A Chat Before the Hunt Ball

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.

 

Tonight however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie. Lettice is visiting her family home as her parents host their first Hunt Ball since 1914. Lady Sadie has been completely consumed over the last month by the planning and preparation of the occasion, determined that not only will it be the event of the 1922 county season, but also that it will be a successful entrée for her youngest daughter, still single at twenty-one years of age, to meet a number of eligible and marriageable men. Letters and invitations have flown from Lady Sadie’s bonheur de jour* to the families of eligible bachelors, some perhaps a little too old to be considered before the war, achieving more than modest success. Whilst Lettice enjoys dancing, parties and balls, she is less enthusiastic about the idea of the ball being used as a marriage market than her parents are.

 

We find ourselves in Lettice’s boudoir at Glynes, a room which she considers somewhat of a time capsule now with its old fashioned furnishings and mementoes of those halcyon pre-war summers. She hardly even considers it her room any more, so far removed is she from that giddy teenager who had crushes on her elder brothers’ friends and loved chintz covered furniture, floral wallpaper and sweet violet perfume. Lettice is sitting at her dressing table, a serpentine Edwardian piece of dark mahogany still adorned with the Art Nouveau silver dressing table set and perfume bottles she left behind along with her pre-war self when she moved to Mayfair in 1920. She sighs as she glances at her reflection in the mirror. Looking back is a beautiful, but rather pensive Cinderella in a pomaded wig bedecked in feathers, ropes of faux pearls and pale yellow roses that match the colour of the Eighteenth Century Georgian style ball gown of figured satin she wears. The Glynes Hunt Ball has always been a fancy dress, and whilst her father and Leslie usually eschew fancy dress in preference for their hunting pinks**, the Chetwynd women have always loved the occasion to get dressed up, and this year it is the world’s most famous and beloved faerie tale heroine whom Lettice is going as, an irony that makes her chuckle sadly to herself, when she considers that the ball is being held this year with the express purpose of her finding her prince charming.

 

“Not that there will be one there,” she says to herself, a snort of derision escaping her as she picks up one of the three faceted crystal bottles she has brought from her Cavendish Mews boudoir and places a few glistening drops of Shalimar*** on either side of her neck.

 

She looks across at the drawers of her travel de nécessaire**** and pulls one open and stares down at the glittering array of rings glinting in the lamplight, like fabulous chocolates made of gold and precious stones, nestled comfortably into their red velvet home. She looks down at the white kid elbow length gloves, an essential item for dancing so that no flesh actually comes into contact between a jeune fille à marier***** and an eligible bachelor lest the latter spoil the prospects of the former, and ponders which pieces she should wear. Her garnet and pearl Art Deco cluster cocktail ring perhaps? The baguette cut Emerald surrounded by brilliant cut diamonds? No, the daisy ring of brilliant cut diamonds that she was given as a birthday gift by her father on her twenty-first: that will go nicely against the white kid of her gloves.

 

“Oh!”

 

A gasp from the door to her bedroom breaks Lettices contemplation of her jewellery. Looking up she sees her mother reflected in the mirror’s glass. Turning around in her seat she lets her hand drape languidly over the back of her ornately carved dressing table chair with its pink satin seat.

 

“Mamma,” Lettice remarks. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

 

Dressed as the national personification of Britain, Lady Sadie is every inch the helmeted female warrior Britannia, only her battle lies in manoeuvring her reluctant and recalcitrant daughter about the Glynes ballroom rather than defending the realm. Standing in a white Roman style shift with gold embroidery of a key pattern along the hem, sleeves and neck, she has a brass helmet decorated with thick red plumes atop her proudly held head. There is a steely determination in both the line of her clenched jaw and her glittering eyes, yet there is also a hint of approval as she takes in her daughter’s very feminine appearance.

