Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor (4 page)

After breakfast my first job was to take Miss Ann to school. Generally the chauffeur would drive us in the car, or if it wasn’t available I’d take her by taxi. When I got back I was, as it were, at Miss Patricia’s beck and call. Whatever she wanted to do, I did. I’d go shopping with her or take her to the Aeolian Hall where she had her piano lessons and often used to practise in the studios. I would listen to her playing by the hour. It gave me a knowledge of and taste for classical music. When I say knowledge I wouldn’t know the names of the pieces or the composers but when I hear them being played on the radio I can recall and enjoy them. It’s the sort of nostalgia that other people get from hearing the popular tunes of the times. I would sometimes go to concerts with her too.

Shopping was easy from Chesterfield Gardens. It was within walking distance of Bond Street, Piccadilly and Oxford Street, though we only used Selfridge’s or Marshall & Snelgrove in Oxford Street. The other shops weren’t considered smart enough at that time. But buying was easy. The Tuftons had accounts everywhere so money never changed hands, except for little things. Sometimes we’d just go for a walk in the park. It was like Mary and her little lamb, me being the little lamb. Yet in fact I wasn’t really supposed to be a lamb – more of a watchdog. I was there to protect her, not that I ever had to, but I suppose my presence was a deterrent. I was also there so that she wouldn’t do anything rash or untoward. You might think that as my mistress she could have pleased herself what she did, but by the rules of society she couldn’t; she mustn’t demean herself in front of a servant. I’m not saying she would have, but my being there made it impossible. I suppose if she had broken the rules it would have been my duty to have told her mother, as I should have done, not directly of course – that was not my place – but if her ladyship had heard about it by gossip or hearsay she’d have said, ‘Did Miss Patricia do so and so, while you were with her yesterday?’ and I would have been bound to answer truthfully, not so much from conscience but because if I hadn’t I’d have been dismissed on the spot with no reference, which would have meant that my next job would have been hard, if not impossible, to come by.

My relationship with Miss Patricia isn’t easy for me to describe. We weren’t friends, though if she was asked today she might well deny this. We weren’t even acquaintances. We never exchanged confidences, never discussed people, nothing we said brought us loser; my advice might be asked about clothes or bits of shopping, but my opinions were never sought or given on her music or the people we met or on anything that was personal to either of us, nor did I expect it or miss it at that time. That was the accepted way of things. It was different with Miss Ann: she was younger and as she grew up was more open with me, that is until she went to finishing school in Switzerland. When she came back her attitude was the same as her sister’s. We met again almost as strangers. Our relationship grew, but it was set in a different key; very much a minor one.

Whenever I wasn’t with Miss Patricia I was kept busy at home. Clothes had to be repaired, cleaned and pressed. I didn’t have to wash any of their things. All personal laundry was done at one of their country houses, Appleby Castle; it was sent and delivered weekly. It might be thought that pressing would have come easily to me having watched and sometimes helped Mum in her work, but she dealt only with lingerie. I had to learn how to iron the various materials their frocks and suits were made of and how to clean them if they became stained. Dry-cleaning was more of a last resort in those days; it was generally considered to be harmful.

As well as repairing clothes I made quite a lot of underlinen. Material would be sent from France and Miss Emms and I would make it up into pants, slips, petticoats and vests. Underwear was very different in those days, none of the flimsy bras and knickers you get now. Bust bodices, camisoles and petticoats were much more the vogue and corsets were worn from quite a young age – made and fitted personally of course.

Late in the afternoon I’d fetch Miss Ann home from school. She would then have to change and be made presentable to go down into the drawing-room to see her mother. Then Miss Patricia would have to be dressed for the evening and there would be more tidying up to be done. If Miss Patricia went out for the evening to the theatre, a concert, a ball or a reception, I was not called upon to go with her. Generally she would join a party and the hostess would be responsible for her. If not, a suitable escort or chaperone would be found for her by Lady Ierne.

