Lady Sadie Makes Amends

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 had been patiently awaiting the return of her then beau, Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, after being sent to Durban by his mother, Lady Zinnia in an effort to destroy their relationship which she wanted to end so that she could marry Selwyn off to his cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers. Having been made aware by Lady Zinnia in October last year that during the course of the year, whilst Lettice had been biding her time, waiting for Selwyn’s eventual return, he had become engaged to the daughter of a Kenyan diamond mine owner whilst in Durban. Fleeing Lady Zinnia’s Park Lane mansion, Lettice returned to Cavendish Mews and milled over her options over a week as she reeled from the news. Then, after that week, she knew exactly what to do to resolve the unpleasant issues raised by Lady Zinnia’s unwelcome news about her son. Taking extra care in her dress, she took herself off to the neighbouring upper-class London suburb of Belgravia and paid a call upon Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.

 

As an eligible man in a aftermath of 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 belonging to her parents, Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, invited Sir John as a potential suitor to her 1922 Hunt Ball, which she used as a marriage market for Lettice. Although she did not become engaged to him then, Lettice did reacquaint herself with Sir John at an amusing Friday to Monday long weekend party held by mutual friends Sir John and Lady Gladys Caxton at their Scottish country estate in 1924. To her surprise, Lettice found Sir John’s company rather enjoyable. She then ran into him again later that year at the Portland Gallery’s autumn show in Soho, where she found him yet again to be a pleasant and attentive companion for much of the evening. Sir John also made a proposition to her that night: he offered her his hand in marriage should she ever need it. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them. When Lettice’s understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son of the Duke of Walmsford, fell apart, Lettice agreed to Sir John’s proposal. Then, during the General Strike* that almost brought the nation to a standstill, Selwyn and Lettice were reintroduced, and she found out that Selwyn wasn’t engaged to another woman at all, as she was led to believe by Lady Zinnia, and it had all been a fabrication, leaving her in a quandary over what to do: break her engagement with Sir John and marry the man she truly loves and has never stopped loving, or remain engaged to Sir John, preserving his honour and the good name of her own family. Eventually, with some careful persuasion from friends, Lettice made the decision to end her engagement.

 

Thus, today we find ourselves 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 and his wife Arabella. Lettice is visiting her family home after breaking her engagement to wealthy Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, hoping to lay low and keep out of London whilst the sensation of her broken engagement becomes the talk over every breakfast table, ladies luncheon at Gunter’s** and society dinner at the Savoy***. Old enough to be Lettice’s father, Sir John was, until their ill-fated engagement, still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intended 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. For the sake of her family’s reputation and her own, she hopes that confining herself to Glynes for the duration will allow her to avoid any gossip or speculation as to why she ceased her engagement to Sir John.

 

Lettice’s oldest and closest childhood chum and family neighbour, Gerald Bruton, brought Lettice down from London in his Morris Cowley four-seat tourer****, staying at his own home Bruton Hall with his parents Lord and Lady Bruton and his elder brother Roland, remaining close at hand to Lettice, should she fee that she needs him. And it is Gerald’s motor we now see speeding up the gravel driveway towards Glynes before drawing to a halt outside the front steps. Gerald is answering a summons from Lettice’s mother, Lady Sadie, to call on her for morning tea. Although a mother asking for her daughter’s closest friend to pay a call is nothing unusual, Lady Sadie has barely spoken a word to Gerald in four years, ever since he upset her at the Hunt Ball of 1922 by speaking some unwelcome home truths that she didn’t want to hear. Thus it is with a mixture of interest and dread that Gerald accepts her invitation.

 

As Gerald steps out of the Morris, he sighs with trepidation, looking up at the classical columned façade of Lettice’s beloved childhood home, a second home to him as a child and often a happier one for him than Bruton Hall was. He removes his motoring goggles**** and tosses them onto the russet coloured leather of the front passenger seat. Its elegant proportions bask in the autumnal morning sunshine. “And what does Sadie want with me, I wonder?” Gerald asks aloud nervously, receiving only the pretty twittering of the birds playing in the immediate surrounding grounds of the property.

 

The double doors to the Georgian mansion open and Bramley, the Chetwynd’s butler, walks out onto the front steps. Gerald slams the driver’s side door of his Morris, walks around the car and ascends the sweeping steps.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Bruton.” Bramley says warmly with a deferential nod of his head towards the young man.