 

“I just wanted to see you before the ball commences, Lettice.” Lady Sadie says brittlely as she glides elegantly across the floor, her gown like a muslin cloud billowing about her serene figure. She sighs as she gazes around the bedroom. “I do wish you’d return home Lettice, rather than living in that dreadful place, London. It isn’t right you know, for a young unmarried girl to be living on her own in London. You’d be much better to stay here and learn how to run a real home to ready yourself for when you are chatelaine…”

 

“You said you wanted to see me, Mamma?” Lettice cuts her mother off sharply, not even countenancing moving back to live beneath her mother’s disapproving gaze. “About the ball, was it?”

 

Lady Sadie’s serenity is shattered by her daughter’s curt interruption and her face resumes its usual scowl when addressing her daughter. “Yes. Yes it was, Lettice.”

 

“Well, best you tell me then,” the younger woman replies, half turning back to her dressing table, and glancing over her right shoulder to the pretty porcelain clock decorated with entwined roses on the mantlepiece. “The first guests will be arriving shortly.”

 

“Very well Lettice, if you wish to play it this way,” Sadie’s frown becomes more pronounced as she sighs. She looks at the impatient form of her youngest daughter, whom she considers to be her most problematic child by far. “I want no difficulties from you this evening.”

 

“Difficulties!” Lettice releases a burst of laughter. “Me?”

 

“Don’t be coy!” Lady Sadie snaps. “It’s most unbecoming.”

 

“You always said that coyness was an alluring charm.” Lettice remarks sweetly in return, knowing that this will goad her mother, but unable to resist the temptation to do so.

 

“It is, except when you are in a conversation with your mother.” Lady Sadie barks back, her response rewarded by a cheeky half smile from her daughter who doesn’t even attempt to hide her amusement. “Now, I don’t have time for your silly games, my girl. I expect you to stand next to me to greet our guests when they start to arrive. You will be polite and acknowledge each one, even if you don’t particularly care for their company.”

 

“Of course Mamma,” Lettice replies demurely.

 

“And I don’t want any sly remarks from you.” The older woman wags her heavily bejewelled fingers warningly. “You are on show this evening, and I expect nothing less than ladylike decorum in all manner of action and speech.”

 

“Yes Mamma,” Lettice sighs.

 

“Gerald Bruton and his acerbic tongue have been a bad influence on you since you both moved to London and started spending more time together.” Lady Sadie quips. “Oh, and whilst we are on the subject of Gerald, I don’t want you spending all evening with him, ensconced in a corner, gossiping, and deriding our guests. Do you understand?”

 

“Well, I can hardly ignore him, Mamma, if he engages me in conversation. You said yourself just now that I am to be ladylike in all manner of action and speech.”

 

“You know what I mean, Lettice! Are you being obtuse on purpose, just to annoy me?”

 

“No, Mamma!” Lettice raises her hands in defence of her words. “Mind you, Gerald is an eligible young bachelor too.”

 

“And you know he is totally unsuitable.” retorts Lady Sadie. “He’s the second son for a start, and the Brutons are in rather straitened circumstances, in case you don’t know. Lord Bruton is selling off another few parcels of land along his western boundary to help pay for the upkeep required on Bruton Hall.”

 

“I didn’t know that!” Lettice remarks, genuinely surprised as her hand goes to her throat.

 

“Yes, your father told me he heard as much from Lord Bruton on New Year’s Eve. He is selling parcels of land there because he hopes for a better price from a developer, being the closest point to Glynes village and the main road.” Lady Sadie admits. Scrutinising her daughter through sharp and slightly squinting eyes she adds, “I can trust your discretion, can’t I Lettice?”

 

“Of course, Mamma!” she replies genuinely. “Does Aunt Gwen know?”

 

“I haven’t asked her, and I’m not going to cause either of them embarrassment by raising it, but I’ll assume yes. She must have some idea. I’m just grateful that tonight is a fancy dress. It will save poor Gwyneth from having to wear that same tired, old fashioned frock she wore here on New Year’s Eve tonight.”

 

“Yes, I noticed that too.”

 

“Anyway, hopefully you’ll be too busy dancing on the arm of an eligible bachelor to spend any time with Gerald. Besides, he should be focusing on finding himself a suitable heiress, although coming from such an unremarkable family with limited means, he’s not exactly the most exciting prospect, in spite of his handsome looks.”

