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.
The weekend party has proven to be every bit as amusing and entertaining as Lettice, Dickie and Margot has hoped for, with lively literary, artistic, social and political discussions, driven mostly by the gathering of artists drawn to Gossington, Sir John and Lady Gladys’ Scottish baronial Art and Crafts castle near the hamlet of Kershopefoot in Cumberland, for the weekend. In addition to that there have been lively games of sardines*, charades and a scavenger hunt that had all the houseguests overrunning Kershopefoot in efforts to gather such items as a baked apple pie, a Union Jack and a chimney pot. It also served as a great distraction for Lettice, drawing her mind away from her troubles, and enabling her to enjoy herself with a happy heart. Across the course of the weekend, Sir John and Lady Gladys cajoled Lettice into redecorating the Bloomsbury pied-à-terre** belonging to Lady Gladys’ niece and ward, Pheobe, who is pursuing a career in garden design, and has been accepted to a school in Regent’s Park associated to the Royal Academy.
However, the most surprising thing for Lettice over the course of the weekend, was her dinner companion on the Friday evening. Deliberately seated to the right of Pheobe, to enable them to discuss interior design ideas, Lettice found the place card to her left read ‘Nettie’. Imagining this was short for Antoinette, she was surprised when instead of a woman, she was seated next to Sir John Nettleford-Hughes. Old enough to be her father, wealthy Sir John is still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intends to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. As an eligible man in a time when such men are a rare commodity, with a vast family estate in Bedfordshire, houses in Mayfair, Belgravia and Pimlico, and Fontengil Park in Wiltshire, quite close to the Glynes estate, Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, invited him as a potential suitor to her 1922 Hunt Ball, which she used as a marriage market for Lettice. Luckily Selwyn rescued Lettice from the horror of having to entertain him, and Sir John left the ball early in a disgruntled mood with a much younger partygoer. However, over the weekend, Lettice has come to know Sir John better, and whilst far from the romantic match she found in Selwyn, Lettice surprisingly found herself enjoying the company of “Nettie” – Lady Gladys’ nickname for Sir John when the pair were lovers – discovering his avid interests in the arts and architecture, enjoyment of reading and support of universal women’s suffrage***. He made her laugh and turned out to be quite a companionable person to take strolls around the grounds of Gossington with.
Now the Caxton’s pleasurable Friday to Monday has come to an end, and the guests who arrived by train have been returned to nearby Carlisle to catch the London, Midland and Scottish Railway**** services home, leaving only those who arrived via private motor car, which includes Lettice, who ventured up to Gossington from London in Dickie and Margot’s Brunswick green 1922 Lea Francis***** four seater tourer and Sir John Nettleford-Hughes who drove up from Fontengil Park in his maroon and black Austin Twenty Allweather coupé******, amongst a handful of other guests. So we find ourselves in the grand entrance hall of Gossington with its barrel vaulted ceiling, ornate wood panelling and William Morris****** ‘Poppies’ wallpaper where the remaining guests have amassed their luggage for loading back into their cars and have gathered to bid farewell to their gracious host and hostess.
“Well, goodbye Gladys,” Lettice addresses her hostess informally, as per the relaxed style established by Sir John and Lady Gladys, who are both members of the Fabian Society********. “Thank you so much for a marvellous weekend!”
“We’re so glad you could come, dear Lettice!” Lady Gladys replies, enveloping Lettice in an embrace that smells lightly of Yardley’s face powder and English Lavender perfume.
“And not just because you have agreed to redecorate Pheobe’s little Bloomsbury pied-à-terre.” Lord Caxton assures her. “It really has been such a pleasure to have such a pretty, and witty guest in our midst.”
“Oh John!” Lettice colours at his compliment. “I’m sure you’ve had far more pretty and witty guests here than me.”
“Whether we have or haven’t,” Lady Gladys states. “It has been a delight to have you, and we’re so pleased you enjoyed your stay at Gossington, even if it is frightfully old fashioned in its interior designs.”
“It’s lovely, Gladys.” Lettice assures her. “It wouldn’t be as cosy or charming if it were decorated any other way.”
“Perhaps not.” Lady Gladys agrees. “Now, I’ll telephone you ahead of time when I’m back in London, and we’ll go around to Bloomsbury and you can take a look at the place.”
“I say Margot,” Dickie’s voice opines loudly, interrupting Lady Gladys’ conversation with Lettice. “Are you sure you haven’t acquired more luggage since we arrived?”
Lettice and Gladys turn and look across the hall to where Dickie stands looking perplexed on the William Morris ‘Strawberry Thief’ carpet surrounded by a red leather steamer trunk and several vermillion hatboxes and a pillbox makeup case belonging to his wife.
