A Lighter View
Duchess over all
By K.E.H. Stagg

April 1, 2010

Few surprises in life are greater than the news of an unexpected inheritance. Most of us not born to wealth don’t expect an unknown godparent to leave us bags of money or, in my case, a pile of stones that barely qualifies under the term “castle” in the British Isles. Through one of those freak hereditary clauses where the title and land passes to the youngest daughter (obviously the result of resentment built by generations of oldest sons getting all!), yours truly is now the Duchess of Notting, a verdant spot in the English countryside northwest of London with a population barely reaching double digits.

The tariffs alone suggest I’d be better off refusing the hereditary peerage, but who can resist the lure of ancient property and indulging in a little pomp and circumstance? Many landowners in ye olde country open their properties for public tours, but from the few pictures I’ve seen, no one’s going to pay one single Euro to look at my pile of crumbling rubble, even though it is surrounded by acres of beautiful farmland and dotted with wooly-looking sheep.

But that’s not the point. The point is that once I’ve paid the death duties and scrawl my signature on a few pieces of parchment, I’m a Duchess! I’ll even be addressed as,“Your Grace,” by the unwashed masses. For those of you who aren’t really up on the echelons of nobility—like me, until recently—a duchess ranks second only to a princess, above a marchioness, countess, viscountess and baroness. Fancy that! Even within duchys, the title is only as valuable as the attached property which, in my case, is negligible.

It’s actually rather amusing to picture myself one of these days wearing a coronet—think, crown “lite”—and an ermine-trimmed robe to the coronation of Prince William of Wales. However, since the length of the robe’s train indicates the significance of its wearer’s rank, it would be more accurate to say I’ll be wearing an ermine-trimmed capelet. And since my noblesse oblige barely qualifies me for admittance, my assigned spot in Westminster cathedral for the crowning of the new king will be at the extreme end of one of the arms in the cross-shaped nave, right up against the wall. I’d have a better seat if I stayed at home and watched it on TV, frankly.

What I’d really like is to transfer my title over to this country and be Duchess of Dillsburg, but I’m told the whole peerage thing doesn’t work like that. Either I’m Duchess of Notting, or nothing; there’s no middle ground.

With today being the first of April, I think it’s safe to state that the Duchess of Notting will remain duchess of nothing for ever and ever. Amen.