 

Lettice doesn’t reply, remembering her father’s words in the Glynes library late the previous year when he mentioned that Lady Sadie was quite unaware of Gerald’s inclinations. To avoid embarrassment on either of their parts, and to keep Gerald in at least the lower echelons of her mother’s good graces, she decides that discretion is the better part of valour and keeps quiet, which luckily Lady Sadie takes as docility from her daughter.

 

“Now, do you remember whom you are to dance with this evening, Lettice?”

 

“Yes Mamma,” Lettice sighs, unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she begins to recite. “Jonty Hastings, Selwyn Spencely, Edward Lambley, Septimius Faversham, Bryce MacTavish, Oliver Edgars, Piers Hackford-Jones, Tarquin Howard.” She cringes inwardly. “and Nicholas Ayers.”

 

“Don’t forget Sir John Nettleford-Hughes!” Lady Sadie reminds her daughter.

 

“Ugh!” Lettice’s nose screws up in disgust. “I’m not dancing with Sir John! He’s… he’s so old and lecherous!”

 

“Nonsense Lettice! Sir John may be a little bit older than the other gentlemen on offer, but he is no less eligible. You could do worse than present yourself, as I hope you will, as a jeune fille à marier to him. He has a beautiful estate in Buckinghamshire and houses in Bedfordshire, London and not to mention Fontengil Park just a stone’s throw south of here in our very own Wiltshire.”

 

“Mamma, he likes young chorus girls!”

 

Lady Sadie stiffens at the mention of such women in her presence. “Oh, that’s just idle drawing room gossip, Lettice!”

 

“It’s not! It’s true.” She folds her arms akimbo and pouts. “He’s a lecherous old man who likes young girls who don’t wear knickers!”

 

“Lettice!” Lady Sadie grasps at her throat in horror. “Don’t say such scandalous things! Every unmarred man who went through the war had an infatuation with a Gaiety Girl at some stage.”

 

“It’s more than an infatuation or phase with him, Mamma! I’ll not dance with such an old man! I won’t!”

 

“You will my girl, because it is your duty.”

 

Lettice sighs and goes to say something as a retort, but her mother’s bejewelled fingers rise again, the diamonds winking from their gold and platinum settings.

 

“I told you. I want no trouble from you tonight. This ball is for you. It may be the Hunt Ball, but we all know it’s for you to meet a potential husband. It’s your duty to dance at least once with every eligible man I have invited here this evening for you to pick from. So, dance with him you will. And let that be an end to your obstinance, Lettice.”

 

Realising suddenly that if she wants this evening to be as painless as possible, she really must do as her father suggests and make an effort to try and please her mother, even if the idea of a husband finding ball appals her, Lettice sighs and acquiesces with a nod. “Very well Mamma.”

 

“That’s a good girl.” Lady Sadie replies with a pleased purr in her voice.

 

The older woman turns to walk away and then gasps, spinning back to her daughter.

 

“I almost forgot why I came here to see you, Lettice.”

 

“I thought it was to talk about who I was to dance with, Mamma.”

 

“Well, there was that too, but no. I wanted to give you this to wear for the evening.” The older woman fishes into the capacious flowing sleeve of her white muslin shift and withdraws a sparkling necklace of brilliant cut diamonds and rubies set in platinum, which she passes to her daughter.

 

Lettice gasps. “The Glynes necklace!” She takes the fabulous jewellery confection in her warm hands, feeling the coolness of the stones and metal against her palms and fingers as she admires the sixteen enormous diamonds and four equally large rubies in their settings. “But this is…”

 

Once again, Lady Sadie’s hands rise, indicating for Lettice to desist from speaking.

