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 we have headed a short distance south-east across London, away from Cavendish Mews and Mayfair, over the Regency houses and squares of Belgravia to the artistic upper-class suburb of Chelsea, where Lettice and her dear friend and fellow Embassy Club coterie member, Margot Channon, are attending the Royal Horticultural Society’s 1923 Great Spring Show*. Concerned about her beau, Selwyn Spencely’s, true affections for her, and worried about the threat his cousin and 1923 debutante, Pamela Fox-Chavers, poses to her own potential romantic plans with Selwyn, Lettice has concocted a ruse to spy on Pamela whom Selwyn is escorting to various functions throughout the Season as a favour to his mother, Lady Zinnia, whom Lettice suspects of arranging a match between the two cousins. This includes the Great Spring Show. To avoid looking obvious, Lettice has wrangled Margot to accompany her, even though she has her own misgivings about attending the show after being paraded about there by her own mother before the war as a young debutante. After inadvertently quite literally running into the pair amidst a show of floral arrangements, Lettice and Margot have repaired to one of the tents with Selwyn and Pamela, where at Pamela’s insistence, they are taking Devonshire tea together.
“I believe that’s a Lucile** ‘Dream Dress’*** you are wearing, Miss Fox-Chavers,” Lettice remarks as she accepts the small saucer of raspberry jam proffered to her my the young debutante.
“Why yes it is, Miss Chetwynd,” Pamela gasps. “It’s called ‘Happiness’. How very observant of you. Then again, being the fashionable lady you are, I don’t doubt that you have your finger on the very pulse of fashion. My Aunt Zinnia has had a whole wardrobe of gowns made up for me by Lucile.”
“Is your aunt here?” Lettice queries.
“No!” Selwyn jumps in rather forcefully, surprising the three ladies at the table. He then settles and tempers his remark by adding, “I mean she was here earlier, but only to introduce Pammy to a few of her friends here.”
“No doubt so they can spy on me and report back to her later upon which eligible young men I’ve met.” Pamela remarks, pouting.
“Pammy!” Selwyn admonishes his cousin. “That’s a terrible thing to say about Zinnia.”
“Well, it’s probably true.” Pamela sulks. “She’s an awful old dragon don’t you know: always poking her nose into every bit of my coming out.”
“You should be grateful to Zinnia for all that she has done for you, Pammy.” Selwyn chides again.
“I understand, Miss Fox-Chavers. My mother was the same. My mother even tried to have me wear a Lucile gown for my wedding,” Margot remarks as she takes up a fruit studded scone from the central purple and gilt edged china tea tray and prises it open with her fingers****. “But I managed to get my way in the end. I didn’t want all that ghastly lace and frou-frou.”
“Oh yes, I feel rather over decorated in this frock,” Pamela tugs self consciously at the lace appliqué sleeve of her outfit. “You and Miss Chetwynd are so much more stylish than me in your simple frocks.”
“Oh I didn’t mean you looked ghastly in your gown, Miss Fox-Chavers.” Margot assures the debutante quickly.
“Nonsense, Miss Fox-Chavers,” Lettice remarks magnanimously, dropping a spoonful of gooey red jam onto the top of the second half of her scone. “You look positively beautiful in your outfit.” Turning to Selwyn she remarks as she passes him the jam, “Rather like a delicate flower, don’t you think, Selwyn?”
“Very much so, Miss Chetwynd.” he agrees, using a more formal term of address in front of his cousin.
“That’s very kind of you to say, Miss Chetwynd,” Pamela acknowledges. “But I feel so unsophisticated next to you and Mrs. Channon.”
“You are only just coming out, my dear Miss Fox-Chavers,” Margot remarks with raised eyebrows. “There is plenty of time to grow worldly. Allow yourself a little grace.”
Lettice turns to Selwyn again as Pamela and Margot engage in conversation. “You know, even when she pouts, your cousin is pretty. She may be the debutante of the year. I didn’t think I’d like her, but I do.”
