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 is nursing a broken heart. Her beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, has been sent to Durban for a year by his mother, the Duchess of Walmsford, Lady Zinnia in an effort to destroy their relationship which she wants to end so that she can marry Selwyn off to his cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers. Lettice returned home to Glynes to lick her wounds, however it 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 and wait patiently for Selwyn’s eventual 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. However, even she could only keep this up for so long, and on New Year’s Eve, her sister, Lally, suggested that she spend a few extra weeks resting and recuperating with her in Buckinghamshire before returning to London and trying to get on with her life. Lettice happily agreed, however her rest cure ended abruptly with a letter from her Aunt Egg in London, summoned Lettice back to the capital and into society in general. Through her social connections, Aunt Egg has contrived an invitation for Lettice and her married Embassy Club coterie friends Dickie and Margot Channon, to an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party of Sir John and Lady Caxton, who are very well known amongst the smarter bohemian set of London society for their amusing weekend parties at their Scottish country estate and enjoyable literary evenings in their Belgravia townhouse. Lady Gladys is a successful authoress in her own right and writes under the nom de plume of Madeline St John, so they attract a mixture of witty writers and artists mostly.
Now we find ourselves in the cosy and cluttered, old fashioned Art and Crafts decorated drawing room of Gossington, the Scottish Baronial style English Art and Crafts castle near the hamlet of Kershopefoot in Cumberland belonging to Sir John and Lady Gladys, where Lettice, Margot and Dickie have joined their hosts along with a few stragglers who arrived on a later train to Carlisle who were chauffeured to the house from the railway station there.
Lady Gladys stands by one of the full length windows looking out at the countryside beyond. Her face crumples up as she stares at the roiling and dark clouds in the sky. She pats her finger waved grey hair anxiously, as though trying to protect it from being spoiled by the rain she perceives is coming, “Looks like the weather is on the turn, John.”
“What’s that, Gladys?” her husband pipes up, glancing over the top of his book from his Savonarola chair by the crackling fire.
“I said it’s starting to cloud over.” she replies in a slightly louder voice, turning to face him so he can hear her more clearly. “I do hope that it doesn’t rain on Pheobe and the other ramblers.”
“I’m sure they can all shelter in a barn somewhere.” he replies. “It will be a new and novel experience for some of them.”
Snorts and muffles giggles come from a few of the guests sitting about the room enjoying indoor pursuits.
Sir John looks over at the clusters of heads lowered together and chuckles good-naturedly as he remarks, “Don’t get so self-righteous you lot!” He closes his book. “I bet it would be a new and novel experience for most of you too!”
Lady Gladys wanders across the room, toying with the long string of pearls about her neck and takes a seat, just as Lettice appears at the door of the drawing room.
“Oh, do come in Lettice,” Lady Gladys says warmly from a corner of the Knole sofa* upholstered in William Morris’** ‘Strawberry Thief’ fabric. “Come and sit with me.” She softly pats the cushion next to her, the action emitting a small cloud of dust motes.
“Thank you Lady Caxton.” Lettice replies as she walks across the room, squeezing between the clusters of chairs and occasional tables, some occupied by the late arriving guests, including Dickie and Margot, playing a range of parlour games on offer from the Gossington games cupboard.
“Ah!” the hostess wags her finger admonishing at Lettice. “I might be older than your mother, my dear, but here, we are egalitarian. We are all on a first name basis. I am Gladys and Sir John is just, John. Hmmm?”
“Very well, thank you, Gladys.” Lettice replies awkwardly, a little startled by this revelation, as she sits on the opposite end of the sofa, closest to the fire.
“Gladys is an old Fabian*** from before you were born, Lettice.” Sir John adds with a kindly wink from his seat opposite her.
“Not so much of the old, thank you John!” Gladys remarks, pretending to be offended. “Remember, I’m younger than you.”
“That doesn’t say much when you compare yourself to all these youngsters!” He waves his hand about the room.
“That’s why I like young people,” Gladys smiles indulgently at Lettice, directing her comment to her rather than her husband. “They help keep me young with their talk of nightclubs, the latest shows and the like.”