 

“Hullo Bruton old bean!” Gerald replies with a bright joviality that he hopes doesn’t betray the sense of dread he feels. “Is Lettice at home.”

 

“Miss Lettice has gone down to the Dower House to visit Mrs. Chetwynd.” Bramley replies, referring to Arabella, who along with Leslie, call the Dower House their home whilst the Viscount is still master of Glynes. “And Her Ladyship is expecting you in the morning room.” he adds with gravitas.

 

“Ahh.” Gerald gulps. “Yes… well…” Suddenly any false bravado falls away. “It… it is her summons to which I’m responding.”

 

“I am aware of that, Mr. Bruton.” Bramley replies with a polite and benevolent smile.

 

“And…” the younger man begins, taking a sharp intake of breath. “And how does Her Ladyship seem today, Bramley?”

 

“I really couldn’t say, Mr. Bruton.” Bramley replies with unflappable reservation.

 

“Your stoicism gives me no solace, old bean.”

 

“Then perhaps if I tell you that Mrs. Casterton has made one of her chocolate cream sponges at Her Ladyship’s request, might that assuage your concerns, sir?”

 

Gerald releases a pent-up breath from his chest. “Perhaps, Bruton old bean. Perhaps.”

 

Gerald walks past the butler and into the lofty hall of Glynes where Moira, one of the more senior Glynes maids stands ready to accept his leather gauntlet gloves***** and his cream leather motoring coat****** as he shirks it from his shoulders, revealing his country tweeds******* – a Norfolk Jacket******* and plus-fours*********.

 

“Still can’t get a replacement for Marsden, eh Bramley?” Gerald asks with levity as he glances at Bramley over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming cheekily as he refers to the Chetwynd’s first footman who, with his height and smouldering good looks**********, left the household staff to become a moving picture actor after falling in love with the American actress Wanetta Ward, one of Lettice’s former interior design customers, who joined Islington Studios*********** before being coaxed back across the Atlantic to America and the bright lights of Hollywood.

 

“First Footmen are a rare commodity in these parts these days,” Bramley bristles. “As I’m sure you are aware, Mr. Bruton.”

 

“Good god man! We haven’t been grand enough at Bruton Hall to have a footman for years now. Surely you know that.” He hands his tweed flat cap*********** to Moira. “I’m only grateful we have enough pretence of gentility to still have a decrepit old butler and a cook whose rock cakes are even harder than real rocks.”

 

Even the unflappable Bramley cannot help but smirk, almost imperceptibly at Gerald’s comical remarks about his financially precarious parent’s staff.

 

“Well,” Gerald sighs. “I suppose I had best get on with it then, hadn’t I?” he asks rhetorically.

 

“I’ll show you in, Sir.” Bramley says, leading Gerald just down the passageway to the double doors to the morning room.

 

“Mr. Bruton, Your Ladyship.” Bruton announces loudly as he opens the doors and stands to one side, allowing Gerald to step into the morning room.

 

The Glynes morning room is very much Lady Sadie’s preserve, and the original classical Eighteenth Century design has been overlayed with the comfortable Edwardian clutter of continual and conspicuous acquisition that is the hallmark of a lady of her age and social standing. China cabinets of beautiful porcelain line the walls. Clusters of mismatched chairs unholstered in cream fabric, tables and a floral chaise lounge, all from different eras, fill the room: set up to allow for the convivial conversation of the great and good of the county after church on a Sunday. The hand painted Georgian wallpaper can barely be seen for paintings and photographs in ornate gilded frames. The marble mantelpiece is covered by Royal Doulton figurines and more photos in silver frames. Several vases of flowers stand on occasional tables, but even their fragrance cannot smother Lady Sadie’s Yardley Lily of the Valley************ scent.

 

And there Lady Sadie sits dressed in a tweed skirt and powder blue cardigan with her double strand of pearls at her throat, in her favourite cream coloured satin Chippendale armchair drawn up to the crackling fireplace, contentedly reading one of her periodicals. “Ahh! Gerald!” she says with a brittle smile, closing the magazine on fashion she holds. Her eyes dart to a small, gilded mantle clock sitting on a side table. “And right on time.” Her gaze returns to Gerald. “Please, do come in.” With a sweeping gesture, she indicates to the smaller, low backed and rather eccentrically styled salon chair she reserves for guests. Between the two seats, tea things for two, and Mrs. Casterton the cook’s dark chocolate double decker sponge with cream oozing from between the layers, stand on a low occasional table. “Thank you, Bramley,” she says loftily to her faithful family retainer. “That will be all.”

