A Confession at Cavendish Mews

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 we are in Lettice’s drawing room where Edith, Lettice’s maid, has just shown in Lettice’s new milliner and friend of Gerald’s, Miss Harriet Milford. The orphaned daughter of a solicitor with little formal education, Harriet has taken in theatrical lodgers to earn a living, but more importantly for Lettice, has taken up millinery semi-professionally to give her some pin money*. As Harriet made Lettice a fetching picture hat for her brother Leslie’s wedding in November, Lettice commissioned her to make a new millinery creation for her for the wedding of Lettice’s friend Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon** who is marrying the Duke of York*** in a few days.

Although dressed in a fawn coloured three quarter length morning frock that makes up in functionality what it lacks in fashion, Lettice’s pretty visitor does not seem to feel self-conscious or at all ill at ease in her stylish surroundings as she takes them in with an observant eye. Lettice indicates with an open hand to the chair opposite her own and Harriet elegantly takes a seat and places the rather large round white cardboard hatbox that she brought into the drawing room with her onto the green and gold satin Chippendale stool next to her chair.

“It really was very good of you to come to me, Miss Milford.” Lettice says gratefully as she sinks down into her round Art Deco tub chair.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Chetwynd,” Harriet replies as she smiles across at her hostess. “I’m just trying to demonstrate a little of that professionalism you spoke of when you commissioned me to make the hat.”

“Oh I can assure you, Miss Milford,” Lettice chortles as she pushes the copy of Vogue that she had been reading to the edge of the black japanned coffee table. “You will quickly gain the patronage of every one of Madame Gwendolyn’s clients if you personally deliver every one of your millinery creations to their new owners. Goodness knows she won’t.”

“Oh dear!” Harriet exclaims, raising her bare hands to her cheeks as she blushes. “Have I made another faux pas? I do beg your pardon.”

“Oh not at all, Miss Milford.” Lettice assures her soothingly. “No, your personalised service, if this is something you are prepared to do for your clients, will put you streets ahead of your competition, I assure you.”

“Well,” Harriet breathes a sigh of relief, her shoulders loosening. “Thank goodness for that! Mind you, you are a bit of a special client, Miss Chetwynd.”

“Me?” Lettice asks, raising her well manicured hand to her chest. “How is it that I, of all people, should garner such favour?”

At that moment, Edith enters the drawing room carrying a silver tray which holds Lettice’s elegant Art Deco tea service. Bobbing a courtesy, she unpacks a teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl and two teacups and saucers onto the cleared surface of the coffee table. Assured by Lettice that if she needs anything further she will ring, Edith bobs a second curtsey and leaves.

“Oh, I do so, miss having a parlour maid.” Harriet sighs as she watches Edith’s retreating figure leave the room. “They do make life so much easier when entertaining.”

“Oh yes!” Lettice enthuses. “Edith is such a brick. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Sadly, I suspect that either my father, or more likely I, was swindled by the other gentlemen in father’s partnership. I can’t imagine him dying and leaving me in such an impecunious situation that I can’t even afford to have a maid-of-all work. When Father was alive we had a cook, a tweeny and a parlour maid.”

“Then your belated father’s partners are no gentlemen, if you don’t mind me saying, my dear Miss Milford.”

“Indeed I don’t. They are however solicitors and lawyers, and I must confess that much of what they spoke to me about in the days following Father’s funeral bamboozled me.”

“Well, I’m hardly surprised by that, Miss Milford. You’re certainly a smart woman, and capable too, but legalise, well,” Lettice tuts and shakes her head. “That is quite another language indeed, and one peddled by a certain type of lawyer and solicitor to swindle, rather than assist those in a less fortunate situation.”

“Evidently I may be smart, but I’m not capable of keeping a neat home.” Harriet admits. “And that’s why you are a rather special client, Miss Chetwynd. I didn’t want to subject you to the indignity of having you collect your hat from my front parlour, which I will confess is still just as untidy as the last time you saw it. I just don’t seem to be able to keep on top of the housework along with all the other duties of running a boarding house, not that my tenants are particularly handy with a mop, dustpan or broom either.”

Lettice feels a pang of guilt as Harriet speaks, and she remembers the conversation she had not a few short weeks ago in this very room wit Gerald about the shoddy way in which she treated the young lady the last time they met.

“Yes, well about that, Miss Milford.” Lettice begins, the words catching awkwardly in her throat as she speaks.

“About what, Miss Chetwynd?” Harriet asks, looking up with innocent eyes to her hostess sitting across the black japanned coffee table.

“Look, I don’t know how else to say this, but I think I was rather unjust to you when we last saw one another. I shouldn’t have been so critical of your housekeeping skills.”

“No! No, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet defends her. “You did right to upbraid me. I need to be told things that will impact or restrict the success I strive for.”

“No. I was wrong for being quite so critical, Miss Milford. It didn’t come from a place of kindness or good will. It was ungallant of me, and I was unjust to you.”

“Did Gerry put you up to this?” Harriet asks warily.

“Yes… well no… well yes and no.”

