A Matter Of Delicacy

The Lesson

      That night I slept in my own room at Montagu House. Admittedly it was a small one adjoining the Princess's, and still had a couple of bags in the corner that had not been unpacked, but it was mine. I slept fitfully, unaccustomed to the soft mattress, the strange light coming through the red curtains and the loud snores from next door in Princess Caroline's room. Eventually I got up and dressed in my comfortable training clothes, a pair of soft leather jodhpurs with one of my father's old white shirts. Sitting cross-legged on the bed I closed my eyes and meditated for an hour as the sunlight started streaming through the window and the servants began moving downstairs. I listened to them in my deep thought, heard every murmur and scrape of coal shovels and pans in the grates and fires were laid, every clatter of pans in the kitchen three floors below, every hiss as a chambermaid was scolded for being too loud. While the rich slept in blissful ignorance, real life was going on.
     I didn't think I'd ever get used to city hours. In the country we rose early, almost with the sun, and went to bed as it slipped below the horizon but not in London. Here it was not unusual for a rich matron to stay in bed until noon, then lazily request a breakfast tray and that morning's letters. Later they would stay out at parties or the opera well into the night and fall into bed at perhaps two o'clock in the morning. It was impractical and adjusting to it would leave me tired and frustrated for a good few days, just when I had to be attentive.
     But today, today I had a mission. Granted it was a self-set mission, but it was one that would hopefully save the Princess's life if ever I was unable to.

     'Miss Wentworth, I understand you are trying to prove yourself with this charade but really I have better things to be doing.' Princess Caroline moaned as she stood on the lawn later that day, a wooden pole loosely grasped in her hand. After hours of encouragement over breakfast and that morning's walk, added to some minor bullying by Lady Bruce, I had managed to get the Princess and a few of her most trusted ladies out for a quick course in self-defence. I didn't think I would ever get them to carry a sword with them, though having one tucked into the Princess's dress would make my job easier, but even the basics would help.
     'I do apologise Your Highness, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because I had not taught you to fight.' I faced her with clenched fists and legs shoulder-width apart. 'Now, if you would...'
     The Princess sighed dramatically and looked over at Lady Bruce and Sarah, who were standing patiently at the side of the lawn, mainly for solidarity. Sarah gave me a pitying smile.
As hard as I had been trying that day to interest the Princess in self-defence, she had been making it incredibly difficult. At every suggestion there was an excuse or a mild insult, 'perhaps another time Miss Wentworth' or 'I'm sure there's nothing you can teach me I do not already know Miss Wentworth.' It was infuriating. But finally, I had enlisted Lady Bruce and Sarah to help and now the younger of the two stepped forward and picked up one of the wooden sticks from the ground.
     'Perhaps Miss Wentworth could teach me, so Your Highness can get a better understanding of the skill without exerting yourself.'
     I smiled gratefully as the Princess groaned in relief and went to sit down. 'Thank you, Sarah. Yes, that is a much better plan.'
     Sarah mimicked my stance, holding her stick closer to her face, 'is this how you do it?'
     'A little lower.' I pulled at the stick until it was protecting her neck and chest but not blocking her vision. Then I moved her right hand, so it was holding that end of the stick lower than the left. This, in turn, would allow for a faster and sharper twist and thrust should she need it. 'Here, Your Highness, you could use a naval sword for this, or perhaps even a fire poker if you were at a card party. Anything with this length can be used in an attacking situation.'
     Princess Caroline slumped in her chair and rested her chin on her fist.
     'If I am an assassin,' I said, speaking loudly to reach her on the veranda. 'I would most likely be using a handgun. They are smaller than a sword so easier to sneak in without big spotted. So, that is what I will teach you to defend yourself from first.'
     Sarah nodded encouragingly, gripping the stick in front of her. The Princess, however, continued to look bored. I nearly snapped at her to listen – did she not realise her life was a stake? But instead, I gritted my teeth and raised my hand again, my fingers pointed like a gun.           'What would you do?'
     'Duck?'
     'No. If you ducked, I would just lower my hand and you would have nowhere to go from there. You need to hit my arm with your stick, pushing it away and leaving enough time for you to get even a small distance away. Try it.'
     Sarah awkwardly hit my wrist with the stick, sending it away from her and quickly stepped in the opposite direction.
     'Good! Now all you would need to do from there is either get out of the room or make yourself scarce in a crowd. I doubt the assassin would make a scene trying to find you, so hiding or getting out is your best option. Whatever you do,' I looked up at the Princess to make sure she was listening. 'Stay where there are lots of people. If you go out on your own there will be no one to protect you and it will be far easier to hurt you.'
     Sarah handed me back the stick and went to stand with Lady Bruce. Holding it out to the Princess I tried the firm but fair voice that my father had always used on me. It worked every time. 'Your Highness I'm afraid I must insist that you practice, at least once. It would make myself and the rest of your ladies feel much safer.'
     There was a stalemate for a few long moments as she stared me down and I did my best to stare back. My arm started to ache under the weight of the stick but I kept it steady, hoping that she would finally relent. Her watery eyes and greyish skin made her look pasty and ill but there was a flash to them, a spark of defiance, I suppose coming from such a long separation from her husband and the ridicule she'd been subjected to.
     'Very well Miss Wentworth. You win.' She sighed and got up, slowly making her way towards me and taking the stick from my outstretched hand. 'I will humour you just this once.'
     'Thank you Your Highness.' Standing back, I faced her with my arms by my side until she had raised the stick in a semblance of how Sarah had done it. I raised my hand again, finger gun at the ready. Before I was even fully prepared the butt of the stick rammed against my wrist hard, sending it flying wildly to my right. I staggered under the unexpected force and looked around, seeing the Princess, a smug look on her face, standing metres away with Lady Bruce and Sarah. Both of them clapped politely.
     'How was that, Miss Wentworth?'
     I stared at her in stunned silence. She had remarkable strength for such a little body and despite how bored she had looked while I was teaching Sarah, she had taken it all in and more. She was cleverer than I had given her credit for. 'Perfect, Your Highness. You have set my mind at ease.'
     She nodded proudly and patted down her skirts.
     'And would you be comfortable doing that manoeuvre with a fan?' I asked, raising my eyebrows.
     'A fan?'
     Nodding, I reached behind my back and pulled my own fan out from the waistband of my jodhpurs. I so rarely used it that it had been a final thought as I was packing to come here, thrown in at the last minute by Eliza but when I had found it that morning, I knew it would come in helpful. I doubted the Princess would agree with carrying around a long stick everywhere she went, but a fan... That was a necessity, and it was a necessity I intended to use. 'Instead of twisting your body with the stick to hit the gun away, you would take the fan, closed in your hand, and jab sideways at it. If you jab from close to your body the attacker may not register it and certainly won't think of it as a weapon.'
     'A fan as a weapon?!' The Princess laughed, sharing a shocked look with Lady Bruce. 'Good Lord Miss Wentworth, you will make revolutionaries of us yet. Yes, I think I can manage that, it seems fairly straightforward, and won't it be useful at the ball next week!'
     I frowned, 'there's to be a ball?'