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.
Through her social connections, Lettice’s Aunt Eglantyne contrived an invitation for Lettice to an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by Sir John and Lady Caxton, who are very well known amongst the smarter bohemian set of London society for their weekend parties at their Scottish country estate, Gossington, 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. Over the course of the weekend, Lettice was coerced into accepting Lady Gladys’ request that she redecorate her niece and ward, Phoebe’s, small Bloomsbury flat. Phoebe, upon coming of age inherited the flat, which had belonged to her parents, Reginald and Marjorie Chambers, who died out in India when Phoebe was still a little girl. The flat was held in trust by Lady Gladys until her ward came of age. When Phoebe decided to pursue a career in garden design and was accepted by a school in London closely associated with the Royal Society, she started living part time in the flat. Lady Gladys felt that it was too old fashioned and outdated in its appointment for a young girl like Phoebe. When Lady Gladys arranged for Lettice to inspect the flat, Lettice quickly became aware of Lady Gladys’ ulterior motives as she overrode the rather mousy Pheobe and instructed Lettice to redecorate everything to her own instructions and taste, whist eradicating any traces of Pheobe’s parents. Reluctantly, Lettice commenced on the commission which is nearing its completion. However, when Pheobe came to visit the flat whilst Lettice was there, and with a little coercion, Pheobe shared what she really felt about the redecoration of her parent’s home, things came to a head. Desperately wanting to express herself independently, Pheobe hoped living at the flat she would finally be able to get out from underneath the domineering influence of her aunt. Yet now the flat is simply another extension of Lady Glady’s wishes, and the elements of her parents that Pheobe adored have been appropriated by Lady Gladys. Determined to undo the wrong she has done by Pheobe by agreeing to all of Lady Glady’s wishes, in a moment of energizing anger, Lettice decided to confront Lady Gladys. However unperturbed by Lettice’s appearance, Lady Gladys advised that she was bound by the contract she had signed to complete the work to Gladys’ satisfaction, not Phoebe’s. In desperation, Lettice fled to Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, where she discussed the situation with her father, the Viscount Wrexham. He advised her that due to her not seeking the advice of the family lawyers and leaving the writing up of the contract to Lady Gladys’ lawyers, Lettice is bound to do what Laday Gladys wishes. Flinging his hands in the air, he placed the blame at the feet of Eglantyne, his younger sister, and Lettice’s aunt, telling her that it is up to her to get Lettice out of the bind that he feels she is responsible for.
Thus, we find ourselves today a short distance north-east across London, away from Cavendish Mews and Mayfair, over Paddington and past Lisson Grove to the comfortably affluent suburb of Little Venice with its cream painted Regency terraces and railing surrounded public parks. Here in Clifton Gardens Lettice’s maiden Aunt Eglantine, affectionately known as Aunt Egg by her nieces and nephews, lives in a beautiful four storey house that is part of a terrace of twelve. Eglantine Chetwynd as well as being unmarried, is an artist and ceramicist of some acclaim. Originally a member of the Pre-Raphaelites* in England, these days she flits through artistic and bohemian circles and when not at home in her spacious and light filled studio at the rear of her garden, can be found mixing with mostly younger artistic friends in Chelsea. Her unmarried status, outlandish choice of friends and rather reformist and unusual dress sense shocks Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, and attracts her derision. In addition, she draws Sadie’s ire, as Aunt Egg has always received far more affection and preferential treatment from her children. Viscount Wrexham on the other hand adores his artistic little sister, and has always made sure that she can live the lifestyle she chooses and create art.
We are in Eglantyne’s wonderfully overcluttered drawing room, which unlike most other houses in the terrace where the drawing room is located in the front and overlooks the street, is nestled at the back of the house, overlooking the beautiful and slightly rambunctious rear garden and studio. It is just another example of Lettice’s aunt flouting the conventions women like Lady Sadie cling to. The room is overstuffed with an eclectic collection of bric-à-brac. Antique vases and ornamental plates jostle for space with pieces of Eglantyne’s own work and that of her artistic friends on whatnots and occasional tables, across the mantle and throughout several glass fronted china cabinets. Every surface is cluttered to over capacity. It is in this cosy space that Eglantyne has gathered Lettice, Phoebe and a rather surprised Lady Gladys as she makes her own attempt to see if they can work out a way to untangle Lettice from Lady Gladys’ contract, and undo the damage done to Pheobe by way of Lettice’s redecoration of the flat.
