Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Lettice recently visited her family home, Glynes, in Wiltshire after fleeing London in a moment of deep despair. Lettice’s beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, had organised a romantic dinner at the Savoy* for he and Lettice to celebrate his birthday. However, when Lettice arrived, she was confronted not with the smiling face of her beau, but the haughty and cruel spectre of his mother, the Duchess of Walmsford, Lady Zinnia. Lady Zinnia, and Selwyn’s Uncle Bertrand had been attempting to marry him off to his cousin, 1923 debutante Pamela Fox-Chavers. Lady Zinnia had, up until that moment been snubbing Lettice, so Selwyn and Lettice arranged for Lettice to attend as many London Season events as possible where Selwyn and Pamela were also in attendance so that Lettice and Selwyn could spend time together, and at the same time make their intentions so well known that Lady Zinnia wouldn’t be able to avoid Lettice any longer. Zinnia is a woman who likes intrigue and revenge, and the revenge she launched upon Lettice that evening at the Savoy was bitterly harsh and painful. With a cold and calculating smile Lady Zinna announced that she had packed Selwyn off to Durban in South Africa for a year. She made a pact with her son: if he went away for a year, a year during which he agreed neither to see, nor correspond with Lettice, if he comes back and doesn’t feel the same way about her as he did when he left, he agreed that he will marry Pamela, just as Bertrand and Lady Zinnia planned. If however, he still feels the same way about Lettice when he returns, Lady Zinnia agreed that she would concede and will allow him to marry her.
Leaving London by train that very evening, Lettice returned home to Glynes, where she stayed for a week, moving numbly about the familiar rooms of the grand Georgian country house, reading books from her father’s library distractedly to pass the time, whilst her father fed her, her favourite Scottish shortbreads in a vain effort to cheer her up. However, rather than assuage her broken heart, her father’s ministrations only served to make matters worse as she grew even more morose. It was from the most unlikely of candidates, her mother Lady Sadie, with whom Lettice has always had a fraught relationship, that Lettice received the best advice, which was to stop feeling sorry for herself and get on with her life: keep designing interiors, keep shopping and most importantly, keep attending social functions where there are plenty of press photographers. “You may not be permitted to write to Selwyn,” Lady Sadie said wisely. ‘But Zinnia said nothing about the newspapers not writing about your plight or your feelings on your behest. Let them tell Selwyn that you still love him and are waiting for him. They get the London papers in Durban just as much as they get them here, and Zinnia won’t be able to stop a lovesick and homesick young man flipping to the society pages as he seeks solace in the faces of familiar names and faces, and thus seeing you and reading your words of commitment to him that you share through the newspaper men. Tell them that you are waiting patiently for Selwyn’s return.”
Since then, Lettice has been trying to follow her mother’s advice and has thrown herself into the merry dance of London’s social round of dinners, dances and balls in the lead up to the festive season. Carefully heeding another piece of her mother’s advice, she has avoided being seen on the arm of any eligible young men, and just as Lady Sadie predicted, the press has been lapping up the story of Lettice’s broken heart as she shuns the advances of other young men whilst she awaits Selwyn’s eventual return from Durban, publishing the details in all their tabloids with fervour.
Tonight however, Lettice has had enough of nightclubs, ballrooms and false bonhomie and is eschewing an evening of dancing followed by a light supper at a party being held by Lady Lavender Barnstable in London’s Queen’s Gate, preferring instead to say at home in Cavendish Mews where she can let her guard down at least for a little while and quietly pine for her lost love. Being December, in an effort to cheer her mistress up, Edith, Lettice’s maid, has ordered a Christmas tree on Lettice’s behalf and pulled the decorations out from the Cavendish Mews box room, and together they decorated the tree until it was a sparkling wonderland of glowing glass baubles and glistening tinsel**. The drawing room smells of a delightful mixture of fresh spruce pine and hothouse roses from the Regent Street Flower Box, Lettice’s favourite florist. The tree is surrounded with beautifully wrapped gifts that Lettice has acquired over the last week as she prepares for Christmas.
“Is it almost time, Miss?” Edith asks with excitement as she bustles into the drawing room with a tray laden with tea making implements and some mince pies acquired from the Harrod’s food hall.
The maid carefully places it on the low black japanned coffee table and begins to set out the tea things.
Lettice glances up at the dainty painted Art Deco clock on the mantlepiece. “Not quite yet Edith. According to ‘The Broadcaster’ it doesn’t start until half past seven. So, just another ten minutes or so.”
