A Winter's Respite
Katherine and Evie both came out for this one. It was love at first sight!
Saturday, January 11, 1868
Josephine’s Mews
London, England
1:30 PM, local time'
She’d only been a day back from Ireland before restlessness had driven Josephine out into the streets again. It was bitterly cold but she barely felt it. Her plans and her excitement kept her warm. Her momentum had remained unchanged—forward. Restoration of her mews was progressing, incrementally as her finances permitted, but progressing. As she walked through London for one of the many secondhand shopping districts, she mentally reviewed her list of wants and needs. She needed the privacy that curtains would give her or barring that, shutters. She needed to seal a skylight in her roof against the weather. It leaked in several places and while the volume was not so great as to overwhelm a saucepan in a single day, she needed her saucepans for cooking, to say nothing of sparing her ceiling further wetting and rot. She made a note to purchase glazing putty.
Of her wants, they were many, not the least of which were clients. She’d had struck up an alliance with the various street folk of her neighborhood and even beyond: She had finally found a family to succor in the parish of St. Giles. Through her work there she hoped to cultivate contacts, sources of information, and leads to clients who needed someone with her particular skills. So far, she’d done little more than find a missing watch, expose a dishonest neighbor for the theft of another’s milk, and settle a dispute between two urchins over a trifle.
Humble beginnings, but one must start somewhere.
She had 12 shillings in her purse, the entirety of her monthly stipend from her father’s family. In the secondhand market, it would go far. She had dressed in her plainest to affect the appearance of a woman of lesser means, all the better to fit in and for the next two hours searched the stalls and dickered for goods like any other customer. The clouds were lowering when she turned for home. Heavy and grey, they threatened snow and Josephine did not linger but stepped up her pace. The first fat flakes fell as she crossed her threshold with her purchases and she sighed with relief. She shut the door and locked it, pleased how so simple and prosaic an action made her feel.
Josephine turned up the gas and by its light crossed the front room, shedding her bags, and coat and hat onto a visitor’s chair as she went. The ring stand over the Bunsen burner sat ready to heat water for tea and as it went to work, flame flickering, she hung the curtains for the front windows. The kettle was whistling softly by the time she got the curtain rod in place and she stepped back to take in the effect. Machine lace and blue calico livened up the whitewashed plaster and dark wood trim.
Not bad. It goes well with the walls.
Josephine poured the water over the leaves and settled behind her desk to wait for the tea to steep, thinking of the luxurious room she’d been given during her visit to Katherine’s. She had no doubt the furnishings alone in that wonderful bedroom would have paid for her property here twice over, with sufficient remaining to carpet the floors and paper the walls. Still, Josephine preferred what she had earned though her own effort to the luxury loaned by others. She had the opportunity to build her home from the ground up, fitted out as she liked, and no one but she would be the ruler of it. She remembered the thrill of recognition when she’d first been shown the rooms, how her mind had fastened on the potential hidden under the dust and disuse. She’d scrutinized every detail, had done some discreet poking and prodding when the agent’s back was turned. She’d taken in the stout construction of the walls, the wide planking of the floors, the newer addition of the skylights on the roof, the radiators and the gas jets that had been put in less than a year before. She’d signed the papers before she’d left. Josephine went straightaway to the bank, withdrew the funds from her account, and got to work.
The plumber announced scant days before she’d departed for Ireland that her greatest initial expense—that of having the pipes put in, were sound. The water closet (sans closet) and the two sinks were a veritable luxury, one she never failed to revel in. The boiler that supplied her radiators with steam was housed in a sturdy shed mid-block behind her building. Everyone paid a few pence extra to maintain it or went without. The building’s heritage as a mews, a place to stable horses and store the carriages of the well-to-do fronting the main thoroughfare, was evident in the noticeable lack of fireplaces. What need did horses and carriages have of them? Living quarters for the staff above the street had originally been heated with stoves and with the advent of the steam heat, the stoves and their chimney pipes had been removed. Josephine had spied the flue covers fastened to the walls and sliding one aside, she’d found the opening behind it filled in. The ground floor had originally been a tack room for the stables next door. They now housed her office and storage room, while the stables had been remade into a set of rooms to let. The entire block was in the throes of gentrification and modern improvements had been part of the process. Though Josephine had hauled water in buckets and dug privies every evening for that night’s camp for years, she was grateful to be done with it.
