Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor (5 page)

As I’ve tried to say, I had proved myself in those four years. Apart from learning the job I had earned and been given trust and responsibility, I had become reliable and I knew now that I could make it to the top. Although my Yorkshire accent stuck out like a sore thumb, as it was going to for the rest of my life, most of the other edges to my nature had worn smoother. I had learnt a pattern of behaviour from the other servants and from the people I had served. I had got a good dress sense, I appreciated nice things, china, furniture, jewellery, and I’d developed a sense of humour which enabled me to laugh and get pleasure out of what I was doing where others might be moaning and groaning. This has enabled me then and since to live through the worst crises and on occasions to tolerate rough treatment without getting into a rage or tizzy. I learnt about the ways of society, and my place in it, what was and was not expected of me. I’d earned a good reference. In short I had discovered how to make the best of a good job.

It was as well that I decided to leave Lady Ierne when I did because I had been home only a short time when my father died, in his sleep. I know I was able to be some help and comfort to Mum and of course the money I had saved came in useful for paying the burial expenses. As I have said, it was a wonderful funeral. The whole village turned out and the church was overflowing. It was all fitting to the occasion and to the man. As a family we were sad but very proud. I stayed on at home for a year, and when I felt Mum was able to stand on her own feet, I went up to London, booked a room at the Hampstead Y.W.C.A. and called on Massey’s of Baker Street, and Miss Sellars of Bond Street, two of the well-known domestic agencies of the time. Miss Sellars specialized in ladies’ maids. She offered me a place in America, but I refused it because I felt that it was too soon to be so far away from my mother after my father’s death. Two days later Massey’s wrote to me and told me of a vacancy with Lady Cranborne at 25 Charles Street, Mayfair. I was interviewed and accepted. There was one snag to the job: I was told by her ladyship that although she travelled abroad a lot, she would not be taking me with her. This did not suit me and I said so. I told her that I considered that travelling was an essential part of my employment. I thought that that would put an end to my going there, but it didn’t. She smiled sort of thoughtfully and then said, ‘Very well, Rose, we’ll see.’ She didn’t commit herself but I took it to mean that she had changed her mind and so accepted what I had asked for. I hadn’t been there long when I met Bessie, Lady Moyra Cavendish’s maid. Lady Moyra was Lady Cranborne’s mother. ‘She’ll never take you abroad,’ Bessie said.

‘Let’s wait and see, shall we?’ I replied. I was right in my judgement; I travelled everywhere with her.

Although 25 Charles Street was only a small house, with two in the kitchen, two parlourmaids, two housemaids, myself, a nanny and a nursemaid, there was also the Manor House at Cranborne in Dorset, a beautiful country house. We were frequent visitors to the famous Hatfield House, the seat of the Marquess of Salisbury, since Lord Cranborne was his heir and indeed he and her ladyship eventually came into the title and the estates.

When I joined Lady Cranborne she was a lovely young lady in her early thirties. Although she had had two baby sons and had another one while I was with her, she’d a beautiful figure and carried her clothes to great advantage. Since the children were young I was able to get to know them well, indeed it was considered as part of my duties to relieve Nanny Woodman. She was one of the great figures of her world. The nursery at Charles Street was a delight and later the one at Hatfield was quite famous. She died in 1974 at Hothfield with the children and grandchildren looking after her.

Robert would have been ten and Michael about six when I went to the Cranbornes’, and baby Richard was born a year later. I think I should explain that the children were called by their family name Cecil, a name that is famous in history. Being the sons of a lord they put ‘Honourable’ before their names. It is one of the disadvantages of being born into the aristocracy, you have to keep changing your name whenever someone in the family dies. It makes it all very confusing for them and for anybody writing about them.

Michael was my favourite, I suppose because I spent more time with him. I hadn’t been at the Cranbornes’ long before I had to take him to Switzerland for a holiday (so much for Bessie and her ‘you won’t travel’). I remember we shared a double sleeper on the train and Lady Cranborne insisted that he had the top bunk. I didn’t sleep a wink all night for fear he would fall out. We had a lovely time together. Little boys are always so appreciative of what you do for them and he was a great companion. It was tragic that he should have died so unexpectedly while playing football at Eton when he was only sixteen. Richard, the youngest, was killed during the war.

Lady Cranborne was a loving and devoted mother. I say this because in my experience it was rare with the upper classes. Children I think were neglected – not where food, clothing or material things were concerned, but over the one thing that is perhaps more important than all of these – real love, love that shows. I’m sure that if you asked any mother of that class if she loved her children she would indignantly have said, ‘Of course, how dare you ask such a question,’ and she would have meant it, but love has to show when it’s given. It’s like a present, only more precious. Lady Cranborne had time for her children, which makes it so sad that two should have been taken from her when they were young.

My duties were similar to those at the Tuftons’ except that I was only responsible to her ladyship. Our relationship was the same as I had had with Miss Patricia, only more so. By that I mean that the division of class was more clearly defined. This in many ways had its advantages. I knew exactly where I stood, what was expected of me, what I could or could not say and do. I mention this now because this was the last position in which I had this kind of security. Lady Cranborne conformed to the accepted traditions of the time. By definition and by behaviour she was a lady. In my presence and in the presence of other servants, because otherwise I should have heard about it, she never deviated. She had set her standards and she never lowered them. I know this sounds hard to believe and dull to consider but in my opinion there was a lot to be said for it. For one thing it was easier to serve people whom you respected.

