“A blow to the face is not the best option,” I commented when he had gone. “The objective should be to remove yourself from being that close to the attacker.”
It was something I remembered well and had improved upon afterward.
“Mr. Munro said ye learned something called self-defense on one of yer travels,” she commented. “Would ye teach me?”
There were moments when I felt that I had been somewhat remiss in my responsibilities after bringing Lily to London. Even though Lily had assured me that the arrangement for her to live at Sussex Square suited her quite well.
Here she had a somewhat normal household. I emphasize the wordsomewhat,whereas for me to continue working with Brodie might find me at the office on the Strand at all hours. Or, at the town house at the end of the day, or anywhere in between following up information for a client.
And I suppose that for Lily, as it had been for my sister and me, Sussex Square was far more interesting with the things my great-aunt was always into.
“Very well,” I told her. “I can show you the basics, and then a move that will almost guarantee that you will be able to subdue an attacker and then flee if necessary.”
Two hours later we were both exhausted, my hair had come down, and my forehead was damp from the exertion. Lily was much the same, but with a very determined look on her face.
“Wot about that move ye were goin’ to show me?”
She was a very quick study, focused on everything I had showed her. Not to mention that she, like Brodie and Munro, had learned a great deal on the streets of Edinburgh. She was also quite slender and a bit smaller, as I gauged her height and weight.
“Very well. We’ll stage a mock attack,” I told her. “You’re to come at me, face-to-face as if you intend to strike me.”
She looked at me with a hesitant expression. “Are ye certain ye want to do this?”
“Quite certain. I will play the part of a lady out shopping and you are to approach me as if you intend to take my handbag.”
She grinned, and for just a brief moment it seemed that I glimpsed myself at her age.
I took my position, pretending to be shopping among the displays of swords and shields along the wall.
As we had discussed, she approached in a most innocent manner, and then suddenly lunged for that imaginary handbag.
I caught her by the wrist with my left hand then launched a mock blow toward her face with the heel of my other hand. My final move was to sweep her completely off her feet with my right foot, dumping her on the floor with a stunned sound as the air left her lungs.
She made a muffled sound as the color slowly returned to her face. I held out a hand to help her back to her feet. She glared at me.
“Ye might have given a warning,” she exclaimed as she finally took my hand.
“Would you give a warning to someone who came at you on the street?”
“No,” she replied, then said, “I want to know how ye did that.”
“With a great deal of practice,” I replied. “And I left out the last part.”
“Wot is that?”
“The part where I am no longer there but safely away.”
I agreed to show her how it was done, along with the series of moves that led to it.
“The heel of your hand to the nose is far more effective than a punch with the fist. It will momentarily distract your attacker, and then you can sweep his feet out from under him.”
“Where did ye learn to do that?”
“A fellow traveler introduced me to it. She was a very independent woman and often traveled alone. She had learned it in the Far East.”
“Does Mr. Brodie know about it?”
That was a conversation for another time, as we left the sword room and returned downstairs, where my great-aunt sat at a table in the solar with rain washing the glass walls in late afternoon gloom.