Careful, Jo. You’ll get soft living in the city. Keep yourself sharp by keeping your hand in.
She could hear her father’s voice in her head, see his admonishing smile in his tone. She poured her first cup and saluted him with it. Was it like this for him when he first came to London, she wondered, as her gaze wandered over the bare walls of her office. Did he manage digs on his own or did he share? There were so many things she did not know about the man she idolized from her childhood and it was during moments like these she wished madly, desperately, to have him with her again, to show him how far she’d come and to look for approval behind his expression. Outside, the snow fell and the light in the street darkened as the hour deepened into afternoon. Josephine put her feet up on her desk, cradled her cup, and sighed, content to watch the flakes swirl outside and let her thoughts go where they would.
The carriage was a nice respite from the cold, the heavy lap blanket still warm from the radiator. Ezekiel had tucked it neatly around her after he had helped her into their carriage, a sweet protective gesture that made her as warm inside as the blanket made her outside. The driver soon pulled up, stopping just before Josephine's new door. She fairly leapt from the carriage, her fingers light on the driver's gloved hand, and made her way quickly to the door, her lips decorated with a happy smile.
Rapping sharply with the brass knocker, she nodded to the driver. "Come back for me in two hours, Robert," she called. "I don't want you or the horse waiting in the cold for me. Thank you." He would wait until the door opened before leaving; she could feel his eyes on her as they both waited.
Josephine heard the carriage before she saw it, her ear picking out two sets of hooves even as they clattered to a stop at her door. A shadow darkened the street past the lace of her curtains and Josephine put her feet down and stood, curiosity afire as to who would be visiting without an appointment. A carriage meant someone with means, and it was a carriage and not one of the ubiquitous cabs that plied the streets of London. Too late, she realized she was still got up in her working woman's dress--a cheap printed paisley shawl cross-tied over a threadbare bodice and skirt, the latter three inches deep in street dirt, all the better to disguise herself in the stews of London.
Well, chin up, Jo. If you must, you can pretend to be Arceneaux's charwoman. There's the knock. Answer it.
She caught the silvery tone of a woman's voice beyond the wood, calling to her driver, and something in it tickled her memory. The snow outside muffled the sound, however, and Josephine threw the lock and opened her door not quite sure who to expect on her doorstep. The gaslight spilling on red hair and glittering green eyes dispelled any doubt.
"Katherine!" Josephine warmed instantly at the sight of her friend and hugged her. She swept the departing carriage with a look and saw she had been right—two horses. "Do come in. It's freezing out."
And with that she gently pulled her friend into the light and warmth of her office.
Katherine unwrapped as she entered the house, pulling off the furs and wool coat that covered the thick skirts of her brushed wool skirt and bodice. Putting them with Josephine's coat and hat, she spun with wonderment, taking in the office. "Oh, this is wonderful Josephine!" She smiled brightly, her eyes alight. "So much better than the hotel."
"I thought it so." Josephine took in the obvious delight of her friend and threw the locks on the door. She smiled and fetched a second cup and saucer from her tea things. "But I am dreadfully biased in its favor. Tea?"
"Please and thank you." Katherine walked the length of the office before walking the breadth, her eyes taking it all in. She could only hope to be to describe it later; more than likely, she wouldn't be able to at all. But it was a new place, with a good friend for company and no ornate desk, no silver tray to have to worry about leaving a card or how the corners should be bent. Nothing but plain efficiency. She finally settled into the empty chair, watching as Josephine set about making her a cup of tea. "How has business been?" she asked, secretly delighted to be able to ask that. Josephine was a working woman, an independent woman of her own means. And she could talk with Katherine about such things as business and work. Not dresses or dances, not fashion or position. It was a wonderful change.