From her wingback chair by the fire, Eglantyne plays mother** as she picks up the teapot decorated with swirling Art Nouveau designs of vine leaves. When she was young, Eglantyne had Titian red hair that fell in wavy tresses about her pale face, making her a popular muse amongst the Pre-Raphaelites she mixed with. With the passing years, her red hair has retreated almost entirely behind silver grey, save for the occasional streak of washed out reddish orange, yet she still wears it as she did when it was at its fiery best, sweeping softly about her almond shaped face, tied in a loose chignon at the back of her neck. Large amber droplets hang from her ears, glowing in the diffused light filtering through the lace curtains that frame the window overlooking the garden. The earrings match the amber necklace about her neck that cascades over the top of her usual uniform of a lose Delphos dress*** that does not require her to wear a corset of any kind, and a silk fringed cardigan, both in beautiful shades of Firenze Blue****. “Your tea, Gladys my dear.” Eglantyne says with a sweet smile as she hands the delicate china teacup, as fine and brittle as most of the ornaments cluttering the drawing room around her, to Gladys.
“Thank you.” Lady Gladys replies stiffly, her face as black as thunder as she settles back into the figured white satin button back***** upholstery of Eglantyne’s elegant sofa.
“Phoebe,” Eglantyne calls cheerfully, alerting the fey young woman of the tea she is proffering to her. She smiles a little more brightly at Phoebe, dressed in a most becoming shade of light apple green which compliments her pale skin and halo of wispy blonde curls held back off her face by a matching pale apple green Alice band******, as she hands the cup to her. Eglantyne is rewarded with a small smile of hope on the young girl’s almost translucent lips as she accepts the tea gratefully.
“Lettice,” Eglantyne announces as she pours tea into the second to last empty cup on the tray before her, before adding a generous slosh of milk and two lumps of sugar to it. She gives her beloved niece an encouraging smile as she passes the teacup to Lettice.
“Why do I feel,” Lady Gladys says peevishly as she stirs her tea a little too forcefully with round clockwise stirs which both Eglantyne and Lettice notice with disapproval, before tapping her teaspoon loudly against the edge of her cup and depositing it noisily into her saucer*******. “That this is an ambush?” She picks up her cup and sips her tea in a disgruntled fashion, her right leg bouncing irritably crossed over her left, making the soft folds of her peach gown dance.
“Now why would you think that, Gladys?” Eglantyne says with an enigmatic smile as she pours tea into her own cup, turning her head away from Gladys momentarily to glance at Lettice sitting adjunct to her. “You are starting to sound like one of the protagonists in your novels.” She settles back comfortably into her wingback Chippendale chair and takes a sip of her black tea. “What’s the title of your latest one? Melisande? Melinda?”
“Miranda.” Lady Gladys corrects Eglantyne, adding to her irritation.
“That’s it! Miranda!” laughs Eglantyne. “Oh course! No, I simply thought it was high time that you and I had a little tête-à-tête, Gladys. I mean, I know we have spoken on the telephone, but I feel like it has been an age since I last saw you. It must have been that artists’ ball in Chelsea last spring.”
“I wasn’t aware that an intimate tête-à-tête would include both your niece and my own, Eglantyne.” Lady Gladys glowers.
“Oh, I thought it might be nice if we all had a little tête-à-tête together.” Eglantyne replies, slipping her teacup aside onto the galleried silver tray on the table beside her.
“Then this is obviously about the flat then.” Lady Gladys thrusts the gilt Art Nouveau teacup and saucer onto Eglantyne’s petit point footstool ungraciously, sloshing tea from her cup into her saucer, narrowly avoiding spilling tea onto the embroidery of yellow and pink roses beneath it. “Which of course I knew it would be as soon as I walked in and saw these two,” She nods her head disapprovingly first at Phoebe and then at Lettice. “Conspiring with you.”
