He waved her to a chair
opposite him. She sat down, raising an enquiring eyebrow, but he
merely instructed the butler to bring them some Madeira. The two of
them relaxed and remained in companionable silence until the butler
returned with the requested beverage and glasses and finally left
them alone.
Melissa couldn't hold
in her questions any more: “Doesn't he think it's odd you're
treating a servant with such familiarity?”
“Good God, you didn't
knock on the servants' door did you?”
“No, I came to the
front door: I had to hand over the note.”
He relaxed and took a
swig of his wine. “You are now my young cousin, once or twice
removed, visiting with your family in town. Having heard of my need
for exercise my esteemed family have arranged among themselves that
you shall be the reason and method by which I gain said exercise. In
short, I am to escort you to various training sites in the hopes that
exposure to you doing so will incite me to further efforts on my own
behalf. My man knows that this is frustrating to me and when you
arrive uninvited in future he will assume it is another attempt to
excite me. I believe he will secretly sympathise with your cause –
he was a footman when I was a boy and has frequently demonstrated a
paternal sense of responsibility where I am concerned.”
She smiled. “Well,
cousin, where do we go from here?”
“I was not expecting
you so soon and I have to admit I'm deeply impressed: I haven't heard
a whisper of you doing anything at all inappropriate to get those
garments.”
“You may perhaps be
aware that I have recently taken on a page boy?”
He laughed. “I see.
Congratulations.” After another swig he carried on: “There is no
reason to delay, we can head to Jackson's immediately. However, I
think your costume would benefit from a few adjustments.” He
touched the bell beside him. After a few moments the butler
reappeared and was instructed to send his man down. When that
individual arrived he had obviously had some forewarning of Phillip's
intention and carried a small jewel box with him. From it Phillip
selected a selection of small, but good quality jewels and bestowed
them upon Melissa. “A small gift for you. I hope we can prepare you
for your official arrival upon the town next year.”
Meliss stared at the
sparkling jewels in her hands and began to blush. She slipped the
ring on with some confidence and hooked the fob into her waistcoat,
but the other three pins utterly bewildered her and she looked at
them feeling forlorn and lost. Phillip's man bowed and murmured: “If
you would permit me, sir?”
She jerked, startled,
but quickly consented and he deftly placed the pins in the simple
knot in her cravat.
“We shall have to
teach you some new styles for your cravat! For the moment however, it
will suffice. If you are finished with your drink, shall we leave? I
fear I will need to travel by carriage, but it is not a long
journey.”
“We have to wait
while the carriage is called, though, surely?”
“I called for the
carriage when I read your note. It will be ready and waiting for our
convenience.”
She nodded and drew
herself to her feet. Phillip followed suit more slowly and, after a
slightly severe glance in her direction, his manservant went to his
aid. Once he was upright, Melissa moved to the door and held it open
as Phillip used the servant as a crutch. Once in the hallway he was
presented with his cane which he took thankfully. The journey to the
carriage was clearly trying for him – Melissa felt instinctively
that he would never admit to weakness so she made every effort to
hide her sympathy. Once they were safely within, she chattered
inanely to give him some privacy while he regained his breath.
When she paused, he cut
in without waiting for permission: “He was annoyed at you for not
being civil enough to offer me your support. As a young man, you are
expected to act with a certain level of courtesy towards ladies, the
elderly and the inform. By leaving it to Franklin you were being
disrespectful to me.”
“Oh.”
He raised his eyebrows
at her non committal response and, as she was still gazing out of the
window, she turned her gaze to him for an explanation of the sudden
silence. His gaze remained steadily upon her and his wordless reproof
suddenly burst through to her consciousness. She blushed deeply as
his point came through to her.
“I'm so sorry! I
hadn't realised... it wasn't intentional, I assure you!”
“You are known to be
a callow youth and as such you have a certain amount of leeway
granted to you. However, if you make such a mistake again, you will
assuredly be noted and close observation is something you must avoid
at all costs. I recommend you make a point of researching the social
expectations of a young gentleman in your supposed position and be
more prepared for your next outing. We are due to arrive momentarily
and my expectation of you for the next hour is that you demonstrate a
young man's gawkiness – look around as much as you wish, but do not
engage with anyone. Offer me your help dismounting from the carriage,
but do not offer me any kind of physical support once within the
training rooms. I will observe your bout with Jackson from the
sidelines. Did you bring a mask?”
