Day Two: History & Politics
Technically this should have gone up yesterday...
Edward became the 17th Duke of Derwent Dale in 1966 following the deaths of his father and older brother. He is yet to take his place in the House of Lords, however (as of 1976), maintaining that a Peveril's first loyalty is to the Crown rather than to any one political party. It is suspected that behind this statement lie the conflicted beliefs of a lifelong economic Conservative at war with the heart of one with very liberal private habits.
Closer to home, the most vital conflicts occur not in party politics (although some of the younger villagers have been spotted sporting CND badges, or even red rosettes at election times), but in the ever-intensifying rivalry between the Women's Institutes of Upper and Lower Pemberley. This reaches its yearly zenith in the summer months as the Bakewell Show weekend approaches, and with it the annual competition for the Derbyshire Federation of Women's Institutes Grand Trophy. Edward's mother, Kate, is a leading instigator of the Upper Pemberley entry with ever-more-ambitious cakes from her kitchen and an unflagging enthusiasm to recruit new volunteers who can provide other components for the display.
Kate's predecessor as Dowager Duchess and matriarch was somewhat more politically inclines, and most definitely less friendly towards the 'lower orders':
Monday 4th May 1936. Visiting tenants in Upper Pemberley with D-in-law and Sprout. Left Sprout playing with collie pups in Mary Ollerenshaw's kitchen. Returned to find him climbing Village Green trees with younger three Ollerenshaw boys. Resolutions for May: 1. Get George to speak to Ollerenshaw regarding lower branches of said trees. 2. Invite sons of good families to play with Sprout until he starts school in September. 3. Investigate whether really appropriate for Upper Pemberley School to close on May Day.
She was also rather opinionated regarding the family's right to do as they please, regardless or the law:
Friday 13th October 1922. Victor is dead. The damn fool shot himself at half-past two this afternoon: out of sight of the servants and the child, thank God. I can only pray that George, inexperienced as he is, has sufficient influence over the authorities that they will accept the event as a tragic accident. George's young wife will doubtless expect me to move into the Turret House and give her free rein to redecorate the Lodge as she sees fit. London will suit me better: the young people seemed uninterested in reopening Number 17 for the Season, but it will house me well year-round.
Photos show Derbyshire scenes taken around Wingfield Manor, Ashford and Monsal Dale.
Tomorrow morning, Religion and/or magic