47. Practice, practice, practice .

At the beginning of that January, Rogeringham Hall became an academy.

My breeches were becoming unfashionably tight. I found that I was putting on weight, so with the help of Barclay, I began to practice my swordsmanship again, first in the Long Gallery while the weather was bad, then on a path by one of the side lawns when the weather was better.

We practised with the straight sword and the sabre, going through the simple forms, before we moved to more free practice. Our training with old dulled blades - they were blunt, but if you missed a parry, you would receive a nasty bruise - often drew an audience in the form of my sisters, who enjoyed the free show. Henry was one of those on-lookers, at first, until I recalled what he had said about being unskilled with a sword, at which point he got drawn into the practices with Barclay and myself.

In the morning Barclay, Henry and myself would work until we began to perspire, then, in the afternoon I would ride out on Cumberland the hunter, if the weather permitted. Henry often rode with me as we familiarised ourselves with the local area and met the tenants. Because of all this activity, I soon found my waistbands becoming less tight.

My sisters on the other hand, found themselves re-learning their social graces.

That first 'formal' dinner - where manners and etiquette became the focus, set the tone for the next few weeks. The dinners were held every three days or so, and we had guests each time. Sir Arthur and Lady Mary Walker from Buckingham, were the first to attend with Sir William and Lady Catherine Blunt. Sir William, the High Sheriff of Buckinghamshire had been unable to attend our Grand Winter Ball, but made up for it by gracing us with his attendance with the beautiful Lady Catherine, and their attendance set a nicely grand tone for this first formal dinner.

Dr and Mrs Locksley were guests one night, with Emily Dodgson and her daughters, and Mr and Mrs Langton, our solicitor and his wife. This was a slightly less than formal 'formal event' but still good practice. Formality is never a set level during the Season's occasions, some are more formal than others, it varies greatly, so practising at all levels is very important. It was also something of a celebration for Mrs Dodgson, she would commence teaching at the school soon, so this dinner was to mark this.

One evening our senior staff were guests at our dinner table. Mrs Ellis was there, Mr Dives. Barclay, of course, Mr Roberts the cellarman, our head coachman Mr Hopley, Mr Peyton who is in charge of the stable-yard at Rogeringham Hall with his wife, and several others. This was a particularly interesting evening for all concerned. The staff presented a serious and sober group, and a slightly intimidating one at that, dressed for the occasion as they were.

My sisters are used to these ladies and gentlemen being around and about them in their lives, but they are less used to interacting with them at a conversational level, and I was nervous that they would not be able to adjust themselves to this novel situation.

I should not have worried, after all I had observed the way that they had welcomed Emily Dodgson into our house, though she had the advantage of being both a woman and closer to my sisters' ages. My sisters had obviously prepared themselves with some questions - Mr Roberts was engaged by Margaret and Louise to explain about what he considers to be a good wine and how he judges one. Caroline then used this topic to include Mr Dives, Barclay and the others.

From this one conversation my sisters came to understand the depth of skills that people like Mr Dives and Mr Roberts have, and how it enables them to do their work. They also came to understand that this applies to Mrs Ellis as well, she made some very astute observations about table wines that even Mr Roberts acknowledged as being well-made.

Mr Peyton was asked by Charlotte how my mare was progressing, and thus, each of these worthy individuals was engaged and encouraged to talk, my sisters asking further questions as they did so, until it became less of an interview and more of a conversation. All in all, it went well and the meal ended with Mr Dives proposing a toast to the future, which was a nice touch.

The principle behind all of this was for the girls to rehearse their formal behaviours, so that it becomes a second nature to them. Much in the same way that we do musketry drill in the army - so that the soldier does not think about what he has to do, he just does it; thus, it was with my sisters.

Whether and when to curtsey or bow, and knowing when to do which, and the depth to which you should curtsey depending upon your rank versus the person to which you are curtseying. Demure conversations with our guests, the correct and appropriate ways to respond to a guest's joke. And yes, which item of cutlery to use at each and every point in a meal. It sounds restrictive and prescribed and wrong in so many ways for vivacious and strong-minded women to have to behave so, like empty-headed ninnies. It is.

But, in the same way that a young officer has to endure being barracked by his seniors, until he proves himself in a fight, so too the young women being presented at court have to prove themselves at the functions they will attend. It might be observed that the difference is that a young officer must learn his trade before he goes into harm's way, but it has also been observed that one slip at a dinner, or a word out of place at a ball, can be a social death for the offender, at best they will miss out on an opportunity for a good match, at worst it will lead to them being isolated, even ostracised, from society, and placing them at a severe disadvantage in their adult lives.

I hope you that you will understand that my sisters were not in any way wayward or lacking in social skills. They were all beautifully mannered young women, even the twins, and they had all been schooled in proper behaviour, as had I, as we grew up. Rather, this was a polishing process, my mother and I wanted to ensure that my sisters were perfect in their parts, and that they behaved this way without conscious thought, so that it would appear to an observer to be completely natural. My mother watched everything like a hawk. No sergeant-major ever had a sharper eye than hers, she saw all, and noted the tiniest error - a mis-speak, a hesitation or pause for thought.

For all of her perception, and her observation of faux-pas, unlike the army, there were no floggings, no extra duties, Helena was gentler when it came to correcting mistakes. A simple word, a look, even just the way she set her mouth - in a tight line - would be enough for the offender to know that they had erred, and she would rehearse their error with them at the next opportunity.

The wrong fork, a laugh too loud, using the incorrect style when greeting a guest, all received one of mama's 'looks'.

We followed this programme for two weeks. During the day Mr Adams, Barclay and I exercised our swordsmanship in the Long Gallery. Then later in the day, my sisters would practice their comportment there - practising the art of moving not as they would normally, but instead perfecting a graceful glide. If they were not gliding up and down the gallery - with a small book balanced upon their heads, they would be sat at the table, practicing conversations and which way to turn to start one depending upon where one was seated. All of this, the dinners, comportment and dancing, all culminated with undress rehearsals of the presentation to Her Majesty, with Mrs Ellis, the house keeper, taking Queen Charlotte's part, and enjoying herself greatly in the role when she did.

This fortnight of preparation was immense fun, I got to know many of the local dignitaries - and my own people - much better. Most of them were well aware of what was going on, but they ignored that aspect of the evening (except when their interaction with my sisters was critical to the training) and I found to my surprise that, by the end of the two weeks I had received a letter to say that my name was short-listed to become a local Justice of the Peace.

The final dinner was just for ourselves, the family, Henry Adams, James Barthomley and a couple of other young men that were invited by Helena. For my sisters it was a culmination, a final examination, which, I am happy to say, they passed without one single, solitary hard stare from Helena.

Not a one.