Acceptance

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.

 

For nearly a year Lettice has been patiently awaiting the return of her beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, after being sent to Durban by his mother, the Duchess of Walmsford, Lady Zinnia in an effort to destroy their relationship which she wants to end so that she can marry Selwyn off to his cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers. Now Lettice has been made aware by Lady Zinnia that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice has been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he has become engaged to the daughter of a Kenyan diamond mine owner whilst in Durban. Fleeing Lady Zinnia’s London townhouse, Lettice has been milling over her options over the last week as she reels from the news.

 

Now we find ourselves standing with Lettice outside the imposing Regency townhouse of Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, not far from Lettice’s cavendish Mews flat, in the upper-class London suburb of Belgravia. Old enough to be her father, wealthy Sir John is still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intends to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. As an eligible man in a time after the Great War when such men are a rare commodity, with a vast family estate in Bedfordshire, houses in Mayfair, Belgravia and Pimlico and Fontengil Park in Wiltshire, quite close to the Glynes estate, Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, invited him as a potential suitor to her 1922 Hunt Ball, which she used as a marriage market for Lettice. Selwyn rescued Lettice from the horror of having to entertain him, and Sir John left the ball early in a disgruntled mood with a much younger partygoer. Lettice reacquainted herself with Sir John at an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by Sir John and Lady Gladys Caxton at their Scottish country estate, Gossington, a baronial Art and Crafts castle near the hamlet of Kershopefoot in Cumberland. To her surprise, Lettice found Sir John’s company rather enjoyable. She then ran into him again at the Portland Gallery’s autumn show where she found him yet again to be a pleasant companion for much of the evening.

 

Now, standing on the sweeping steps of Portland stone she looks up at the impressive Regency façade of Sir John’s townhouse and knocks at the black painted front door with the polished brass knocker. A gentle faced butler in his stiffly starched collar and black barathea suit, answers the door.

 

“The Honourable Lettice Chetwynd to see His Lordship.” Lettice says firmly and the butler steps aside, ushering her from the golden late afternoon light outside into the cool darkened marble hallway within.

 

The clip of Lettice’s louis heels echo throughout the lofty entrance hall which is illuminated from a dome three storeys above by a grand electrified crystal chandelier, already on as the autumnal evenings draw in. The butler politely asks her to wait whilst he strides silently up the sweeping carpeted spiral staircase to the upper floors of the townhouse. Lettice has not long been settled into the seat of a walnut Regency hall chair when he returns.

 

“His Lordship will be pleased to see you, Miss Chetwynd. If you’d please be so good as to follow me.”

 

Lettice smiles nervously as she follows him up the stairs, past portraits of Sir John’s ancestors who peer imperiously down upon her from their ornate gilded frames. “Interloper!” they seem to silently say: their looks accusational and critical as she lightly treads behind the serious but kind looking butler. Do they know what she has planned, she wonders in a moment of fancy.

 

“The Honourable Miss Chetwynd.” the butler announces stiffly as she opens the door for Lettice, swinging it widely open and allowing Lettice to walk into the brilliantly illuminated room where music plays on a gramophone, and where Sir John sits in his favourite chair, dressed in a smart velvet smoking jacket.

 

Being an interior designer, as soon as she is shown in, Lettice immediately appraises Sir John’s drawing room: taking in the elegant and uncluttered lines of his Regency stripe upholstered sofas and chairs, the Regency swan tables and matching pedestals upon which stand some beautiful blue and white Chinese vases, the heavier and more masculine William and Mary cabinets made of age darkened oak and the beautiful Eighteenth Century chinoiserie screen featuring stylised oriental scenes painted in gold and bronze on a black background.

 

“What a pleasant surprise, Lettice.” Sir John says, rising from his wingback armchair with the aid of a silver topped walking stick. “Please, take a seat. I take it that you’ll stop for a little while?”

 

“Yes of course.” Lettice replies with a shy smile, doing as Sir John bids and taking a seat on the low backed sofa where he indicates to her with an open gesture.

 

“Excellent! Grindley, a bottle of champagne for Miss Chetwynd and I.” he says to his butler.

 

“Yes, Your Lordship.” the butler replies, before retreating discreetly from the room.

 

“Thank you Si…” Lettice pauses halfway through Sir John’s, title. “John.”

 

Sir John smiles as he resumes his seat.

 

“Sorry, old habits die hard.” Lettice apologises as a flush of colour fills her cheeks.