“You haven’t decided to appropriate an urn or two from here belonging to John and Gladys, that you fancy for the décor of Hill Street, have you?” he continues.
“As if I would ever stoop to something so wicked!” exclaims Margot as she glides elegantly down the stairs in a French blue frock and matching travel cape that matches Lettice’s own portmanteau and hatbox, with a neat cloche adorned with blue and white feathers, made by their Embassy Club coterie friend Gerald Bruton’s friend Harriet Milford.
Lettice laughs and shakes her head. “You know Margot never travels lightly, Dickie.”
“One never knows what one will need,” Margot opines, smiling cheekily at her husband as she reaches the foot of the staircase. “So, it is best to travel prepared for every occasion. I’m sure you agree, Gladys.”
“How very wise, Margot dear.” their hostess agrees.
“I’m sure we came up here with less.” Dickie mutters. “God knows how we’re going to get all our luggage back in the car.”
“Well Lettice,” The well enunciated syllables of Sir John Nettleford-Huges’ voice catches Lettice’s attention and she turns to see the older gentleman, dressed impeccably in a tweed suit striding across the entrance hall, swinging his silver topped walking stick and oozing the confidence of male privilege that his sex, class and enormous wealth bestows. “Our sojourn at Gossington concludes. How frightfully sad.”
“It is rather. I’ve had such an enjoyable stay.” Lettice agrees.
“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone complain about a weekend spent here with Gladys and John.”
“I should hope you haven’t.” pipes up Lady Gladys.
“All the same, I think I shall be pleased not to call you ‘Nettie’, Sir John.” Lettice admits somewhat guiltily, still struggling to use the nickname given Sir John by their hostess.
“Perhaps then, we might settle on, John, Lettice.” Sir John suggests politely. “Now that we know each other a little better, I’d hate to go back to ‘Sir John’ and ‘Miss Chetwynd’.” He smiles at her hopefully. “Only if you agree, and only in select company of course.”
“Of course, Si… John.” Lettice smiles a little awkwardly in return. “I’d like that.”
“Excellent! Excellent!” Sir John says, clapping his grey glove clad hands lightly, slipping his cane underneath this right arm like a swagger stick.
Sir John looks Lettice up and down appraisingly, and for the first time, she does not feel like he is mentally undressing her, but rather admiring her choice of outfit.
“Is something the matter, John?” she asks.
“No, no!” he assures her in return. “Not at all. I was just admiring that green colour you are wearing. It suits your complexion.”
“Thank you. It’s sage, Si… John.”
“You’ll forgive me if I also remark on how rather fetching you are in that smart and select hat, my dear. Is it one of Bruton’s?”
“Thank you.” Lettice automatically raises her right sage green glove clad hand to the crown of her head and self-consciously pats the dyed sage straw of the hat she is wearing. Also made by her old school chum Gerald’s friend Harriet Milford at her house in Putney, her stylish headwear is decorated with a green grosgrain band, a cluster of silvery silk roses and iridescent peacock feathers which curl and sweep around the top of the hat elegantly. “No. Gerald doesn’t make hats: only frocks. However it does come from a friend of his, Harriet Milford, who happens to be an acquaintance of Gerald’s.”
“I’ve always considered Bruton as being rather a queer fish, designing frocks for women.” Sir John remarks. “But then again, who other than a man is better equipped to judge what looks fetching on a girl?”
Behind Sir John, one of the Caxton’s liveried footmen meekly carries his chocolate brown valise. He instructs the young man to put the case in his car as he hands him the keys to open the boot, slipping him a small tip as he does, before returning his attentions to Lettice. “I always find a small vail********* paid to the staff loading your luggage infinitely useful at these little country house weekend parties.”
“How so, John?” Lettice asks.
“Well, I usually find that it ensures a case isn’t packed upside down, or that a latch isn’t inexplicably unfastened prior to departure, thus avoiding the spilling of clothes throughout the boot en route to the next destination.”
“And where is your next destination?” Lettice asks him.
“Oh, just home to Fontengil Park, my dear, where, as the local squire, I have matters that must be attended to. I could easily swing by your parents’ house and give them a message from you, if you like.”
“No thank you, John; but thank you for the thought.” Lettice replies.
“I say, Lettice.” Sir John remarks after a few moments. “I don’t suppose you have plans back in London do you?”
“Not definite plans, John. No. Why do you ask?”
“Look here, Lettice, I’ve been meaning to ask you something all weekend, and I’ve just been trying to work up the courage to ask it.”
“I hope this isn’t a marriage proposal, John.” Lettice replies warily.
