A Meeting of the War Cabinet at Glynes

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.

 

Today however, Lettice is far from Cavendish Mews, back in Wiltshire where she is staying at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie and his wife. The current Viscount has summoned his daughter home, along with his bohemian artist younger sister Eglantyne, affectionately known as Aunt Egg by her nieces and nephews.

 

Through her social connections, Lettice’s Aunt Egg 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 Lady Gladys felt that it was too old fashioned and outdated in its appointment for a young girl like Phoebe.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.

 

Thus, Viscount Wrexham has contrived a war cabinet meeting in the comfortable surrounds of the Glynes library with Lettice and Eglantyne to see if between them they can work out a way to untangle Lettice from Lady Gladys’ contract, or at least undo the damage done to Pheobe by way of Lettice’s redecoration of the flat.

 

Being early autumn, the library at Glynes is filled with light, yet a fire crackles contentedly in the grate of the great Georgian stone fireplace to keep the cooler temperatures of the season at bay. The space smells comfortingly of old books and woodsmoke. The walls of the long room are lined with floor to ceiling shelves, full thousands of volumes on so many subjects. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows facing out to the front of the house burnishes the polished parquetry floors in a ghostly way. Viscount Wrexham sits at his Chippendale desk, with his daughter sitting opposite him on the other side of it, whilst Eglantyne, a tall, willowy figure and always too restless to sit for too long, stands at her brother’s shoulder as the trio discuss the current state of affairs.

 

“So is what Gladys says, correct, Lettice?” the Viscount bristles from his seat behind his Chippendale desk as he lifts a gilt edged Art Nouveau decorated cup of hot tea to his lips. “Did you sign a contract?”

 

“Well yes of course I did, Pappa!” Lettice defends, cradling her own cup in her hands, admiring the beautifully executed stylised blue Art Nouveau flowers on it. “You told me that there should be a formal contract in place ever since I had that spot of unpleasantness with the Duchess of Whitby when she was reluctant to pay her account in full after I had finished decorating her Fitzrovia first-floor reception room.”

 

“And I take it, our lawyers haven’t perused it?” he asks as he replaces the cup in its saucer on the desk’s surface.

 

“No Pappa.” Lettice replies, fiddling with the hem of her silk cord French blue cardigan. “Should they have?”

 

The Viscount sucks in a deep breath audibly, his heckles arcing up.

 

“Cosmo.” his sister says calmingly, standing at his side, placing one of her heavily bejewelled hands on his shoulder, lightly digging her elegantly long yet gnarled fingers into the fabric of his tweed jacket and pressing hard.

 

The Viscount releases a gasp. He looks down upon the book he had been pleasurably reading before he summoned both his sister and daughter to his domain of the Glynes library, a copy of Padraic Colum’s* ‘The Golden Fleece and the Heroes who Lived Before Achilles’** illustrated by Willy Pognay, and focuses on it like an anchor to manage the temper roiling within him. Trying very hard to suppress his frustration and keep it out of his steady modulation, the Viscount replies, “Yes my girl,” He sighs again. “Preferably you should have any contracts drawn up by our lawyers, and then signed by a client: not the other way around. And if it does happen to be the other way around, our lawyers should give it a thorough going over before you sign it.”

 

“But a contract is a contract, Pappa, surely?” Lettice retorts before taking another sip of tea.

 

The Viscount’s breathing grows more laboured as his face grows as red as the cover of ‘The Golden Fleece and the Heroes who Lived Before Achilles’ on the tooled leather surface of the desk before him.

 

“Cosmo.” Eglantine says again, before looking up and catching her niece’s eye and tries to warn her of the thunderstorm of frustration and anger that is about to burst from the Viscount by giving her an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

 

The Viscount continues to breathe in a considered and deliberate way as he tries to continue, his deep voice somewhat strangulated by his effort not to slam his fists on the desktop and yell at his daughter. “A contact varies, Lettice. It depends on who has written it as to what clauses are contained inside, such as Gladys’ condition that she is to be completely satisfied with the outcome of the redecoration, or she may forfeit any unpaid tradesmen’s bills, not to mention your own. You should have read it thoroughly before you signed it.”

 

“Oh.” Lettice lowers her head and looks down dolefully into her lap.

 

The Viscount turns sharply in his Chippendale chair, withdrawing his shoulder from beneath his sister’s grounding grasp with an irritable shake and glares at his sister through angry, bloodshot eyes. When she was young, Eglantine 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, except when she decides the henna it, and 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.