Lettice looks into Lady Gladys’ eyes. She can’t recall them ever looking so dark and hostile towards her before. Any bright joviality or spirit is gone, replaced with some deep and angry bejewelled fire. She shudders in her seat as she considers the fact that they almost look murderous as they sink into the pale folds of her jowly flesh.
“There you go, sounding like one of your badly done by heroines again, Gladys.” Eglantyne says calmly. “Melodramatics are so unattractive in older women, and suggests an imbalance in character, don’t you think?”
“I resent that, Eglantyne.” Lady Gladys spits.
“And I resent your insinuation, Gladys. No-one is conspiring in my drawing room.”
“Maybe not now, Eglantyne.” Lady Gladys says, wagging one of her skinny bejewelled fingers at Eglantyne, the stones winking gaily. “But we’ve been friends for too many years, and conspired together too much for you to deny that you have not consorted with Pheobe and your niece prior to my arrival.”
“Well, I cannot deny that, Gladys.” Eglantyne confesses.
“I knew it!” Lady Gladys crows. “You’re just fortunate that we have been friends for as many years as we have, Eglantyne. I’ve had fallings out with other friends for lesser misdemeanours, and cut them dead.”
“Oh I know, Gladys.” Eglantyne replies. “The path to your door is strewn with the bodies of your spurned friends.”
“Oh ha, ha!” mocks Lady Gladys.
“And it is for the very reason that we have been such good friends for so many years that I felt compelled to step into the vexatious situation that the redecoration of your niece’s flat has become to try and straighten things out between yourself, your niece and my niece.”
“I don’t find it to be a vexatious situation, Eglantyne my dear.” Lady Gladys replies with a tight smile. “Aside from your niece,” She waves her hand sweepingly in Lettice’s general direction as she speaks. “Trying to undermine my… err… our,” She glances at Phoebe, who looks down into her cup, her face unreadable as she hides behind her cascade of curls. “Wishes. That, I find vexatious.”
“I say!” Lettice pipes up, her eyes growing wide in surprise and her voice edged with indignation. “I call that jolly unfair! It’s you who are the cause of vexation. I…”
Eglantyne silences Lettice by leaning forward and holding out her hand, her lined palm acting like a divider between Lettice and Lady Gladys, and causing the angry and resentful words from Lettice’s mouth to cease.
“These Bright Young Things********,” Eglantyne remarks with an awkward chuckle. “They are so passionate, aren’t they?”
“A little too passionate if you ask my opinion.” Lady Gladys mutters.
“Yes, quite.” Eglantyne agrees. “Please accept my apologies for my niece’s unconscionable and unladylike outburst, my dear Gladys.” She turns and stares at Lettice, shaking her head almost imperceptibly as she purses her lips as a warning.
Lady Gladys grunts her ascent with a curt nod.
“Good.” Eglantyne goes on. “I want there to be no bad blood between any of us, as a result of this little gathering, which I have arranged in the spirit of collaboration.”
“I don’t see the need for this meeting, arranged in a spirit of collaboration or otherwise.” Lady Gladys grumbles as she settles back against the sofa’s back again and foldes her arms akimbo.
“Now there is no need to get defensive, my dear Gladys.”
“I fear there is, Eglantyne, when I sense that you are all set on a path with a foregone conclusion, that I, as an interested party, have not been privy to.”
“Well,” Eglantyne explains. “There you have it, Gladys. As my dear friend of old, I’m not going to lie to you, and tell you falsehoods to your face. It is true that Lettice, Phoebe and I have been discussing the matter of the redecoration of the Ridgmount Gardens pied-à-terre********* without you, but only because without you, your niece can express her opinions uninterrupted.”
“Uninterrupted?” Lady Gladys balks. “I like that! I always allow Phoebe to express her opinion.”