 

“Very good, Your Ladyship.” he replies with a deep bow, gently closing the doors behind him.

 

Gerald wends his way around Lady Sadie’s collection of clustered occasional furniture until he arrives at her side.

 

“Good morning, Lady Sadie.” he says a little awkwardly.

 

“Please, do sit, Gerald.” Lady Sadie says again, indicating as before to the seat opposite her.

 

Gerald sits, albeit uncomfortably, perched on the chair’s white figured satin upholstered seat.

 

“Do you still take your tea with two sugars, Gerald?” his hostess asks as she takes up one of her rose decorated Royal Doulton floral teacups in one hand, and a sugar lump************* between the teeth of her sugar tongs************** in the other of her bejewelled hands.

 

“I do, Lady Sadie!” he replies in surprise. “How kind of you to remember.”

 

“I have a very good memory for such things, Gerald.” she replies with a proud air as she pours tea from her bulbous silver teapot into his cup over two sugar cubes. She then adds a splash of milk from the silver jug which matches the teapot before handing it to her guest.

 

“Thank you, Lady Sadie.” Gerald says, accepting the tea from his hostess. “I… err…”

 

“Cake, Gerald?” Lady Sadie interrupts him, her voice cutting his off. “It’s Mrs. Casterston’s best chocolate sponge, light and fluffy.”

 

“Err… thank you.” Gerald replies a little warily.

 

He watches as Lady Sadie expertly slices two pieces of cake, the first of which she hands to him.

 

As Gerald accepts it, he cannot hold back any longer, stating awkwardly, “You will forgive me, Lady Sadie, but I must confess that I was more than a little surprised to receive your invitation to tea.” He looks at the cake on the plate sitting on the edge of the table next to his as of yet untouched tea, from which curlicues of steam arise. “And now Mrs. Casterton’s best chocolate sponge?”

 

“Yes,” Lady Sadie answers sinking back into the upholstered comfort of her wingback chair, taking up her cup. “I imagine you would have found my invitation a little odd.”

 

“Especially since we have barely exchanged a word in well over three years.”

 

“I’m a proud woman, Gerald.” Lady Sadie begins.

 

“You have much to be proud of, Lady Sadie,” Gerald says. “You have a beautiful home and a happy marriage. You are an upstanding member of county society.” he adds to flatter her, even though he knows that the pride she is referring to is that as a flaw in her character. “And children to be proud of.”

 

“Well three at any rate.” the older woman corrects him with a chuckle of embarrassment and a self-conscious pat of her grey marcelled waves*************** framing her thin aging face.

 

Gerald doesn’t say anything about Lady Sadie’s selfish and cruel errant second son, Lionel, banished to a farm in the Aberdare Range**************** in British East Africa***************** after putting one too many of the Chetwynd maids in the family way amongst a litany of misdemeanours.

 

“Thank you, but you know I am talking of my own pride, Gerald.” Lady Sadie says with a rueful smile. “It can sometimes lead me to making some foolish and rash mistakes.” She pauses for a moment before continuing. “And it makes it difficult for me to admit to the fact that sometimes I am wrong, and,” She sighs heavily. “To apologise and make amends.”

 

“Is that what this is about?” Gerald asks, indicating to the tea and cake laid out before them. “Making amends?”

 

Lady Sadie nods shallowly with embarrassment, reaching up and clasping the two strands of creamy pearls at her throat. “I wanted to apologise for the way I treated you, after the Hunt Ball. I misjudged you for what you said.”

 

“Well, I probably said quite a great deal that night, Lady Sadie.” Gerald murmurs. “I had indulged somewhat on the Viscount’s largess that evening, and I was rather tight******************. I’m not quite sure what I said to offend you, but I’m sure you have nothing to apologise for, Lady Sadie.” He blushes as he picks up his tea and raises the cup to his lips. “It probably goes the other way, entirely.”

 

“Oh, on the contrary, Gerald.” Lady Sadie insists. “It is true that you had imbibed rather that night, and perhaps your delivery left a little something to be desired, but what you said was true enough.”

 

“What did I say, Lady Sadie?”

 

“You tried to warn me.”

