A Season for Honour

Chapter 8

A week after the fishing trip, Octavia and Olivia had been invited by Charles to watch his first fencing lesson in the gallery at Northleigh. The gallery had been specially chosen by Captain Fallbrook, who had suggested that the long room with its high ceiling would be the perfect place to conduct the lesson. Octavia had ordered the servants to clear away any obstacles that might come to harm if hit by a sword, but she should not have worried. The long room that house the portraits of the Sorrell family for generations, only contained a few tables, positioned in ornate alcoves around the room. The servants had already, under their own initiative, removed the expensive porcelain vases and other potentially breakable items that rested on these tables and on the mantlepiece. The large oil paintings of the previous generations of the Sorrell family were left hanging on the wall, and they looked down at the ensuing lesson with disinterested expressions on their faces.

It had not been hard to find the equipment needed for the lesson. Sir Freddie, when he had been at Eton and then Oxford, had been proficient in the sport and had kept all the necessary paraphernalia for an occasion such as this. In fact, when he had been told about the proposed lesson, he had offered his services.

After his first lesson, Charles had spoken non-stop about how much fun it had been. During his lengthy monologue to his mother and sister, he had told them that Captain Fallbrook and his Uncle Freddie had given him a first-rate demonstration of how one should conduct oneself when one was challenging an opponent. He had assured his Mama, who he knew was averse to any form of physical violence, that it was a sport for gentlemen, and each competitor was subject to a strict code of conduct governing their behaviour. They had told him that a gentleman never picked up the foil in anger. He had been told that anger was dangerous and could cloud one's judgement, thus putting oneself at a disadvantage.

Charles, who was in awe of both his tutor and guardian, hung on their every word and took their warnings seriously. He had described to his Mama and sister that it had been a magnificent sight to watch both men demonstrate their skills. 'And, Mama,' Charles had declared after his lengthy description was drawing to an end, 'it is perfectly safe. You wear a mask over the face, and the foils, even though they are not in the least bit sharp, have a cork protector on the tip. Uncle Freddie said that all I will get is a few bruises and maybe a sore bottom if I fall onto the floor too many times. You must not worry, Mama,' the young lad said reassuringly to his Mama. 'It is all perfectly safe, and Captain Fallbrook will look after me,' he had said his eyes gleaming with excitement. 'I am so excited about my first lesson tomorrow. I do not think I will be able to sleep tonight.'

Since that conversation, Charles had had several lessons, and his excitement for the new sport had not diminished. He wanted to show his mother and sister what he had learnt. Therefore, a week after his first lesson Octavia and Olivia found themselves positioned at the end of the long gallery, observing Charles' progress.

'Mama, Livvy,' he shouted up at them, 'did you see that!'

'Yes, I did, my dear,' Octavia replied her voice a little alarmed, 'you are not hurt are you.'

'Me?' Charles shouted back as he picked himself off the floor, 'of course not.'

Octavia watched as her son held out the foil in front of him and placed his right foot in front of his left. 'En Garde,' he commanded as Captain Fallbrook then took his position.

'When you lunge,' the Captain said, 'try not to lean too much to the left. Keep your body in line and use your left arm as a counterbalance. That should stop you from falling over.'

Charles lunged elegantly at Captain Fallbrook, who expertly parried his attack. 'Much better,' the Captain said as Charles regained his equilibrium, 'you did not fall over that time. This time keep the foil horizontal and your back leg straight. All the power should come from your leg, not your arm.'