“You sound as though you orchestrated this ‘accidental’ meeting of ours.” Selwyn observes wryly as he dollops a large spoonful of jam onto the second half of his scone. Picking up his teacup he adds, “But I hope that you would be above spying on my cousin, my dear.”
“Oh no,” Lettice lies, yet blushing and possibly betraying herself as she does so. “I would never do that, Selwyn. Would I, Margot darling?”
“What’s that, Lettice darling?” Margot asks, taking up the jam dish from the tray.
“Selwyn is accusing us, or more in truth, me, of spying on he and Miss Fox-Chavers.”
“Selwyn!” Pamela gasps.
“Mr. Spencely!” Margot raises her expertly plucked eyebrows in perfect slender arches over her dark eyes. “How fearfully ungallant of you! I told you, Lettice stepped in to accompany me, since my own husband didn’t wish to attend today. I’m very interested in the latest in floral arrangements, I’ll have you know.” She waves her hands around her at the pots and vases of flowers surrounding their table for four. “It will give me an opportunity to gain common ground with my mother-in-law, the Marchioness.”
Selwyn says nothing, but smiles enigmatically at Margot, who returns his smile before continuing her conversation with Pamela.
“So, if you aren’t spying on us, what do you mean by your remark about liking Pamela against your better judgement, or should I say, instinct, Lettice?”
“I simply meant that I’ve heard of her from you, and seen her photograph in the newspapers.” A large dollop of clotted cream falls from the spoon held aloft by Lettice onto her jam covered scone. “It leads a young woman’s mind to wondering, is all. You surely can’t blame me for being naturally curious.”
“And so, had you resigned yourself to taking a dislike to her then, Lettice?”
“No, not necessarily, Selwyn, but I wanted to reserve judgement until I met her.”
“Well, I’m relieved that you like Pammy, and aren’t set against her.” He accepts the dish of clotted cream from Lettice. “Now that you’ve met, I should like you two to be friends.”
“I don’t know if your mother would approve of our friendship, Selwyn,” Lettice cuts into her suitably dressed scone with her knife. “Any more than I suspect she would approve of ours. Am I right?”
Selwyn doesn’t answer, which Lettice takes as a silent agreement.
“Are you quite sure, she’s gone?”
“Yes, my Angel.” he drops his intimate endearment for her into his conversation. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you keep looking around the tea tent.” Lettice observes. “And that suggests you are perhaps worried that I am seen with you. Could it be that Zinnia’s spies will report back on your movements and social engagements too?”
“Nonsense,” Selwyn raises his cup to his lips and takes a sip of tea, putting up a barrier between he and Lettice. Glancing downwards he indicates an end to the topic of conversation.
“So,” Lettice asks, determined that Lady Zinnia not yet be dispensed with. “Why is it that Miss Fox-Chavers should be so especially grateful to your mother, if by her own admission, Lady Zinnia is perhaps overstepping her mark in regard to her coming out?”
“But she isn’t, Lettice.” Selwyn replies seriously.
“How so?”
“Because Zinnia is the one who has paid for her whole wardrobe and is the one who is presenting her at court.”
“Not her own mother?”
“No,” Selwyn says. “My real aunt, can’t.”
“Your real aunt?”
“Well,” Selwyn lowers his voice and sighs. “My Aunt Rosalind isn’t Pammy’s mother. She’s Uncle Bertrand’s second wife. His first wife, Pammy’s real mother, Miranda, was a bolter***** who ran off with her lover to Kenya when Pammy was just three. Uncle Bertrand divorced her on the grounds of desertion.”
Lettice snorts derisively and shakes her head. “She probably knows my brother Lionel, then. He assures me about certain things about the ex-pat community there.”
“I’m shocked!” Selwyn remarks.
“By my brother’s promiscuity?”
“Well… yes, I mean, no. Well…” Selwyn blushes with embarrassment as he tries to find the words. “No, by the fact he was indelicate enough to tell you such things.”