“No you don’t.” Lettice interjects. “You just steamro…”
“Lettice!” her aunt warns her with a stony face.
“You don’t, Auntie Gladys.” Phoebe utters, breaking her silence.
“Of course I let you have an opinion, Phoebe! And don’t call me Auntie. You know I don’t like it!” she scolds.
“Very well, Gladys, I recant.”
“That’s better.” Lady Gladys smiles smugly.
“You do allow me to have an opinion, but only when it doesn’t contradict yours, or you wear me down, as you so often do, so that I will simply agree with you, which amounts to much the same thing.”
“Phoebe!” Lady Gladys gasps the smile of moments ago quickly falling away. “I’m offended.”
“Offended or not, that is the truth, Gladys.” Phoebe says, staring at her aunt, her eyes a little brighter as tears begin to form beneath her lids, threatening to burst forth at any moment.
“You can’t fault her truth, Gladys.” Eglantyne opines from her seat. “You know within yourself that you can be very stubborn when you want to be, and you do have a propensity to wear people down when you wish to get your way.”
Lady Gladys doesn’t reply, remaining poised and aloof in her seat, staring in a steely fashion at one of the Countess Baronovska’s vases filled with peach coloured roses sitting on Eglantyne’s cluttered mantlepiece.
“Your silence speaks volumes as to your own self-awareness, Gladys.” Eglantyne goes on with a tired sigh. “Even if you aren’t ready to voice your agreement with me. Phoebe is correct. You know she is. Now, this state of affairs around the Ridgmount Gardens pied-à-terre only came to my attention in the aftermath of the last conversation you had with my niece: a conversation that I know didn’t end too well.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Eglantyne.” Lady Gladys ventures. “It seemed perfectly fine to me. The crux of the matter is that I simply reminded your niece of her obligations to me. I didn’t have to choose Lettice to redecorate Phoebe’s flat but I wanted to give her, as a young up-and-coming designer nearer to Pheobe’s age than the likes of Syrie Maugham********** the opportunity to increase her profile as a society interior designer. I felt that being of a similar age, the two might get along and come up with a suitable redecoration scheme.”
“A redecoration scheme that you yourself, must be completely satisfied with.” Eglantyne interrupts.
“Well of course, Eglantyne.” Lady Gladys smiles. “Lettice did sign a contract with me, that as her client, I have the right to have her do everything I ask of her, or she forfeits payment.”
“But whose pied-à-terre is Ridgmount Gardens, Gladys?” Eglantyne asks.
“What do you mean, Eglantyne?”
“Whose pied-à-terre is Ridgmount Gardens? To whom does it belong?”
“What a ridiculous question!” Lady Gladys laughs. “Why its Phoebe’s of course! You know that!”
“Then, shouldn’t Phoebe be my niece’s client. Gladys? Shouldn’t Lettice be abiding by her wishes?”
“Well, technically yes,” Lady Gladys replies, squirming a little in her seat. “But I am the one footing the bills for the redecoration: bills which I might add are a little extravagant.”
“But you’ve agreed to their cost, Gladys.”
“Well, yes of course I have, Eglantyne. I’m not going to leave Phoebe with a half-decorated flat, am I?”
“But even if you are footing the bills as it were, shouldn’t Lettice be following Phoebe’s wishes, Gladys?” Eglantyne takes a sip of her tea. “After all, you aren’t going to be living in Ridgmount Gardens, are you? Phoebe is.”
“Well, Phoebe’s wishes and mine are virtually the same, aren’t they Phoebe my dear?” Lady Gladys laughs forcefully, turning her head to her niece.
Phoebe doesn’t reply, but drops her head into her lap.
“Phoebe?” Lady Gladys queries.
“Phoebe dear,” Eglantyne says kindly to the young girl. “Why don’t you tell your aunt what you told my niece when Lettice asked you about the redecoration.”
“Do you mean that I never actually requested the redecoration, Miss Chetwynd?” Phoebe asks.
“Phoebe!” Lady Gladys chokes. “Of course you did!”
