Polesden Lacey seems to appear out of nowhere. One moment, you’re pootling the tree-lined, semi-suburban streets of Great Bookham in Surrey. The very next, you’re abruptly turning in under the low, lemon-and-white-painted arch of the lodge and sailing down a long drive towards what Elizabeth, the Queen Mother once described as a ‘delicious house,’ with parkland rolling away to either side of you. Perhaps it was the effects of the low January sunlight, shining straight into our eyes on the day of our visit, perhaps it was the fairytale feeling of the landscaped gardens, but the feeling of having suddenly slipped into another world never quite left us…..

The last owner of Polesden Lacey was the Edwardian society hostess Margaret Greville, who gave the house to the National Trust shortly before her death and the rooms now tell her rather extraordinary story. Born in the 1860s, Margaret was the illegitimate child of William McEwan, an Edinburgh brewer, and Helen Anderson. In an interesting move, McEwan sent Helen to London to have her baby, accompanied by one of his employees, a William Murray Anderson (having the same surname would ensure that there were no raised eyebrows when the birth was registered). McEwan eventually married Helen, although Margaret was twenty-one by the time he did and shortly after, got married herself, to the Hon. Captain Ronald Greville, an heir to a baronetcy and a friend of the future Edward VII.

‘Ronnie wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box,’ a volunteer at the house explained to us, ‘but he was from an old family and Maggie had a lot of money and they were very fond of each other.’ Ah, romance. A photograph of him on the Polesden Lacey website shows him looking pretty dastardly, in an Errol Flynn sort of a way, so I don’t think he was without his charms!

Ronnie and Maggie lived in Mayfair and bought Polesden Lacey as a weekend retreat in 1906, hiring the same architects who’d recently spruced up the Ritz to overhaul their new house. Sadly, Ronnie died of pneumonia in 1908, shortly before the house was complete. A year later, Margaret launched herself back into society and gave the first of many, many legendary house parties. Edward VII attended, as did his wife, Queen Alexandra, his mistress, Alice Keppel, and her husband, George. I’m assuming Maggie must have inherited her father’s head for logistics in keeping things running smoothly with these four under one roof.

The house itself is long and low, built of ochre stone, with teal shutters and white painted trim. A white timber bell-tower rises above the central portico and creepers twine about the walls. Beyond the house, the gardens fall steeply away into a valley, with fields and woods rising on the other side. On the day we visited, hazy sun shone, giving the landscape an ethereal feeling.

The first thing you notice about Polesden Lacey is that everything is set up for maximum comfort. You can imagine pulling up to the front door on a winter’s evening. Arriving in a warm car, rugs over your knees, you’re ushered through the door and into the wood-panelled reception hall, porters whisking your cases away, a roaring fire going in the huge grate and drinks being provided almost immediately. The entrance feels like the epitome of warmth and luxury and this feeling extends to the rest of the house. No expense seems to have been spared in Maggie’s renovations of the house; she had her own private lift installed, an entire suite of rooms was set up specifically for Edward VII and one room, known as the ‘Gold Room Saloon,’ is entirely gilded. Because, you know, if you can - why NOT?!

In keeping with the theme of comfort, there doesn’t seem to have been much hanging around at Polesden Lacey. The entrance hall gives straight onto the dining room and, behind a hidden door in said dining room, is an entrance straight into the kitchen. No chance for the food to get cold on its way to the kitchen then - Maggie had her priorities right when it came to feeding her guests! And what guests she had. Group photographs of various house parties and Margaret’s own lists of her guests show that she entertained everyone from royalty and heads of state to diplomats, scientists, writers, sports stars and celebrities, as well as common or garden aristocracy. If you were anyone in Edwardian society, you’d probably get an invite to Maggie's for dinner.

Looking at these guest lists, I was reminded of just how many political and policy decisions must have been made behind closed doors in luxurious country houses between the wars - I was definitely reminded of Kazuo Ishiguro’s ‘The Remain’s of the Day,’ (and now I wonder whether Polesden Lacey was an inspiration for Ishiguro, since he grew up in Guildford, only a stone’s throw away and presumably knew/knows the house).

What really struck me though, about these lists of guests is the relationship between the society hostess and the women who came to stay at her house. Maggie (and her contemporaries) would have had the opportunity to give other women an equal footing with men at the dinner table, create connections and facilitate introductions. Granted, many of these women would have moved in the same social circles as their male counterparts in the party and, in the case of women such as Lady Sarah Wilson, the first female war reporter, who sent back missives from the Boer War (someone get me a biography NOW!), would have had their own careers and connections. However, I’m not sure where else a female pro-tennis player (I forget her name!) might have come into close proximity with Rudyard Kipling other than around the dinner table at a country house weekend and I’m fascinated by the idea that Margaret and other Edwardian hostesses might have been able to create an environment where other women and their interests could be advanced. In putting guest lists together, they also had a great deal of control over associations. I suppose it was ever thus, but it struck me particularly hard here.

More tangible evidence of Maggie’s support for other women is found in her relationships with her staff members; she often employed female chefs at the house and she was close not only to her housekeeper, the elegant Diana Davidson, but also to her personal maid, Adeline Liron, whom she referred to as ‘The Archduchess,’ and who was the recipient not only of a monthly sum of fifty pounds (two thousand pounds in today’s money) in Margaret’s will, but also some of her incredible jewellery collection.

On a side note, Margaret’s own girl gang was also pretty impressive; she remained friends with both Alice Keppel and Queen Alexandra and went on to be friends with Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, who not only spent her honeymoon at Polesden Lacey in 1921, but was also bequeathed the rest of Maggie’s jewellery - see Princess Beatrice’s wedding day tiara for just one example! Margaret was well acquainted with Violet Bonham Carter, Violet Trefusis and Vita Sackville West, although in person, she seems to have been quite divisive. Sackville West’s husband, the diarist Harold Nicolson noted that ‘she is nothing more than a fat slug, filled with venom,’ whereas the writer Osbert Sitwell stated that ‘as for myself, she was a never failing friend.’

Fairytale woods in the grounds of Polesden Lacey

Even with the beautiful gardens and endlessly intriguing story of Maggie, one of my favourite parts of the visit was noting how many dogs turned up in the numerous photographs of the house and its inhabitants. Group pictures of house parties show Margaret, front and centre, holding court with a terrier on her lap. There are photographs of maids hugging puppies and of enormous dogs resting their shaggy heads on the knees of seated officers (Polesden Lacey was turned into a convalescent hospital during the First World War).

Perhaps my favourite picture however is a solemn shot of four of the most important men of the house, in neat tails and starched collars - the head Valet, the head Chauffeur and the two Butlers, Bole and Bacon (one lean and mean-looking, one round and distinguished). They stand, upright and regal, against one wall of the house. And, in the background, where he definitely shouldn’t be, the back half of a scruffy lurcher can be seen sniffing around in the gravel, impervious to the photographic record of important men being made in front of him. Polesden Lacey is a delightful place to visit. It’s beautiful, it’s intriguing, it’s full of social history and stories and you’ll definitely come away inspired. Even if it’s just to see more houses, learn more about Edwardian history, read more biographies and get a dog!