 

“I know Lettice,” he replies as he watches her with his piercing blue eyes as she shucks her fox fur stole which has kept away the chill of London’s late afternoon weather, and drapes it over the edge of the sofa. “But habits can be changed.”

 

“Well,” Lettice observes, gazing around the comfortably appointed drawing room again. “This isn’t quite what I was expecting.”

 

“No, Lettice? What did you expect my rooms to be like?”

 

“Oh,” Lettice ponders. “I don’t know. Perhaps a little more masculine. Perhaps like my father’s taste. Lots of dark wood and books is what I’d imagined.”

 

“Well, I do have a library downstairs on the ground floor, Lettice. It is panelled with dark mahogany and is full of books, but I find it rather stuffy, whereas in here it is light and airy, with views overlooking the street.” He points to the large sash windows which flood the room with fading afternoon light. “So, I bring my books.” He picks up a tan leatherbound volume from a pile on a table next to his chair. “And my other reading material, in here,” He indicates to a row of the day’s London papers on a low table nearby. “Where I find it much more pleasant.”

 

“Oh yes, John. It’s a lovely room, and the daffs are a lovely bright burst of colour.” She nods at the yellow and white daffodils raising their heads proudly above the lip of a tall blue and white oriental vase.

 

“I wandered lonely as a cloud,

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze*.”

 

“Wordsworth**, John!” Lettice gasps. “You do surprise me!”

 

“Really Lettice?” Sir John asks, a little surprised himself. “Well, I am British to the backbone, but yes, you may be a little surprised to learn that for all my dull London business affairs, I do have a few romantic bones in my body.”

 

“That explains the recording on the gramophone, then.” Lettice remarks. “The Willow Song***: disappointed love. Has one of your young paramours recently left you a little broken hearted, John?”

 

Sir John clears this throat in an embarrassed fashion, quickly stands up, once again leaning heavily on his cane to do so. “How unconscionably rude of me! Please forgive me, Lettice.” He strides across the thick oriental silk carpet to the gramophone standing on a William and Mary sideboard nearby and lifts the needle, causing the soprano to cease singing her song mid note.

 

“So do you?” Lettice persists.

 

“Do I what?” Sir John retorts questioningly.

 

“Have a broken heart?” Lettice indicates again to the gramophone with its nickel-plated morning glory horn.

 

“I’m not that much of a hopeless romantic, Lettice. My heart should be a pile of shards if I let it break so readily, when so many women have walked in and out of my life.” He pauses for a moment and looks across at Lettice in concern. “Does that statement shock you?”

 

“It might have once, John, but not now that I know you better.”

 

“Good!” he replies. “I was actually listening to The Willow Song because I happen to like Nellie Melba****. Sorry to be so practical.”

 

“Not at all, John.”

 

“Oh!” Sir John suddenly notes Lettice’s stumpy ended umbrella as it leans against the sofa next to her. “Grindley should have taken that from you. I’m so sorry.”

 

Lettice glances to where Sir John is looking. “Oh, please don’t be cross with your butler, John. I have been holding it so tightly, I think he was probably afraid to ask me to relinquish it.”

 

“Well, I’ll get him to take it with him when he returns. With the champagne.” Sir John pauses momentarily as he walks back across the room. “Are you feeling tense, Lettice?” he asks. “In my presence?”

 

“A little.” Lettice admits.

 

Sir John resumes his seat and eyes Lettice. She is dressed in a light moss green satin frock with lilac trim with a matching green hat adorned with lilac satin roses and peacock feathers which he remembers her wearing at Gossington, the Scottish country residence of Sir John and Lady Caxton. Lady Gladys, a successful romance novelist, had once been one of many of Sir John’s lovers before she married Sir John Caxton. As he observes her, Lettice toys distractedly with a long strand of creamy white pearls cascading down her front. She looks beautiful, and proud, yet at the same exudes vulnerability.

 

“Well, it’s clear you haven’t come paying a social call to pass comment on my décor or musical listening habits.”

 

“That’s very perceptive of you, John.” Lettice admits with a guilty lilt.

 

“So, what is it that I can do for you, Lettice?” Sir John asks, resting his elbows comfortably on the rounded arms of his wingback chair, steepling his long and elegant fingers before him.

 

“Do you remember the last time we met, John?” Lettice ventures.