Of course if she ever went away to visit I would accompany her and so it was that I learnt that very difficult art of packing. I say difficult, because by that I mean that while it’s not hard to fill a case tidily, it is far from easy to pack it so that when you arrive at your destination you can take the things out in the same condition that you put them in – so that they are not creased, but ready to wear. I was taught some of this by Miss Emms, but there was a lot more that I had to learn by experience. Choosing what to take wasn’t easy – mistresses before they leave are apt to be a bit hasty and short with you, with their ‘Oh, the usual things, you know what I like,’ or ‘I’ll leave it to you, Rose,’ but when you get to the other end and you haven’t brought what they want it’s a very different story, and you are to blame. I soon learnt to be relentless in my questions to them. Of course you could always send for what they wanted, but more often than not by the time it arrived it was too late or they found they didn’t want it at all. Whenever we moved to Appleby Castle after the London season, almost the entire wardrobes would have to be packed and since we travelled by train it would be my responsibility to look after them. I’m proud to say that during my thirty-five years of service I never lost a piece. An interesting thing about those days was that ladies almost always travelled with their own pillow and some insisted on having their own bed linen, even if they were away for just one night.

A disadvantage about being a lady’s maid was that I could never rely on having time off so I could rarely make any plans. This meant of course that an outside social life was out of the question. I couldn’t have a steady boyfriend because he would never have put up with the haphazard hours. I didn’t miss one. In a way I suppose I was a career girl. I wanted to learn my job, to get on. The thrill of discovering London was an excitement for me in my early years there. I enjoyed the theatre and the cinema, and the busyness of the West End with its shops and people was sufficient thrill for the raw country girl that I was. There was fun to be had in the house too for although we were all kept working we were a happy lot, and we’d break off at any time to make our own fun. The staff was almost all female, the war had seen to that. Practically every available man had been conscripted. There were a cook and two others in the kitchen, four parlourmaids, three housemaids, two ladies’ maids – Miss Emms and myself – and a chauffeur; we didn’t even have an odd job man. Nor was there a butler; his duties fell on the head parlourmaid, and Major Tufton’s valeting was done by the second parlourmaid. The set-up would have seemed very strange to me a few years later, but then I accepted it because I knew no better. It was very much a time of women’s lib below stairs.

When we went to Appleby Castle the staff was augmented. Then there were two chauffeurs, two odd men, four in the pantry (parlourmaids), four kitchen-maids and four housemaids. There were also the caretakers who looked after the place all the year round, and a number of gardeners. The terraced gardens that ran down to the river Eden were a beautiful feature of the place. Hothfield Place, although lovely, was seldom visited, but again there were permanent caretakers and gardeners. It was of course part of their estate and entailed, so therefore it had to be kept up. Since there were practically no men on the staff the discipline in the servants’ hall was not so formal. ‘Pug’ was the name given to upper servants by the lower. I don’t know how or when it originated, but according to Mum it was in use in my grandmother’s time. The Pugs’ Parlour was a sitting-room-cum-dining-room used by butlers or head parlourmaids, cooks, housekeepers, valets and ladies’ maids. During my time in service meals were taken there by the senior staff at all times, but before the First War it was the custom that at luncheon they would have their first courses in the servants’ hall with the butler presiding at the head of the table and the other servants seated in order of precedence, and then take their sweet course and coffee in the Pugs’ Parlour. They were always waited on by the hall boy, odd man or under-parlourmaid.

I suppose the attitude towards our behaviour and conversation could be described as pernickity. I think that it was easier to accept the procedure when there were menservants and the butler was in charge. That was how the tradition had started. It wasn’t the same somehow without them. Of course when I visited with Miss Patricia I went to houses where men had returned from the war. At first I found these servants’ halls rather frightening. There was an awful silence during a meal but I soon found out that some sort of conversation would be taking place between the sexes by the playing of footsy-footsy under the table. The blushes and the occasional giggles gave this away.