“More like it gives you fodder for your next novel, Gladys.” He looks lovingly at his wife, a mischievous glint in his sparkling blue eyes and a cheeky smile playing across his lips. “Writing vicariously through others.”
“It pays to keep up to date with the latest trends, John. I don’t want to fall out of fashion.”
“I don’t think your novels will ever fall out of fashion, Lady… err, Gladys.” Lettice remarks magnanimously.
“You’re a flatterer, that’s for certain!” Lady Gladys chuckles. “You’ll get on. I shall graciously accept your compliment.” Her pale, wrinkled face stills for a moment as a far away look glazes over her eyes. “We none of us think we will fall out of fashion, but we do, in one way or another – especially as we get older. Take this room for example. Decorated in what was once the height of fashion. Would you decorate your home in this way, my dear Lettice?”
From her vantage point, Lettice gazes around the room. Looking at the William Morris ‘Strawberry Thief’ pattern on the sofa, woven carpet and the Morris ‘Poppies’ wallpaper, Lettice estimates the room, like most around the grey stone castle, were decorated in the late Nineteenth Century during the heyday of the Arts and Crafts Movement. A hotch-potch of furnishings that jostle comfortably for space suggests a period of prosperity driven acquisition over the ensuing years up until the Great War, yet each piece is of high quality and well made, implying her hosts’ dedication to the arts, as do the ornaments that cover surfaces around the room, all of which are beautiful and handmade. Old paintings of Scottish landscapes remind Lettice of Sir John’s proud heritage, whilst the large number of books tell her of Lady Caxton’s literary pursuits and success.
“Oh, I think it’s charming,” Lettice replies. “You obviously have an eye for fine workmanship and artistry.”
“But?” Lady Gladys picks up Lettice’s unspoken thought.
“But no, I wouldn’t decorate my home like this.”
“That’s the correct answer, Lettice.” Lady Gladys replies kindly. “And, if I were your age, I wouldn’t either. It’s fusty and old fashioned.”
“It is lovely though, and all my modern ideas would look out of place in a room like this. You need to have older things here, not what is fashionable and up-to-date. It would look out of place.”
“Tea, Lettice?” Gladys leans forward towards the low beautifully hand embroidered footstool before her and picks up an empty cup. “Or would you prefer coffee?”
“Oh, tea will be fine Lady Cax… err, I mean, Gladys.” She chuckles awkwardly at such familiarity with people she barely knows. “White and one sugar, please.”
“Good. I’ve never been one for coffee myself.” Lady Gladys pours tea from the silver pot into the cup over the sugar, and adds a slosh of milk, before she passes it to Lettice to stir. “I do hope you found your room to be satisfactory, Lettice.”
“It’s lovely. Thank you. I shall feel like Sleeping Beauty when I retire.”
“Hhmmm,” Gladys smiles understandingly. “Yes. I thought you’d like the décor in there.”
“The Art Nouveau wallpaper is lovely. It is William Morris, like in here, is it not?”
“Yes,” Lady Gladys remarks with a surprised lilt in her voice. “How clever of you to notice. It’s ‘Sweet Briar’, so your reference to Briar Rose is most apt, my dear.”
“My Aunt Eglantine has it in her bedroom in Chelsea. She loves William Morris too.”
“And you, Lettice? Do you like William Morris?” Lady Gladys asks.
“I like a mixture of old and new, Lad… Gladys. I think a well placed antique on a modern table adds elegance, and I think a William Morris cushion,” She pulls the cushion from behind her back and looks at it thoughtfully. “Could look splendid as an accent on a plain coloured settee.”
“How is Eglantine?” Sir John asks, changing the subject as he takes a sip of his own cup of tea.
“I didn’t know you were acquainted with my Aunt, Sir John, until my aunt told me of my invitation to this weekend.”
“Just John, my dear.” he corrects Lettice politely, causing her to blush. “Remember the old Fabian in the room.” He nods at his wife. “And yes, Gladys and I have similar artistic and literary pursuits to her, so we know Eglantyne quite well.”