 

“Warn you?”

 

“About Lady Zinnia, and the fact that she wouldn’t just let Selwyn marry Lettice if he fell in love with her – as I now know, is what came to fruition.”

 

“Ahh…” Gerald murmurs knowingly after taking a sip of tea. “So, Lettice has told you about Lady Zinnia’s duplicitous skullduggery, then.”

 

“Indeed she has!” the older woman replies loftily, depositing her cup of tea next to her slice of cake on the table beside her. “And to stoop to such low tactics and deep seeded scheming in order to come between Selwyn and Lettice, well it’s… it’s,” She cannot quite think of the words. “Well, it’s quite reprehensible!”

 

“I agree.”

 

“And you see, in my foolish pride, I misjudged you and what you said. You said it as a warning to me: a warning that I didn’t heed.”

 

“I’ll have to take your words for that, Lady Sadie.” Gerald admits, feeling the heat of the flush in his cheeks as he blushes deeply. “As I can’t honestly remember saying any such thing to you, well meaning or otherwise.”

 

“I thought you were jealous of Lettice and Selwyn’s attraction.”

 

“Jealous?” Gerald’s eyes widen in surprise.

 

“Yes.” Lady Sadie admits. “I always thought you wanted to marry her, you see?”

 

Gerald nearly chokes on his mouthful of tea, and struggles not to splatter it out over his hostess and the tea things. Gulping it down he coughs heavily a few times before asking, “Me? Marry Lettice?”

 

“My husband always tried to disabuse me of the idea, but I was convinced that because you and Lettice grew up together, and that you get along as well as you do, that you just naturally assumed that you’d marry her. You are an eligible bachelor after all.”

 

“I can assure you, Lady Sadie,” Gerald replies, depositing his cup back onto the table and raising his hands in defence. “That I have never had any designs on Lettice.” He shakes his head. “She has only ever been, and only ever will be my friend.”

 

“Yes, I know that now, Gerald.” Lady Sadie replies. “But I didn’t at the time. However, now that revelations about you have been made clear to me.” She takes a sip of her tea and smiles at Gerald. “I can see far more clearly what you are.”

 

“And… err… what revelations might those be, Lady Sadie?” Gerald asks gingerly, the tightness he had felt in his stomach when he arrived at Glynes returning. Did Lady Sadie know he was a homosexual*******************? Surely Lettice would never have betrayed him like that!

 

“That you have been such a good friend to Lettice of course, Gerald!” Lady Sadie chuckles in reply. “A man determined to marry Lettice would not have gone out of his way to reintroduce her to the man with whom she had an understanding – a man whom she thought she had lost to another.”

 

“Oh!” Gerald sighs and for the first time settles back a little more comfortably in his seat. “Whatever Lady Zinnia may yet try to stop the union between my daughter and her son, it is you I have to thank for putting the wheels in motion to rekindle their acquaintance, and help her come to her senses and break from that awful Sir John Nettleford-Hughes.”

 

Gerald knows that Sir John and Lettice’s friend, world famous British concert pianist, Sylvia Fordyce, is really the one responsible for swaying Lettice into breaking her engagement to Sir John, but right now, Gerald isn’t going to argue anything that Lady Sadie says to the contrary that will restore him to her good graces.

 

“I always thought you liked, Sir John, Lady Sadie. After all, you were the one who invited him to your Hunt Ball as a potential match for Lettice, back in 22.”

 

“Well, that was an error of judgement on my side.” Lady Sadie says dourly. “I know some things about Sir John too,” She clears her throat awkwardly. “Things I’d prefer not to speak of, if you don’t mind, which make him a most unsuitable match for Lettice.”

 

“As you wish, Lady Sadie.” Gerald acquiesces.

 

“Anyway, I don’t wish to speak of Sir John.” Lady Sadie continues with a dismissive wave. “I believe it is also you I have to thank for putting in motion the discovery of Lady Zinnia’s underhanded scheming.”

 

“Well, I only suggested that we hire a Pinkerton******************** because I thought the situation warranted it”

 

“It is very good of you to risk your own reputation by hiring a Private Inquiry Agent********************* under your name rather than Lettice’s, Gerald.” Lady Sadie goes on. “Truly, I’m most grateful.”

 

Gerald leans forward in his seat. “Your daughter is my oldest and best childhood chum, Lady Sadie. I’d do anything for her.”

