Charlie gave me a shove in the back. ‘You’d better go in case our friend is somewhere about. We’ll be along as soon as we can.’
Feeling very exposed without Charlie and Frank beside me, I crossed the quad to the archway leading to the Dean’s Yard. Boys were pouring out of school in all directions, heading for the fields. Some had skates around their neck – the duck pond had frozen over in the night, promising capital sport. I would have much preferred to join them than take lessons from Richmond.
The old oak was not hard to spot. It leaned across the grass as if it hardly had the energy to stand upright. Two boys waited beneath its bare branches.
‘It’s just like Twelfth Night,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Viola dressed as a boy going to fight Sir Andrew Aguecheek.’ The thought made me smile. My life had become like some absurd play – but at least that was something I could understand.
‘Where’s your big brother and your substance?’ asked Richmond, looking over my shoulder to the archway. ‘I thought you were too scared to be seen without them.’
‘They’re busy,’ I said tersely.
‘So, Hengrave, fancy yourself as a blade, do you?’ Richmond threw me a thin practice sword.
‘Not really.’ I took a few swipes at the air to get the feel of it. It wasn’t too heavy.
‘I’ll just teach you the rudiments today.’ Richmond’s eyes were glinting with an evil light. ‘Nothing too taxing for a sickly specimen like you.’
‘I’m not sickly.’
‘No? We’ll see. Hold your blade up in the guard position. Yes, that’s it. You’ll find it easier with your jacket off.’
‘I’m all right as I am, thank you.’
Richmond took off his own jacket and threw it to Ingels. ‘I suppose you’re too prim to be seen in your shirtsleeves. You are a queer fellow, Hengrave.’
I said nothing. I had clearly made another error in my boyish behaviour. Unbuttoning my jacket, I hung it over a lower branch of the tree and turned to face my adversary.
‘Now, watch me – here’s the first move.’ Stepping forward quickly, Richmond brought his blade up to mine with a tap, tap. ‘Try to gain ground so that you keep the initiative, see?’ He lunged towards me. I backed away. ‘Now, you try.’
My memory of the moves used in stage fights came greatly to my assistance as Richmond drilled me in the basics of fencing. He did not depart from his script as teacher. I almost began to think that he had meant nothing malicious by his invitation to introduce me to the sport. I was wrong.
‘Right, I think you know enough now to try a practice fight.’ Richmond paused, wiping his forehead on the back of his sleeve and glancing around the yard to check we were unobserved.
‘What?’ I let my sword trail on the ground.
Richmond darted forward and prodded me hard in the ribs. I yelped. ‘Never drop your guard, Hengrave. Come on, a quick fight just to drive home what you’ve learned.’
‘I’m not sure . . .’
‘He’s scared,’ grunted Ingels.
‘I’m not!’ I retorted.
‘Then prove it,’ challenged Richmond.
Ladies, you should know that being a boy is very complicated. To maintain my honour I would have to fight, but that would result in a very humiliating defeat, I had no doubt. I held my sword in the guard position.
‘That’s better. En garde!’
Richmond let himself go at me with a hail of blows. I parried the first two, but then took several to my body. The last one smashed down on my fingers, bringing tears to my eyes. I dropped the sword and cradled my hand, anger buzzing inside me.
‘As I said yesterday, new boys should remember their place,’ said Richmond, breaking off his attack and giving me a mirthless smile. ‘I expect you to show me more respect next time, Hengrave.’
‘Respect? Don’t make me laugh! You’re nothing but a pisspot bully, Richmond,’ I spat. He went white but I’m afraid my temper had run away with me now and I couldn’t stop my mouth. ‘Think you’re so clever, don’t you? Well, all I can say is you’re overdue a thrashing, you . . . you gadso!’
And I grabbed my jacket from the branch and strode off as fast as I could back to my rooms.
I was still fuming as I crashed into the room and threw myself into a chair. My side was covered in bruises and my hand still smarted from the blow. I hated being a boy. I so wanted to be back home at Drury Lane with my own people, not masquerading among bullying rich boys and cane-obsessed teachers. I covered my face with my hands and gave vent to the furious tears that had been waiting to spill.
Footsteps came up the stairs and the door opened. I wiped my face on my sleeve but it was too late.
‘Cat? What happened?’ Frank came in and crouched before me. Then he saw the slash across my knuckles and swore.
‘I’ll kill him,’ muttered Charlie, grinding his fist into his palm.
‘Richmond’s a wart on the face of humanity,’ I said angrily, blowing my nose. ‘I don’t know what they put in the water in the West Indies but he’s clearly from the same school as Pedro’s old master. But don’t you do anything. This is between him and me.’ Frank got to his feet and winced. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ I asked.
‘Nothing the Avon rear protector could not have handled, but unfortunately we did not go to church prepared,’ said Frank regretfully.
‘I’m sorry. This is all my fault,’ I groaned.
‘Absolutely, Cat, but it’s worth every minute of pain. I’ve never known school to be so exciting.’ Frank smiled, challenging me to cheer up.
I grimaced. ‘I think it’s war between me and Richmond. I called him a gadso. I’ve never called anybody a gadso before but it just slipped out.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Frank, struggling to hide a grin.
‘What’s a gadso?’ asked Charlie.
‘One of the riper words of Covent Garden indicating a rather delicate part of the male anatomy, suggesting that the subject has nothing else in his skull,’ explained Frank.