit of hair back behind her ear and apparently found her movement restrained. “Let me go.”
“You are not being harmed.” Now, Edmund had a drawl to him, something about an assumption of power and privilege that was not at all like he normally was in private.
Or even much in public. Then, he rattled off a formal oath, on his magic, that he was seeking truth in this conversation, to resolve issues that posed a threat to Oxford and to Albion, as well as to the non-magical of Britain.
It ended with the statement that he committed to not using magic to harm her for the duration.
Pen could see the moment the oath itself caught, a flash of something complicated in his eyes. Then he went right on, into a charm of some kind, in ornate legal Latin. “There. Tell me your name, the one your family knows you by.”
Circe shivered, looking over at the fireplace. Then she looked back at Edmund, ignoring Pen entirely. “Circe Summers.” It was not a name that Pen knew, though the initials were consistent.
“And your family?” Edmund pressed. “Who are they?”
There was a toss of her head. “My father was Josse Williams.” She did not continue.
Edmund raised an eyebrow. “He died last autumn. My condolences on your loss.” Something in that made Circe shiver, a bone-deep movement that wasn’t hiding anything for a few seconds.
Edmund waited until she’d quieted and then conversationally added to Pen, “You might remember I mentioned Margot Williams in discussion a while ago. Josse Williams was Reynold’s younger brother. ”
Pen nodded, not entirely sure what to do with that information. Edmund went on to Circe. “That would be a fair part of why you were avoiding me in particular, then. Were you close to your aunt and uncle?”
“You tell me.” Circe shrugged, as best she could. “You seem to have put a lot of it together.”
“I’d rather you set it out. You know I’ll know if you’re lying, two ways round.” Edmund leaned back a little.
“Tell me how you’re not under my charms.” Circe did not quite spit it out but made it a challenge.
“A little alchemical preparation does wonders. Mercury bears many gifts, moly among them.” Pen knew that reference, about how Odysseus had won free of the original Circe’s enchantments with a sacred plant named moly.
And the fact he’d used the Roman name, not the Greek, Mercury rather than Hermes, that was also telling, if not in a way Miss Styles might pay attention to right now.
Edmund’s voice was crisp again. “Now, Circe.”
Pen wanted to draw back. Something in his tone was utterly implacable.
Circe took a breath, then said. “Mum was Father’s mistress.
A maid on the estate originally. He treated us well, all of us.
Set up Mum to do piecework sewing, taught her charms so she had her own income.
He made sure we had a solid education, alongside the legitimate cousins.
We had a cottage on the main estate, far enough from the house that it wasn’t visible. ”
“We.” Edmund raised an eyebrow. “You, your mother. Others?”
“Four sisters.” Circe said that slowly. “I am the oldest. I’d do anything to keep them safe. I have—” She looked away toward the fireplace. “That’s what I’ve done.”
“Tell me a little about your sisters. The ages. Then what you were trying to do, why you’ve been going by Cecily Styles.” Edmund was pressing, but Pen was taken by how gentle he was about it. These were demands, she knew that, but he was not angry. Pen would have been angry in his place.
“Our mother died last spring. A year ago, now.” Circe’s voice dropped, almost into a whisper. “I’m the oldest, just turned twenty-three. Helen is eighteen, Leda is twelve, Thetis is ten. And Iris is three.”
“So you feel responsible for them.” Now, Edmund was quiet. “I have sisters, too. I’d do anything for them. What’s changed for you this autumn?”
Circe sucked in a breath. “You know enough how the Williams are as a family. It’s certainly been in all the gossip papers over the years.
Intensely private. Father married when Helen was two.
” Pen thought it at least partially explained the gap in ages.
“His wife cannot have children. Or so Mum thought. Not something he’d talk about with her.
When Mum died, he kept up the cottage, he came to visit to check on us.
Helen’s kept the household things going.
She’s very, well. She is beautiful, but steady.
Helen in Menelaus’s home, in the Odyssey.
It’s a favourite set of tales at home, for the obvious reasons. ”
“In charge of a smoothly running household. But also quite willing to apply a bit of a potion to keep it that way,” Edmund said, and now he sounded almost amused. “I can see how that would be a family specialty. The sort of things you can do without a proper alchemy lab, though?”
“Oh, we had access to the lab when we needed it. When I turned eighteen, I begged to go do something, anywhere. Not in Albion, I had known all my life that would raise too many questions. I had made the Pact, of course, but it was witnessed by my grandfather, Father’s father.”
“Private,” Edmund agreed. “And?”
“I was in London, working at a canteen, one of the ATS girls. It was, it wasn’t the sort of work I really wanted to do.