“Thank goodness I made it in time.” Edith gasps. “I though the kettle would never boil, Miss.”
“What is it they say about a watched pot never boiling, Edith?” Lettice laughs, albeit a little sadly.
Edith chuckles. “How right they were, Miss.”
“Please, do sit down, Edith.” Lettice says, indicating with an elegant open palmed gesture to the white upholstered tub armchair opposite her.
“Thank you Miss!” Edith replies, bobbing a curtsey, before carefully settling herself into the luxurious cushioning of the chair, smoothing her black silk moiré skirt and decorative lace apron of her afternoon uniform over her knees. Although she usually feels ill at ease when on the rare occasion she has been invited to sit in the drawing room with her mistress, tonight is different and she radiates excitement. “I must say, Miss, it’s awfully kind of you letting me sit with you and listen to ‘A Christmas Carol’ on the wireless with you.”
“Oh, I think it’s the very least I can do, Edith. After all, if I hadn’t overheard you talking about it with Mrs. Boothby, I wouldn’t have even known the BBC was performing a dramatic recital of A Christmas Carol on the airwaves tonight***.”
“I’m so excited! It’s one of my favourite stories from my childhood you see, Miss.” Edith enthuses.
“Is it?” Lettice asks with mild interest.
“Oh yes! My Dad, well he’s a real bookworm and he wanted my brother, Bert, and I to enjoy reading as much as him. Mum’s not much of a reader herself. She’s more,” Edith pauses momentarily raising her eyes to the ornate cornicing on the ceiling above whilst she tries to think of the right word. “Practical, shall we say.”
“Somehow I don’t think I could imagine you having a mother who would just settle down by her hearth with a good book in hand, Edith.”
“Oh she’d never do that, Miss. She’s always far too busy in the kitchen cooking something or cleaning something else. She doesn’t have time for books she tells my Dad, but she indulges him.”
“So how did your father try and develop your interest in reading, Edith?”
“Well, Bert and I, we shared a room when we were little, and Dad used to read us stories.” Edith begins wistfully as she remembers being tucked up cosily in bed and listening to her father read. “‘Gulliver’s Travels’, ‘Robinson Crusoe’, ‘The Swiss Family Robinson’.”
“My, my!” Lettice exclaims. “Such an enlightened man. How lucky you were, Edith.”
“Oh we were, Miss. And he would always read us A Christmas Carol in the lead up to Christmas. We all hated Scrooge and Bert always had a soft spot for Tiny Tim.”
“Don’t we all?” smiles Lettice sadly.
“I always loved the party at Mr. Fezziwig’s. That’s my favourite part of the story when old Scrooge wasn’t so horrible and mean.”
“Yes, but he missed his chance of love.” Lettice remarks with heightened sadness as she reflects on the recent bitter twist in her own romantic relationship with Selwyn.
“Anyway,” Edith quickly pipes up before her mistress can think too long and hard. “Dad would always make sure he had it finished just on Christmas Eve, so Bert and I could settle down in our beds and try and sleep as we waited excitedly for Father Christmas to arrive on Christmas morning.”
“And did it work, Edith?”
“Oh yes Miss, we always nodded off no matter how much Bert and I tried to stay awake. And then we’d find an orange in the heel of our stockings and all kinds of other little goodies stuffed into them on Christmas Day. I don’t know how Dad, with his feet as big and tread as heavy as paving stones, could be so quiet, Miss.”
“No Edith!” Lettice laughs with genuine delight at her maid’s innocent misunderstanding of her question. “I meant, did your father’s ploy of reading to you instil a love of reading in you?”
“Oh!” laughs Edith. “Oh yes Miss! Well, you know I’m quite partial to a romance novel, just like yourself Miss.” Lettice nods in agreement at Edith’s statement. “And Bert takes after Dad. He likes a good murder mystery. He says it’s a good way to while away any quiet time he gets when he is on a long voyage and wants to remember home.”
“Do they like Agatha Christie****, Edith?”
“Oh yes Miss! Dad really loves her. He read ‘The Mysterious Affair at Styles’ and said it was absolutely engrossing. He read it from cover to cover as quickly as he could. He likes that detective Monsieur Poirot. He says that he’s not bad, for a foreigner that is.”
Lettice laughs fulsomely again at her maid’s remark before she asks her, “Do you know Ms. Christie has released a new novel this year called ‘The Murder on the Links’?”