“No I didn’t, Gladys.” Suddenly filled with bravado with both Lettice and Eglantyne supporting her against Lady Gladys, and undeterred by her aunt’s withering glance at her, she goes on, “You did!”
“No, I didn’t!” Lady Gladys retorts. “You discussed the colour scheme with Lettice when we had dinner at Gossington the first night you met her.”
“No, that isn’t true,” Phoebe replies matter-of-factly, her voice gaining a new found strength. “You discussed Lettice redecorating my flat whilst I was out rambling with some of your guests. You then discussed what colour the flat should be with Lettice over the top of me at dinner that night.” She register’s her aunt’s look of shock. “Oh you may not remember it that way, but our memories are seldom objective enough to tell the truth for us, and that is the truth.”
“Bravo Phoebe!” Lettice whispers under her breath as she sits in her seat, nursing her cup of tea.
“What did you tell Lettice when she asked you about how you would like your pied-à-terre decorated, Phoebe?” Eglantyne encourages the young girl who has suddenly blossomed with energy and purpose before her eyes.
“Well, I was actually quite happy with how things were.” Phoebe admits.
“Oh Phoebe!” Lady Gladys chides her niece gently. “I told you already, that you can’t live your life in a mausoleum!”
“But it wasn’t a mausoleum to me.” Phoebe explains. “It was a connection to my parents.”
“But you barely knew your parents, Phoebe!” Lady Gladys retorts, placing her teacup aside, more gently this time. “You were so young.”
“All the more reason then, to try and maintain some precious connection to them, Gladys.” Eglantyne remarks gently from her seat.
“But John and I have been more mother and father to Phoebe than Reginald and Marjorie.”
“No-one is disputing that, Gladys. Phobe is simply expressing her opinion that she wishes to maintain a connection with her parents, and perhaps maintain a modicum of their presence in her life.”
“Well,” Lady Gladys huffs, throwing a hand dramatically skywards. “This is all news to me!”
“Maybe,” Lettice ventures. “Maybe if you were perhaps a little more open to listening, Gladys, rather than telling Phoebe what you want to hear, you might know her opinion.”
“Lettice is right, my dear Gladys.” Eglantyne agrees in a calm voice.
“For what it’s worth, Gladys, you were right about the flat needing to be freshened up, and I actually don’t mind the colour you’ve chosen with Lettice to paint the flat, nor the curtains.”
Lettice cringes at the mention of the chintz curtains she detests, but remains silent on the matter.
“Well, at least I did something right.” Gladys beams.
“I want my books and my photographs, and that bookish, scholarly, ramshackle feeling I love.” Phoebe goes on.
“Well, I don’t approve of that rather untidy mess you call ‘bookish’ and ‘scholarly’ but as you say, it is your flat, so you may live in it however you like.”
“However,” Pheobe quickly interrupts her aunt. “It is also my wish that the memory of my parents live on in my flat, since it is my flat, and my London home. I want that essence of my parents: my mother’s china,” She takes a deep breath as tears well in her eyes. “And my father’s desk.”
“Now, Phoebe,” Lady Gladys retorts. “You know I told you that Reginald wanted me to have his writing desk.”
“But he didn’t stipulate that in his will, did he, Gladys?” Eglantyne asks.
“Well, no.” Gladys agrees begrudgingly. “He just hadn’t gotten around to…”
“And I distinctly remember you saying to me after you came back from India with Phoebe, how well organised Reginald had been with his affairs.” Eglantyne interrupts determinedly.
“Well I…” Gladys splutters, irritated at being called out on her appropriation of her deceased brother’s writing bureau. “I… I penned my first successful novel on that desk whilst Reginald and Marjorie were out in Bombay! It has sentimental value for me.”
“It does for me too.” remarks Phoebe sadly. “They are the only things I really have of them, and they mean more to me than photographs. Photographs are just faces, but the chips in my mother’s plates and teacups and the grooves and ink stains in my father’s bureau resonate so much with me. They tell me so much about who they were. I feel my parents’ presence through those chips, knocks and stains.”