They were trying to find somewhere else for me.
But there were new people there, men, women, all ages.
That was everything I’d wanted, a breath of the world beyond the estate.
I got to be friendly with another girl, Cecily Styles.
We’d tease about the names, the monograph, how close they were.
And we looked quite a lot alike, especially in a photo.
” Again she stopped, and swallowed. “There was a bomb, the building collapsed. She was killed. Bricks fell on her head.”
Pen realised suddenly that Circe had seen her friend die, had seen her dead. No one had to say that, spell that out. That was a war Pen hadn’t seen. All of the deaths she’d known about had been at a distance. Now, she cleared her throat to murmur, “I am so sorry for your loss.”
Circe focused on her suddenly, making Pen feel very much as if she’d caught the attention of some great predatory cat. A cat and not a wolf, wolves came in groups, and this was a solitary hunt. Then she took a little half-breath. “Thank you.” Before anyone could say anything else, she went on.
“I could get at her papers, shove my fake ones into her jacket. I turned myself into her. It wasn’t hard.
Cecily didn’t have family, just a great-aunt in charge of a trust for her.
Not much money but enough to cover her expenses at university.
The aunt didn’t see her often. Cecily had said how she was increasingly blind and hard of hearing. I could figure out who I was.”
She sucked in a breath, let it out, then went on.
As if now that she’d started, nothing was going to stop her.
“Of course, there was the war. I got moved into other duties, nothing— nothing complicated, but it mattered. Cecily had earned a place at Oxford, and so I came up. We’d had enough overlap of languages, and I could claim I’d picked up more talking to people in the ATS.
No one asked a lot of questions. They were far more concerned about making sure there were enough rooms for people. ”
“And the men?” Edmund nodded along with all of that.
“The men.” Circe’s chin came up. “My father’s wife.
” That was said as if it were a curse. As if she wouldn’t speak the name, just the role, with a sudden bitterness that had been absent from the conversation so far.
“She wishes to adopt Iris. Only Iris. Raise her as her own child, no contact with the rest of us.”
Pen shivered at it before venturing. “I can see why you wouldn’t want that. And there’s nothing that would help?”
“The only way to stop it is for me to marry well, quickly, and give my sisters a home. Independence. Not with my new husband, necessarily. But enough money for a cottage or a flat or whatever. Helen can keep things going. But somewhere— somewhere that woman can’t do anything.”
Edmund had leaned forward. “I can see the logic. But they’d be able to find you, surely. Blood location charms.”
Circe shrugged. “I had some ideas for that. It’s not like they can draw on Father’s blood at this point, either.
And of course, we’d protect Iris most of all.
” Then she waved her fingers. “Where could I have gone for help? Uncle Reynold and Aunt Margot can’t help.
Grandfather died. Father’s dead. There’s no one to speak for us within the family, no one who cares even so much as to raise a concern.
Certainly no one is asking us what we want. ”
“And so you— the things with the men.” Pen stumbled over her words, but Edmund nodded at her. “That was all about trying to find someone.”
“Non-magical, the charms work better there, more reliably.” Circe snorted.
“Also, they’ve no protection against them.
The honey-wine makes people agreeable in a particular way.
Not threatening. If we married, I’d do something different.
” She added, “I didn’t particularly wish to hurt them, but they will not be able to hurt me.
Or my sisters. They have plenty of money. I need it. They won’t miss it.”
Edmund nodded slowly. “And what would you do with your life? You also stole some jewels, yes?”
“I did.” Circe grimaced. “I haven’t been able to sell them. I understand there are such things as fences, but it’s not as if any of them will speak to someone like me, someone who is— whose person is like me.”
“Lay out the range of your skills for me, would you?” Edmund leaned forward, tapping his fingers together. “I am beginning to have an idea.”
Circe looked entirely sceptical, but she took a breath and then laid out a list. “French, German, Italian. I’ve been picking up Russian.
I can write a presentable essay in English, and read a map.
Magically, I’ve trained both in sewn enchantments and in various potions.
Not fully an alchemist, most of it is stillroom work, but for a variety of purposes.
Calm, sleep, someone not noticing me. Charms that can do the same, at least in a limited way.
Charms to make me seem like I want to be seen, mostly.
” Her chin came up. “I’d like to know what you spotted, if you’ll tell me. What made you pay attention?”
“Oh.” Edmund nodded once. “In that case, we might come to some agreement.” He lifted his fingers. “And yes, one that would keep your sisters safe in a way acceptable to you.”
Pen blinked at him, her mouth open. She was only not embarrassed by this because she saw the exact same expression on Circe’s face.