 

“I place the blame for this situation solely at your feet, Eglantyne!” the Viscount barks at his sister.

 

“Me!” Eglantyne laughs in incredulity. “Me! Don’t be so preposterous, Cosmo.” She grasps at one of the many strings of highly faceted, winking bugle beads that cascade down the front of her usual choice of frock, a Delphos dress***, this one of silver silk painted with stylised orange poppies on long, flowing green stalks. “I call that most unfair!” she complains. “I’m not responsible for Gladys’ lawyers, or their filthy binding contract.”

 

“No, but you’re responsible for introducing Lettice to that infernal woman!” the Viscount blasts. “Bloody female romance novelist!”

 

“Language!” Eglantyne quips.

 

“Oh, fie my language!” the Viscount retorts angrily. “And fie you, Eglantyne!”

 

Always being her elder brother’s favourite of all his siblings, and therefore usually forgiven of any mistakes and transgressions she has made in the past as a bohemian artist, and very seldom falling into his bad books, Eglantine is struck by the forcefulness of his anger. Even though she is well aware of his bombastic temper, it is easier to deal with when it is directed to someone or something else. This unusual situation with his annoyance being squarely aimed at her leaves her feeling flustered and sick.

 

“Me? I… I didn’t know that… that Gladys was vying to get Lettice… before her so… so.. so she could ask her to redecorate her ward’s flat, Cosmo!” Eglantyne splutters. “How… how could I know?”

 

“Coerced is more like it!” Cosmo snaps in retort. “And you must have had some inkling, surely! You were always good at reading people and situations: far better than I ever was!”

 

“Well, I didn’t, Cosmo!” Eglantine snaps back, determined not to let her brother get the upper hand on her and blame her for something she rightly considers far beyond her control. “I mean, all I was doing was trying my best to get Lettice out of her funk over losing Selwyn.” She turns quickly to Lettice and looks at her with apologetic eyes. “Sorry my dear.” Returning her attention to her brother, she continues, “I didn’t want her wallowing in her own grief, something you were only too happy to indulge her in whilst she was staying here at Glynes with you!” She tuts. “Feeding her butter shortbreads and mollycoddling her. What good was there in doing that?”

 

“She was staying with Lally.” the Viscount mutters through gritted teeth.

 

“Same thing really.” Eglantine says breezily. “Like father like daughter. Lettice needed something to restore her spark, and quiet walks in the Buckinghamshire countryside weren’t going do that. I knew that Gladys enjoyed being surrounded by London’s Bright Young Things****, and she had spoken to me about Lettice’s interior designs.”

 

“Aha!” the Viscount crows. “So, you did know she had designs on Lettice!”

 

“If you’d kindly let me finish, Cosmo.” Eglantyne continues in an indignant tone.

 

The Viscount huffs and lets his shoulders lower a little as he gesticulates with a sweeping gesture across his desk towards his sister for Eglantine to continue.

 

“What I was going to say was that Gladys telephoned me and asked me about Lettice’s interior designs after she read that article by Henry Tipping***** in Country Life******, which you and Sadie, and probably half the country read. How could I know from that innocuous enquiry that Gladys would engage Lettice in this unpleasant commission? She simply telephoned me at just the right time, so I orchestrated with Gladys for Lettice and the Channons to go and stay at Gossington.” She folds her arms akimbo. “Lettice was stagnating, and that is not good for her. As I said before, she needed to have her creativity sparked. I thought it would do Lettice good to be amongst the bright and spirited company of a coterie of young and artistic people, and I wasn’t wrong, was I Lettice?”

 

Startled to suddenly be introduced into the heated conversation between her father and aunt about her, Lettice stammers, “Well… yes. It was a very gay house party, and I did also receive the commission from Sir John Nettleford-Huges for Mr. and Mrs. Gifford at Arkwright Bury, Pappa.”

 

“That old lecher.” the Viscount spits.

 

“Sadie doesn’t think so,” Eglantyne remarks with a superior air, a smug smile curling up the corners of her lips. “She seemed to think he’d be a good match for Lettice two years ago at her ludicrous matchmaking Hunt Ball.”

 

“Now don’t you start on Sadie, Eglantyne.” the Viscount warns with a wagging finger, the ruby in the signet ring on his little finger winking angrily in the light of the library, reflecting its wearer’s fit of pique. “I’m in no mood for your usual acerbic pokes at Sadie.”