“Where is the bureau now, Gladys?” Eglantyne asks matter-of-factly. “Here in London, or up in Scotland?”
“Here, at Eaton Square**********, in the Blue Room.” Lady Gladys replies.
“So, it isn’t even in your study!” Eglantyne exclaims aghast. “It’s relegated to a room for guests!”
“It doesn’t suit my office.” Gladys defends her actions. “It looks best in the Blue Room.”
“Give Phoebe the bureau back, Gladys.” Eglantyne states. “You have no right to it. Stop behaving badly. It doesn’t suit you, my dear friend. I know you are far better than this pettiness over an object you don’t even really care about.”
Lady Gladys doesn’t reply at first. She sits and fidgets with her bejewelled fingers in her seat, rather like an overgrown child after being reprimanded. “Oh, very well! You can have your father’s desk back Phoebe. I suppose I don’t really need it. And your mother’s china, although goodness knows why you want those old, nasty, cheap things in your nicely newly decorated flat.”
“That’s Phoebe’s business, Gladys.” Eglantyne says sagely.
Lady Gladys sits up more straightly in her seat and stares at Lettice. “And what would you do, if I were to hold true to my word, and the letter of our contract, and not pay you another penny for the work you’ve done, and leave you with the remainder of the unpaid bills, Lettice?”
“I’ve allowed for that, Gladys.” Lettice replies with a sigh. “I can afford to absorb the cost of the unpaid bills.”
“That’s no way to run a successful business, Lettice.” Lady Gladys chides her with a shaking head.
“Well, it depends on how you play the game of success I suppose, Gladys.” Lettice replies. “Whilst it may be true that I would have to pay for the unpaid bills out of my own purse, and that would mean this redecoration was done at a financial loss to me, which would not be an immediate success. However, Phoebe knows many young ladies of independent means at the Academy of Horticulture. And most of those ladies live in London. They can see Phoebe’s pied-à-terre for themselves and then commission me to redecorate their own flats. That then makes this a successful redecoration in the long run.”
Lady Gladys smiles knowingly. “I always thought from the moment I met you, that you would make a smart businesswoman. I can see traits of myself in you, my dear.” She sighs and stands up. As the other three ladies go to rise, she encourages them to remain seated with gesticulating hands. “Please don’t get up. I must take my leave of you. I do have a new novel to promote after all.” She turns to Eglantyne. “You are very fortunate, Eglantyne, that we are such old and good friends. You know I don’t take kindly to being told what to do.”
“Or taught a lesson,” Eglantyne adds. “Even when you need it.”
“Well, we will agree to disagree there.” Lady Gladys continues, undeterred. “You are fortunate too in the intelligence of your niece.”
“She’s a smart young lady.” Eglantyne agrees.
“Thank you Gladys.” Lettice says gratefully with a nod towards Lady Gladys before turning to Eglantyne. “Thank you Aunt Egg.”
“You can continue to forward the unpaid bills to me.” Lady Gladys goes on. “I will honour them.” She then turns to Phoebe. “However, Phoebe, if you and Lettice think you are better qualified to redecorate it than I am, then I want nothing more to do with Ridgmount Gardens. I shan’t say that I’m not offended by the way you three have conspired against me, because I am, but if this is how you choose to assert your independence, then I must learn to let you make your own mistakes.” She turns back to Eglantyne. “I’ll show myself out.”
And without another word, Lady Gladys picks up her handbag from where it has sat on the seat next to her and sweeps out of the room, haughty and aloof, leaving a waft of her signature lily of the valley perfume in her wake.
“Well, that was a rum************ apology, if ever I heard one.” Lettice remarks as she releases the pent up breath she didn’t realise she was holding on to.
“Well, don’t forget that Gladys is many things, Lettice,” her aunt replies. “Including proud. Let’s allow her to gather the tattered remains of that pride and leave with some dignity.”
“Yes Aunt Egg.”
“Thank you, Miss Chetwynd, for all your help managing my aunt.” Phoebe says with a beaming smile.
