Page 18

18. Next Line of Defence

“I will not ask your word as I did with your pledge of anonymity,” Mrs Black began pensively, “but I will strongly advise against sharing what you learn over the next two days with any man except your future husband . The more women you share these secrets with the better, and you should of course instruct your daughters early—but it is usually best if the men in your life remain blissfully ignorant, even your guardians. Most of them would not understand, and it is not an argument worth having.”

The starkness of the warning left the ladies stunned. After their trip to the modiste, they mostly thought they were well on the way to being done with the more disagreeable parts of their training. Some even hoped they were not that far from the promised ball.

Such hopes died that morning when they awoke to find gowns so dowdy they longed for those from the first day, though they did at least get a hearty breakfast. Their gowns were labourer’s or servants’ clothing, and not from a very prosperous house at that. They were thick and scratchy to the point where it felt like they were dragging around a sack of flour (not that any of them had ever done such a thing).

The starkness of that warning brought them to understand they were likely to have an unpleasant day at best.

They were standing in a room the size of a ballroom, but it was far from elegant. They could not determine if it was part of a barn, a factory, a warehouse, or just a building so awkwardly situated that nobody could work out a good use for it.

Mrs Black seemed even more stern and unflinching than usual.

Mary was paying rapt attention, while watching her sisters and friends to see if anyone had worked out their instructor’s identity yet. She seriously doubted it.

“I will echo Mrs Black’s suggestion,” said a man of about fifty, who stepped out of the shadows.

“Sir Walter, well met. Ladies, this is Sir Walter Gibson. He owns this building and would like to say a few words.”

She did not bother introducing the ladies. Since they were all anonymous it hardly seemed necessary.

He cleared his throat and spoke in a strong booming voice.

“Mrs Black has the right of it. We hope beyond measure that you never need to use what you learn here—but learn you must. My daughter was killed a few hundred yards away on a night that seemed like any other. She was young and pretty like all of you. She was polite, she learnt the rules of propriety, she practised them, but she was set upon by the vilest sort of man who wished to take that which was not given.”

The ladies were stunned. The story was not exactly unheard of, but none had ever met anyone who even claimed to know such a victim, let alone a father of one.

“Had she taken Mrs Black’s course, she would be alive and well today. I would be bouncing my grandchildren on my knee. Instead, I have a steady diet of regret. Listen, and listen well.”

Then he bowed to the ladies, then to Mrs Black, and departed.

“It is unlikely any of you individually will need what you learn here, but I can guarantee with absolute certainty that at least one of my students has already had to defend herself, and she will not be the last. If any of you are so unfortunate, you had best be prepared.”

Miss Amber could not quite resist asking, “Is that not unladylike and unchristian?”

“Let us take those one at a time,” Mrs Black said, then turned her attention to the group.

“Which is more ladylike—you, at this very moment, in that dowdy excuse for a maid’s gown… a corpse, rotting in the ground… a girl of sixteen screaming in pain as she tries to deliver an unwanted child… or perhaps, a corpse who had recently tried to deliver an unwanted child but bled to death?”

They all stood stunned. Their upbringing had strongly encouraged them to pretend such things just did not happen in their neighbourhood. Perhaps in other places, and to other people, but not to them!

“I can assure you that I have personally seen all of those and more; and they are not pretty. I can also assure you that every one of those girls did not think it would happen to them—that such misfortunes were for others .”

Mary had her mouth hanging open, but she could see the point. She still thought that such things were unlikely in Meryton, but then again, if it did happen, the families would do their best to cover it up—not to mention that the town was infested with militia. Had Lizzy not said she had to intervene on Lydia’s behalf at the Netherfield ball? Would she already be aware of such an example without her sister’s help?

“How about the latter?” she asked timidly.

“You mean unchristian, Miss Red? Do you honestly think your God made you just to be sport for a man?”

It abruptly struck Mary that was exactly what Reverend Fordyce seemed to think. He disguised his contempt, but it was clear as day for those who looked closely enough.

