Chapter 14
A fter the excitement of the morning’s excursion, Brigid thought she was perhaps making headway with Sandy and his old-fashioned ideas about women.
But when Sandy prepared to ride out again, he told Brigid to stay behind. She almost screamed in frustration. She didn’t want to be left behind! Not because she wanted to spend more time with Sandy, of course. Although he was good company. No, it was because she wanted to help the people of Gillies Tower. What she’d seen that morning was wrong, pure and simple.
Sandy wouldn’t budge, though. He and Tam rode out of the gates and left her standing alone in the courtyard.
So, Brigid sat with Mary in the elegant parlour. Together, they looked for ways to kill time while the men went out to do the real work. Brigid curled up in a chair beside the fire and tried to read a book on Scottish history. Mary sat at the desk and began work on the Gillies Tower accounts.
After just a few moment, though, she threw down her pen in a splatter of ink.
“It’s so unfair!” she exclaimed. “And stupid. We wouldn’t be in the way at all. We’d be able to help!”
Brigid sighed and closed the book. She hadn’t read a single word. “I don’t think Sandy can be persuaded,” she said. “And maybe he has a point. Your archery was certainly very impressive, but would it be enough? We might not have the experience to avoid being a liability.”
Mary looked at her with narrowed eyes. Brigid worried that she’d used the wrong words. Was she obviously out of place, here in the eighteenth century?
“A bow isn’t my only weapon,” Mary said. “I can use a sword, too. I’d demonstrate, if only one of the men would deign to spar with me.”
Brigid suspected she knew exactly where this was going, but she was willing to play along.
“I learnt a little bit about swords from my father,” she said. “I’m sure you’re much more competent than I am, but perhaps we could try something out.”
Mary’s eyes lit up. “I’ll be back in a moment,” she said, and half-ran from the room.
She reappeared a moment later, carrying two small swords.
“These are supposed to be training swords for young men,” she said, passing one to Brigid with a grin. “But they work pretty well for women too.”
With a practised movement, Mary tied her skirts up around her knees. Brigid attempted to copy her, but couldn’t figure it out. Laughing, Mary had to help her. Brigid longed for her athletic leggings from home, but this would be better than nothing.
Mary cleared the furniture away, pushing it all to the sides of the room so they had an open space. Then they faced each other with matching grins, and began to spar.
Brigid was impressed with Mary’s skill and speed. But Drest had taught his daughter a lot, and she quickly gained an advantage, pushing Mary back towards the door.
“Stop!” Sandy yelled.
Brigid turned, lowering her sword, to see Sandy striding into the room. His expression was absolutely furious.
“What are you thinking?” he demanded. “You could hurt each other! Those swords aren’t toys.”
Brigid raised her chin proudly.
“I was taught to fight by my father, an expert swordsman. I’m not just playing at this, Sandy. I practised every day for years. And Mary is clearly very competent as well.”
“I have no doubt that your father is an excellent swordsman,” Sandy said, his voice tight and angry. “But this is no sport for women! One mistake could be fatal.”
Brigid had heard enough. She threw down the sword, letting the loud clang fill the parlour. She had nothing else to say to Sandy. He clearly had no space left in his head for the idea that women were every bit as good as men. She stormed out of the room, leaving him behind.
Mary came running after her.
“Who is your father?” she asked, still breathing hard. “It’s a rare man indeed who teaches his daughter to fight with a sword.”
Brigid shrugged, not slowing down. “It’s hard to explain who he is,” she said.
Would people not stop asking her about her past? Besides, she hardly knew anything about her father’s job herself. He didn’t like to talk about it. All she knew was that it involved some kind of military role, and required him to travel a lot. Drest was hard to understand, let alone to explain.
Brigid stormed up the stairs to her own little tower room, leaving Mary behind. She was still burning with fury. She could hardly remember being this angry before.
How dare Sandy? How dare he assume that he knew anything about her, about what she could do? Brigid picked up a pillow and threw it down on her bed as she stifled a scream.
No sport for women? Not toys?
She’d show him.
When she helped to rescue Finn from Edmondson.