“You’re very welcome, my dear.” Eglantyne replies. “Although, I suspect it may be a while before I hear from Gladys again, but I will eventually. I always do. She and I have weathered harsher storms than this over the years.” She sighs. “And now you and Lettice have your wish. You can decorate your pied-à-terre as you see fit!”
Lettice, Phoebe and Eglantyne fall into excited chatter about what they might do with the Ridgmount Gardens flat’s redecoration as Eglantine’s Swiss head parlour maid, Augusta, sweeps into the drawing room with a fresh pot of tea for them.
*The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood (later known as the Pre-Raphaelites) was a group of English painters, poets, and art critics, founded in 1848 by William Holman Hunt, John Everett Millais, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, William Michael Rossetti, James Collinson, Frederic George Stephens and Thomas Woolner who formed a seven-member "Brotherhood" modelled in part on the Nazarene movement. The Brotherhood was only ever a loose association and their principles were shared by other artists of the time, including Ford Madox Brown, Arthur Hughes and Marie Spartali Stillman. Later followers of the principles of the Brotherhood included Edward Burne-Jones, William Morris and John William Waterhouse. The group sought a return to the abundant detail, intense colours and complex compositions of Quattrocento Italian art. They rejected what they regarded as the mechanistic approach first adopted by Mannerist artists who succeeded Raphael and Michelangelo. The Brotherhood believed the classical poses and elegant compositions of Raphael in particular had been a corrupting influence on the academic teaching of art, hence the name "Pre-Raphaelite".
**The meaning of the very British term “shall I be mother” is “shall I pour the tea?”
*** The Delphos gown is a finely pleated silk dress first created in about 1907 by French designer Henriette Negrin and her husband, Mariano Fortuny y Madrazo. They produced the gowns until about 1950. It was inspired by, and named after, a classical Greek statue, the Charioteer of Delphi. It was championed by more artistic women who did not wish to conform to society’s constraints and wear a tightly fitting corset.
****Firenze Blue is a rich blue shade that originated in Florence in Italy.
*****Button back upholstered furniture contains buttons embedded in the back of the sofa or chair, which are pulled tightly against the leather creating a shallow dimple effect. This is sometimes known as button tufting.
******The Alice band first started being worn around 1871, after Lewis Carroll's book Through the Looking-Glass was published. The name of the Alice band comes from the main character in the book, Alice. In the drawings John Tenniel made for the book, Alice wears a ribbon that keeps her long hair away from her face.
*******Before the Second World War, there were many little nuances which indicated which class you came from: a very important thing to know and exude in class conscious Britian. Sometimes it was something as obvious as how you were dressed, or the quality of your clothes. Other times it was far more subtle, such as the use of a word, like “sofa” to show you were upper class, rather than “settee” which was decidedly aspiring middle-class. It even came down to how you prepared, stirred and drank your tea, which made taking tea – an English tradition – a fraught affair. If you added milk to your cup, before you added your tea, you were aspiring middle-class, versus pouring the tea from the pot into the cup and then adding the milk which was decidedly upper class. Whether done in a clockwise or anti-clockwise fashion, stirring your tea was an aspiring middle-class trait, whilst upper-class people stirred their tea back and forth to “avoid a storm in a teacup”, and an upper class person never touched the sides of their cup with their teaspoon. This is still correct protocol today if you are taking tea with a member of the Royal Family. Tapping the teacup with your teaspoon was also considered aspiring middle-class, whereas an upper class person would remove their teaspoon silently and slip it onto their saucer soundlessly. Holding your pinkie finger aloft was also classified as an affectation and is an aspiring middle-class action.
********The Bright Young Things, or Bright Young People, was a nickname given by the tabloid press to a group of Bohemian young aristocrats and socialites in 1920s London.