“Oh yes Miss. I’d love to buy it for Dad for Christmas, but it’s seven and six in the bookshops, and I can’t afford that.”
“I’ll have a chat with Mr. Mayhew***** my booksellers in Charing Cross if you like, Edith. He may be able to find you a shop-soiled copy at a slightly cheaper price than that.”
“Oh would you, Miss?” Edith’s eyes light up with delight. “I’d be ever so grateful if you would! Dad wouldn’t mind a copy, even if it was a little scuffed. He’ll soon have his own biscuity fingerprints all over it.”
“I’ll telephone him in the morning, Edith. After all Christmas comes but once a year.”
As her mistress speaks, Edith watches as she gazes down upon the little black japanned occasional table on which stands Edith’s nemesis, the telephone, with a wistful stare. In front of the sparkling silver and Bakelite****** telephone, the first few cards of the festive season stand. Soon, as the number of them increase, Edith will move the cards from there to the mantlepiece. There is a card from Jeffrey and Company*******, the wallpaper manufacturers, and one from Lettice’s upholsterer thanking Lettice for her ongoing patronage. There is an early Christmas card from Wanetta Ward, the American film actress Lettice decorated a flat for, who has a contract with Islington Studios********, who has just set sail back to America to spend Christmas with her family. And there is a card from Lady’s Sadie’s cousin, the Duchess of Whitby, who in Edith’s opinion has more front than********* Selfridge’s to dare sending a Christmas card when she only reluctantly paid the bills for the work done by Lettice for remodelling the small first floor reception room of her Fitzroy Square home with some considerable inducement from Lettice’s father the Viscount Wrexham. Edith knows that the one Christmas card her mistress wants will never arrive, at least not this Christmas.
“Ahem.” Edith clears her throat a little awkwardly, breaking her mistress’ deep thoughts. “You miss him, don’t you Miss?”
Lettice turns back to her maid, her face pale and her eyes glistening with unshed tears that threaten to burst forth at any moment. “Yes. I miss him terribly.”
“I understand, Miss.” Edith assures her. “I remember what it was like, waiting for my first sweetheart to come home from the war, and now he’s buried over the Channel in Flanders Fields**********. At least you know Mr. Spencely is coming home, Miss.”
Lettice lowers her gaze into her lap. “You make me feel ashamed, Edith.”
“Me Miss?” Edith gasps, raising her hands to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to. How?”
“I forgot that you had a sweetheart, your first by your own admission, who died in the Great War. Yet here you are. You survived his loss. Yet here am I, blubbing at the mere thought of Selwyn and he’s not in any danger in Durban, and will be coming back. I really have nothing to cry over.”
The two women fall into silence for a moment, with only the crackle of the fire and the ticking of the clock on the mantle to break it.
“If you’ll pardon me for saying this, Miss,” Edith says after a few moments. “But a broken heart is a broken heart, no matter how it gets broken, whether in times of war or peace. I don’t know your people, and I hope I don’t sound presumptuous when I say this, Miss, but I think your old mum the Countess is right. You have to keep going on, and if Mr. Spencely really loves you,” She pauses for a moment. “And for what little it’s worth, in my opinion I’m sure he does, Miss, he’ll come home to you. He’s a right fool if he doesn’t!” She gasps as soon as the words are out of her mouth, realising what she, a humble domestic, has said about her social better and a future duke. “Oh, I’m so sorry Miss. I didn’t mean that last remark. I spoke out of turn. Mr. Spencely is a fine gentleman.”
“Please, don’t apologise Edith.” Lettice reassures her, reaching out a grasping hand to her maid, who cautiously holds out her own hand, allowing Lettice to clasp it with a strength and urgency that surprises the young maid. “Of course you meant it or you wouldn’t have said it. I know it comes from a sense of loyalty to me. I appreciate that, truly I do.”
“Yes Miss.” Edith mumbles in an embarrassed fashion, suddenly feeling ill at ease with the intimacy of the moment between the two of them as she blushes.
“And you’re right on both counts. Mr. Spencely is a fine gentleman.” Lettice sniffs and blinks away her tears. “But you are right, he will be a fool if he doesn’t come home to me from Durban.” She sniffs again, releasing Edith’s hand, her jaw steeling as she sits a little more upright in her seat. “I’m the best catch he’ll ever get.”
“Well said, Miss.” Edith says, smiling shyly at her mistress.