But I don’t want to give the impression that we were kept under. The staff at the Tuftons’ was one of the happiest I ever knew or saw, and when we all went up to Appleby Castle we adopted a real festive spirit. In a way we looked on it as our holiday too. We got more time off and we’d spend it enticing the boys of the village away from the local girls. We went to all the dances for miles around. I suppose we were looked upon as sophisticated misses down from the big city. We were an attractive set, although I say it. I was the only one who didn’t get married but I was partial to the boys and they seemed to be to me, and I was later engaged for nine years. All right, in those days long engagements were normal, but this got ridiculous. We hardly ever saw each other, so it was severed by mutual agreement. Even the cook there brought it off and that is saying something in her particular case. Gladys, the second parlourmaid, married the Mayor of Appleby’s son, and mayors were considered something in those days. It was thought of as a big social coup in the servants’ hall. Social coup it may have been for Gladys; it was one of another kind for the mayor’s son. After their marriage he bought a large hotel in the area which together they managed and have continued to run most successfully. I reckon her time and training in service proved an invaluable help to him as it did to a lot of husbands in more ordinary homes. Nowadays most wives learn how to run a house by trial and error and in my opinion it is the errors that cause the rift in many a lute.

Marriage was the goal of nearly every woman servant. It wasn’t easy for them. After the war men were scarce, the demand far outweighed the supply and a maid’s limited and irregular time off was an added disadvantage. Then there was the having to be back by ten o’clock which made every date like Cinderella’s ball, only you didn’t lose your slipper, you could lose your job. There was no status in being in service, you were a nobody; marriage was the way out of it. Strangely there was not a lot of intermarriage between servants. I remember a footman who worked for Lord and Lady Astor marrying Grace, the second housemaid. It wasn’t very lucky for her, or for him either, because later he was shot and killed by a guardsman.

My ambition to travel was now being fulfilled but only in a small way and confined to Britain, places like Glen Tanar at Aboyne in Scotland, the home of Lord and Lady Glentanar; Glenakil, Tarbert, Loch Fyne to visit Lady Illona Campbell, the girls’ aunt, Lady Mary Cambridge’s house just after she was married near Ashby de la Zouch, in Leicestershire, and some of the Irish houses, though at the time there was a lot of violence there. I remember when we were staying with the Marchioness of Aberdeen in Shelbourne Place in Dublin, Harry Tufton’s car was stolen from outside the house and thrown into the river Liffey. Another time when the Sinn Feiners were picketing the shops, I volunteered to go and fetch a joint of mutton from the butcher’s. I managed to get in the back way and I walked out with it stuffed under my coat. I don’t know what they would have done with me if they had caught me. I got a few queer looks, but it’s my opinion that they thought I was a poor pregnant Irish girl. On my way home I heard a few shots fired and was told later that Sir Alan Bell had been taken out of his car and shot in the next street. I can’t say that I cared for Ireland at that time.

I had one opportunity to travel abroad to Kenya with Miss Patricia. I was very excited at first when she told me about it. ‘I’ll give you the time of your life, but I’d better warn you that you’ll meet a lot of spiders and insects.’

Well, that did it, that took the smile off my face. ‘Then I’m not going,’ I said, and that took the smile off hers because she could see that I meant it. The next day Lady Ierne sent for me and tried to persuade me, but I wouldn’t budge. If there was one thing I couldn’t abide it was creepy crawlies. ‘They’re as big as crabs I’m told, my lady, I should die of heart failure if I saw one.’ She wasn’t amused and things were uncomfortable between us for quite a few days. I did later go to Africa, but by then the D.D.T. sprays had been invented and I never travel anywhere without one.

After I’d been with the Tuftons for just over four years I decided I would like a change, a change of scene and of people and I hoped a bit more money. Twenty-four pounds a year wasn’t a lot even in those days. I felt by now that I had learnt sufficient to qualify as a full lady’s maid, and that I could leave the schoolroom behind me. It’s never very easy giving in one’s notice, employers are inclined to take it personally, as a slight to them. They don’t consider that you have a life of your own to lead and that you have made plans for your future. It isn’t easy for yourself either, loyalties, friendships and affections are hard things to surrender, but with me there was an overriding reason for leaving: my father was very ill and I felt my place was at home with him and my mother.