“I belatedly understand your point, Mrs Black, but it would help if you could justify it with scripture.”

She did not enjoy being stared down by her thoroughly intimidating sister one bit, but thought that if she was afraid of Lizzy, what hope did she have against a scoundrel.

“I get some flavour of that question every time, so you are not ploughing new ground. I shall oblige you, but keep in mind that most of the religious texts were also written by men.”

Mary wondered if her sister liked men at all. The thought had never occurred to her, and she became even more anxious to understand what happened to the sweet and impertinent girl she remembered from the schoolroom, before she hied off to London right after she came out.

“I shall leave it to you to look up the words yourself, just as I encourage everyone to do their own thinking, but there are specific instructions in both Luke and Exodus justifying self-defence, even when lethal. Thomas Acquinus and John Wesley both suggest violence and even death for self-defence is perfectly acceptable. I suppose none of you are interested, but the Jewish Talmud and the Muslim Koran have similar passages. If you prefer non-religious views, I recommend John Locke, William Blackstone, or Thomas Hobbes. If you have had your fill of men’s opinions, Mary Wollstonecraft has a great deal to say, all of it sensible, but you definitely may want to omit that part to your guardians.”

The last bit of levity left the ladies laughing, though it was a tense sort of laugh. They had not even begun the training, and they were already uncomfortable.

~~~~~

Mrs Black led them over to a wooden stand with a padded box of some sort attached between two posts.

“Which of you thinks they are the strongest?” she asked nonchalantly.

The students all looked back and forth for a moment until Miss Green volunteered, as her teacher knew she would.

“Oh!” said Lydia stoutly, “I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, I’m the tallest.”

“I can see that. Come along then.”

They walked over to the frame and Mrs Black helped her charge place her hand in a large, padded leather glove with linen lining.

“This is padded with horsehair. It will mostly protect your hand, though I do not recommend testing it on a rock.”

Lydia was excitedly trying out the glove by hitting her own hand.

Mrs Black said, “All right, here is the first rule. What have I been teaching you this past week… Miss Blue?”

Jane looked flummoxed a minute, but eventually guessed, “How to avoid these situations?”

“ EXACTLY! That is your first line of defence… Rule Number 1… Do not do stupid things! ”

“But Sir Walter said his daughter did nothing wrong.”

“Agreed, and that is why you are learning to defend yourselves, but the best way to win a fight is to avoid it in the first place. We are now to the place where rule number one has failed.”

They all nodded.

“Rule Number Two: Run from danger if you can. If you find yourself in an untenable situation, run fast and do not hesitate.”

“When would you run?” Miss Violet asked.

“At the first whiff of danger. Suppose you are approached on an isolated balcony at a ball. Do not tell a man to leave. Do not engage him at all. Just leave! The blackguard almost certainly will not expect it, so you can be back inside among people before he even gets his wits about him. Naturally, you would want to get someone else to help you clip his wings against future attacks, but you will at least be safe for the moment.”

The ladies nodded, and Mary said, “That obviously will not work if you are alone, far away from people.”

“Unfortunately, yes, which is when we come to the next rule. Most men can outrun you and outfight you, so you have to outfox them.”

She turned back to her device.

“See the padded box there, Miss Green. I want you to break it.”

Lydia looked at the board gleefully, walked over, wound up her arm, and gave it a good punch. She was mightily disappointed when her hand bounced off with no effect aside from hurting more than she expected. It was not broken, but it did not feel perfect either.

“That will do if your assailant is a five-year-old girl,” Mrs Black said somewhat sneeringly.

Lydia, who should have been accustomed to being ridiculed but was not, let out a scream and hit it again… only to be disappointed a second time.

“Again!”

Twice more she tried, with ever increasing levels of frustration.

“It cannot be done!” she finally snapped.

“Anyone else?” Mrs Black asked casually.

Nobody was particularly enthusiastic, but both Kitty and each of the Weatherbys took shots and failed, while the rest abstained.

Once they had all given up in frustration, Mrs Black stood facing them.

“This exercise teaches two lessons. The first…” she said casually, then fast as lightning, she bashed the target with her elbow. The box exploded in a cloud of chalk dust that had them all coughing and sneezing for a confused moment. They were startled for a time, so she let them settle down.

“As I was saying, the first is that if you are in a dangerous situation, do not mess about. Rule Number Three: Strike fast, strike hard, no mercy. ”

They all gasped. In their sheltered lives, no lady ever spoke so vulgarly, let alone standing on the wreckage of something she had just smashed to pieces without batting an eye.