 

“Of course I do, Lettice. It was at the Portland Gallery’s autumn showing. I escorted Priscilla because her husband couldn’t, feigning illness as I recall. I met you before that rather brash and unintelligible fingerpainting by that Spaniard that certain people seem to have taken a fancy to.” He pauses. “What’s his name again?”

 

Lettice smiles at John’s summation of the painting ‘The Lovers’ which hung above the fireplace in Mr. Chilvers’ Bond Street gallery. “Picasso.” she replies.

 

“That’s it! That’s the chap!”

 

“Do you remember our conversation, John?” Lettice remarks meaningfully.

 

“We talked about a good deal as I recall, Lettice.” Sir John replies, the hint of a smile just teasing the edges of his thin-lipped mouth. “Was there something in particular you were referring to?”

 

Lettice sighs and glances awkwardly around her, her eyes moving in a desultory fashion over a fine collection of Georgian and Regency silhouettes hanging on the white striped paper on the wall above the sideboard on which the now silent gramophone stands.

 

“You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you, John?”

 

“I’ve spoken plainly enough before you, Lettice. Please don’t feel embarrassed or anxious about speaking as plainly before me.”

 

Lettice sighs again, dropping the pearls in her hand so that they fall elegantly down the green satin front of her bodice. “You made me a proposal, John.”

 

“Did I?” The smile blossoms a little more on his lips. He pauses for a moment, observing Lettice as she holds her breath. “Oh yes, I did, didn’t I?”

 

“Do you recall what your proposition was?”

 

The smile, triumphant and self-assured makes itself clearly known now as Sir John’s whole face and demeanour change. “I do.” he says with a pleased purr.

 

“Then would you mind refreshing me of it, John?” asks Lettice squirming in her seat on the sofa.

 

“Do you need clarification, Lettice?”

 

“Put it down to too much of Mr. Chilvers excellent champagne.”

 

“Ahh yes! I seem to recall commenting on that as well.” Sir John remarks. “Very well.”

 

He pauses again for a moment, clearly savouring Lettice’s awkwardness.

 

“It was a proposal of marriage, as I recall, Lettice.”

 

“But not a standard marriage, isn’t that so, John?” Lettice clarifies.

 

Sir John’s slender greying eyebrows arch high over his hooded eyes. “No, not a standard marriage. Call it…” He hums and haws for a moment as he deliberates the words he wants to use to describe it. “A marriage à la mode.”

 

“A poor choice of words, John.” Lettice chides him politely from her seat. “As I recall, Hogarth’s***** ‘Marriage A-la-Mode’****** ended up disastrously for the newlyweds.”

 

“Very adroitly observed, Lettice, but regardless of the outcomes of the marriage, it was an arrangement, and what I proposed to you that night was also an arrangement of sorts: a marriage of convenience shall we say.”

 

Lettice gulps, her throat suddenly parched as she dares to ask, “Would you mind terribly, re-stating what the details of that marriage of convenience are, John?”

 

“Ahh, now we get to the crux of it.” Sir John says knowingly. “As I said, Lettice, you could have spoken plainly to me and simply asked me what my terms of the marriage were, rather than pussyfooting around them.” He winds one of his hands around the engraved silver knob of his cane. “There is something to be said for the merit of directness in business.”

 

‘Well, I’m not as well versed in business affairs as you obviously are, John.”

 

“Perhaps not, but if you are to have a successful business, Lettice, or as successful as it can be, I’d recommend a modicum of directness. Whilst perhaps not always perceived as desirous in a young lady, in a businesswoman who intends to make her way through a very male dominated world, it is essential.”

 

“Your conditions, John.” Lettice exclaims.

 

“Ahh, there!” He wags a finger at her. “You see! Directness! Excellent!” He sighs contentedly. “I’d never propose a conventional marriage to you, my dear Lettice. I don’t claim to have won your affections romantically, the way Spencely has.” He smiles his oily smile at her again as he licks his lips. “Let me speak plainly, Lettice. You are a frightfully captivatingly attractive girl. Part of that appeal for me, is that you are also an intelligent girl as well as a pretty one, with more brains than half the women of my acquaintance, and you know I know more than a few of them.” His lascivious chuckle makes Lettice cringe. “I don’t speak of love between us. Pity save me, a successful man, from that foolish emotion. No, I speak of respect.”

 

“Since we are speaking plainly, you’ll forgive me, John, when I tell you that I have trouble reconciling marriage and respect with a man who openly has dalliances with chorus girls.”

