Candles burned low in one of the finer sets of rooms at the Albany, current residence of Alfred Fitzwallace, rising junior solicitor, and sensible gentleman. The evening saw the contents of his finest brandy bottles dip low as well while he and two friends bent over the cards on his inlaid walnut table.
So begins a Christmas story I’m sketching out. It occurred to me I ought to have Alf show me around the rooms and the establishment. First of all I learned one ought to say “Albany” as in “in Albany” rather than at the Albany. And yes, the rooms are a “set,” not an apartment. So Alf is privileged to have a set in Albany, or so it should be said. I’m sticking to my original language. It is more comfortable.
He has his set of rooms because he is an unmarried young man with considerable means. Women are not permitted at Albany and the rents are dear. Alf is a rising solicitor with a growing reputation. He is comfortably well off and able to entertain his good friend Edwin, Viscount Ashmead, and their younger acquaintance Daniel Kendrick. Young Kendrick, who may or may not be the heir to the Duke of Glenmoor, is underage and dependent on his father, a wealthy mine owner. The three gentlemen (which you may remember as children in my Ashmead books) are gleefully avoiding family entanglements over the winter holidays by remaining in London.
Albany in 1830
Albany House, the central mansion of the complex, was built in 1771-76 for the first Lord Melbourne, replacing an earlier building. Two service wings were added. Twenty years later, he was forced to sell. Prince Frederick, Duke of York and Albany, son of George III, the next owner, gave his name to the place. By 1802 he was also forced to sell. A group of entrepreneurs converted the house and extensions to 69 sets, correctly guessing there was a market for gentlemen who did not have wives or whose wives remained in the country, but who wanted city residence when parliament was in session.
Some sets were sold; some were rented. Rules were set early. No women. There could be no sale or transfer of chambers without permission of the trustees. No business, profession or trade would be conducted in chambers. No bad publicity was tolerated.
The appeal to fashionable young gentlemen was obvious. The luxurious sets provided independence and less upkeep than a townhouse, while providing servants quarters, security, and creature comforts. The location on the fringes of Mayfair lay steps from Saint James Street and prestigious gentlemen’s clubs such as Whites, Boodles, and Brooks. It was near Parliament, Carlton House, and the more fashionable squares, and not far from Hyde Park, an ideal nest for a man about town.
A typical solicitor would not likely have the funds or cachet for the Albany. Alf, with one uncle a duke and the other an obscenely rich merchant, had no problem.
Would you like to see just how luxurious they are now? Interested in more? Try these:
“Albany,” in British History Online: https://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-london/vols31-2/pt2/pp367-389
“London’s Best and Most Secretive Address,” by Christopher Gibbs (with interactive slide show) The New York Times archive; https://archive.nytimes.com/tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/04/11/londons-best-and-most-secretive-address
“Albany Courtyard,” Historic England: https://historicengland.org.uk/listing/the-list/list-entry/1209755?section=comments-and-photos
“Albany, Piccadilly, Mayfair, London,” Residence Interior Design: https://residenceinteriordesign.com/portfolio/albany-piccadilly-westminster-london-listed/