“I have some of her pieces,” Lady Gladys remarks proudly and indicates firstly to two dainty pots of hand painted petunias on the mantlepiece, which are part of Eglantyne’s pre-war work, and then to a pedestal next to a very full bookcase, where one of Lettice’s aunt’s more modern pottery pieces sits. “She is a wonderful ceramicist and artist. She can create such beautiful sinuous lines in pottery. It really is remarkable.”
“She doesn’t do that so much now,” Lettice remarks.
“That’s a pity.” Lady Gladys replies a little sadly. “It’s a shame to waste such a gift.”
“Her arthritis slows her somewhat when it comes to ceramics, and she is seldom happy with the results. She’s following different pursuits these days.”
“She paints now, doesn’t she?” Sir Caxton asks.
“She does… John. She’s currently painting a piece for the Royal Academy.”
“Excellent! We shall look forward to seeing that, shan’t we Gladys?”
“Oh indeed, John. And of course, she has her embroidery.” Lady Gladys adds.
Lettice laughs softly. “I fear sometimes that if I sit still in her drawing room for long enough, one day she might embroider me.”
A thunderclap breaks outside. It’s noise echoes through the atmosphere inside, sending a collective shiver through the guests in the room.
“I told you, John. Pheobe and the others are sure to get rained upon now.” She glances around the high wing of the Knole sofa to the window. Looking back at Lettice, she picks up her own teacup and tops it up with tea from the pot before continuing, “Pheobe, our niece and ward, has taken all the other young guests for the weekend on a ramble about the estate to help everyone work up an appetite for dinner. I do hope they will be back soon, especially now that it’s going to pour.”
“I bet they all went to the pub in the village for a lark.” Dickie remarks from where he sits. “And they are quite cosy and warm in there. They’ll be back when they are good and ready.”
“You may be right, young Dickie!” Sir John chortles.
“I’m puzzled,” Lettice says, her face crumpling up in thought. “As to why you asked me here for the weekend.”
“Puzzled, my dear?” Lady Gladys asks.
“Yes. I must confess I was very surprised to receive your kind invitation – delighted, but surprised. I mean, we’ve never met as far as I’m aware. Is it because of your connection to my aunt?”
“Well, that does have a little to do with it, Lettice,” Sir John explains. “You are your aunt’s favourite niece…”
“She says that to all of us Si… err, John.”
“Well, be that as it may, she has spoken to us about you and your talents over many years, particularly since you have come of age. However, Gladys and I keep our own eye on the artistic scene in London, so your name has been mentioned to us a number of times on different occasions.”
“Really?” Lettice asks in astonishment.
“Oh yes,” adds Lady Gladys. “Surely you must know that you’re gaining quite a reputation now, for your stylish interior designs.”
“Especially after that article in Country Life, showing the work you did for Margot and Dickie,” Sir John nods in the direction of the couple, ensconced together on an Art Nouveau sofa, happily playing cards. “It looked wonderful! So fresh and elegant with all those clean lines that are so fashionable now.”
“We did so want to finally meet you, dear Lettice.” Lady Gladys adds.
“Well,” Lettice blushes. “I’m very flattered, and honoured to be invited to Gossington. Your weekend parties are famous for being filled with fun and enjoyment.”
“Then I hope we shall not disappoint, dear Lettice.” Sir John beams.
“I’m sure with the return of the others, you won’t be starved for wit and aristocratic intelligentsia.” Lady Gladys adds. “Your aunt tells us that you can be quite witty yourself, and you obviously have intelligence amongst other attributes.”
Lettice notices a look exchanged between her two hosts but can’t read what it means.
“Ahem, Lettice,” Sir John clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m afraid that Gladys and I have a confession to make.”
“A confession?”
“Yes,” Lady Gladys explains. “I’m afraid that we’ve invited you here with an ulterior motive, my dear.”
“Oh?”
“Not that we aren’t delighted to have you here for your charm, beauty and obvious intelligence.” Sir John assures her with hands raised in defence.
“Yes.” Lady Gladys soothes in agreement with her husband. “As I said before, we’ve heard such great things about your interior designs, so you are under no obligation to agree to our request.”
Lettice suddenly looks about the room again, her eyes darting anxiously from surface to cluttered surface as she makes a calculated assumption. Her eyes grow wide and her cheeks pale. “You’re your request, La… Gladys?”