"Slow," Josephine said promptly. "I'm still unknown and my clientele aren't as trusting of strangers as one would hope. Still, I have the McCrearys to vouch for me should anyone think to ask them. It's early yet, Katherine. I've been in this for less than two months." She poured the tea and set it gently in front of her friend. The sugar followed suit. Josephine sat down and picked up her tea but refrained from putting her feet up. "A reputation such as I hope to build is built slowly, one step at a time. And how are you doing? Are you and Ezekiel well? I noticed he did not accompany you here."
"We're fine," Katherine answered with a gentle nod as she sipped gingerly at the hot tea. There was nothing better, she thought, as the hot liquid slid down her throat. "He's letting me wander free. I'm going a bit mad without Sadif to work me with the katars and the staff. We've been fencing but. . ." She let the thought taper off. It led to rather passionate endings, she finished in her mind with a wry smile. Ezekiel was making her better and better, no doubt, but she felt bad to be ignoring her other disciplines. Inhaling slowly, she met Josephine's eyes and raised her eyebrows. "I was never the best at calling on the women or doing anything other than feign the barest interest in what many of them had to say. I do it because it is expected and I would not damage my father's business interests by behavior unseemly to a woman of my status. But," and she shrugged lightly, "I am dreadfully bored with the day in and day out of calling and receiving. Ezekiel is kind enough to know that I needed time to myself, some time to visit you alone. He is a wondrous man."
"That he is." Josephine twitched a smile even as she processed everything her friend told her. Katherine's complaint echoed her own and unlike her friend, Josephine had the leeway to treat it. "As to the rest, I think I might have a solution, if you'd like."
"Pray tell." Katherine smiled inwardly, her eyes keen on Josephine's face as the woman agreed with her assessment of her husband. Infatuation fading, but still there. She sipped again at her tea. How would I feel in her position? the thought wandered through her mind. How maddening would it have been to her to have had Ezekiel so close and yet lose him to another noblewoman more his station? She did not think that she could have borne it with the dignity that Josephine had borne the stress of Ezekiel and Katherine's loving regard so far.
"Certainly," Josephine said over the rim of her cup, wondering at the thoughts flickering behind her friend's eyes. She'd noticed them sharpen at her affirmation of Ezekiel's qualities and kept her expression neutral to allay her friend's jealousy. She is still newly wed, Josephine, and no matter how much she loves Ezekiel, it cannot be comfortable for her to acknowledge another woman's regard for her husband. It was, she admitted privately, a compelling reason to strike out on her own as soon as possible once they'd returned from the Continent. Immersed with her own plans and her own independence, away from Ezekiel and Katherine, Josephine knew it would attenuate her attraction to the Chartist until it faded to mere friendship at last. Until then..., she thought, shelving the topic for something safer, let us see if we cannot give Katherine a reason to visit more often and relieve some of her boredom. "When you finish your tea, I would be happy to show you what I had in mind."
"Consider it finished," Katherine announced. "You have my curiosity piqued." She looked around to a place to set her cup. "Not that I don't intend to finish it. You make a lovely cup of tea. But I've sat all afternoon answering letters and invitations and I do feel a need to move about."
"Follow me." Josephine grinned. Yes, she'd gauged her friend's urge toward activity rightly. She rose and opened the door behind her desk and reached up to raise the gaslight enough to allow her friend to see her way up the stairs. They doglegged to the left and Josephine led Katherine up once the other woman had her skirts in hand for the climb. Seventeen steps later, the stairs gave out on a landing under the rafters. A window overlooking the rear of the building met them as they came off the last tread and to their right stretched the vast room that had convinced Josephine to buy the place.