Harriet huffs and smacks the top of the hatbox in her lap in frustration. “Goodness, I can’t trust him, can I? Just because I said…”

Lettice’s hands held out, palms facing outwards silence Harriet.

“Please, Miss Milford, don’t be cross with Gerald.” Lettice pleads. “He did the right thing by pulling me up and admonishing me. You see, Gerald and I are like brother and sister, and he knows me far too well, and what my propensities can be, especially when I feel threatened.”

“Threatened? Miss Chetwynd..”

“That last time I saw you, I behaved like a prig. I was overly critical. In fact, if I’m being truthful, which I am now going to be, even though I suspect you may despise me after the fact, I was looking to find fault, in even the smallest of trivialities.”

“But why, Miss Chetwynd?”

“Because I felt threatened by you.” Lettice looks guiltily across at Harriet. “Because I felt jealous of you, and your relationship with Gerald. I wanted to prove myself to be better than you.” She looks down sadly into her lap. “And in doing so, I made myself look worse than you, in Gerald’s eyes.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true, Miss Chetwynd.”

“I can assure you it is, Miss Milford. You know how adroit our Gerald is. He told me that from your account, which I’m sure was kinder than I deserve, that I sounded pompous, and I know that I was being pompous and mean spirited and far worse.”

“Because you are jealous of me?”

Lettice nods remorsefully.

“But I thought we had all that out already, Miss Chetwynd, the day you collected the hat I made you for your brother’s wedding last year. I told you the last thing I want to do is intrude on your friendship with Gerry, nor usurp you in his affections. I promise you, I’m not a threat.”

“I know, but even though I said I believed you, I lied. I didn’t believe you, and I unjustly wanted to find fault in you and punish you for what I now know, and in truth probably knew then, to be for no good reason. I was being spiteful.” She looks directly into Harriet’s placid face. “And I know now that I was very wrong to do that, and that I hurt you in the process, Miss Milford, intentionally. And I sincerely apologise.”

A silence falls heavily between the two of them.

“I believe, Miss Milford that now is the time for you to behave like the leading ladies who sometimes hang off the arms of your theatrical boarders, and make a scene by throwing a fit before storming out.”

Harriet laughs, a burst of genuine delight cascading from her pretty pert lips. “Oh Miss Chetwynd, you overestimate both my ability for and enjoyment of melodramas. I am very far from theatrical, so there will be no fits of temper, at least not from me, a fact for which you may be grateful.”

“You are far nicer to me than I deserve, Miss Milford. I’ve been a beast, and here you are, as smiling and civilised as ever.”

“My Father once told me that in his profession as a lawyer, you see the very best and the very worst in human nature, and that when you are faced with the latter, you should always channel the former so that you have nothing to reproach yourself with. I don’t know if I wholly agree with his holier than thou approach, but then again, he was a man of very black and white opinions, however in spite of all you have told me, Miss Chetwynd, you haven’t diminished in my esteem.”

“Then I really don’t deserve to know you, for you must surely be a saint.”

“Not at all, Miss Chetwynd. I may not admire you for your misjudgement of me, but I admire your truth and honesty, even if it took a nudge from Gerry for you to be so. You told me that we would never be bosom friends****, and nor do I want you to be one. However, I do honestly think that I can gain a great deal from you. As I noted, we both are trying to establish names for ourselves, albeit in different areas, and as women in a male dominated world, I think I would value your dispassionate and truthful opinion as I make my way in it.” She pauses. “That is if you can move on from this silly and unfounded jealously, Miss Chetwynd.”

“I think I could manage that.”

“Good!” Harriet sighs. “Well, now that we have that bit of business out of the way, perhaps we might move on to the business that I came here today to transact.” She pats the top of the plain cardboard hatbox and cocks an eyebrow at Lettice.

“I’ll just ring for Edith to fetch the hatstand from my dressing table.”

A short while later, with the hatstand fetched, Harriet presents Lettice with the hatbox.

“Me, Miss Milford?”

“I think that since this is your hat, you should have the honour of unveiling it, Miss Chetwynd.”

“And if I don’t like it?” Lettice asks earnestly, looking into her companion’s placidly smiling face.

“I don’t think we need to worry about that occurring, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet’s lips curl up just a little bit more at the edges of her mouth as she speaks.

“Good.” Lettice agrees. “It’s vital as a woman in business to believe in your product.”

“See, Miss Chetwynd,” Harriet says. “Such wise advice from one businesswoman to another.”

Lettice lifts the lid off the round hatbox and drops it at her feet. Faced with a froth of white tissue paper, she carefully unfolds it, the paper whispering noisily beneath her fingers. She delves her fingers in until she feels the firmness of a satin covered brim beneath her hand, and grasping it, she foists the hat free, the tissue paper cascading to the ground around her. Lettice casts the hatbox aside and places the hat on the hatstand. With her left index finger and thumb pinching her chin, she contemplates the hat with a considered look, sighing with satisfaction.

