Abigail turned on her heel and hurried away without so much as an apology. But at least she was gone.
“Thank you,” Amy said. “Thank you both.”
Ruth smiled. “Not at all. But you should get to your next lesson.”
With a quick nod, Amy hurried away.
Jenny followed Ruth into her room. “That was kind of you. And I appreciate your help, too.” She paused and tilted her head. “How does one become strong like you?”
Ruth walked over to her chest of drawers and began sorting through some clothing. She had bright red hair like Abigail, but Ruth’s was less unruly and much more becoming.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Ruth said, “but it’s a long story. And one I’d prefer not to share.”
Jenny shrugged. Ruth had never been forthcoming about her past. But it was her business. Just as she was about to leave, Jenny stopped to stare at the clothing her friend had thrown on the bed.
“Ruth, what are you doing with men’s clothing?” she asked.
“Well, Mrs. Rutley’s already in bed, right?”
Jenny nodded. Their headmistress had been unwell the last couple of days. After wishing the students a good evening, she had left Mrs. Shepherd in charge and retired for the night.
Ruth grinned. “So, there is no better time to sneak out. Now, make sure the door is closed so I can change.”
Jenny went to do as she bade, leaning her back against the door in case someone tried to enter without knocking.
“Do you think this is a good idea?” Jenny asked, frowning.
“I’ve got business to attend to,” Ruth said matter-of-factly. “And before you ask, don’t. It’s best that you don’t know.”
Jenny sighed. No matter what the other students, or even Mrs. Rutley, said or did, Ruth was the ever-rebellious one. It was not as if she could not conduct herself as a lady, for she could. Her marks were the highest of any other student. She could walk straighter, balance a stack of books better, and lower herself into a curtsy that nearly had her nose touching the floor better than most ladies.
Yet her other side, the one prone to mischief, always lay just beneath the surface, ready to spring to life whenever the need arose.
“Very well, I’ll not ask,” Jenny said when Ruth presented her back to Jenny, the cord of her stays hanging loose. “But I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t at least warn you to be careful.” She grunted as she pulled the cord tighter. “Going out at night can be dangerous. Too many unscrupulous men roam the streets just waiting to happen upon a young woman silly enough to venture out alone.”
Ruth drew in a deep breath. “Tighter,” she gasped.
Jenny tugged on the ends of the cord. “Even in a village as small as Chatsworth,” she said, grunting again. The stays would not tighten farther. “And it’s not just a rumor. Mrs. Rutley has reminded us time and again how unsafe it can be for any woman.”
“I’m well aware of the situation,” Ruth said as she pulled the shirt over her head. “But with my disguise, no one will know I’m a woman.”
Laughing, Jenny said, “I doubt that! One cannot simply become a man because she puts on trousers and a man’s shirt.”
Ruth gave a derisive snort. “I can.” After donning the trousers, she sat at the vanity table. She wound her hair into a tight braid, pinned it into a circle on top of her head, and placed an old woolen cap on top of it. Then she took out a piece of charcoal and began dabbing it on her face.
“What are you doing?” Jenny gasped.
Ruth did not respond but instead continued rubbing the charcoal into the skin around her eyes and along her nose and jawline. Then she took out a beige powder and covered the charcoal. When she was done, she turned to face Jenny.
“Well? Do I not look like a woman now?”
Flabbergasted, Jenny covered her mouth to stifle a gasp. The charcoal had changed the entire shape of Ruth’s face, adding harsh lines and removing the womanly softness it once possessed. Now, with her cap and clothing, she did, in fact, appear to be a young man.
“Well,” Jenny said when she was able to speak again, “you may look like a man, but can you act like one?”
Standing, Ruth swaggered across the room and back again, her walk befitting of any man. Any man who was not a gentleman, that is.
“I’m gonna talk to one of them girls at the school,” Ruth drawled in a deep tone. “Might even get one of ‘em to kiss me, too.”