 

“I know that you and I seldom see eye-to-eye on anything, Lettice, and I doubt we ever will,” the older woman says crisply. “And that includes the ball tonight. Yet you have shown the good grace to make an effort to come and have chosen a beautiful costume. I hope that good grace will extend to your behaviour this evening. I know you don’t agree with you father’s or my idea that you could meet your potential future husband here tonight, but there we agree to disagree. If you would just allow yourself to enjoy the spectacle of the evening and join in the spirit that this is for you, you might find a man to whom you can entrust your heart. I know that this necklace is the property of the chatelaine of Glynes, and therefore usually worn by her, however I thought because of your good grace, and your concerted efforts,” Her eyebrows arch slightly as she sizes up her daughter again, looking for any hidden pockets of rebellion beneath the elegantly costumed girl. “Having the opportunity to wear this necklace this evening would help you enjoy the occasion.”

 

Lettice stares down at the winking jewels in her hands. “I don’t know what to say, Mamma.”

 

“A thank you would be customary, and quite acceptable, Lettice.”

 

“Thank you Mamma.”

 

*A bonheur de jour is a type of lady's writing desk. It was introduced in Paris by one of the interior decorators and purveyors of fashionable novelties called marchands-merciers around 1760, and speedily became intensely fashionable. Decorated on all sides, it was designed to sit in the middle of a room so that it could be admired from any angle.

 

**Hunting pinks is the name given to the traditional scarlet jacket and related attire worn by fox-hunters.

 

***Shalimar perfume was created when Jacques Guerlain poured a bottle of ethylvanillin into a bottle of Jicky, a fragrance created by Guerlain in 1889. Raymond Guerlain designed the bottle for Shalimar, which was modelled after the basins of eastern gardens and Mongolian stupa art.

 

****A travel de nécessaire is a travelling case used in the Edwardian era for country weekend house parties and holidays away from home. They would usually contain items like combs, brushes and perfume bottles needed for maintaining one’s appearance, but could be much grander and contain many other implements including pens and ink bottles, manicure sets and more. There were also some specifically designed for the use of jewellery, with velvet lined compartments for rings, neckaces, brooches and earrings.

 

*****A jeune fille à marier was a marriageable young woman, the French term used in fashionable circles and the upper-classes of Edwardian society before the Second World War.

 

This pretty corner of an Edwardian boudoir may appear like something out of a historical house display, 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 silver dressing table set on the dressing table, consisting of mirror, brushes and a comb, as well as the tray on which the perfume bottle stand has been made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces.

 

On the silver tray there is a selection of sparkling perfume bottles, which are handmade by an English artisan for the Little Green Workshop. Made of cut coloured crystals set in a gilt metal frames or using vintage cut glass beads they look so elegant and terribly luxurious. The faceted pink glass perfume bottle, made from an Art Deco bead came with the dressing table, which I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop.

 

Also on the tray is a container of Val-U-Time talcum powder: an essential item for any Edwardian lady, and a metal container of Madame Pivette’s Complexion Beautifier, which was introduced in 1905 by Doctor J.B. Lynas and Son and produced in Logansport, Indiana. Doctor Lynas started his own profession in 1866, which was the making of "family remedies", which quickly gained popularity. It became so popular, that he sold extensively throughout the United States. His products carried names such as the Catarrh Remedy, Hoosier Cough Syrup, Ready Relief, Rheumatic Liniment, White Mountain Salve, Egyptian Salve and Liver Pills. Within a few years the "doctor's" medicine sales amounted to around ten thousand US dollars per year. By the turn of the Twentieth Century he had expanded his product line to include flavorings such as vanilla, cherry, lemon; and also, soaps, lotions and perfumes for ladies. These items were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire.

 

The travel de necessaire, complete with miniature jewellery, I acquired from Melody Jane’s Doll House Suppliers in the United Kingdom.

 

The dressing table chair did not come with the dressing table, although it does match nicely. Upholstered in a very fine pink satin, it was made by the high-end dolls’ house miniature furniture manufacturer, Bespaq.

 

The elbow length white evening gloves on the seat of the chair are artisan pieces made of kid leather. I acquired these from a high street dolls house specialist when I was a teenager. Amazingly, they have never been lost in any of the moves that they have made over the years are still pristinely clean.

Done