 

Lady Sadie smiles gratefully, reaches out and pats Gerald’s left hand resting on his knee with her right hand.

 

“I know you would, Gerald, and that’s why I’m trying to make amends, and to seek your forgiveness. I judged you incorrectly, and I mistreated you as a result. I froze you out of Glynes, which was always your second home when growing up. I hope you now know that you are very welcome here.”

 

Gerald doesn’t answer straight away, but when he does, it is with a broad smile. “I do now, Lady Sadie. And I know Mummy will be pleased to hear it, too. She always worried about the schism that had formed between our two families.”

 

“Well, Gwenyth doesn’t have to worry any longer, does she?”

 

“No, Lady Sadie.” Gerald replies. “And I shall have the greatest of pleasure going home to Bruton Hall after this, and telling her so.”

 

Lady Sadie smiles happily too. “Oh, and I meant to say that no matter what may or many not happen between Selwyn and Lettice, Lettice has been insistent that you make her wedding frock, and I’d be delighted if you would consent. Who better qualified is there to make her the perfect outfit, but her best and oldest friend?”

 

“Thank you, Lady Sadie.” Gerald beams. “I’d be very honoured, and only too glad to so.”

 

“Good! That’s settled then!” the older woman says, nestling comfortably into her seat.

 

“Although we have a while yet before that happens,” Gerald cautions as he picks up his plate of cake and drives his fork through the cake’s apex. “Certainly if Lady Zinnia has anything to do with it.”

 

“Then lady Zinnia has a great deal to learn about the Chetwynd women then, doesn’t she?” Lady Sadie remarks with a defiant air.

 

Cluttered with paintings, photographs and furnishings, Lady Sadie’s morning room with its Georgian and Victorian furnishings is different from what you might think, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures from my collection including pieces from my own childhood.

 

*The 1926 General Strike was a nine-day nationwide stoppage in the United Kingdom between the third and twelfth of May. It was called by the Trades Union Congress (TUC) to support over a million coal miners facing wage cuts and longer hours. Following "Black Friday" in 1921, miners faced a lockout after refusing "not a penny off the pay, not an hour on the day" wage reductions and longer hours. About one point seven million workers paralysed transport, printing, and heavy industries temporarily. Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin's Conservative government declared a state of emergency, using volunteers and the military to maintain essential supplies and transport. The government produced the British Gazette to counter the strikers' message. The TUC ended the strike on May the twelfth, 1926, fearing it was moving toward a revolutionary, anti-democratic action. The miners remained locked out until the autumn, eventually accepting lower pay and longer hours, without securing any concessions.

 

**Gunter’s (officially Gunter’s Tea Shop) was London’s most famous and exclusive confectionery, catering, and high-society eatery. The business was founded in 1757 at numbers 7 to 8 Berkeley Square, in Mayfair, by an Italian pastry chef named Domenico Negri. He originally named it The Pot and Pineapple. The pineapple was chosen because it was the ultimate Georgian symbol of wealth, luxury, and exotic indulgence. In 1777, an Englishman named James Gunter entered into a partnership with Negri. By 1799, Gunter became the sole proprietor and rebranded the establishment under his own name. In the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, freezing technology was rare and expensive. Gunter’s became globally renowned for its exotic "ices," sorbets, and ice creams. They served dramatic flavours like pine, bergamot, maple, jasmine, and even Parmesan, often frozen into intricate pewter moulds shaped like fruits or meats. Gunter’s was famous for a unique social phenomenon. Because the shop itself was small, wealthy patrons would park their open-topped horse carriages under the plane trees of Berkeley Square. Waiters would dodge traffic to sprint across the road, bringing rapidly melting ice cream right to the carriages. Gunter's wasn't just a cafe; they were massive high-end event caterers. They provided the food, multi-tiered "bride cakes," and sugar architecture for royal balls and elite weddings, including making the wedding cake for Queen Victoria’s granddaughter in 1889.

 

***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.

 

****Morris Motors Limited was a privately owned British motor vehicle manufacturing company established in 1919. With a reputation for producing high-quality cars and a policy of cutting prices, Morris's business continued to grow and increase its share of the British market. By 1926 its production represented forty-two per cent of British car manufacturing. Amongst their more popular range was the Morris Cowley which included a four-seat tourer which was first released in 1920.

