'The Duke's Daughter' is obviously a reference to Trollope's 'The Duke's Children' , and it might be easier to enjoy if the reader were familiar with at least Trollope's Barsetshire and Palliser books, since this particular novel weaves in and out of the places and among the characters of Barchester, Silverbridge, Hogglestock and their environs.
Again we are faced with an enormous list of actors, some of whom are descendents of Trollope's equally imposing casts, along with new Thirkellian-born people like Mrs Morland and her followers. Although the books are all independent of each other, people in them grow up, marry, face war, have children, and die, there are frequent allusions to them or their children in all the books, even if they do not make a personal appearance. Just as Griselda Grantly, the little daughter of Archdeacon Grantly, grows up to marry Lord Dumbello and makes her grand exit as the Marchioness of Hartletop across half a dozen of Trollope's books, while actually getting a kind of speaking part in only one of them, so too do the characters of Thirkell's books flit in and out without ever playing a major role in any of them.
There is no definable plot in these later novels. Most of them deal with the fallout of the war and its effects on the former landed gentry, now crippled by grief with the death or worse of sons and daughters, burdened with enormous taxes on the houses they live in which are practically uninhabitable thanks to labour shortages and a cruel rise in the cost of living. Young men and women who returned from the front find it hard to adjust to civilian life. Worst of all, they are unemployed and unemployable, the new world having no use for a classical education.
Four couples get married without fuss, but deeply in love, and then it looks as if life has some joy after all. News about similar couples from the past fill the pages, but the real delight is the number of new babies that come as if to replace the lost ones.
It helps to appreciate Thirkell's books to read a couple of the earlier ones, where the roll call is less diffuse, and the characters are drawn so clearly that they define all the others in the huge numbers that people the later books. Also, Thirkell's great humour and brilliant wit are more evident in the years before the war, or even during the early years, when the war was simply a nuisance, to brushed off like a gnat at a garden party. After the war, the novels show less resilience, and glom on about the end of civilisation. Thirkell, herself a member of the educated landowning class, and with a normally sunny outlook, hated what was happening around her, and the fact that she had no control over the changes.
But it is precisely these changes that she documents with that sharp clear gaze that still holds a glint of sardonic derision, especially at the Government (They, Them, Their). Coming as she did from a highly cultured family, with Royal Academicians and a winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in her immediate family, Thirkell's own writing sparkles with references from Greek and Latin classics, as well as quotations from English (and Scottish, Irish and Welsh) poets, some horrendously obscure, and even, to do her credit, music hall favourites.