 

“Sir John is actually quite nice, Pappa.” Lettice pipes up quickly in an effort to defuse the situation between her father and aunt. “Once you get to know him.” she adds rather lamely when her father glares at her with a look that suggests that she may have lost all her senses. She hurriedly adds, “And that’s gone swimmingly, Pappa, and as a result, Henry Tipping has promised me another feature article on my interior designs there in Country Life.”

 

“There!” Eglantyne says with satisfaction, sweeping her arm out expansively towards her niece, making the mixture of gold, silver, Bakelite******* and bead bracelets and bangles jangle. “See Cosmo, it’s not all bad news. An excellent commission right here in Wiltshire that guarantees positive promotion of Lettice’s interior designs in a prestigious periodical.”

 

“Well, be that as it may,” the Viscount grumbles. “You are still responsible for dismissing Lettice’s justified concerns about Gladys and her rather Machiavellian plans to redecorate her ward’s flat to her own designs and hold Lettice to account for it. You told me that you aired your concerns with your aunt, Lettice. Isn’t that so?”

 

Lettice nods, looking guiltily at her favourite aunt, fearing disappointment in the older woman’s eyes as she does.

 

“Well,” Eglantyne concedes with a sigh. “I cannot deny that Lettice did raise her concerns with me when we had luncheon together, but her concerns did not appear justified at the time.”

 

Ignoring Eglantyne’s last remark, the Viscount continues, addressing his daughter, “And that was before she commenced on this rather fraught commission wasn’t it?”

 

“Well Pappa, as I told you, I had already agreed in principle to accept Gladys’ commission at Gossington. Gladys is a little hard to refuse.”

 

“Bombastic!” the Viscount opines.

 

“Pot: kettle: black.” Eglantyne pipes up, placing her hands on her silk clad hips.

 

“Don’t test my patience any more, Eglantyne!” the Viscount snaps. He returns his attentions to his daughter. “But you hadn’t signed any contracts at that stage, had you, Lettice?”

 

“Well no, Pappa.” Lettice agrees. “But I think that Gladys was having the contracts drawn up by her lawyers at that time.”

 

“Why didn’t you intervene when Lettice spoke to you, Eglantyne?” the Viscount asks his sister.

 

“Because I didn’t see any cause for alarm, Cosmo.” she replies in her own defence.

 

“But Lettice told you that Gladys coerced her into agreeing to redecorate the flat, didn’t she?”

 

“Well yes,” Eglantyne agrees. “But as I said to Lettice at the time, Gladys wears most people down to her way of thinking in the end. It is a very brave, or stupid, person who challenges Gladys when she has an idea in her head that she is impassioned about.” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “I didn’t think it was a bad thing necessarily, Cosmo. Not only was it not unusual for Gladys to get her way, but at the time, Lettice needed someone to take the lead. Her own initiative was somewhat lacking after all that business with Zinnia shipping Selwyn off to Durban. So, I wasn’t concerned, and I doubt that you would be concerned about it either, were you in my shoes.”

 

“Well I wasn’t.” he argues. “What about Lettice’s other concerns about taking on the commission?” he softens his voice as he addresses his daughter, “What did you say to your aunt again, my dear?”

 

“I said I was concerned that Gladys had ulterior motives, Pappa.” Lettice replies.

 

“Which she did!” the Viscount agrees. “Go on.”

 

“I illuded to the fact that I thought Gladys saw her dead brother and sister-in-law as some kind of threat to her happy life with Phoebe, and she wanted to whitewash them from Phoebe’s life.”

 

“And I suggested to Lettice that that was a grave allegation to make without proof, Cosmo.” Eglantyne explains. “And all she had to back her allegations up were some anecdotal stories, which count for nothing.”

 

“You accused Lettice of overdramatising.” the Viscount says angrily.

 

“I know I did, Cosmo.” Eglantyne admits. “I did assuage Lettice of the concerns she had that Gladys was going to insist on making changes Phoebe or she didn’t like. I admit, I was wrong about that. I assured Lettice that Gladys adores her niece, and whilst in hindsight I may not now use the word adore, I’m still instant that Gladys only wants what she thinks is best for Phoebe. Phoebe is the daughter Gladys never planned to have, but also the child Gladys didn’t know could bring her so much joy and fulfilment in her life, as a parent. And to be fair, Cosmo, if you’d ever met Phoebe, you’d understand why I said what I did.”