“Gladys my dear, you’ll scare the poor girl! She’ll think we want her to redecorate this old pile of stones from the cellar to the battlements.”
“Oh no!” Lady Gladys assures Lettice. “We don’t want you to redecorate our home! No, I have far too many treasures here to ever think of parting with. Good heavens no!”
“Then what?” Lettice asks cautiously.
“Well, it’s Pheobe.” Lady Gladys explains. “She’s moving to London. Now that she’s of age, she has decided to pursue a career in garden design, and she’s been accepted to a school in Regent’s Park associated to the Royal Academy, so she’ll be in London more often than she has been.”
Lettice looks on, puzzled and unsure as to how she can be of service to her hosts’ ward. “You want me to decorate her rooms in your London townhouse?”
“Oh no my dear!” Sir John defends. “Like here, our London house is very much an Arts and Crafts relic.”
“No. Pheobe’s father, my youngest brother Reginald, was part of the civil service in India before the war.” Lady Gladys continues. “He and Pheobe’s mother, Marjorie, died of cholera out there.”
“Oh, I am sorry.” Lettice says sadly, putting her hand to her chest.
“Thank you my dear. My brother bought a pied-à-terre**** in Bloomsbury for when they were in London.”
“Gladys actually lived in it when she worked as my secretary before she married me.” Sir John adds.
“Yes.” Lady Gladys acknowledges. “Anyway, when Reginald died, he bequeathed his pied-à-terre to his only surviving child, Pheobe. It was to be held in trust for her by us until she came of age. Now she is of age, we’re giving her the flat to live in. It will be more efficient, as when we go to London, we take staff from here, and when we aren’t in London, there is only a caretaker looking after the house. Pheobe can manage the flat without the need for any live-in staff, and she can finally have some independence from us, which I suspect she craves.”
“The flat hasn’t been redecorated since Reginal and Marjorie lived there.” Sir John adds.
“It’s so old fashioned.” Lady Gladys agrees. “It isn’t good for Pheobe to live in a flat surrounded by the ghosts of parents she hardly even knew. You’ll be sitting next to her at dinner tonight, and dear Nettie, who has some considerable sway with Pheobe. We’ve suggested that Pheobe talk to you herself. We’ll obviously foot any bills if she likes your ideas, which we’re quite sure she will. Will you consider it, my dear Lettice? It would be such a great favour to us, and to Pheobe of course.”
“Well, I’ll certainly consider it, Gladys.” Lettice replies.
“Splendid! Splendid!” Lady Gladys claps her hands in delight. “I knew you’d be open to the idea!”
*The original Knole Settee (also known as the Knole Sofa) is a couch chair that was made in the 17th century, probably around 1640. It is housed at Knole in Kent, a house owned by the Sackville-West family since 1605 but now in the care of the National Trust. It was originally used not as a comfortable sofa but as a formal throne-like seat on which an aristocrat or monarch would have sat to receive visitors. It was wide enough that a monarch and consort could be seated side by side. As of 2021, it is kept at Knole House in a transparent case.
**William Morris (24th of March 1834 – 3rd of October 1896) was a British textile designer, poet, artist, writer, and socialist activist associated with the British Arts and Crafts movement. He was a major contributor to the revival of traditional British textile arts and methods of production. His literary contributions helped to establish the modern fantasy genre, while he helped win acceptance of socialism in fin de siècle Great Britain. In 1861, Morris founded the Morris, Marshall, Faulkner & Co. decorative arts firm with Burne-Jones, Rossetti, Webb, and others, which became highly fashionable and much in demand. The firm profoundly influenced interior decoration throughout the Victorian period, with Morris designing tapestries, wallpaper, fabrics, furniture, and stained glass windows. In 1875, he assumed total control of the company, which was renamed Morris & Co.
***The Fabian Society is a British socialist organisation whose purpose is to advance the principles of social democracy and democratic socialism via gradualist and reformist effort in democracies, rather than by revolutionary overthrow. The Fabian Society was also historically related to radicalism, a left-wing liberal tradition.