 

“Extra-martial liaisons with Gaiety Girls******* are nothing new, Lettice, particularly in our circles. You have eyes and ears, and you obviously know how to use them. You cannot be oblivious to such a fact.”

 

“No, John, but I find the idea rather,” Lettice licks her lips. “Rather unpalatable, shall we say.”

 

“I assure you, Lettice, that if you deigned to marry me, I would keep my liaisons,” The last word sounds even more lascivious dripping from his suddenly blood reddened lips. “Discreet, and no matter how many of them there were, I would never shame you. However, if you find this topic of conversation so unpalatable as you say, why are we having it? You have Spencely. You’ve made that quite clear. I don’t understand this sudden interest in a marriage proposal you seemed so obvious to spurn.”

 

“Oh please!” Lettice scoffs bitterly. “Don’t play the innocent with me, John. It doesn’t suit you. Surely Lady Zinnia has told you, as an interested party, the news.”

 

“My dear Lettice, I have said before that Zinnia and I are merely nodding acquaintances, as all members of aristocratic families such as ours are in society. I think the last time I spoke to her was over a bridge table at a house party hosted by a mutual friend of ours before the war, and then it was simply social niceties. Zinnia isn’t my friend, and she certainly wouldn’t draw me into her confidence. In this instance, I must plead innocence. What has happened with Spencely to change your mind that you would consider my unusual marriage proposal?”

 

Lettice doesn’t answer immediately, allowing her head to loll forward, the brim of her firmly affixed hat hiding her face from view. She takes a few deep breaths that cause her shoulders to rise and fall before she sits up again. “Our engagement is over.”

 

“No Lettice!” Sir John gasps in shock. “This cannot be! Surely this is some contrivance of Zinnia? She separated the two of you on purpose to try and break your bond, but I told you to stay strong to win out over her scheming. She’d like nothing better than to triumph! I thought you were both playing the long game to win out over Zinnia.”

 

“I was.” Lettice says with a deflated tone. “And I thought that Selwyn was too, but it appears not. He’s engaged to a diamond mine heiress he met in Durban.”

 

“No! Surely not, Lettice? Do you have proof?”

 

“Lady Zinnia invited me to tea at her home here in London. I thought she was going to concede defeat: foolishly I did, John.” Tears well up in Lettice’s eyes and spill over her lids, running in rivulets down her lightly powered dusted and rouged cheeks. “And then she brought out a sheaf of newspaper clippings: photos of Selwyn and this heiress together.”

 

“A photo does not a guilty party make, Lettice.” Sir John cautions.

 

“No, but the typeface beneath the photos does.” Lettice snivels, reaching into her crocodile skin handbag and withdrawing a dainty lace handkerchief that she dabs her nose with. “It said they are engaged.”

 

“Oh Lettice!” Sir John clambers up from his seat and moves to sit beside her. Clasping her hands tenderly in his, he allows his right knee to brush up against Lettice’s own white lisle clad one as it peeps just underneath the hem of her lilac trimmed frock. “Lettice I am truly sorry to hear this terrible news. Are you quite sure it’s true?”

 

Lettice nods shallowly. “The source is apparently quite reliable and independent of Lady Zinnia.”

 

“But engagements end.” Sir John insists.

 

“These articles come from papers over the last few months. I doubt that the engagement will end now.”

 

Finally, the emotional threshold for Lettice bursts and she flings her arms around Sir John’s neck, collapsing against his dark maroon velvet smoking jacket and weeping uncontrollably. Sir John allows her to cry and gently consoles her for a short while.

 

At length, he deftly grasps her by the shoulders and sits her upright before him. He runs his right hand over her tear stained left cheek, wiping it gently and with a care filled brush. He looks her directly in the eye. “Spencely is a fool and a swine if he lets a pearl like you slip through his fingers, Lettice!”

 

“Oh John!” Lettice gasps.

 

“It is true, I don’t offer you a conventional marriage, and I know I am old enough to be your father, but I can still father an heir with the right wife who understands me and respects my needs. I’d be proud to have you on my arm at public functions, and as I said, I would never cause you public shame. I would respect you, your interests and your wishes. Perhaps love might come over time with any luck, but if not, at least respect would sustain our marriage. The generosity of the allowance I would gladly give you would rival your own, Lettice. You would gain a title. You would be chatelaine to this house, a vast castle in Bedfordshire and several manor houses, including Fontengil Park, which is an easy drive to your own family home. I would allow you freedom. You may follow your own interests and pursuits unimpeded. I would allow you to continue to run your interior design business, even if it is a rather unconventional arrangement. Most men in my position would baulk at the idea of their wife running her own business, even for pin money*******, but as a businessman, I’d be proud to have a successful businesswoman as my wife: especially one as pretty as you, even when you do cry.”