It was fully the depth of the building, matching the width of the office below. There was no finished ceiling. Instead sturdy timbers spanned the space under the slant of the roof. Small skylights punctuated the surface overhead and Josephine had already gone up a ladder to determine that they did indeed open for ventilation. She had her bed in a corner, separated from the water closet and sink by a folding screen she'd scrounged from a jumble sale. Her trunk stood in solitary splendor to one side and opposite it was a wall rack for her sword and weapons. Beyond it stretched the lion's share of the room, bare and beckoning, enticing one to possess it. Several timber columns bore evidence of her sword practice and Josephine had already managed to scare up a block and tackle. It hung from a rafter centered over the space, ready to be drafted into service. A half dozen small burlap bags hung from the rafters at varying heights off the floor. Numerous small slits decorated them.
Josephine led Katherine into the center of the room and spread her hands.
"Welcome to my salle, Katherine. If you ever need to practice with Sadif, you are more than welcome to do it here."
The sigh that went through her was almost a release so strong that it made her giddy. Katherine stepped into the space, letting the gathered skirts fall, her boots noisy on the wooden floors she walked into the space. "How wonderful!" she exclaimed and then grinned. "You just said that I can meet Sadif here, yes? Oh!" She spun in a small waltz step, caught up with delight.
"Yes, I did." Josephine went to each gas jet along the perimeter and raised the flame, until the entire space glowed. She would have to procure a few mantle lanterns soon, she judged, frowning slightly as the gas flickered and made the shadows dance overhead. Too distracting, but even there, one could manage to devise a lesson. "I can have a key made for you, so that you need not wait on my convenience. I shall have to devise a silent signal for you if I have a client in, but otherwise, my space is yours."
Josephine leaned against one of the columns and crossed her arms.
"Will the space suit? It was once the hayloft for the stables next door. That is why the ceiling is so high. The rear window was where the loft door used to be. And of course, those were put in for the current day." She nodded forward at the two windows that faced the street. Burlap bags, picked apart and sewn into flat panels hung in place of curtains, affording a modicum of privacy.
"Would you need cover from prying eyes, Katherine? If so, I shall see about putting up something more substantial than the present."
Katherine smiled slyly. A plan had formed in her head, a plan that she had actually written down in a tiny journal that she had started keeping in her pocket. Without Neecy near to keep her life in his memory, she had decided to buy a little journal to write down her thoughts and ideas and had been trying to keep it religiously. She pulled it out now, pleased that she remembered that she had the book and even more pleased that she remembered that she had had a plan. Sliding a finger to the ribboned page, she read it and grinned rather unladylike.
"You will be my charity work, Josephine. Flora and I can come here together and no wagging tongues can make any bad innuendos about a Baroness and her lowly friend meeting up to go work with a middle class girl and her charitable works. Sadif will be able to come as a regular that you are helping and Flora's presence will keep us all respectable."
“Brilliant. I knew you would think of something.” Josephine smiled, liking the idea. “When would you like to start?”
The Eldren blinked, simultaneously pleased and surprised by the compliment. "Well, I will send a letter to Sadif and hopefully she will be able to start next week. However, I would love to start tonight if possible. I told the driver to come back in two hours, so for now we must make pleasant conversation."
"Then choose your weapon, Madam." Josephine waved her friend to her weapons rack. "What's mine is yours."
Katherine's eyes widened. "Oh," she said with delight and went to the weapons rack. "But darling, you are underdressed and I'm overdressed. And we are missing weapons to work in a pair." She frowned and then brightened. "Can you hail me a cab? I can go home and change and come back."
"I can do that." Josephine took the stairs down and hit the street. Listening intently, she heard the rattle of a cab a block away and going quickly to the corner she hailed it. It took but a moment to make herself understood and the driver of the hansom did not fuss when she hitched a ride on the footboard back to her door. Josephine bid the driver to wait and went inside to fetch her friend.
"Katherine," she called as she scaled the stairs. "Your cab awaits, milady."
Katherine had already started down, eager to get rewrapped and go. And come back, she thought to herself with delight. She already was thinking of what cape and coat to wear, which skirt and bodice she could wear over a shirt and pants of Ezekiel's. The pantaloons would have to be dug out of her things; she had not unpacked them thinking that it would far too long before she could use them.