****A pied-à-terre is a small flat, house, or room kept for occasional use.
This very cluttered and overstuffed room may appear like something out of a historical stately country house, but it is in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection and includes items from my childhood, as well as those I have collected as an adult.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The Knole Sofa covered in William Morris’ ‘Strawberry Thief’ pattern comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The cushions on it, and on the Savonarola chair opposite also feature the Morris ‘Strawberry Thief’ pattern in 1:12 size, and came from an American seller on E-Bay. The Savonarola chairs are made by high-end miniature furniture manufacturer JBM Miniatures.
The large embroidered footstool in front of the fireplace was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique English floral micro petite point by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, which makes this a one-of-a-kind piece. The artisan who made this says that as one of her hobbies, she enjoys visiting old National Trust Houses in the hope of getting some inspiration to help her create new and exciting miniatures. She saw some beautiful petit point chairs a few years ago in one of the big houses in Derbyshire and then found exquisitely detailed petit point that was fine enough for 1:12 scale projects.
The small round footstool in front of Sir John’s Savonarola chair has been hand embroidered as well, and was acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the united Kingdom.
The silver tea and coffee set on the large embroidered footstool, consisting of milk jug, sugar bowl coffee pot and teapot come from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The silver tray upon which they stand also comes from Warwick Miniatures. The four dainty floral teacups with gilt edging scattered about the room are part of a larger tea set that I acquired from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The books on the table to the left of the photograph between the two Savonarola chairs are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. They are novels written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. 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. These books are amongst the rarer exceptions that have been designed not to be opened. Nevertheless, the covers are copies of real Victorian bindings. 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.
The wonderfully detailed red and white chess set in the foreground of the photograph came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll’s House Shop in the United Kingdom. The set came in its own hand crafted compartmented wooden box with a working sliding lid which can be seen just in front of the Pig-a-Back and Ludo game boxes. The chess game is set up correctly with a match in progress. I wonder who will win? The table on which the chess game is being played comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom, whilst the two red velvet seated chairs drawn up to it, I acquired from an auction some years ago. The pieces date from the 1970s and are very well made.
The box of Ludo and Pig-a-Back are both 1:12 artisan pieces, produced authentically to scale with great attention to detail by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.
Sir John and Lady Gladys’ family photos on the mantlepiece are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are from various suppliers, but all are metal. Only one, the larger square frame at the back, leaning against the tall blue vase on the left-hand side of the mantle is sterling silver. I t was made in Birmingham in 1908 and is hallmarked on the back of the frame. It has a red leather backing.
The two small vases of primroses on the mantle are delicate 1:12 artisan porcelain miniature ornaments made and painted by hand by ceramicist Ann Dalton.
The two dark blue double handled gilt vases with floral banding at either end of the mantlepiece, I have had since I was a child. I was given them as a birthday gift when I was nine.
The two tall blue glazed jugs featuring irises at either end of the fireplace came from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in the United Kingdom, as did the brown glazed jug on the tall pedestal in the corner of the room next to the bookcase.
The grey marble French barrel clock on the mantlepiece is a 1:12 artisan miniature made by Hall’s Miniature Clocks, supplied through Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniatures in England.
The Georgian style fireplace with its heavy wooden surround and deep mantle in the background was made by Town Hall Miniatures supplied through Melody Jane’s Dolls’ House Suppliers in the United Kingdom.
The glass fronted bookcase is a replica of a bookcase belonging to Abraham Lincoln and is part of the Lincoln Collection, made and distributed in America.
Lady Gladys’ book collection inside the glass fronted bookcase are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Ken Blythe was famous in miniature collectors’ circles mostly for the miniature books that he made: all being authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. I have quite a large representation of Ken Blythe’s work in my collection. Each book is a 1:12 replica of a life sized volume with an authentic cover. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make these miniature artisan pieces. 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 and through his estate courtesy of the generosity of his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.
The paintings hanging on the walls are all 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States. The wallpaper is William Morris’ ‘Poppies’ pattern, featuring stylised Art Nouveau poppies. William Morris papers and fabrics were popular in the late Victorian and early Edwardian period before the Great War.
The miniature Arts and Crafts rug on the floor is made by hand by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney.