“An old woman of infinite wealth was forgiven an infinite number of whims. Lady Anstruther-Jones was of the latter class of character. Hortense had been concubine to an Oriental prince, favorite in a sultan’s harem, and first wife to a tribal chieftain before marrying her India nabob viscount. Or else she’d been a vicar’s daughter from Devon. No one seemed to recall, or care. With Anstruther-Jones gone to his final reward, the lady was finally able to indulge herself. Now she was titled an Origi...nal. Her notions of gracious entertaining, for example, were an eclectic blend of rites and rituals from any number of ancient societies, or guidebooks. One never wore shoes in her house. Silk slippers were offered to guests in the entry hall in summer, thick woolen socks from Yorkshire mills in winter. Granted, the lady had white fur rugs, but the rule held for the bare-floors areas, too. And no one sat on chairs. Guests couldn’t, for none were available, only thick cushions. Ladies as well as gentlemen were invited, nay, encouraged to smoke, as their hostess was never without a long pipe carved out of ivory.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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I have not had the opportunity to read this one yet, but I read Father Christmas. I like her style of writing and her sense of humor. It would be wonderful to read more of her books. It makes good reading.
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