 

*****Motoring goggles were essential in open cars such as a Morris Cowley, which was open at the sides and had a retractable fold-down top. Goggles protected against dust, insects, and flying grit. Celluloid lenses were typical of motoring goggles in the 1920s.

 

*****Gauntlet gloves were long leather gloves extending past the wrist. Made of hard-wearing leather, and softly lined, the provided grip on the wooden steering wheels of the 1920s and protection from cold.

 

*******Even though motorcar technology and comfort had been improving for at least a decade since the early days of popular motoring, motoring clothes were still essential for a driver, and often passengers, offering practical protection from the cold and dirt of the roads, yet doing so in a stylish and very specific way. A must have for any driver was a motoring coat, usually made from leather or tweed, they were heavy, long, often double breasted and lined with sheepskin or fur for warmth.

 

********In 1920s England, a gentleman in the country dressed very differently from his city self. The look was practical, tweedy, layered, and built for shooting, riding, rambling, and estate life — not for London formality.

 

*********A Norfolk Jacket is the classic country coat, with belt and pleats for ease of movement, and large pockets designed for cartridges and field gear. Usually made of brown, green, or herringbone tweed, they are durable and are weather resistant. The Norfolk jacket is still a staple of country wear today, and is one of the most iconic pieces of traditional British country clothing.

 

**********Plus-fours are loose-fitting breeches or trousers that extend four inches below the knee, popular for sports like golf and shooting, especially in the 1920s. They were designed for comfort, allowing for unrestricted movement during activities like walking, hiking, or swinging a golf club. They are named for the extra four inches of material that hang over the knee band, which is more than the two inches found on "plus twos". They offered more freedom of movement than traditional shorter knickerbockers. Introduced around the 1920s, they were heavily popularised by the Prince of Wales (later Edward VIII), and became a staple of sporting fashion for men and sometimes women. These are typically worn with knee-high stockings and often paired with brogue shoes, knee-high socks, and braces. Plus-fours provided comfort and warmth when motoring in open cars.

 

**********Footmen were historically chosen for their height (typically over six feet) primarily as a display of wealth, acting as a luxury status symbol, similar to a "matched team of horses" for wealthy households. Tall, strong, and handsome footmen in elaborate livery served to impress visitors, while also providing practical utility as bodyguards, messengers, and coach attendants.

 

***********Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.

 

***********A tweed flat cap extremely common for country driving amongst the upper-classes, even though flat caps were traditionally known as a working man’s cap.

 

************Yardley’s Lily of the Valley is one of the longest lived and most iconic English floral fragrances — a true heritage scent with more than a century of history behind it. Yardley began producing single note floral fragrances in the late Victorian era, building on its reputation for lavender. Lily of the Valley appears in Yardley catalogues by the early 1900s, initially as soap and talcum powder, not yet as a standalone perfume. By the 1920s, Yardley had formalised Lily of the Valley as one of its core floral lines. Products included, perfumed soap, talcum powder and scented sachets. The fragrance was marketed as “the pure English woodland flower”, emphasising Yardley’s identity as a quintessentially British perfumer.

 

*************In British upper-class social etiquette, the rule is clear: sugar first, then tea, and lastly milk. This comes from formal English tea service customs that developed in the 18th–20th centuries, and it remained the standard through the 1920s, and well beyond, and was a sign of your class. If you opted to add milk before the sugar into tea, you betrayed your working class origins. This was because cheap, lower quality porcelain cups in the Eighteenth and early Nineteenth centuries would crack, when hot tea was poured, thus making milk essential to cool the bowl. By the 1920s, good china was standard, and milk last was firmly established in etiquette books and household manuals, yet in working class homes it was still usual for milk to be poured in first. In aristocratic homes, middle class households, and formal tea rooms, sugar was applied first, as it allowed the host or guest to judge sweetness properly once the tea was poured. In formal service, the footman or hostess would ask: “Sugar?” before pouring the tea. This was part of the ritual of polite hosting. The tea was poured over the sugar, helping it dissolve. The strength and colour of the tea also helped the hostess to determine how much milk would be needed to meet her guest’s taste. Adding milk last allowed the drinker to judge the colour and strength of the tea, and also prevented over milking by the hostess, which was considered a social faux pas.

 

**************Sugar tongs are a small, elegant serving tool used to pick up individual lumps of sugar during tea service. They replaced sugar nips once sugar began to be sold in refined cubes rather than hard sugarloaves.