Josephine spun gracefully in the stairwell, retreating down them to let Katherine back to the ground floor. She helped Katherine wrap again and gave her quick hug before sending her out the door. A quick hand in from the cabbie and the address of the Savoy. She barely had time to get cool before she was practically leaping from the cab. She was almost to the door before she realized that she had to pay the cabbie and pressed a few coins into his hand. He nodded and tipped his hat and she nodded demurely as the doorman let her inside. Up the stairs and into the room, her feet almost ran, her movement so fast that if Neecy were there, he would have followed her with an insistent fuss as he trailed hopelessly behind. Her fingers to the knob and then she was inside.
"Ezekiel, darling," she called cheerfully. "I need your pants." It was only then that she realized that servants still might be in hearing distance and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
"I would never hesitate to take off my pants for you, love, but dare I ask why?" Ezekiel stepped out from the bedroom to see what interest had grabbed hold of his wife now.
She launched into his arms with a giggle. "Josephine has the most perfect place, love. I can fence with her there and I will be able to meet Sadif there." She sombered a little. "After tonight, I will need to bring Flora as my front. We will be doing charity work with Josephine. That way I will not be seen going alone to that part of town to a detective." Her eyes sparkled. "Can't have tongues wagging that I'm seeing another man there or that I've become addicted to opium. But tonight, she is willing to let me come back with my sword and my katars and play with her. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Indeed. When you are happy, it makes me happy." He had known for a while that she had missed Sadif and that longing to get back to her training had only been exaggerated by their time away from adventuring. Travel would catch back up to them soon though, and until then, Katherine could take pleasure in the company of her trainer and friend.
Katherine leaned up and kissed him lovingly. "You are a most magnificent man, my darling," she stated once she pulled away. Her eyebrows raised and the iris of her eyes widened with wickedness. "So, pants and shirt, Ezekiel?"
"Of course," he said calmly. He made his way back into their bedroom and returned in a few minutes with a pair of pants and a simple white shirt, carefully folded. He held them out to her. "Will these suffice, love, or are the ones attached to me the only ones that will suit?"
Her mouth parted. "Oh," she answered mildly. "I suppose these will do." She took the clothes from him and began to enter their bedroom to change. But in the doorway, she paused. "It would be nice to have you help me undress though."
He nodded. "I have to assume you have a schedule to keep, love. Otherwise, I would suggest a delay between the undressing and the redressing. But instead, I will just claim that for later and serve as the dutiful husband for the present." And he walked with Katherine back into their bedroom and started to help her get out of her multiple layers of clothing.
A half hour later, she was back in her carriage. Her eyes were alive; it was taking everything that she had in self-control not to grin like the Cheshire cat of Mr. Carroll's story. Ezekiel had helped her undress and there was not a part of her that was not touched as he had helped her both out of and into her new outfit. Her katars were in her boots, her sword underneath her thickest skirt. It was uncomfortable, but she did not care. As her driver helped her alight, she bemused reflected that this time, she was hardly graceful. Again the knocker and again the opened door.
"Salutations, darling!" she stated as she blew in with the snow.
Back at her digs, Josephine made ready to receive Katherine again, this time as a sparring partner. She changed out of her charwoman’s clothing and donned her practice gear: jodhpurs, loose men’s shirt, her harness with her sword and knives, boots she could move in. She was braiding her hair out of the way when she heard carriage wheels on the cobbles outside. She took the stairs down, her fingers still in her hair, and waited by her door for the knock.
It came when she was tying off her braid and she opened the door to the whirlwind that was Katherine. She laughed and hugged her Eldren friend in greeting.
“And felicitations!” Josephine shut her door and threw the locks. “You’ve come prepared, I see. Let’s not waste another moment.” She took the stairs two at a time in her eagerness to get started. It had been months since she’d had a true practice session and she knew she would ache horribly come morning. But morning is not here yet. She gained the salle first, spun around the banister post, and pulled her sword off the rack. “En garde, Madame!”
