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A sudden blast on Miss Sharp’s whistle made the students rise and stand to attention until they were allowed to march out of the dining room.
The first lesson of the day took place in the drawing room. Miss Franklin gave each girl a heavy book to balance on her head with instructions to walk slowly up and down the large room. This seemed easy at first but there were plenty of mishaps and these resulted in bursts of laughter. Miss Franklin smiled indulgently but she made them practise until she was satisfied that they carried themselves well. Another of their exercises was being made to perch on the edge of a hard chair for twenty minutes while maintaining perfect posture. The girls who could not keep their shoulders back were strapped into a brace for the rest of the lesson, and those who could not keep their heads held in the correct position were forced to wear a cardboard collar. Tamara giggled and said that poor Lady Jane Doubleday looked like a giraffe with a sore throat, which made everyone laugh, except Lady Jane.
By the end of the morning, Nancy was stiff and sore, but she had managed to escape the embarrassing use of the back brace and the cardboard collar. Miss Franklin told her that she had naturally good deportment, but Nancy knew that it was due in part to the almost savage treatment by Mrs Shaw, who had strapped her shoulders back daily so that she was forced to hold herself upright. Even after she went to live at Rockwood Castle, the early training had never left her, and for once she was grateful to the rigorous discipline she had endured at the hands of the vicar’s wife.
Luncheon was a simple meal of cold cuts and salad, followed by a dense and sticky jam suet pudding with custard, which was filling and satisfied any cravings for sweet food the young ladies might have.
‘So they can cook when they try,’ Nancy said as they filed out of the dining hall.
‘Shh.’ Tamara put her finger to her lips. ‘No talking until we get to our room.’
Nancy sighed, wondering if the rules were ever going to relax just a little. The other young ladies seemed to be accustomed to the regime, although she heard them whispering to each other as soon as they were out of earshot of Miss Sharp. Nancy had seen Miss Sharp’s way of dealing with anyone who stepped out of line: a spiteful pinch or a brisk nudge from her very pointed elbow, together with a menacing look that meant trouble.
When they reached their room, Tamara went to her cupboard and took out a pair of dancing slippers.
‘You’ll enjoy this afternoon, Nancy.’
Eleanora stretched out on her bed. ‘Only if you have two left feet and no ear for music. Otherwise it will be your idea of hell. I’m not going.’
Tamara stared at her in horror. ‘Eleanora, you’ve already been in trouble today. You won’t get off so easily next time.’
‘Who cares? I don’t, and I am not going to walk through the park to that ghastly suburban villa so that Mr Poppleton can teach us to prance about like circus horses.’
‘I think it sounds like fun,’ Nancy said, smiling. ‘You’ll be sorry if you miss it, Eleanora.’
‘Let her do as she pleases,’ Tamara said, sighing. ‘She will anyway, so don’t waste your breath.’
Nancy sat on the edge of her bed. ‘Tell me more about the dancing lessons.’
‘You’ll need your maidservant to accompany you. Miss Maughfling insists that we take our maids so that we are neat and tidy when we return through the park. We are supposed to represent everything that’s good about the Academy.’
Eleanora gave a snort and turned on her side. ‘Ridiculous. Our parents are being tricked out of their money by old Maughfling, and all we get is sore feet. Anyway, I’m meeting Jack at three o’clock. We’re going for tea at Gunter’s.’
Tamara rolled her eyes. ‘There is no helping some people.’
‘Molly won’t know what to do,’ Nancy said worriedly. ‘She’s a country girl and she’s not used to city life.’
‘Don’t worry. My maid, Annie, will help her. She was born in Spitalfields, as I was.’
‘We know your papa is in trade, Tamara.’ Eleanora yawned. ‘I’d keep quiet about it, if I were you. The other young ladies are frightful snobs, unlike me.’
Nancy and Tamara exchanged meaningful looks and laughed.
‘I don’t know why that amuses you,’ Eleanora said crossly. ‘You are both so childish. Go to Poppleton’s dance studio and see what fools you make of yourselves then.’
The young ladies walked through the park, two by two, followed by their respective maids. Miss Sharp led the way and Miss Franklin was at the rear, encouraging stragglers to keep up.
Mr Poppleton’s dance studio was a large room built onto the back of his suburban villa in a crescent close to the park. Mr Poppleton’s tiny wife showed them to the changing room, where they swapped their button boots for dancing slippers. Mrs Poppleton seemed flustered, and she flitted around, begging the girls to hurry.
‘Mr Poppleton is a demon for punctuality,’ she said anxiously. ‘We have another class at three o’clock and Mr P is very strict about starting and finishing on time.’
Miss Sharp drew herself up to her full height so that she towered above the trembling woman. ‘Madam, we arrived on the dot of two o’clock. We have an hour’s dancing lesson booked and we expect to have the full time, otherwise we will have to take steps.’
‘Steps?’ Mrs Poppleton’s myopic blue eyes almost popped out of her head.
‘I suggest we start as soon as the young ladies have changed their footwear,’ Miss Franklin added hastily.
Mrs Poppleton shot her a grateful smile. ‘I’ll tell the dancing master that you are ready to begin.’ She fluttered off like an agitated butterfly.