 

***************Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women's hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.

 

****************The Aberdare Range (formerly the Sattima Range) is a one hundred mile long mountain range of upland, north of Kenya's capital Nairobi with an average elevation of thirteen thousand one hundred and thirty feet. It straddles across the counties of Nyandarua, Nyeri, Muranga, Kiambu and Laikipia.

 

*****************The Colony and Protectorate of Kenya, commonly known as British Kenya or British East Africa, was part of the British Empire in Africa. It was established when the former East Africa Protectorate was transformed into a British Crown colony in 1920. Technically, the "Colony of Kenya" referred to the interior lands, with a ten mile coastal strip, nominally on lease from the Sultan of Zanzibar, was the "Protectorate of Kenya", but the two were controlled as a single administrative unit. The colony came to an end in 1963 when an ethnic Kenyan majority government was elected for the first time and eventually declared independence as the Republic of Kenya.

 

******************“Tight” is an old fashioned upper-class euphemism for drunk.

 

*******************Prior to 1967 with the introduction of the Sexual Offences Act which decriminalised private homosexual acts between men aged over twenty-one, homosexuality in England was illegal, and in the 1920s when this story is set, carried heavy penalties including prison sentences with hard labour. The law was not changed for Scotland until 1980, or for Northern Ireland until 1982.

 

********************A “Pinkerton” is a private detective, and refers to the Pinkerton Detective Agency, founded by Allan Pinkerton, known for its historical role in labour disputes and spying. For decades after Allan Pinkerton's death, his name became a slang term for any private investigator, regardless of whether they worked for the Pinkerton Agency or not. Today, the agency (now simply called Pinkerton) focuses on risk management, intelligence, and security services.

 

*********************In 1920s England, private investigators were most commonly referred to as Inquiry Agents or Private Inquiry Agents. They were frequently engaged for matters involving surveillance and divorce, with other common terms including private detectives, commercial agents, and private investigators used.

 

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

 

The silver tea set and silver galleried tray on the central table has been made with great attention to detail, and comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The gilt edged floral teacups, saucers and plates come from a miniatures specialist stockist on E-Bay. The wonderfully realistic chocolate cake was made by Polly’s Pantry in America, and came with two slices already cut from it.

 

The Elite Styles and Delineator magazines from 1926 sitting on the floral pouffe were made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States.

 

Lady Sadie’s morning room is furnished mostly with pieces from high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq. Lady Sadie’s cream wingback armchair is a Chippendale piece, whilst the gilt decorated mahogany tables are Regency style, and the ornate mahogany corner chair is high Victorian in style. The bonheur de jour and its matching chair is a Salon Reine design, hand painted and copied from an Eighteenth Century design. All the drawers open and it has a lidded rack at either end. The cream coloured footstool with gold tasselling came from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom.

 

The golden yellow roses and their real spun glass vase are handmade miniatures that come from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.

 

The plaster fireplace comes from Kathleen Knight’s Doll House Shop in the United Kingdom, and the fire screen and fire pokers come from a high street stockist who specialised in dolls houses and doll house miniatures. I have had these pieces since I was a teenager. The Royal Doulton style figurines on top the fireplace, are from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland and have been hand painted by me. The figurines are identifiable as particular Royal Doulton figurines from the 1920s and 1930s. The vase of primroses in the middle of the fireplace is a delicate 1:12 artisan porcelain miniature made and painted by hand by Ann Dalton.

 

The Chetwynd’s family photos seen on Lady Sadie’s desk, the mantlepiece and hanging on the walls are all real photos, produced to high standards in 1:12 size on photographic paper by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The frames are almost all from Melody Jane’s Dollhouse Suppliers in the United Kingdom and are made of metal with glass in each. The largest frame on the right-hand side of the desk is actually a sterling silver miniature frame. It was made in Birmingham in 1908 and is hallmarked on the back of the frame. It has a red leather backing.

 

The seed catalogue on Lady Sadie’s desk is a 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! 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 is that all Ken Blythe’s opening books 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. He also made the envelopes sitting in the rack to the left of the desk. 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 painting of the Georgian family above the fireplace comes from Amber’s Miniatures in the United States, whilst the two silhouette portraits come from Lady Mile Miniatures in the United Kingdom.

 

The Persian rugs on the floor has been woven by Pike, Pike and Company in the United Kingdom.

 

Done