 

“Go on.” the Viscount says, cocking his eyebrow over his right eye.

 

“Well Pheobe is such a timid little mouse of a creature. She seldom expresses an opinion.”

 

“That’s because Gladys has been quashing those opinions, Aunt Egg.” Lettice adds.

 

“Well, we know that now, but from the outside looking in, you wouldn’t know that without the intimate knowledge that you have now received from Phoebe, Lettice.”

 

“So what you’re implying Pappa is, that I have to see through the redecoration to Phoebe’s pied-à-terre******** to Gladys’ specifications, even if Pheobe herself doesn’t like them?”

 

“It does appear that way, my dear.” the Viscount concedes.

 

“Even if it is plain that Gladys is bullying her and taking advantage of the situation for her own means?” Lettice asks hopefully.

 

“It’s a sticky situation, my dear.” the Viscount replies consolingly. “I mean, you don’t actually have to go through with it. It isn’t like you need her money. If she doesn’t pay the tradesmen’s bills you’ll be a little out of pocket, but it won’t bankrupt you.”

 

“But,” Eglantyne says warningly. “You do run the risk of Gladys spreading malicious gossip about your business. Whatever Gladys may or may not be, she’s influential.” She sighs deeply. “It would be such a shame to ruin the career you have spent so long building and making a success.”

 

“And your mother wouldn’t fancy the trouble and scandals this poisonous woman could create, either.” adds the Viscount as an afterthought. “Especially when it comes to your marriageability.”

 

“Are you suggesting that Selwyn isn’t going to come back to me, Pappa?” Lettice asks bitterly, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice as colour fills her face and unshed tears threatening to spill fill her eyes.

 

“No,” the Viscount defends. “You know your happiness and security is of the utmost importance to me, Lettice my dear. No, I’m just being a realist. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Zinnia doesn’t have something nasty up her sleeve to spring upon the pair of you, even when he does come back. If there is even the slightest smear on your character, Lettice, she will use that against you. Zinna hasn’t spoken to you since that night, has she?”

 

“No, thank goodness!” Lettice replies.

 

“Well, that may not be such a good thing.” the Viscount goes on. “Zinnia enjoys playing a long game that can inflict more pain.”

 

“Your father speaks the truth, Lettice, and he is wise to be a pragmatist.” Eglantyne remarks sagely.

 

The older woman reaches into the small silver mesh reticule********* dangling from her left wrist and unfastens it. She withdraws her gold and amber cigarette holder and a small, embossed silver case containing her choice of cigarettes, her favourite black and gold Sobranie********** Black Russians. She depresses the clasp of the case and withdraws one of the long, slender cigarettes and screws it adeptly into her holder. She then withdraws a match holder and goes to strike a match.

 

“Must you, Eglantyne?” the Viscount asks. “You know Sadie doesn’t like smoking indoors.”

 

Eglantyne ignores her brother and strikes a match and lights her Sobranie, sucking the end of her cigarette holder, causing the match flame to dance and gutter whilst the paper and tobacco of the cigarette crackles. Whisps of dark grey smoke curl as they escape the corners of her mouth.

 

“I’m in your bad books, Cosmo, so I may as well be in hers too.” she says, sending forth tumbling clouds of acrid smoke. “No-one will deny me my little pleasure in life.” She smiles with gratification as she draws on her holder again. “Not even Sadie. And correction: Sadie only dislikes it when a lady smokes.”

 

“Well, I can’t stop you any more than I seem to be able to stop Gladys from forcing Lettice to decorate this damnable flat the way she wants it, rather than the way Phoebe wants it.” the Viscount replies in a defeated tone.

 

The three fall silent for a short while, with only the heavy ticking of the clock sitting on the library mantle and the crackle of the fire to break the cloying silence.

 

“What about Sir John?” the Viscount suddenly says.

 

“Sir John Nettleford-Hughes?” Eglantyne asks quizzically, blowing forth another cloud of Sobranie smoke.

 

“No, no!” he clarifies with a shake of his head. “Not that Sir John: Sir John Caxton, Gladys’ husband. Surely, we can appeal to him. He wouldn’t want Pheobe to be unhappy.”

 

“He’s completely under Gladys’ thumb***********.” Eglantyne opines.

 

“Aunt Egg is right, Pappa. The day I went to Eaton Square************ to have it out with Gladys, I saw John, and he couldn’t wait to retreat to the safety of his club and leave we two to our own devices. He’s as completely ruled by Gladys as Phoebe is.”