“A deeply crowned hat with a wide, poke style brim.” Harriet gesticulates around the hat’s edges without actually touching it. “Stiffened of course.” she adds. “I know I had suggested from the outset that it should be made of apricot felt, but really for a Royal wedding, I felt satin was called for. And, as we discussed, I have edged it with the thinnest trim of white lace and ornamented the crown with creamy orange taffeta roses and ribbons. What do you think, Miss Chetwynd?”

“Honestly, Miss Milford,” Lettice replies. “I think it is perfect!”

“I’m so pleased you think so, Miss Chetwynd.” Harriet replies with a proud smile.

*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.

**Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, as she was known at the beginning of 1923 when this story is set, went on to become Queen of the United Kingdom and the Dominions from 1936 to 1952 as the wife of King George VI. Whilst still Duke of York, Prince Albert initially proposed to Elizabeth in 1921, but she turned him down, being "afraid never, never again to be free to think, speak and act as I feel I really ought to". He proposed again in 1922 after Elizabeth was part of his sister, Mary the Princess Royal’s, wedding party, but she refused him again. On Saturday, January 13th, 1923, Prince Albert went for a walk with Elizabeth at the Bowes-Lyon home at St Paul’s, Walden Bury and proposed for a third and final time. This time she said yes. The wedding took place on April 26, 1923 at Westminster Abbey.

***Prince Albert, Duke of York, known by the diminutive “Bertie” to the family and close friends, was the second son of George V. Not only did Bertie propose to Elizabeth in 1921, but also in March 1922 after she was a bridesmaid at the wedding of Albert’s sister, Princess Mary to Viscount Lascelles. Elizabeth refused him a second time, yet undaunted Bertie pursued the girl who had stolen his heart. Finally, in January 1923 she agreed to marry him in spite of her misgivings about royal life.

****The term bosom friend is recorded as far back as the late Sixteenth Century. In those days, the bosom referred to the chest as the seat of deep emotions, though now the word usually means a woman’s “chest.” A bosom friend, then, is one you might share these deep feelings with or have deep feelings for.

Contrary to popular belief, fashion at the beginning of the Roaring 20s did not feature the iconic cloche hat as a commonly worn head covering. Although invented by French milliner Caroline Reboux in 1908, the cloche hat did not start to gain popularity until 1922, so even though this story is set in that year, picture hats, a hangover from the pre-war years, were still de rigueur in fashionable society and whilst Lettice is fashionable, she and many other fashionable women still wore the more romantic picture hat. This included Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the future Queen of Great Britain and Queen Mother, and she maintained her romantic style all her life using soft colours and often wide brimmed hats. Although nowhere near as wide, heavy, voluminous or as ornate as the hats worn by women between the turn of the Twentieth Century and the Great War, the picture hats of the 1920s were still wide brimmed, although they were generally made of straw or some lightweight fabric and were decorated with a more restrained touch.

This 1920s upper-class drawing room is different to what you may think at first glance, for it is made up entirely of 1:12 size dollhouse miniatures.

Fun things to look for in this tableau include:

Central to our story, the beautiful hat made by Harriet with it’s soft peach colour, romantic wide brim and soft satin rose trim. 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. The hat stand the hat rests on is also part of Marilyn Bickel’s collection.

The Vogue magazine from 1923 sitting on the coffee table reflects the prevailing style for romantic hats and soft colours of the time and was made by hand by Petite Gite Miniatures in the United States. Lettice’s tea set is a beautiful artisan set featuring a rather avant-garde Art Deco Royal Doulton design from the Edwardian era.

Lettice’s drawing room is furnished with beautiful J.B.M. miniatures. The Art Deco tub chairs are of black japanned wood and have removable cushions, just like their life sized examples. To the left of the fireplace is a Hepplewhite drop-drawer bureau and chair of black japanned wood which has been hand painted with chinoiserie designs, even down the legs and inside the bureau. The Hepplewhite chair has a rattan seat, which has also been hand woven. To the right of the fireplace is a Chippendale cabinet which has also been decorated with chinoiserie designs. It also features very ornate metalwork hinges and locks.

On the top of the Hepplewhite bureau stand three real miniature photos in frames including an Edwardian silver frame, a Victorian brass frame and an Art Deco blue Bakelite and glass frame.

The fireplace is a 1:12 miniature resin Art Deco fireplace which is flanked by brass accessories including an ash brush with real bristles.

On the left hand side of the mantle is an Art Deco metal clock hand painted with wonderful detail by British miniature artisan Victoria Fasken.

In the middle of the mantle is a miniature artisan hand painted Art Deco statue on a “marble” plinth. Made by Warwick Miniatures in England, it is a 1:12 copy of the “Theban Dancer” sculpture created by Claire-Jeanne-Roberte Colinet in 1925.

The carpet beneath the furniture is a copy of a popular 1920s style Chinese silk rug, and the geometric Art Deco wallpaper is beautiful hand impressed paper given to me by a friend, which inspired the whole “Cavendish Mews – Lettice Chetwynd” series.

Posted by raaen99 on 2023-04-23 06:39:17

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