“I’m just worried that a year may alter his feelings towards me.”
“Don’t they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, Miss?”
“They do.” Lettice smiles sadly again. “You’re good company, Edith. Thank you again for sitting with me. The nights draw in so quickly now as Christmas approaches, and they feel so long and lonely.”
“I know, Miss.” Edith replies again. She sighs with a sense of resignment, but then adds, “At least Mr. Spencely had the decency to leave something behind for you to help fill in those lonely nights.” She nods her head towards the sparking wireless sitting on the black japanned occasional table next to the telephone.
Lettice glances at the gleaming piece of brass machinery with its ornamental finials and three knobs on the front below an ornamental piece of fretwork protecting some mesh fabric behind it.
“Quite right Edith.” Lettice says with a final sniff. “And it should be about time for our dramatsation of ‘A Christmas Carol’.”
Lettice carefully turns the left knob to the right and it releases a satisfyingly crisp click as she switches the wireless on. Slowly a quiet crackling buzz begins behind the mesh. She starts to slowly turn the knob to the right, and as she does, the static sounds change, growing momentarily louder and then softer, and then slowly the discordant cacophony of harsh sounds starts to dissipate as a well-modulated man’s voice can be heard.
“This is the British Broadcasting Service coming to you from London. We take great pleasure in presenting for you this evening a dramatic rendition of Charles Dickens immortal Christmas classic, ‘A Christmas Carol’ recited by Cyril Estcourt with carol interludes by the Star Street Congregational Church Choir.”
*The Savoy Hotel is a luxury hotel located in the Strand in the City of Westminster in central London. Built by the impresario Richard D'Oyly Carte with profits from his Gilbert and Sullivan opera productions, it opened on 6 August 1889. It was the first in the Savoy group of hotels and restaurants owned by Carte's family for over a century. The Savoy was the first hotel in Britain to introduce electric lights throughout the building, electric lifts, bathrooms in most of the lavishly furnished rooms, constant hot and cold running water and many other innovations. Carte hired César Ritz as manager and Auguste Escoffier as chef de cuisine; they established an unprecedented standard of quality in hotel service, entertainment and elegant dining, attracting royalty and other rich and powerful guests and diners. The hotel became Carte's most successful venture. Its bands, Savoy Orpheans and the Savoy Havana Band, became famous. Winston Churchill often took his cabinet to lunch at the hotel. The hotel is now managed by Fairmont Hotels and Resorts. It has been called "London's most famous hotel". It has two hundred and sixty seven guest rooms and panoramic views of the River Thames across Savoy Place and the Thames Embankment. The hotel is a Grade II listed building.
**One of the most famous Christmas decorations that people love to use at Christmas is tinsel. You might think that using it is an old tradition and that people in Britain have been adorning their houses with tinsel for a very long time. However that is not actually true. Tinsel is in fact believed to be quite a modern tradition. Whilst the idea of tinsel dates back to Germany in 1610 when wealthy people used real strands of silver to adorn their Christmas trees (also a German invention). Silver was very expensive though, so being able to do this was a sign that you were wealthy. Even though silver looked beautiful and sparkly to begin with, it tarnished quite quickly, meaning it would lose its lovely, bright appearance. Therefore it was swapped for other materials like copper and tin. These metals were also cheaper, so it meant that more people could use them. However, when the Great War started in 1914, metals like copper were needed for the war. Because of this, they couldn't be used for Christmas decorations as much, so a substitute was needed. It was swapped for aluminium, but this was a fire hazard, so it was switched for lead, but that turned out to be poisonous.
***The BBC presented the first dramatised recording of Charles Dickens classic novella ‘A Christmas Carol’ in December 1922. The dramatic recital was performed by Cyril Estacourt (who went on to do a good many more recital pieces for the BBC over the ensuing years) with carol interludes performed by the Star Street Congregational Church Choir. The recording was actually broadcast on the BBC’s 5WA Cardiff, but I hope you will indulge my slight alteration by placing it in the London studios of the BBC for dramatic purposes.
****By 1923 when this story is set, detective mystery fiction writer Agatha Christie had already written two successful novels, ‘The Mysterious Affair at Styles’ published by The Bodley Head in 1921, which introduced the world to her fictional detective Hercule Poirot, and ‘The Secret Adversary’ also published by The Bodley Head, in 1922, which introduced characters Tommy and Tuppence. In May of 1923, Agatha Christie would release her second novel featuring Hercule Poirot: ‘The Murder on the Links’ which would retail in London bookshops for seven shillings and sixpence.
