Wickham Place is the London home of Lord and Lady Southgate, their children and staff. Located in fashionable Belgravia it is a fine Georgian terrace house.
Today we are below stairs in the Wickham Place kitchen. The Wickham Place kitchens are situated on the ground floor of Wickham Place, adjoining the Butler’s Pantry. It is dominated by big black leaded range, and next to it stands a heavy dark wood dresser that has been there for as long as anyone can remember. In the middle of the kitchen stands Cook’s preserve, the pine deal table on which she does most of her preparation for both the meals served to the family upstairs and those for the downstairs staff.
It is Easter time, and Mrs. Bradley, fondly known as Cook by most of the Wickham Place family and staff, wants to make something festive for the Southgate children, both of whom have recently been feeling poorly with rather nasty colds. Now that they are back on their feet, albeit with a little less noise and vibrant energy as usual, she wants something to cheer them up. Mrs. Bradley’s scullery maid Agnes looks on.
“Well,” Mrs. Bradley says with a satisfied sigh as she finishes a sixth cupcake by adding a home-made marzipan pink rabbit atop the white cream cheese icing Agnes had been allowed to ice the cupcakes with. “What do you think Agnes?”
“Oh Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes gasps. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful!”
“Thank you, my girl!” she smiles proudly, admiring her handywork.
“I wish I’d had something like that at Easter when I was Master Piers and Miss Sarah’s age.” the scullery maid sighs.
“Well, I imagine your parents did their best for you.”
“I s’pose.” Agnes shrugs. “I just remember doing a lot of praying, atonement and fasting.”
“Your people are chapel, aren’t they?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bradley.”
“Ah, that accounts for it then.” Mrs. Bradley starts tidying up.
“Accounts for what, Mrs. Bradley?” Agnes follows the cook’s lead and starts clearing the table too, keeping a sharp eye on the mixing bowls of left over icing.
“Well, all the praying, atonement and fasting.” the Cook waves about a beater still coated in pink coloured icing sugar, which Agnes follows with a hungry look.
“I do remember the minister’s wife used to boil eggs for us and we’d decorate them at Sunday School.” Agnes pauses as a happy smile lights up her face momentarily.
“Oh yes?” Mrs. Bradley remarks. “Did you dye them different colours?”
“We did, Mrs. Bradley. We used to use cranberries, orange peel and lemon peel for dyes.”
“Were the scarlet ones your favourite?”
“Yes! They used to remind me of the red winter flannel petticoats I’d wear.” Agnes looks in astonishment at the older woman. “However did you know, Mrs. Bradley?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t always a matronly cook, you know!” The older woman puts her hands on her shapely hips. “I liked red too when I was a girl. So bright in a world full of black.”
“Black, Mrs. Bradley?”
“Oh yes. The Queen, god rest her soul, was in mourning when I was a girl, and it seemed like the whole world went into mourning with her for years! And did you give the eggs you dyed to friends and family?*”
“I wanted to, Mrs. Bradley, because that’s what the minister taught us to do,” Agnes replies, the bright smile suddenly disappearing from her face as she lowers her eyes to the tabletop and busies herself self-consciously. “But Mum wouldn’t have a bar of it. I wanted to give them to my Granny, who used to bake us kids hot cross buns at Easter if she could afford get the fruit and peel to put into them,” She sighs. “But Mum said it was a wicked waste of fresh eggs to boil them just for decorating and giving away.”
“So what did you do with them then, if your mother wouldn’t let you give them to your grandmother?”
“I didn’t do anything with them, Mrs. Bradley. Mum would snatch them off me, and then she’d give me a clip around the ears and tell me to pray for my soul for being such a wicked and wasteful girl.”
“Ah, there’s that chapel atonement again.” Mrs. Bradley remarks bitterly, feeling sorry for her poor, mousey scullery maid. “And did you?”
“Did I ever, Mrs. Bradley! I’d never dare disobey my Mum!” She blushes at the mere thought of it. “I still wouldn’t! My Dad always called Mum a Tarter. As a kid growing up, I never knew what that meant, but now I do, and I think he was right.”