She nodded and unfolded
the cloth from her coat pocket. At his indication she wound it around
her face and tied it off. The carriage stopped and nobody opened the
door. Abruptly realising just how accustomed she had become to doing
nothing for herself, she remembered his instructions and sprang into
action. She opened the door carefully, checking that there was no-one
behind it. She then offered Phillip a hand from the carriage, but he
thrust his cane into her hands and waited for her to offer her elbow
for him to lean on instead. At first she had thought he was being
fussy, but when she felt the weight of him she understood – her
extended arm would have crumpled beneath him. At least taking the
weight on her elbow she had a better chance of managing it.
When he reached the
pavement she couldn't restrain a sigh of relief. He glanced
sardonically at her and the two of them made their way to the
entrance. Phillip got them through the doorway and immediately
escorted to the private training room. As they crossed the room she
followed his permission and gazed around, wide eyed and with jaw
fractionally unhinged. Around her were society men – many of whom
she recognised – dressed only in breeches and shirtsleeves. One or
two had removed their shirts altogether and she was hard pressed not
to briefly check them out. As she dawdled, Phillip had pulled
slightly ahead and he looked back and called her to his side again.
The raised voice
carried slightly and across the room a blond head turned and glanced
disinterestedly first at Phillip and then, when he saw the companion,
more sharply and intently. The youth was completely shrouded in black
with a few jewels alleviating the monotony, but what had attracted
attention was his gait. Sir Francis watched the pair being led into
the closed training room and returned to his own activities with a
frown. After a minute, he observed Jackson himself enter the room and
he unconsciously moved towards that door. Leaning casually against
the wall – ostensibly watching a bout going on between two of his
contemporaries – Sir Francis listened carefully for sounds from
next door.
There were several
thuds, thumps and grunting sounds. He bit his lip at one particularly
high pitched grunt, but it was a familiar sounding cry that led him
to break with the rules of the establishment and open the door. In
the centre of the room, Melissa's back was to him but he could see
she was still masked and Jackson's burly frame was moving with the
speed, fluidity and control that had seen him named champion. Phillip
was resting casually in a chair near the wall and Sir Francis
wondered at his calm. Within seconds however, he was wondering no
more: Melissa had ducked a punch with ease, blocked an incoming left,
using Jackson's strength and momentum to shift her position relative
to him and once his right was incoming again she ducked backwards
and, in a single motion both smooth and winding she somehow swung
around the giant's arm and delivered four body blows and, when his
guard dropped in response to her focussed attack, she swung her right
fist up and across and – to Francis' eye – damn near broke the
champion's jaw.
As he staggered
backwards, Melissa called out “Close the door, Frank. I don't
particularly want an audience.”
Phillip and Jackson
both snapped their heads to the door and Francis grinned as he
slipped into the room. He leaned against the door and crossed his
arms as he observed the duellists. Twenty minutes later, Jackson was
exhausted. His training and bouts did not typically include a half
hour of continuous effort. Melissa, on the other hand, was accustomed
to a full hour session of high intensity exercise and even the
indulgences of the last few months had not eradicated her stamina.
When Jackson indicated
he was ready to bow out, Francis made his way up to the ring and
bowed before her. “If you will permit me, madam, I believe you are
in need of a sparring partner.”
She was still angry at
him: his letter and flowers had not been sufficient to overwrite the
insult she had felt in his words and he was conscious of the distance
she was keeping him at. “I understand your reluctance,” he
assured her in lower tones, “and I do not expect you to immediately
see me as a partner, but you stand in need of either a partner or a
punching bag and I am conscious that I need to earn your forgiveness.
That being the case, may I offer myself as a punching bag?”
She bowed to him and
they took up positions. For a while they measured each other up,
casting the occasional shot, but after a few minutes she moved in for
an attack. Her motions were as calculated as they had been against
Jackson, but underlying each motion now was an intention to wound
that she had not felt previously. After fifteen minutes she was
beginning to wane, but she pointed out that it was unlikely that any
real world encounters would go by the Queensbury rules and she would
like, if Jackson had someone in his employ who could help, to fight
freestyle for a short time. Jackson nodded and drew two of his men
into the room.
