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Chapter twelve
Moll’s new job
Thefencingacademywas in uproar when Lucinda finally arrived home. Having had little sleep her resources were depleted and her patience frayed, leaving her ill-equipped to deal with Ferguson’s volley of complaints the moment she set foot in the door.
“There is nothing ready. I had to find my own weapons. No ale to drink, no food to break our fast.”
Deep breath.
Smile.
It was difficult to remain calm but a safer option than piercing his inflated sense of importance with the tip of her favorite sword.
”Is my grandmother not here?”
“Your father tells me she is out birthing some brat. The Spanish are coming today, and nothing is ready. This is not good enough.” Ferguson had an annoying habit of standing with his feet apart and his hands crossed in front of his crotch when he was barking out orders, a habit she had noted but tolerated until now. Whether it was the placement of his hands or his hectoring tone, or how unimportant his concerns compared to the plight of Rosalind she could not say, but she found herself dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper and creating a little devilry of her own.
“If you have an itch in your tender regions, I have a salve that can help. Shall I fetch some once I have attended to your other demands?” She added a bat of her eyelashes to further confuse and disarm him.
“I do not have—”
“That’s what they all say. Your secret is safe with me.” Insufferable man. She left him gaping and checking the problem area. Escaping to their living quarters she found Father rooting about in the larder.
“Your grandmother says I must eat before I fence. Fasting too long may bring the convulsions back, but all I can find is some dried-up cheese” “
“Eat that then and go help out there where you are needed. You know we cannot go on like this. Nathan can no longer help as he must devote all his time to the theatre, and Grandma is so often called away, I cannot keep this place running on my own, not to mention all the new fencers we have, and the work I do for Grandma. I thought having the benefit of a new fencing master was meant to ease the workload, but I am run off my feet every day. We simply must employ some more help.” She did not have time to wait for a reply, instead shooing her father on his way. “I will bring your tonic once I get some food underway for the Highland tyrant out there.” Father smiled at her description of Ferguson while chewing on his hunk of cheese.
There was a plentiful supply of ale, but eggs and some flour were the sole occupants of the pantry. She mixed flour and eggs and ale to make a batter, throwing in some herbs for flavor. After getting the fire going, she dropped dripping into a pan, quickly running out to Grandma’s storeroom to fetch rue and hemp seed for grinding in a mortar and pestle to make the tonic that kept Father’s seizures at bay. Juggling pancake making, tonic-mixing, and filling jugs of ale, she did not hear Moll come soft-footed into the room.
“Don’t go sneaking up on people like that!”
“Sorry. I came to find out how you fared last night. Was it another woman suffering the same fate? For I have an idea.”
“Indeed it was, but I can say no more. I stayed all night, so I am now desperate to catch up on my work.”
“I could help.”
“Now there’s an idea. You know one weapon from another. You know how we set things up. Would you like to earn some coin?”
“Always. My funds are dropping low and I thought I would have to go out and claim a purse.”
“Come with me, and I will show you what to do.” Lucinda only then looked Moll up and down, so accustomed was she to seeing her dressed in men’s clothing she barely noticed any more. “Do you mind if you are Mal, instead of Moll?”
Moll grinned and swept into a mock bow. “Master Frith, at your service.”
“Excellent. Take these. I presume you are well acquainted with how to pour an ale jug?”
“Some of my finest moments have been accompanied by an ale jug.”
“You are pouring it. Not drinking it.”
“You do love to spoil my joy.” The first thing Moll’s eyes alighted upon after entering the training area were the piles of discarded cloaks, doublets and purses, fencers being in the habit of stripping down to breeches and shirt. “Well, well, plenty to enjoy here.” She waggled her eyebrows at Lucinda. “Semi-dressed men and well loaded,” she grinned again, “purses I mean. A woman could do worse.”
Lucinda growled a warning. “You are meant to be a man and an honest one at that.” While they distributed food and ale, she explained the myriad tasks required to keep the fencers supplied with all their needs.
“That was quick,” Father said when she introduced Moll as Mal Frith, a willing young man in need of honest work. “He looks a sturdy enough fellow.”
“Most sturdy and quick with his hands,” Lucinda replied, a comment that raised the flicker of a grin on Moll’s face. Perhaps if she cut her hair short like Moll and took to wearing men’s clothes again, she might prove Father wrong and pass as a man. Just as that thought entered her head, she quickly dismissed it. Proving herself by fighting against men was no longer her burning desire. Finding the rapist, teaching women how to defend themselves and passing on her skills to the Sisters of the Sword, these were the things that mattered to her now. “Your tonic is in a mug in the larder,” she whispered to Father before moving on and seeing to all her other chores.