“You could do far worse than Nettie, my dear Lettice.” Lady Gladys buts in, overhearing their conversation. “He’s fabulously wealthy you know. If I hadn’t met my own John,” she adds wistfully. “I feel sure that Nettie and I should have married. We would have made a perfect match.”
“Nonsense Gladys.” Sir John retorts. “You are far too hedonistic for me. We’re both frightfully self-indulgent. It would never have worked.” He returns his attentions to Lettice. “No, I was hoping you could find time in your schedule for my nephew, Alisdair Gifford, to pay a call on you.”
“I remember Mr. Gifford. You brought he and his wife to my mother’s Hunt Ball, didn’t you?”
“Yes, whilst not exactly neighbours of your parents, they live nearby at Arkwright Bury, and as members of Wiltshire county society, they were invited, so we came as a party together.”
“His wife is Australian, isn’t she?”
“How clever of you to remember. Yes, Adelinde comes from some dusty part of Australia.”
“And why does Mr. Gifford wish to pay a call on me, John?” Lettice queries, cocking an eyebrow and squeezing her lips together in a tight purse quizzically.
“Well, I had luncheon with Alisdair and Adelinde last week and mentioned in passing that I was going to be seeing you, as a fellow member of Wiltshire county society, here at Gossington .” Sir John admits. “He asked me to put in a good word for him.”
“A good word?” Lettice asks.
“He read the favourable article Henry Tipping********** wrote about you in Country Life***********.”
“Didn’t everyone?” Lettice rolls her blue eyes, thinking of John and Gladys and their request for her to redecorate Pheobe’s London flat, but smiles at Sir John as she does so.
“And so they should, Lettice.”
“Did you read it, John?”
“Of course I did! Anyway, Alisdair asked me to put in a good word because he wants a room done up as a surprise for Adelinde. She collects blue and white porcelain, and now that he and Adelinde have inherited Arkwright Bury and moved in, Alisdair wants a proper home for her ever-expanding collection. They had it nicely displayed when they lived at Briar Priory, but since moving into Arkwright Bury, they haven’t settled on a place. They have been too busy managing their own restoration of the house, which had fallen into some disrepair when Cuthbert had it.”
“Cuthbert was Alisdair’s elder brother, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, my other Gifford nephew. He died a few years ago, but the house began to fall into disrepair when Cuthbert went away to fight at the beginning of the Great War. Being unmarried, he didn’t have a wife to manage Arkwright Bury in his absence, so he just dismissed all the staff, save for an elderly housekeeper and her husband who was some kind of odd-job man, shut it up, and decamped. When Cuthbert came back from the war, well,” A sadness clouds Sir John’s face. “Well, he was never quite the same.”
“So many of them weren’t.” Lettice murmurs in agreement with Sir John.
“Indeed.” Sir John concurs seriously. “And thanks to the evident uselessness of the housekeeper and her husband, the rot had already settled in, literally.”
“And now?”
“And now Arkwright Bury has arisen, like a phoenix from the ashes as it were. They are almost at the end of their extensive restoration, so Alisdair has an idea for his wife’s collection.”
“And they’d like me to decorate a room for them for that purpose?”
“You needn’t sound so surprised, my dear Lettice!” Sir John scoffs. “As Gladys has said, your skills as an interior designer have become very much in demand now that people are aware of you and what you can create.” He pauses. “Oh, and just to clarify the point with you, Lettice, if I may: it is only my nephew who wishes to engage your services as an interior designer. Adelinde knows nothing about his plans. He wants to decorate the room as a surprise for Adelinde: a sort of thank you for coming along willingly on the odyssey of renovating Arkwright Bury.”
Lettice considers Sir John’s offer. It is true that she has no definite plans in London once she returns to Cavendish Mews. A dinner with Gerald perhaps, assuming he isn’t too busy with his gentleman friend Cyril and the other theatrical types boarding at Harriet Milford’s rather unorthodox house in Putney. A night at the theatre, maybe. She knows that being such good friends, Dickie and Margot will try and entertain her by filling her evenings with dinners at their flat in Hill Street, around the corner from Cavendish Mews, but she doesn’t want to intrude too much on their lives. A visit from Mr. Gifford as a potential new client may be just the thing to distract her until Gladys returns to London and shows her Pheobe’s Bloomsbury flat.
“Very well, John. Please ask Mr. Gifford to call me in London, and we’ll arrange a suitable time for him to pay a call at Cavendish Mews.”
“Oh splendid!” Sir John taps his cane against the worn and faded William Morris carpet. “Alisdair will be thrilled!”