Mrs Black continued as if she had not just shocked them to the bone.

“Rule Four: All rules are off! They say all is fair in love and war—and this is war. If the first three rules failed you, it is dog eat dog, and your entire objective is to win… win decisively… win definitively. I asked Miss Green to break the target, so she assumed that I meant her to do it with fists, the way gentlemen are taught. Let me ask this, Miss Green. Did it even occur to you to try anything else, or were you lulled into the convention implied by the gloves?”

“No,” she admitted, sullenly.

“Do not be cast down, young lady. It was an unfair test. One lady in a few dozen would succeed, though most servants would have no real difficulty. Your elbow is stronger and tougher than your hands. You should never use a closed fist if you can avoid it. Do it as a last resort if you must but be prepared to pay the price of broken fingers. That said—”

She had been slowly walking towards another target identical to the first when she spun around quickly and smashed that with a single blow of her ungloved hand.

The dust cleared moments later, but the women were still coughing.

“Most of the time, the palm of the hand is a far better weapon than the fist, but nobody teaches that. I admit that Miss Green was at a disadvantage with the glove, but I assure you I could put it on and smash a third one just like she was trying without difficulty. The secret is you have to commit to the attack and put your whole body into it. We think we can just stand rigidly and let our arms and fists take care of it. Either that, or we flinch at the last moment because we know it will hurt. You have to override both your squeamishness and your own natural self-protectiveness.”

Everyone just stared, still coughing from the chalk dust. Mary assumed the shock of the dust was probably the point, since it clearly had no real practical value.

Mrs Black looked at them intently, then abruptly said, “Miss Violet, what did both Miss Green and I overlook?”

The young lady looked flummoxed for a moment, looked around in confusion, then finally let out a laugh. “There is a good size stick laying on the ground.”

“Exactly! Elbows, palms, fists, fingers, knees, heels—all of these you will learn to use, and all are always available; but none are a match for a club. There is a fine line between strike fast and strike hard . Sometimes a weapon will be handy, and you will have time to grab it. You should not count on such luck, but do not turn your nose up at any weapon you see, and when you strike, strike hard. Do not mess about.”

They all looked thoughtful, so she let them stew over that a bit.

She signalled Jane over, and she came reluctantly.

“You will not leave this room until you can do what I just did with either elbow, either palm, or either knee. Now… let us assume you just did that, and your assailant is on the ground. What do you do?”

“Run!”

“Are you certain?”

“What do you mean? That is rule number two. What else is there?”

“You have the advantage, and you will give it up willingly? For nothing? You will allow a man who outweighs you by a stone or two, possibly armed, definitely enraged, wearing trousers; to chase after you in a dress, just to satisfy your squeamishness?”

Jane looked green. “What would you have me do?”

“ Never give up an advantage voluntarily. Never-never-ever. If you have the man on the ground, you need to ensure—”

Like lightning again, she lifted her boot and stomped down on a stick the size of a man’s leg laying unnoticed on the floor, producing a terrifying sounding crunch.

“If you are desperate enough to fight back, finish what you started , whatever it takes. Unless he is unconscious or dead, you have lost the advantage of surprise. You have to end the fight using any means necessary. Anyone who attacks you forfeits the right to a so-called fair fight or mercy. Depending on whether that was the man’s leg or chest, and how hard I stomped, I just disabled or killed him. I am now safe—at least from him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Women are allowed to defend themselves, but we are not guaranteed to win in a court of law. If you kill him, you may face justice from the magistrate or the courts. You might even be hanged if you are caught. If it is you or him, then you must survive, and run if you must—but whatever you plan to do, make it fast and definitive.”

They all looked horrified, but Mrs Black was having none of it.

The two rough-looking men Mary had seen the first day entered through a large door they had not noticed, dragging two handcarts with a few dozen new targets.

“Allow yourselves the supreme pleasure of smashing all of these targets to pieces. You know you want to!” Mrs Black said with an uncharacteristic laugh.

She then had the men start setting up the targets, and she started giving them instructions on how, when, and where to strike, and with what parts of their bodies. They all got a lesson in how strong the elbow and heel were, though both were still somewhat vulnerable. They all got a lesson in putting their whole body into the punch if required.

They worked up to luncheon smashing the targets with both palms and both elbows until the ladies felt quite mannish.