Katherine shrugged off her cloak and coat, drawing her sword with unbridled enthusiasm. Putting the hilt to her heart, she saluted Josephine, and then attacked with a loud laugh.
Evie looked down on the two women dueling with swords down below. She assumed it was all in good sport, although she had certainly never seen two women swordfighting before. And especially not one that was so clearly nobility...no matter how she was dressed.
She had been ready to knock on the door to Josephine's house when she had heard the carriage coming round. She and Char had sprung back into the darkness and watched the noblewoman, dressed in shirts and pants, knock on the door and bound in. Not wanting to enter when she didn't know the dark of who this new person was, she decided to climb to the second story window and watch what was going on from there. It was an easy climb and easy enough to be quiet, especially with all the clanging from their steel.
Char settled in beside her as she tried to make heads or tails of exactly what they were doing.
Josephine immediately found herself on the defensive, falling back under the onslaught of Katherine's blades. She flicked a knife into her off hand and used it to block a blade, even though it meant regrinding its edge. She wove a path around the floor, ducking under and around the bags she used for target practice, weaving between the columns. The blood was singing in her veins, battle-mind was taking over, and Josephine had to keep a tight check on herself lest she injure her friend under its influence. She spun on her toes, narrowly escaping Katherine's thrust and slash, and saw an opening. She didn't hesitate but took advantage of it. Josephine executed a tight turn, let her knife fly. It severed the rope holding one of the bags and the movement caught Katherine's eye for the split second Josephine needed to step inside the other woman's guard.
"Hold!" Josephine said, her sword tip a scant inch from Katherine's throat. Her hand trembled from exertion and she lowered the point. I would never forgive myself if I sent her home to Ezekiel injured.
Katherine laughed, her heart singing. Ezekiel would fuss; she was still too into the memory of his hands upon her. Swordplay is as much about the mind as the skill, love, he would say. Josephine would never forgive herself if she hurt her, Katherine reminded herself. She backed away to reset. "Lay on. My mind is on you now." And she attacked with a single-minded determination, bringing all that she had learned in mortal combat and from her husband to bear.
Oh, that's torn it. Josephine lasted barely a minute before she had to surrender. She was blowing hard. Sweat was dripping off her. She laughed weakly and sagged against the wall. "You've slain me!"
Katherine stepped back with a little bow before setting down her blades. They had engaged so fast that she still wore her skirt and had not taken her hair down. Locks and wisps had freed themselves in their efforts and now clung to her temple and neck. Taking a deep breath as she recovered, she said, "Please excuse me," and proceeded to remove her skirt and pull down the mess that was now her elaborate hairdo.
Josephine pushed off the wall and motioned to the back of the room.
"I have a sink and a mirror should you need it. It's behind the screen. Just turn up the gas jet for light."
She didn't wait for Katherine's answer but went straight to her weapons rack and sat on the low bench before it. Bending down she opened the drawer in its base and retrieved a cloth to wipe her grip dry of her sweat. Josephine hated to put her weapons away without cleaning them. She frowned at the nicks on her blade's edge, bent again and pulled out a whet stone. She would have to find a professional to grind it sharp but for now she would make do with her own efforts.
Katherine looked up from binding her hair with a ribbon that she had tied to her wrist. "Are we done already?" she asked. Surely not. Sadif barely let her rest after an hour. She looked at Josephine, a bit pleading. She was winded, but it was wonderful. They needed this to build stamina. She leaned over and picked up the katar and the sword, blinking with dismay.
"We needn't be," Josephine said, responding to the disappointment in her friend. "I think I've caught my breath sufficiently."
Josephine gave her blade a final pass with the whet stone. She put the tool away and pushed the drawer shut with her foot. Not bad, but could be better. Onward. She walked to the center of the room and saluted her friend with her sword. I'm going to regret this....
"Ready?"
The cat eyes glittered with joy. "Oh yes," she exclaimed, touching her blade to her heart. "En guarde." She bounced lightly on her toes and the calmly stepped once and then put her sword to work.
Proceed to Part 2
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