 

Lettice cannot help but release a snuffling laugh. “Oh John! So,” She gulps heavily. “So the offer is still there?”

 

“What? Yes! Of course it is, Lettice! And I meant what I said that night too.”

 

“What was that, John?” Lettice sniffs.

 

“That if you married me, I’d pay for and let you hang daubs like that Picasso chap in our home.”

 

“What?” Lettice asks in a breaking voice. “Even in here?”

 

Sir John looks around him at the elegant Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century pictures hanging about the room. “Well, if you are such the arbiter of interior design as Country Life********* claims you to be, I’ll allow you, Lettice.”

 

Lettice laughs more light-heartedly this time.

 

“In fact, I think you should go and see Chilvers this week, and tell him to put that daub on my account. If you will play the dutiful wife, give me an heir, and you let me take my enjoyment where I like it and not complain,” He lowers his voice. “You may even have liaisons of your own, so long as they are discreet ones, and that the paternity of any offspring is beyond doubt mine.”

 

“So does this mean we’re engaged then?” Lettice asks timidly, sniffing again. “Even if I probably do look like a wreck.” She begins to wipe her still damp cheeks.

 

“Not at all, my dear Lettice. You look positively charming.” he assures her. “But only if you are sure that your engagement to Spencely is over. I would hate to step in where there is no place for me.”

 

“It’s over, John.” she replies with an affirmative nod. “And I’ve been thinking about your proposal over the last week since I found out, so it’s not a step I take lightly of flippantly.”

 

“Then I suppose we are engaged, my dear Lettice.” Sir John replies joyously, and then overcome by emotions he leans in and kisses Lettice on the lips.

 

Lettice is taken aback, as much by the feeling of Sir John’s lips pressed against her own as by the surprise of it happening. His lips aren’t soft like Selwyn’s are. They are harder and more forceful. Still, Lettice imagines that she will grow accustomed to them, just as she will become accustomed to Sir John himself as her husband over time.

 

Sir John suddenly breaks their kiss.

 

“Oh. Should I be seeking your father’s blessing, Lettice my dear, or Lady Sadie’s?”

 

“Oh don’t worry about that.” Lettice says a little breathily, waving his concern aside. “He’ll be happy if Mater is happy, and Mater will be in raptures when she hears the news. She was vying for proposal of marriage to me ever since the Hunt Ball. We’ll go down to Glynes and break the news to them together. Then we can discuss the banns**********.”

 

“Very well then, Lettice my dear. Only if you’re sure.”

 

“Yes!” Lettice says with a steeliness in her voice. “I’m sure.”

 

Just at that moment, the door to the drawing room opens and the butler returns.

 

“Oh splendid!” Sir John exclaims as the butler walks in carrying a silver wine cooler of ice from which protrudes a bottle of champagne and two gleaming champagne flutes. “You can be the first to congratulate us, Grindley.”

 

“And what might I be congratulating you for, Sir?” the manservant asks.

 

“Miss Chetwynd and I have just become engaged!” Sir John says, joyously.

 

“Congratulations, Miss Chetwynd! Congratulations Sir!” he replies heartily.

 

“Thank you, Grindley.” Lettice replies.

 

“Now you may leave us, Grindley. I can pop the champagne myself. And we are not to be disturbed, thank you.”

 

“So you won’t want the car brought about at nine, Sir?” the butler asks, implying an underlying meaning to his question.

 

“The car?” Sir John queries. “Oh, the car! No. No! Annabeth Du Barrie can find someone else to take her out to supper at the Savoy*********** after the show. I’ll write a note to that affect which I’ll have you send around to His Majesty’s************ stage door.” He looks earnestly at Lettice. “I may be a philanderer, but at the very least out of respect to my new fiancée, I shall pass on the pleasure of Miss Du Barrie’s company this evening.”

 

Sir John withdraws the bottle of champagne from its nest of ice and deftly pops the cork. Pouring champagne into Lettice’s flute he hands it to her before filling his own.

 

“A toast!” he announces. “To the future Lady Nettleford-Hughes!”