*********A pied-à-terre is a small flat, house, or room kept for occasional use.
**********Gwendoline Maud Syrie Maugham was a leading British interior decorator of the 1920s and 1930s who popularised rooms decorated entirely in white. In the 1910s, Maugham began her interior design career as an apprentice under Ernest Thornton-Smith for a London decorating firm, learning there about the intricacies of furniture restoration, trompe-l'œil, curtain design, and the mechanics of traditional upholstery. In 1922, two years before this story is set, at the age of 42, Maugham borrowed £400.00 and opened her own interior decorating business at 85 Baker Street, London. As the shop flourished, Maugham began decorating, taking on projects in Palm Beach and California. By 1930, she had shops in London, Chicago, and New York. Maugham is best-remembered for the all-white music room at her house at 213 King's Road in London. For the grand unveiling of her all-white room, Maugham went to the extreme of dipping her white canvas draperies in cement. The room was filled with massive white floral arrangements and the overall effect was stunning. Maugham charged high prices and could be very dictatorial with her clients and employees. She once told a hesitant client, "If you don't have ten thousand dollars to spend, I don't want to waste my time."
***********Eaton Square is a rectangular residential garden square in London's Belgravia district. It is the largest square in London. It is one of the three squares built by the landowning Grosvenor family when they developed the main part of Belgravia in the Nineteenth Century that are named after places in Cheshire — in this case Eaton Hall, the Grosvenor country house. It is larger but less grand than the central feature of the district, Belgrave Square, and both larger and grander than Chester Square. The first block was laid out by Thomas Cubitt from 1827. In 2016 it was named as the "Most Expensive Place to Buy Property in Britain", with a full terraced house costing on average seventeen million pounds — many of such town houses have been converted, within the same, protected structures, into upmarket apartments.
************The word “rum” can sometimes be used as an alternative to odd or peculiar, such as: “it's a rum business, certainly”.
This overstuffed and cluttered late Victorian room might look a bit busy to your modern eye, but in the day, this would have been the height of conspicuous consumption fashion. What may also surprise you is that the entire scene is made up with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The gilt Art Nouveau tea set, featuring a copy of a Royal Doulton leaves pattern, comes from a larger tea set which has been hand decorated by beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The tea set sits on a silver tray which is made of polished metal and was made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.
The two vases standing on the mantle with their blue and gilt banding of roses are “Baroness” pattern, made by Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures.
The roses in the vases are made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The foxgloves in the “Baroness” pattern Reutter Porzellanfabrik vase at the right of the photograph are made of polymer clay that is moulded on wires to allow them to be shaped at will and put into individually formed floral arrangements. Very realistic looking, they are made by a 1:12 miniature specialist in Germany.
Also on the mantlepiece stands a gilt carriage clock made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.
The fireplace and its ornate overmantle is a “Kensignton” model made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq. The mirrored china cabinet with its fretwork front was also made by Bespaq, as were Aunt Egg’s white floral figured satin upholstered Chippendale chair and the ornate white upholstered corner chair. The brass fire tools and ornate brass fender come from various online 1:12 miniature suppliers.
The footstool on which two teacups set stand is also made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique Austrian 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 hand embroidered pedestal fire screen was acquired through Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom.
The two whatnots are cluttered with vases from various online dolls’ house miniature suppliers, several miniature Limoges vases and white and lilac petunia pieces which have been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton.
The Royal Doulton style figurines in the china cabinet are from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland and have been hand painted by me. The figurines are identifiable as particular Royal Doulton figurines from the 1920s and 1930s.
The 1:12 artisan miniature blue and white jasperware Wedgwood teapot on the round table near the bottom of the photo is actually carved from wood, with a removable lid which has been hand painted. I acquired it from Mick and Marie’s Miniatures. The hand blown blue and clear glass basket next to it comes from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The paintings around Aunt Egg’s drawing room come from Amber’s Miniatures in the United States, V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom and Marie Makes Miniatures in the United Kingdom. The round pictures hanging on ribbons were made by me when I was twelve years old. The ribbons came from my maternal Grandmother’s sewing box, and the frames are actually buttons from her button box. The images inside (three Redoute roses) were cut from a magazine.
The wallpaper was printed by me, and is an authentic Victorian floral pattern produced by Jeffrey and Company. 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.
The Oriental rug on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.
