East with the Light: Netherfield Park is let at last!

I am generally aware the 1995 BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice is superior to all others, mainly because it was a) the longest and therefore could be truer to the book and b) because it had Colin Firth in it. But, I found the 2005 adaptation to be a visually stunning movie, in spite of Keira Knightly's anachronistic bangs and face. Additionally, I showed that film to three of my Drama classes (and maybe a few of the English ones as well) when I was teaching high school, which means I've seen a gazillion times. So when I think about Netherfield Park or Rosings or Pemberley or Longbourn, I see those places. So when I found out while in Berkshire that I was staying less than three miles away from Basildon Park AKA Netherfield Park (the leased country house of Mr. Bingley), I had to go.

I considered walking there, but it was raining and I, unlike Jane Bennett, did not have a scheming mother wishing me to catch cold and be forced to convalesce at Netherfield. Of course, as soon as I got on the bus, the sun came out. Basildon Park (like Netherfield Park) wasn't the country seat of a high-level aristocrat, it was just an extravagant undertaking by an East India Company nabob, Sir Francis Sykes, who made a killing screwing people over in Bengal and needed a big place to show off. Actually, that part of Berkshire was known as "Little Hindoostan" because of all the EIC creeps like Warren Hastings built their big mansions there. Sykes never even finished it, though, because half-way through the political tide turned against his EIC ilk and he lost a lot of money and respect. So, it was sold off as a place to be let as a kind of starter home for recently be-fortuned men (like Mr. Bingley), but those type of people disappeared by the end of the 19th century, and the house fell into disrepair. A lot of the molding got sold off to various places including the Waldorf-Astoria. In WWI, it was requisitioned as a convalescent home for officers (ala Downton Abbey). A Lord and Lady Iliffe (minor aristocracy) purchased it and restored and modernized it, and after they had poured all their money into it, gave it, like many houses like it, to the National Trust, who now whores it out to visitors like me, and to film production companies.

A view as you come up the long drive.

A clever way to keep people off the furniture: pine cones.

Two things I would like: 1) a bookstand on a Lazy Boy and 2) a statue head as a book end.

The round drawing room, where the ladies can relax and take a turn about the room.

I love this baby so much. Looks like a Cabbage Patch Kid.

The luxurious commode.

This was in what was called "The Shell Room." The walls, furniture, and all decorations were made of tiny little sea shells. I think I spent more time in this room than any other. Evidently the Lady Iliffe was a sea shell fanatic.

Some of these shells are the size of a grain of rice or pearl barley.

An attempt to impress school children, I suppose. And no, I checked, there weren't any good notes left.

In the 1950s model kitchen, I found many treasures. This was one of many cabinets filled with jello molds.

Fancy picnic hamper for serious picnicking.

Some views from the back garden.

Photo bomb.

The herbacious border

I lingered creepily for many minutes waiting for this person to leave so that I could steal her seat, but she never did.....so I had to take a picture instead.