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Barsetshire in the war years. Miss Bunting, governess of choice to generations of Barsetshire aristocracy, has been coaxed out of retirement by Sir Robert and Lady Fielding to tutor their daughter Anne, delicate, sixteen years old, and totally lacking in confidence.
When Anne makes friends with Heather Adams, the gauche daughter of a nouveau riche entrepreneur, her mother is appalled. Miss Bunting, however, shows an instinctive understanding of the younger generation - perhaps, having lost so many of her former pupils to the war, she is more sympathetic to their needs. She may be a part of the old social order, where everyone knows their place, but is wise enough to realise that the war has turned everything on its head and nothing will ever be the same again - even in rural Barsetshire.
First published in 1945, Miss Bunting is a charming social comedy of village life during the Second World War.
277 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1945
"...Jane Gresham, who felt as the FieldingsWhile I understand this feeling, not being from that time and place I cannot truly sympathise & can only hope that the light humour I enjoy so much will continue in the rest of the series.
did that another piece of the pre-war world had
gone and the tide of a Brave and Horrible New
World was lapping at her feet."
It appeared, not to put too fine a point upon it, that to Mr Adams’s mind Mrs Merivale and her daughters were not quite good enough for his daughter. The terrifying and to her almost unexplored hierarchy of the great mass of English people rose before her with all its gins and snares. Belonging as she did to a level upon which the Duke of Omnium at one end and, say, Robin Dale, the crippled schoolmaster, at the other, were in essentials equal, being, though a duke was always a duke, gentlemen, she had never really troubled to conceive the gradations, far greater than those between peer and private gentleman, which seamed and rent the sub-middle classes. Evidently Mr Adams, while not wishing to conceal his humble beginnings, considered himself and even more his daughter, a good deal above Mrs Merivale and her daughters.
But the Merivale girls would far more likely marry well than Heather Adams, for all her brains and her father’s money, and that Mrs Merivale would, if unconsciously, realize. Mr Adams, she felt, could not realize it, and she would be sorry for the person who tried to explain it to him.