*****A. H. Mayhew was once one of many bookshops located in London’s Charring Cross Road, an area still famous today for its bookshops, perhaps most famously written about by American authoress Helene Hanff who wrote ’84, Charing Cross Road’, which later became a play and then a 1987 film starring Anne Bancroft and Anthony Hopkins. Number 56. Charing Cross Road was the home of Mayhew’s second-hand and rare bookshop. Closed after the war, their premises is now the home of Any Amount of Books bookshop.
******Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.
*******Jeffrey and Company was an English producer of fine wallpapers that operated between 1836 and the mid 1930s. Based at 64 Essex Road in London, the firm worked with a variety of designers who were active in the aesthetic and arts and crafts movements, such as E.W. Godwin, William Morris, and Walter Crane. Jeffrey and Company’s success is often credited to Metford Warner, who became the company’s chief proprietor in 1871. Under his direction the firm became one of the most lucrative and influential wallpaper manufacturers in Europe. The company clarified that wallpaper should not be reserved for use solely in mansions, but should be available for rooms in the homes of the emerging upper-middle class.
********Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.
*********The phrase “more front than” denotes impudence, effrontery and is usually followed by the name of a shop which has a large façade covering a wide amount of street frontage. An old fashioned term it has largely died out in the United Kingdom, but still exists as an Australian saying.
**********The term “Flanders Fields”, used after the war to refer to the parts of France where the bloodiest battles of the Great War raged comes from "In Flanders Fields" is a war poem in the form of a rondeau, written during the First World War by Canadian physician Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, written in 1915.
This festively decorated 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures, including items from my own childhood.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
Central to our story, the brass wireless, which is remarkably heavy for its size, comes from Melody Jane’s Doll House Supplies in the United Kingdom.
The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling chord does stretch out.
The vase of red roses on the Art Deco occasional table is beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
Lettice’s copy of ‘The Broadcaster’ is a 1:12 size miniature made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print! I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection, but so little of his real artistry is seen because the books that he specialised in making are usually closed, sitting on shelves or closed on desks and table surfaces. As well as producing books, he also created magazines such as this one. This magazine is one of the rarer exceptions that has been designed not to be opened. Nevertheless, the cover is beautifully illustrated. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter. I hope that you enjoy this peek at just one of hundreds of his books that I own, and that it makes you smile with its sheer whimsy!
The elegantly decorated Christmas tree is a hand-made 1:12 size artisan miniature made by an artist in America. The presents beneath it come from various miniature specialist stockists in England and by husband and wife artistic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio.
The 1;12 Art Deco card selection on the table came from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniature store in England.
Lettice’s black leather diary with the silver clasp on the under storey of the occasional table has been made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures.
Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chair upholstered in white embossed fabric is made of black japanned wood and has a removable cushion, just like its life sized equivalent. The Hepplewhite chair in the background has a hand woven rattan seat and has been painted with floral patterns along its back and arms by hand.
The Chinese folding screen in the background I bought at an antiques and junk market when I was about ten. I was with my grandparents and a friend of the family and their three children, who were around my age. They all bought toys to bring home and play with, and I bought a Chinese folding screen to add to my miniatures collection in my curio cabinet at home! It shows you what a unique child I was.
In front of the screen on a pedestal table stands a miniature cloisonné vase from the early Twentieth Century which I also bought when I was a child. It came from a curios shop. Cloisonné is an ancient technique for decorating metalwork objects. In recent centuries, vitreous enamel has been used, and inlays of cut gemstones, glass and other materials were also used during older periods. The resulting objects can also be called cloisonné. The decoration is formed by first adding compartments (cloisons in French) to the metal object by soldering or affixing silver or gold wires or thin strips placed on their edges. These remain visible in the finished piece, separating the different compartments of the enamel or inlays, which are often of several colours. Cloisonné enamel objects are worked on with enamel powder made into a paste, which then needs to be fired in a kiln. The Japanese produced large quantities from the mid Nineteenth Century, of very high technical quality cloisonné. In Japan cloisonné enamels are known as shippō-yaki (七宝焼). Early centres of cloisonné were Nagoya during the Owari Domain. Companies of renown were the Ando Cloisonné Company. Later centres of renown were Edo and Kyoto. In Kyoto Namikawa became one of the leading companies of Japanese cloisonné.
The geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.