 

“I suppose you could turn this to your advantage and have Phoebe commission you to undo your own redecoration.” the Viscount suggests hopefully.

 

“I don’t think that would work very well, Cosmo.” Eglantyne remarks.

 

“How so?”

 

“Well, I don’t think Gladys would take too kindly to Lettice and Phoebe going behind her back, and we’ve just discussed the difficulties a scorned woman could cause to Lettice’s reputation, both personally and professionally.”

 

“Besides,” Lettice adds. “I don’t think the allowance Phoebe inherits from her father’s estate is terribly large, and I don’t imagine it will be easy as a woman to win any garden design commissions to be able to afford my services.”

 

“There’s Gertude Jekyll*************.” Eglantyne remarks.

 

“Yes, but she has influential connections like Edward Lutyens**************.” Lettice counters. “And as you have noted, Aunt Egg, Phoebe is rather unassuming. She doesn’t know anyone of influence, and wields none of her own. Besides, I’m sure Gladys won’t pay Phoebe to pay me to undo her prescribed redecorations.”

 

“You could always redecorate the pied-à-terre without charge,” the Viscount suggests hopefully.

 

“As recompense for the damage I’ve done redecorating it now, you mean, Pappa?”

 

“In a sense.”

 

“The outcomes would be the same unpleasant ones for Lettice as if Phoebe could afford to commission her to do it, Cosmo.” Eglantyne warns.

 

“Gerald was right.” Lettice mutters.

 

“About what, my dear?” her father asks.

 

“Well, Gerald said that Gladys was very good at weaving sticky spiderwebs, and that I had better watch out that I didn’t become caught in one.” She sighs heavily. “But it appears as if I have become enmeshed in one well and truly.”

 

“Well, however much it displeases me to say this to you Lettice, let this be a lesson to you my girl! In future, make sure that you engage our lawyers to draw up the contracts for you.”

 

“But I didn’t have this contract drawn up, Pappa,” Lettice defends. “Gladys did.”

 

“Well, make sure our lawyers review any contracts created by someone else before you undertake to sign one if future.”

 

Eglantyne stares off into the distance, drawing heavily upon her Sobranie, blowing out plumes of smoke.

 

“So, I’m stuck then.” Lettice says bitterly. “And its my own stupid fault.”

 

Eglantyne’s eyes flit in a desultory fashion about the room, drifting from the many gilt decorated spines on the shelves to the armchairs gathered cosily around the library’s great stone fireplace to the chess table set up to play nearby.

 

“Unless your aunt can come up with something, I’m afraid I don’t see a way out for you, Lettice.” the Viscount says. He then adds kindly, “But I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself, my dear. We all have to learn life’s lessons. Sometimes we just learn them in harder ways.”

 

Eglantyne continues to contemplate the situation her niece finds herself in.

 

“Well, I’ve certainly learned my lesson this time, Pappa.”

 

Eglantyne withdraws the nearly spent Sobranie from her lips, scattering ash upon the dull, worth carpet beneath her mule clad feet. “I may have one idea that might work.”

 

“Really Aunt Egg?” Lettice gasps, clasping her hands together as she does.

 

“Perhaps, Lettice my dear.”

 

“What is it, Eglantyne?” the Viscount asks.

 

“I don’t want to say anything, just in case I can’t pull it off.” Eglantyne contemplates for a moment before continuing. “Just leave this with me for a few days.”

 

*Padraic Colum was an Irish poet, novelist, dramatist, biographer, playwright, children's author and collector of folklore. He was one of the leading figures of the Irish Literary Revival.

 

**“The Golden Fleece and the Heroes who Lived Before Achilles” was a novel written by Padraic Colum, illustrated by Hungarian artist Willy Pognay, published by the Macmillan Company in 1921.

 

***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.

 

****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 Londo

 

*****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.

 

*******Bakelite, was the first plastic made from synthetic components. Patented on December 7, 1909, the creation of a synthetic plastic was revolutionary for its electrical nonconductivity and heat-resistant properties in electrical insulators, radio and telephone casings and such diverse products as kitchenware, jewellery, pipe stems, teapot handles, children's toys, and firearms. A plethora of items were manufactured using Bakelite in the 1920s and 1930s.