“I can assure you that my brother Lionel is most indelicate. In fact, he’s the most beastly person I know, Selwyn.” Lettice remarks with bitterness. “So why must your mother present Miss Fox-Chavers? Can’t your Aunt Rosalind present her instead?”
“No, you see Rosalind is an American divorcée*****. My uncle met her in New York whilst he was trying to mend his broken heart. That leaves the task to Zinnia, who for all her faults, is above reproach. And she is revelling in managing Pammy’s coming out, not having had any daughters of her own to present.”
“Oh I see.” Lettice falls silent.
“Even the best families have skeletons buried and black sheep, my Angel.”
“Oh I’m sure all families do.” Lettice takes a bite of her cut scone and contemplates what she will say next. Swallowing hard she takes a deep breath. “Which is why I don’t understand why Zinnia has set against me.”
“Oh not this again, Lettice.” Selwyn says with a little irritation in his voice. He slices his scones with vehemence. “This is neither the time, nor the place.”
“I say, Lettice darling!” Margot pipes up from her side of the table. “What do you think of that idea?”
“What idea is that, Margot darling? I’m afraid that Selwyn and I have been having such an intense conversation that I’m afraid neither of us were listening.”
“I was just suggesting that you might like to come to my coming out ball next month, Miss Chetwynd.” Pamela says with a smile. “I know Selwyn would like it. He’s always talking about you.” She smirks mischievously as she watches her cousin blanch.
“Pammy!” Selwyn manages to splutter.
“And I know, I would. I’d like you and Mr. and Mrs. Channon to come. You are the first guests I have invited to my own coming out ball.”
“Oh that’s so lovely of you, Miss Fox-Chavers, and I’m honoured,” Lettice begins.
“Oh, please don’t say no, Miss Chetwynd!” Pamela implores. “You’re so much more fun than some of the dreary debutantes my Aunt Zinnia insisted we invite, and nicer. There is such jealousy.”
“And that’s why I have to say no, Miss Fox-Chavers. I don’t think your Aunt Zinnia would particularly like me there.” She looks meaningfully, first at Margot, and then more intently and sadly at Selwyn, before turning back to Pamela. “You see, I might be perceived as a threat.”
“How could you be a threat, Miss Chetwynd?” Pamela defends. “You’re so nice, not like some of the girls I’ve come out with, who are positively beastly and frightfully jealous.”
“Well, they might be jealous of me too, if I came to your coming out ball. You see, I’m still an unmarried lady too, and whilst I might not be quite a jeune fille à marier******* at the ripe old age of twenty-two, I may still be a threat to some of them. As you’ve seen, there is an insufficiency of marriageable young bachelors at the balls of your debutante friends, and everyone is fighting over the same potential young men. I’d be perceived as a threat, and that’s why they and your aunt wouldn’t like me there, Miss Fox-Chavers.” She smiles sadly. “But thank you for the thought.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it in quite those terms.” Pamela replies.
“But perhaps, if Selwyn could arrange it discreetly, we could maybe meet for luncheon during the Season,” She looks meaningfully at Selwyn. “Only when and if Miss Fox-Chavers’ social calendar allows it, of course.”
“Yes, I’m sure that can be arranged.” Selwyn replies.
Margot looks quizzically first at Lettice and then at Selwyn, trying to read their body language so that it might give a clue as to what has transpired in the conversation on their side of the table, but both seem to keep their own counsel, much to her irritation and concern.
As Margot resumes her conversation with Pamela, Lettice turns to Selwyn again.
“So, when would it be appropriate, Selwyn?”
“When would what be appropriate?”
“To continue our conversation?” Lettice asks with a strength and steeliness that she didn’t realise she had within her as she sits next to her beau. “If this is neither the time or the place, when and where will it be?”
Selwyn stays silent for a moment as he ruminates on the idea, looking down upon his half eaten scones. “I’ll arrange a private dinner for us over the next few weeks, if that would suit you.”
“It will have to suit me.” she replies. “So if you could arrange that without delay, Selwyn, I’d appreciate it.”