“Doesn’t sound like you had much fun as a child, Agnes.” Mrs. Bradley remarks.
“Oh it wasn’t all bad, Mrs. Bradley,” Agnes remarks with a false steeliness to her voice. “We didn’t have much: still don’t, but we got by.”
“Not enough money for pink, green and yellow marzipan rabbits like Master Piers and Miss Sarah, I’ll wager.” she remarks knowingly.
“Goodness no, Mrs. Bradley!” Agnes looks in shock at the cook at the mere suggestion of it, a blush of shame flushing her cheeks.
“Here then,” she slides a cupcake with a pink marzipan rabbit across the table towards Agnes. “Happy Easter, my girl.” The older woman smiles magnanimously.
Agnes looks at the cupcake and then beams another happy smile at the older woman. “Really, Mrs. Bradley?”
“Master Piers and Miss Sarah have plenty for their nursery tea. They won’t miss one cupcake.”
“Oh! Thank you, Mrs. Bradley! Happy Easter!”
*The exchanging of greetings and gifts was a common custom in Victorian times during the Easter festival. People used to visit their relatives and friends and exchanged sweets, gifts (often homemade), and greetings. The celebration of the Easter festival was a major part of the culture during the Victorian era.
In the custom of the Victorian era, I should like to wish my Twenty First Century Flickr friends and followers a very happy and restful Easter. I know it will be a difficult Easter this year for some, but I hope you all find a little piece of joy and happiness.
Fun things to look for in this tableaux include:
The divine little cupcakes, each with an Easter bunny on the top, has been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. Each cupcake is only five millimetres in diameter and eight millimetres in height!
The mixing bowl with the pink icing an whisk and the mixing bowl with cupcake dough, the jelly mould and jug of jelly are also made by Frances Knight.
The box of of Rowntree's Table Jelly is a 1:12 artisan miniature made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. Founded by Henry Isaac Rowntree in Castlegate in York in 1862, Rowntree's developed strong associations with Quaker philanthropy. Throughout much of the Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries, it was one of the big three confectionery manufacturers in the United Kingdom, alongside Cadbury and Fry, both also founded by Quakers. In 1981, Rowntree's received the Queen's Award for Enterprise for outstanding contribution to international trade. In 1988, when the company was acquired by Nestlé, it was the fourth-largest confectionery manufacturer in the world. The Rowntree brand continues to be used to market Nestlé's jelly sweet brands, such as Fruit Pastilles and Fruit Gums, and is still based in York
To the right of the tray of cupcakes, stands one of Cook's Cornishware cannisters. Cornishware is a striped kitchenware brand trademarked to and manufactured by T.G. Green & Co Ltd. Originally introduced in the 1920s and manufactured in Church Gresley, Derbyshire, it was a huge success for the company and in the succeeding 30 years it was exported around the world. The company ceased production in June 2007 when the factory closed under the ownership of parent company, The Tableshop Group. The range was revived in 2009 after T.G. Green was bought by a trio of British investors.
Next to the Cornishware cannister stands a miniature Blue Calico milk jug. Traditional dark blue Burleigh Calico made in Staffordshire, England by Burgess & Leigh since 1851. It was inspired by Nineteenth Century indigo fabrics. Blue Calico is still made today, and still uses the traditional print transfer process, which makes each piece unique.
The Art Nouveau silver cup in front of the tray of cupcakes is a dolls’ house miniature from Germany. Made in the first decade of the Twentieth Century it is a beautiful work of art as a stand alone item, and is remarkably heavy for its size.
The copper kettles on the range in the background are all made of real copper and come from various miniature stockists in England and America.
The floral teapot in the top right-hand corner of the picture I acquired from a specialist high street tea shop when I was a teenager. I have five of them and each one is a different shape and has a different design. I love them, and what I also love is that over time they have developed their own crazing in the glaze, which I think adds a nice touch of authenticity.
The large kitchen range in the background is a 1:12 miniature replica of the coal fed Phoenix Kitchen Range. A mid-Victorian model, it has hinged opening doors, hanging bars above the stove and a little bass hot water tap (used in the days before plumbed hot water).