 

********A pied-à-terre is a small flat, house, or room kept for occasional use.

 

*********A reticule is a woman's small handbag, typically having a drawstring and decorated with embroidery or beading. The term “reticule” comes from French and Latin terms meaning “net.” At the time, the word “purse” referred to small leather pouches used for carrying money, whereas these bags were made of net. By the 1920s they were sometimes made of small heavy metal mesh as well as netting or beaded materials.

 

**********The Balkan Sobranie tobacco business was established in London in 1879 by Albert Weinberg (born in Romania in 1849), whose naturalisation papers dated 1886 confirm his nationality and show that he had emigrated to England in the 1870s at a time when hand-made cigarettes in the eastern European and Russian tradition were becoming fashionable in Europe. Sobranie is one of the oldest cigarette brands in the world. Throughout its existence, Sobranie was marketed as the definition of luxury in the tobacco industry, being adopted as the official provider of many European royal houses and elites around the world including the Imperial Court of Russia and the royal courts of United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Spain, Romania, and Greece. Premium brands include the multi-coloured Sobranie Cocktail and the black and gold Sobranie Black Russian.

 

***********The idiom “to be under the thumb”, comes from the action of a falconer holding the leash of the hawk under their thumb to maintain a tight control of the bird. Today the term under the thumb is generally used in a derogatory manner to describe a partner's overbearing control over the other partner's actions.

 

************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.

 

*************Gertrude Jekyll was a British horticulturist, garden designer, craftswoman, photographer, writer and artist. She created over four handred gardens in the United Kingdom, Europe and the United States, and wrote over one thousand articles for magazines such as Country Life and William Robinson's The Garden. Her first commissioned garden was designed in 1881, and she worked very closely wither her long standing friend, architect Sir Edward Lutyens.

 

**************Sir Edwin Landseer Lutyens was an English architect known for imaginatively adapting traditional architectural styles to the requirements of his era. He designed many English country houses, war memorials and public buildings in the years before the Second World War. He is probably best known for his creation of the Cenotaph war memorial on Whitehall in London after the Great War. Had he not died of cancer in 1944, he probably would have gone on to design more buildings in the post-war era.

 

Cluttered with books and art, Viscount Wrexham’s library with its Georgian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The majority of the books that you see lining the shelves of the Viscount’s library are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. So too are the postcards and the box for them on the Viscount’s Chippendale desk. Most of the books I own that Ken 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, as can be seen on The Times Literary Supplement broadsheet on the Viscount’s desk. 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. What might amaze you even more is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. “The Golden Fleece and the Heroes who Lived Before Achilles” by Padraic Colum, illustrated by Willy Pognay, sitting on the Viscount’s desk is such an example. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really do 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. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.

 

On the desk are some 1:12 artisan miniature ink bottles and a blotter on a silver salver all made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures. The ink bottles are made from tiny faceted crystal beads and have sterling silver bottoms and lids. The ink blotter is sterling silver too and has a blotter made of real black felt, cut meticulously to size to fit snugly inside the frame. The silver double frame on the desk also comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniature Collectables. The bottle of port and the port glasses I acquired from a miniatures stockist on E-Bay. Each glass, the bottle and its faceted stopper are hand blown using real glass.

 

Also on the desk to the left stands a stuffed white owl on a branch beneath a glass cloche. A vintage miniature piece, the foliage are real dried flowers and grasses, whilst the owl is cut from white soapstone. The base is stained wood and the cloche is real glass. This I acquired along with two others featuring shells (one of which can be seen in the background) from Kathleen Knight’s Dollhouse Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The teapot and teacups, featuring stylised Art Nouveau patterns were acquired from an online stockist of dolls’ house miniatures in Australia.

 

The Chippendale desk itself is made by Bespaq, and it has a mahogany stain and the design is taken from a real Chippendale desk. Its surface is covered in red dioxide red dioxide leather with a gilt trim. Bespaq is a high-end miniature furniture maker with high attention to detail and quality.

 

The beautiful rotating globe in the background features a British Imperial view of the world, with all of Britain’s colonies in pink (as can be seen from Canada), as it would have been in 1921. The globe sits on metal casters in a mahogany stained frame, and it can be rolled effortlessly. It comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniature Collectables in Lancashire. The silver double frame on the desk also comes from Mick and Marie’s Miniature Collectables.

 

In the background you can see the book lined shelves of Viscount Wrexham’s as well as a Victorian painting of cattle in a gold frame from Amber’s Miniatures in America, and a hand painted ginger jar from Thailand which stands on a Bespaq plant stand.

 

The gold flocked Edwardian wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.

Done