“I make no promises though.” Lettice quickly adds. “I’ll join you at Arkwright Bury to have a look at, and consider, Mr. Gifford’s ideas. I’ve just agreed to redecorate Pheobe’s flat.”
“Of course! Of course, Lettice. Your consideration is all Alisdair is asking for.”
*Sardines is an active game that is played like hide and go seek — only in reverse! One person hides, and everyone else searches for the hidden person. Whenever a person finds the hidden person, they quietly join them in their hiding spot. There is no winner of the game. The last person to join the sardines will be the hider in the next round. Sardines was a very popular game in the 1920s and 1930s played by houseguests in rambling old country houses where there were unusual, unknown and creative places to hide.
**A pied-à-terre is a small flat, house, or room kept for occasional use.
***Suffrage refers to a person's right to vote in a political election. Voting allows members of society to take part in deciding government policies that affect them. Women's suffrage refers to the right of women to vote in an election. In 1924 when this story is set, not every woman in Britain had the right to vote. In 1918 the Representation of the People Act was passed which allowed women over the age of thirty who met a property qualification to vote. Although eight and a half million women met this criteria, it was only about two-thirds of the total population of women in Britain. It was not until the Equal Franchise Act of 1928 that women over twenty-one were able to vote and women finally achieved the same voting rights as men. This act increased the number of women eligible to vote to fifteen million.
****The London, Midland and Scottish Railway (LMS) was a British railway company. It was formed on the 1st of January 1923 under the Railways Act of 1921, which required the grouping of over 120 separate railways into four. The companies merged into the LMS included the London and North Western Railway, the Midland Railway, the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway (which had previously merged with the London and North Western Railway on 1 January 1922), several Scottish railway companies (including the Caledonian Railway), and numerous other, smaller ventures.
****The Austin Twenty is a large car introduced by Austin after the end of the First World War, in April 1919 and continued in production until 1930.
*******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 vail is an archaic word for a tip or gratuity paid to servants of country houses, used commonly in Edwardian times.
**********Henry Tipping (1855 – 1933) was a French-born British writer on country houses and gardens, garden designer in his own right, and Architectural Editor of the British periodical Country Life for seventeen years between 1907 and 1910 and 1916 and 1933. After his appointment to that position in 1907, he became recognised as one of the leading authorities on the history, architecture, furnishings and gardens of country houses in Britain. In 1927, he became a member of the first committee of the Gardens of England and Wales Scheme, later known as the National Gardens Scheme.
***********Country Life is a British weekly perfect-bound glossy magazine that is a quintessential English magazine founded in 1897, providing readers with a weekly dose of architecture, gardens and interiors. It was based in London at 110 Southwark Street until March 2016, when it became based in Farnborough, Hampshire. The frontispiece of each issue usually features a portrait photograph of a young woman of society, or, on occasion, a man of society.
This interior may appear like something out of a historical stately country house, but it is in fact part of my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The pretty dyed green straw cloche adorned with satin roses, green ribbons and peacock feathers is an artisan miniature. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. The maker of this hat is unknown, but it is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel. The hat stand the hat rests on is also part of Marilyn Bickel’s collection.
The blue travel de necessaire and its matching hatbox in the foreground on which the black and white hat and the present is sitting are 1:12 artisan miniatures and made of blue kid leather which is so soft to the touch, and small metal handles, clasps and ornamentation. They have been purposely worn around their edges to give them age. They come from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in England. The peach pillbox boxes are made by the same artisan, but were acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop in the United Kingdom. The brown leather gladstone bag next to the blue and travel de necessaire is also a 1:12 artisan miniature acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop. and unlike the blue pieces, it is made to open and be fully functional and has a cream satin lining. All three pieces come from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in England.
The furled umbrella with the luggage is a 1:12 artisan pieces made of silk, with a wooden lacquered handle. It comes from specialist artisan miniature makers in England. The silver knobbed walking stick is also a 1:12 artisan miniature. The top is sterling silver. It was made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures.
The beautifully printed carpet featuring William Morris’ “Strawberry Thief” pattern was a birthday gift to me from a very close friend of mine. It was hand made in Australia by Kristina Truter of Golightly Miniatures.
The beautiful dinner gong in the background made of pitted and patinaed brass with its wooden stand comes complete with its own mallet striker (not pictured). It was made by the Little Green Workshop in England.
The green majolica umbrella stand in the background comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures in England. It is filled with a collection of umbrellas and walking sticks which also come from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop, the Little Green Workshop and several online specialist stockists on dolls’ house miniatures.
The Arts and Crafts chair in the background has been hand japanned and decorated and comes from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls’ House Shop.
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.