~~~~~

Luncheon was cold meat, cheese, bread, a bit of fruit, and water. They ate standing up with the two men like field hands. Nobody tried to pry into Mrs Black’s motivations for having the men present. They were both big, hulking, threatening-looking ogres, and most of the ladies eventually assumed that was their purpose—she wanted them to learn not to be intimidated.

After luncheon, things got distinctly uncomfortable.

They first discussed the parts of their bodies that made the best weapons, the parts of their attacker’s bodies that were the most vulnerable, and a dozen ways to connect the former with the latter.

Nearly any man could be entirely disabled with a palm to the solar plexus if you were facing them, or an elbow if you were facing away. A heel stomp on the top of the foot would practically cripple any man for life if you were wearing boots but would still hurt like the devil even in dancing slippers.

A palm to the nose or chin might be effective, but only if you could not get at the solar plexus.

Their mortification was complete when they learnt about knee kicks to the groin (never foot), especially when one of the men described in some detail how much it hurt in language that put even Mrs Black to the blush.

Of course, there were other obvious tactics that were seldom used but quite effective.

Anyone who had ever had their hair yanked out could attest to the unpleasantness, and though it took more skill than any of them were likely to have, gouging out the eyes with your fingers had much to recommend it if you were serious about permanently disabling him.

An open-fingered jab at the windpipe could be disabling or fatal, and even a closed fist would do the job in a pinch. Anyone striking the heavily boned chin when the weak and vulnerable neck was available was a fool.

Of course, one needed room to fight or run, so they went into how to break out of grips when a man grabbed their wrist, their arms, their waist, their leg, or the other ways to break a grip if they grappled you from front or back.

Mrs Black even showed them the thumb lock she used on the miscreant the first day. She told them any finger was vulnerable to being bent over backward, but if they did it, not to mess about. Just break it—no showing off as she had done. And, of course, if you were going to do that, it was essential to follow it up with a crippling blow.

Even biting was acceptable if it came right down to it, but she said if they were that desperate, to emulate a bear more than a lady. Bite hard and try to tear a chunk off.

As if things were not already uncomfortable beyond belief, they got even worse.

Mrs Black put on a padded chest plate, a stiff collar, and padded greaves on her wrists—then spent quite some time grabbing, tossing, and throwing the ladies around until they learnt to fight back. There were going to be some sprains, sores, cuts, and bruises the next day, but they were learning.

Once they had that part down, they were distressed even more to see the men wearing the same gear, and much to their consternation, they found themselves repeating the exercise with a man who looked more like an ogre than anything else.

They continued long into the evening until everyone was drooping and dragging, though curiously enervated to learn that they could defend themselves if they really had to. They all still believed that they never would have to do anything so disagreeable, and for the vast majority of them, that would be true.

Just before she sent them to bed, she said, “I think you see why I recommended against telling your guardians about that part.”

“I will never tell another soul as long as I live,” Miss Burgundy said emphatically, and all readily agreed.

“Good night, ladies. You have done well today,” Mrs Black said kindly, and they all fell into their beds in exhaustion.