 

Lettice and Sir John’s glasses clink together, cementing their impromptu engagement.

 

*“I wandered Lonely as a Cloud” (also sometimes called "Daffodils"), is a lyric poem written by William Wordsworth. It is one of his most popular, and was inspired by an encounter on 15 April 1802 during a walk with his younger sister Dorothy, when they saw a "long belt" of daffodils on the shore of Ullswater in the English Lake District. Written in 1804, this twenty-four line lyric was first published in 1807 in “Poems, in Two Volumes”, and revised in 1815.

 

**Born in 1770, William Wordsworth was an English Romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature with their joint publication “Lyrical Ballads” in 1798. Wordsworth was Poet Laureate from 1843 until his death from pleurisy on 23 April 1850.

 

***Otello is an opera in four acts by Giuseppe Verdi to an Italian libretto by Arrigo Boito, based on Shakespeare's play Othello. It was Verdi's penultimate opera, first performed at the Teatro alla Scala, Milan, on 5 February 1887. One of the songs performed by Desdemona is The Willow Song, which originated as an anonymous Elizabethan or earlier folk song used in the penultimate act of Shakespeare's Othello, which Verdi recreated for his opera. The earliest record of the Willow song is in a book of lute music from 1583, while Shakespeare's play was not written until 20 years later in 1604. The willow is the conventional symbol of disappointed love. In Othello, Othello believes that Desdemona has been unfaithful, despite her unyielding loyalty to him. Their love has become discontented at the hands of Iago and the Willow Song foreshadows Desdemona's fate.

 

****Dame Nellie Melba was an Australian operatic lyric coloratura soprano. She became one of the most famous singers of the late Victorian era and the early Twentieth Century, and was the first Australian to achieve international recognition as a classical musician. She took the pseudonym "Melba" from Melbourne, her home town.

 

*****William Hogarth was an English painter, engraver, pictorial satirist, social critic, editorial cartoonist and occasional writer on art. His work ranges from realistic portraiture to comic strip-like series of pictures called "modern moral subjects", and he is perhaps best known for his series A Harlot's Progress, A Rake's Progress and Marriage A-la-Mode. Familiarity with his work is so widespread that satirical political illustrations in this style are often referred to as "Hogarthian".

 

*****“Marriage A-la-Mode” is a series of six pictures painted by William Hogarth between 1743 and 1745, intended as a pointed skewering of Eighteenth Century society. They show the disastrous results of an ill-considered marriage for money or social status, and satirise patronage and aesthetics. The were originally sold as a set of six and offered for sale by twelve noon on the 6th of June 1751, but only attracted two bidders, one of whom bought them all for £126.00. The series was acquired for the newly formed National gallery of London in 1824.

 

******* Gaiety Girls were the chorus girls in Edwardian musical comedies, beginning in the 1890s at the Gaiety Theatre, London, in the shows produced by George Edwardes.

 

********Originating in Seventeenth Century England, the term pin money first meant “an allowance of money given by a husband to his wife for her personal expenditures. Married women, who typically lacked other sources of spending money, tended to view an allowance as something quite desirable. By the Twentieth Century, the term had come to mean a small sum of money, whether an allowance or earned, for spending on inessentials, separate and in addition to the housekeeping money a wife might have to spend.

 

********* 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.

 

**********The banns of marriage, commonly known simply as the "banns" or "bans", are the public announcement in a Christian parish church, or in the town council, of an impending marriage between two specified persons.

 

***********The Savoy Hotel is a luxury hotel located in the Strand in the City of Westminster in central London. Built by the impresario Richard D'Oyly Carte with profits from his Gilbert and Sullivan opera productions, it opened on 6 August 1889. It was the first in the Savoy group of hotels and restaurants owned by Carte's family for over a century. The Savoy was the first hotel in Britain to introduce electric lights throughout the building, electric lifts, bathrooms in most of the lavishly furnished rooms, constant hot and cold running water and many other innovations. Carte hired César Ritz as manager and Auguste Escoffier as chef de cuisine; they established an unprecedented standard of quality in hotel service, entertainment and elegant dining, attracting royalty and other rich and powerful guests and diners. The hotel became Carte's most successful venture. Its bands, Savoy Orpheans and the Savoy Havana Band, became famous. Winston Churchill often took his cabinet to lunch at the hotel. The hotel is now managed by Fairmont Hotels and Resorts. It has been called "London's most famous hotel". It has two hundred and sixty seven guest rooms and panoramic views of the River Thames across Savoy Place and the Thames Embankment. The hotel is a Grade II listed building.