It was made very clear
to them that they would not be fighting to any known rules. Anything
was allowed and to leave the combat they had to move beyond the line
that marked the edge of the ring. The two men nodded and strolled
casually into the centre, clearly not impressed by the slight youth
that stood before them. The bell rang and the two men swung almost
simultaneously. She dropped to the floor and span around, hooking her
feet around the ankles of the guy on the right and brought him
crashing to the floor. Pushing herself upright was significantly more
difficult than she remembered it being and she made a mental note to
take up a morning routine of push-ups as she brought her knee up into
the other guy's kidney. The first had fallen heavily but was fresh
and returned to the fight rapidly. Their attitude had noticeably
changed and Melissa was hard pressed to manage their aggression. Her
advantage was her mobility, their were strength and number – she
couldn't keep them both in front of her at all times and each one of
their blows had significantly more impact than three or four of hers.
Her strategy quickly became to knock one out of play temporarily
while working on knocking the other out permanently.
Ten minutes later, the
bell rang again and Melissa fell panting to the floor. Francis handed
her a tankard of ale and a cloth to wipe her face with and she tried
to recover for five minutes before he lifted her to her feet and
several hands returned various items of clothing to her. Jackson had
ushered his men out immediately after the bout and now remained to
shake her hand and invite her back at any time that suited her
convenience. Phillip escorted her out again and Francis remained
behind redressing and making his way to a club to sit in quiet
contemplation over this most unlikely female.
From that point,
Melissa received a daily letter from Francis, some brief notes, some
more lengthy epistles, but each with a trivial gift; flowers, a small
fan, a little clip, each marked as a token of affection. She
reciprocated by letting him know the dates and times of her trips to
the boxing saloon and the two of them sparred under Phillip's
watchful eye. Melissa's fitness returned rapidly to full and she was
able to throw herself into the freestyle in a way that always shocked
her sparring partners. In time John, James and Michael all attended
the training sessions with her and took on the freestyle fighting
practice wherever possible. Paul had left the city for business at
his parents' home and James was not willing to communicate this
practice by letter, so he remained unaware of their latest habits.
Jackson himself, after three or four weeks observing her in action,
requested her permission to introduce a new fighter to her and
brought out a small Oriental man. In her male persona, Melissa
exchanged bows and courtesies with the newcomer who was introduced as
Chan.
She had encountered
Oriental martial artists previously and she was excited to train with
him. As all the men around her except Francis were aware of the
device she felt no compunction in pretending she had no exposure to
Oriental cultures. She invited him to combat in the one phrase that
she knew and he bowed. The two of them took their places and the men
in and around the room watched their swift, bounding activity with
jaws dropped. After less than three minutes, Melissa was pinned to
the floor with her right arm in a lock and she cried out
involuntarily. Phillip, Francis and John all started forward, but
Chan immediately released her and the two took their bows and entered
round two. Again, Melissa was comprehensively defeated and this time
in under a minute. Her arm was aching, but showed no signs of serious
or long term damage, so she merely excused herself from direct combat
and requested instead that Chan demonstrate some of the moves he had
used against her.
Typically, the
gentlemen of the time were used to sparring as a means of learning to
fight. What Melissa and Chan engaged in, practising moves without an
opponent, or positioning themselves in a peculiar stretch was
completely new to them and seemed bizarre to their eyes. To Melissa
it was exhilarating and for a few moments she felt she could be at
home again.
At the end of the
session she made her farewells to Chan and invited him to return to
their weekly sessions. As she made her way home with Phillip, Francis
quietly pulled him to one side and requested training in that manner
of fighting on a one to one basis. Before she left Phillip, Melissa
mentioned that the Oriental exercises were extremely beneficial to
recuperation and he also contacted Chan to learn the fighting style
and develop his musculature once more.
Throughout it all,
Phillip and Melissa had been worrying over how best to protect
Wellington. She was not overly concerned about the passage of time:
she knew the threat was coming but felt they needed to be active at
the time of the assassination and prevent it happening. Phillip
however was more interested in beginning their preparations and
hopefully stopping the assassin on an earlier attempt. However, they
were both aware that there was nothing they could do at all until
Phillip had once again returned to the offices.
