Founded in 1821 by one Madeline Groutsberg-Finchley-Walker-Pussfot, a woman of such pure breeding she could barely lift her chin. Scandalised by the claret talk one night after dinner in Belgravia about the benefits of mixed-sex education in Germany, she resolved at once to keep dainty girls of good fortune away from the sweaty, hairy areas of the male creature until they were pegged-out horizontal and thinking clearly of Dorset on their wedding nights.
Taking her considerable resources with her, and with the eager blessings of her cuckolded husband, she relocated to the vicar-heavy, sponge finger making, cream-clotting, hay-baling boredom of rural Gloucestershire. Bemused locals watched on as a grand mansion of brick and tile mushroomed amongst the traditional thatches and stone bridges where a proud Lady Pussfot would incorporate the next generation of ladies what do nothing.
Word soon spread of this chaste establishment where the most excitement one could find was a second spoon of sugar in their tea, and quietly weeping teenage daughters were whisked from towns and cities the length and breadth of the country safe and untouched in the bosom of Lady Pussfot. Every morning begins with the same refrain cried up the stairs to the dormitories. ‘Girls! Girls!’ first uttered through the shrill nasal tones of Lady Pussfot herself, and every lady to replace her known affectionately as the Fusspot ever since.
The traditional subjects are of course taught there along with servant cajoling, scolding, hands-free child rearing, wine pairing, sailing and a range of deadly martial arts. Ladies who will very likely end up as wives of diplomats across the globes need to know how to kick bottom. Languages were of course important, and so Lady Pussfot had created the first international ladies exchange where well-to-do foreign students could come and learn a bit of English so as not to inconvenience the English in the future.
Four to six years at the academy culminated in the great Coming Out, a reintroduction to society at a specially and carefully choreographed ball at the end of the summer term. For creatures more accustomed to hockey sticks and pleated skirts, ball gowns were quite an adjustment. Many awkward hours are passed practicing heel walking with the Fusspot insisting ladies only sit when eating and legs safely tucked under the table. It is also the first time they encounter young members of the opposite sex as young sailors are cabbed in from the Chaste Anchor Naval Academy to be reluctant dance partners. The effect of so much testosterone and pheromones flying about the smart wood paneled ball room is so potent that fish spontaneously reproduce in the nearby river. The first touch of hand, the swish of the skirt, the creak of the breeches, only the slapping cane of the Fusspot and her staff prevent any unexpected revelations.
Immediately following graduation, the girls head into the world with the requisite education to simultaneously host a dinner party, give birth and fend off a marauding army. The reputation of Lady Pussfot’s girls is so admired that agencies sprang up in London for men of good fortune and background to select partners from their catalogues to become the new lady this or Baroness that. There is barely a esteemed lady ship the world over who doesn’t claim the school as their alma mater and many return regularly for reunions and an extensive network of letter writing keeps the ladies informed as to each other’s progress, and many suspect that these pieces of paper help to run the world. Famous alumni include Petticoat Mumberly, Queen of Gurana, Doducestra de Setterly, Governess of Alexandria, and Brumhelga Von Clinker, Grand Duchess of Austro-Hungary.