“What if one engages in very strenuous activity of a non-slothful nature and then chooses to recline against a chair for well-earned rest?”
He shook his head. “Then one must excuse oneself to a lonely place where one might recline, lean back, slouch, or otherwise relieve oneself of the unmitigated burden of maintaining an erect posture.”
She could not fail to miss the accusation in his statement. “Very well, then. If I must slouch, I will take my leave…to spare my guests the horror.”
“That is all good, but you must continue to maintain correct form when walking as well. You must glide from place to place as if skating on ice, and not lumber like an ox.”
“I do not lumber like an ox.”
“Yes, you do, my dear,” the duchess said. “But we will devote ourselves to improving that. Meanwhile, let us speak of hosting.”
Stung, Lucy nodded silent agreement. Talk of posture was numbing her already.
“Hosting,” said Henry, “begins with greeting. You must nod politely to acknowledge equals and curtsy respectfully to superiors. As such, we must teach you how to curtsy properly.”
“I know how to curtsy. We need not waste time on such exercises.”
The duchess brought a hand to her chest. “Where did you learn to curtsy, my dear?”
“I have seen it done many times. The act is not so difficult.”
Henry frowned. “Perhaps you would grace us with a demonstration.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Just now, if you are so inclined.”
Lucy stood and dropped a curtsy. She raised her eyes to find both Henry and the duchess grimacing. The old woman forced a smile. “We shall work on that, too, my dear.”
Lucy plopped to her seat in a defeated slouch. With eyes on her, Henry straightened his back and swept his palms up his torso as a reminder. Upon resuming the awkward position dictated by appropriate posture, she frowned. “If I might ask, how will I know who is deserving of a respectful curtsy and who rates merely a polite nod of acknowledgment?”
“Ah, yes,” said Henry, “A very practical question. As you are the granddaughter of a duke, you enjoy significant rank. You must curtsy to any of the royal house and its numerous offshoots, and to highly respected members of other noble houses, perhaps even those of lower rank.”
She stared at him. “You failed to answer my question. My confusion is greater now than it was before you began explaining. You seem to possess a talent for that.”
He rubbed his forehead. The duchess again lightly touched Lucy’s arm. “Yes, dear. Rank is terribly confusing to the uninitiated. Until you learn, take your lead from me.”
“Not from Mr. Beaumont?”
The duchess winced, so Henry explained. “I am well below your rank. My lead would prove inaccurate regarding your expected greeting.”
She smiled. “Do you mean to say that you must bow to me and yet I owe you not even a polite nod of the head?”
His face colored slightly. “It would seem so.”
“How interesting.” Lucy felt suddenly more engaged in the rules of the game. “And what if I encounter a superior who is a particularly odious person. Must I still curtsy?”
The duchess nodded. “You must show respect to superiors always, even to those who are undeserving louts. Otherwise, Society will cut you.”
“And if that superior is the most scandalous of rakes who treats everyone with selfish disregard or contempt, must I still curtsy?”
“Yes,” replied Henry and the duchess in unison.
“You are telling me, then, that a superior who is an utter jackass deserves a show of respect, and to not show said jackass respect is to earn disrespect?”
“Yes. Exactly,” said Henry.
She shook her head. “’Tis a stupid rule.”