*May 20 1913 saw the first Royal Horticultural Society flower show at Chelsea. What we know today as the Chelsea Flower Show was originally known as the Great Spring Show. The first shows were three day events held within a single marquee. The King and Queen did not attend in 1913, but the King's Mother, Queen Alexandra, attended with two of her children. The only garden to win a gold medal before the war was also in 1913 and was awarded to a rock garden created by John Wood of Boston Spa. In 1919, the Government demanded that the Royal Horticultural Society pay an entertainment tax for the show – with resources already strained, it threatened the future of the Chelsea Flower Show. Thankfully, this was wavered once the Royal Horticultural Society convinced the Government that the show had educational benefit and in 1920 a special tent was erected to house scientific exhibits. Whilst the original shows were housed within one tent, the provision of tents increased after the Great War ended. A tent for roses appeared and between 1920 and 1934, there was a tent for pictures, scientific exhibits and displays of garden design. Society garden parties began to be held, and soon the Royal Horticultural Society’s Great Spring Show became a fixture of the London social calendar in May, attended by society ladies and their debutante daughters, the occasion used to parade the latter by the former. The Chelsea Flower Show, though not so exclusive today, is still a part of the London Season.
**Lucile – Lucy, Lady Duff Gordon was a leading British fashion designer in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries who use the professional name Lucile. She was the originator of the “mannequin parade”, a pre-cursor to the modern fashion parade, and is reported to have been the person to first use the word “chic” which she then popularised. Lucile is also infamous for escaping the Titanic in a lifeboat designed for forty occupants with her husband and secretary and only nine other people aboard, seven being crew members.
***Lucile aimed to make an art of beautiful dressing, and her ‘Dream Dresses’ were faerie tale creations of shimmering silks, gossamer laces, and delicate rainbows of ribbons in soft pastel shades. Influenced by her early designs for lingerie and tea gowns, Lucile’s dresses, which she also referred to as “Gowns of Emotion” were given suitably romantic name, like “Happiness”.
****Etiquette says that scones should always be prised open with the fingers and not cut with a knife, which is an affectation, not unlike holding your little finger in the air when picking up a teacup.
*****A Bolter is old British slang for a woman who ended her marriage by running away with another man.
******As Keeper of the Faith of the Church of England, King George V, just like his predecessors was obliged to follow his faith’s belief in the sanctity of marriage. As it was, he was a very moral person, not unlike his grandmother, Queen Victoria, and he proudly maintained the tradition that no divorcée could be presented to him at court. This is why a decade after this story is set, Wallace Simpson was not presented at court before him. As a twice divorcée, she was barred from the court despite her titled and influential friends and relationship with the Prince of Wales. As Bertrand Fox-Chaver’s divorced first wife, Miranda could not present her daughter, Pamela. And as a divorcée, Bertrand’s second wife Rosalind could not present her step-daughter either. Thus, the task fell to her socially unblemished aunt, Lady Zinnia, Duchess of Walmsford.
*******A jeune fille à marier was a marriageable young woman, the French term used in fashionable circles and the upper-classes of Edwardian society before the Second World War.
This wonderful winter garden in a marquee full of floral arrangements may not be all that you suppose it to be, for in fact it is made up entirely of pieces from my 1:12 size miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The scones on the table have 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. The tea set on the table was made by the Dolls House Emporium and is part of a larger set including plates, tureens and gravy boats. The vase of red roses on the table was also made by the Dolls House Emporium, and was put together by hand.
The Queen Anne dining table, chairs and sideboard were all given to me as birthday and Christmas presents when I was a child.
The busts in the background came from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom.
All the floral arrangements that you see here come from various suppliers, including Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Shop in the United Kingdom, the Doll House Emporium, Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and the Falcon Company, all of whom specialise in high quality, realistic 1:12 miniatures, and they are well known for their floral arrangements. There are also several examples of artisan floral arrangements, made by unknown artists.
The white and pink striped wall of the marquee is in truth one of my hand tailored business shirts which I spread across a cardboard backing. I think it looks quite effective. Don’t you?