 

************His Majesty's Theatre in London’s West End is a theatre situated in the Haymarket in the City of Westminster, London. The building, designed by Charles J. Phipps, was constructed in 1897 for the actor-manager Herbert Beerbohm Tree, who established the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art at the theatre.

 

This upper-class Belgravia drawing room may look real to you, but it is not all that it seems, for it is in fact made up entirely of miniatures from my 1;12 miniatures collection, including some particularly special pieces.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

Lettice’s pretty dyed green straw cloche adorned with satin roses, green ribbons and peacock feathers is an artisan miniature. 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism such as these are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. The maker of this hat is unknown, but it is part of a larger collection I bought from an American miniature collector Marilyn Bickel.

 

Lettice’s crocodile skin handbag comes from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in England.

 

Lettice’s furled green umbrella is a 1:12 artisan pieces made of silk, with a wooden lacquered handle. It comes from specialist artisan miniature makers in England. Sir John’s silver knobbed walking stick is also a 1:12 artisan miniature. The top is sterling silver. It was made by the Little Green Workshop in England who specialise in high end, high quality miniatures.

 

Lettice’s fur draped over the sofa end is in actuality, a mink tail attached to one of my own vintage fur tippets. It is just the right size to be a thick fur stole that could have been worn by Lettice as she pays calls on a cool autumnal afternoon in London.

 

Sir John’s smart and select drawing room has been furnished for the most part by the high-end miniature manufacturers Bespaq and J.B.M. The gilt swan decorated tables and pedestal come from Bespaq, whilst the Regency stripe low backed sofa and wingback arm chair come from J.B.M.

 

The beautiful gold and bronze decorated black chinoiserie screen in the background is a very special 1:12 miniature screen created especially for me, and there is no other like it anywhere else in the world. It was handmade and decorated over a twelve month period for me as a Christmas gift last year by miniature artisan Tim Sidford as a thanks for the handmade Christmas baubles I make him every year. Tim’s miniature works are truly amazing! You can see some of his handmade decorated interiors using upcycled Playmobil, found objects and 1:12 miniatures here: www.flickr.com/photos/timsidford/albums/72157624010136051/

 

The champagne glasses on the central swan table are 1:12 artisan miniatures. Made of glass, they have been blown individually by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and are so fragile and delicate that even I with my dainty fingers have broken the stem of one. They stand on an ornate Sixteenth Century style silver tray made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The wine cooler is also made by Warwick Miniatures. The Deutz and Geldermann champagne bottle is also an artisan miniature and made of glass with a miniature copy of a real Deutz and Geldermann label and some real foil wrapped around its neck. It was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Even the ice blocks in the coolers are made to scale and also came from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The blue and white Chinese vase, like the ones on the pedestals in the background are 1:12 artisan miniatures. The vase on the table, which has been hand decorated was acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom, whilst the two in the background came from an online specialist on eBay. The daffodils in the vase are all 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.

 

The pile of books in the table next to Sir John’s armchair, and the newspaper broadsheets in the foreground are 1:12 size miniatures made by the British miniature artisan Ken Blythe. Most of the books I own that he has made may be opened to reveal authentic printed interiors. In some cases, you can even read the words, depending upon the size of the print, as is the case with the headlines on the newspapers! 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. In this case, the books on the table are non-opening, however what might amaze you is that all Ken Blythe’s books and magazines are authentically replicated 1:12 scale miniatures of real volumes. To create something so authentic to the original in such detail and so clearly, really does make this a miniature artisan piece. Ken Blythe’s work is highly sought after by miniaturists around the world today and command high prices at auction for such tiny pieces, particularly now that he is no longer alive. I was fortunate enough to acquire pieces from Ken Blythe prior to his death about four years ago, as well as through his estate via his daughter and son-in-law. His legacy will live on with me and in my photography which I hope will please his daughter.

 

The tall Dutch style chest of drawers to the far left of the photo was one of the first pieces of miniature furniture I ever bought for myself. I chose it as payment for several figures I made from Fimo clay for a local high street toy shop when I was eight years old. All these years later, I definitely think I got the better end of the deal!

 

The two Regency silhouettes hanging on the wall came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop.

 

The Georgian rug on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom. The striped wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.

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