It was with Lady Cranborne that my ambition to travel was to be more fully realized. Almost every weekend we were away somewhere. In the summer it would be for social visits and in the winter for shooting parties – his lordship was considered a great shot and was much in demand. They both enjoyed the London season and Ascot was spent always with the Astors at Cliveden – exciting for me at first; little did I know that before long I should be living there and that it would be my home for almost all of the working life that lay before me.

We would move lock, stock and barrel to Cranborne Manor after the season. It was much the same pattern as at Appleby Castle, greater freedom, dancing with the farmers’ sons and getting ourselves unpopular with the local village girls. I had a French companion for these dances, Mademoiselle Magnier, who taught the Cecil boys French, and who was also a great help with mine. She was very vivacious and attractive and she had the village boys falling over each other for her favours, but she took her job seriously. After she left us she was engaged by Princess Marina, the Duchess of Kent, to teach her children. I remember chatting about her to Princess Alexandra when she was sitting on my knee in the car coming from the station to Cliveden.

After we left Cranborne we generally went to the South of France as many of the aristocracy would be there at that time and we’d take over a villa for a few weeks, then it would be my turn to show the British flag at the local dances. Once we stayed at Eze with Lt.-Col. and Madame Jacques Balsan. She had been the Duchess of Marlborough in her previous marriage. It was a large house with a beautiful view of Monte Carlo and the Mediterranean, and there was a big house party. It was my first glimpse of French servants; they had a full staff including a butler and three footmen. I’d been told how much harder they worked and how they were more subservient than we were, but I didn’t find it so. I was particularly astonished at the chauffeurs, who seemed able to use their employers’ cars whenever they wanted to. Astonished but not worried – it suited me because I was able to go out with them sightseeing and enjoying myself.

From there we went to Rome to visit the British Ambassador and we stayed a few days at the Embassy. As I remember the butler and the lady’s maid were both British but the rest of the servants were Italian. The servants’ hall they tried to run on our lines, but it wouldn’t have done over here: everyone seemed to be talking at once. The noise was unbearable; it must have driven the butler mad.

My knowledge of Italy and the Italians was strictly limited. One thing I’d heard in the servants’ hall was that Italian men were hot-blooded. During our short stay I was to have proof of this. The first morning we were there, as a footman handed me my lady’s breakfast tray he pressed his hands over mine. ‘Hello,’ I thought, ‘what’s he up to?’ Then I dismissed the incident. ‘He was probably making sure I’d got hold of it properly,’ I said to myself. I saw him once or twice during the day and each time he flashed a smile at me. I took it as a friendly gesture and gave him one back.

That night I was getting ready for bed and was standing in my voile knickers and vest when I saw a hand come round the edge of the door. I didn’t stop to think. I was over in a flash and pressing the door against the obtruding hand with all my strength. I watched it go red and then purple and I could hear some nasty Italian words uttered from the other side; there is no mistaking curses whatever language they come in. They began getting louder and as I didn’t want to wake the house I relaxed my pressure. The hand was quickly removed and there was a scuffling of feet down the corridor. I was taking no chances though so I dragged a heavy chest of drawers and pushed it against the door. After that I slept easily. The following morning I saw my sorrowful Romeo in the servants’ hall. He looked at me with reproachful eyes and his arm in a sling. I didn’t bother with the chest of drawers that night.

Before we went to Italy her ladyship spoke to me and told me not to mention the name Mussolini. I suppose he must have been coming to power around that time. I said, ‘My lady, I’ve never heard of him till now and even if I had I couldn’t pronounce his name.’

Again in Rome I came across the Astors. It was rather embarrassing. It was the morning we were due to leave the Embassy and I was in the Cranbornes’ room packing when there was a knock at the door. I went to see who it was and there was Mr Bushell, Lord Astor’s valet. ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

‘Waiting for you to clear out,’ he said rudely. ‘My two are taking over this room; how much longer are you going to be?’

I tried signalling him to keep his voice down, but Lady Cranborne had heard. ‘Who is it, Rose?’ she asked. When I told her she put on an icy voice and said, ‘Tell Lord Astor’s servant to go away and that you will inform him when we are ready to leave.’

The trouble with Mr Bushell was that he was an excellent mimic and many’s the country house where he has told that story in a hoity-toity voice to her ladyship’s detriment.

From Rome we went to Lord Aberconway’s house in Antibes (as fashionable then as it is today). We had a long spell at an hotel at St Jean de Luz. Miss Alix Cavendish, her ladyship’s sister, was with us. She had contracted tuberculosis and it was thought the air would improve her health. I remember she brought her mother’s maid, Miss Norman, with her. By now I was beginning to get familiar with other servants from the many great houses. This was to make my life easier and more pleasant in the future, also much more interesting since the more friendly one became, the deeper was the gossip that was exchanged.

Visits to Paris became so common that it was not long before I knew it as well as I knew London. We always stayed at the Hotel du Rhin in the Place Vendome, a very nice comfortable little place opposite the Ritz. Most of Lady Cranborne’s clothes came from Paris or were made from materials we bought there. I went to many fashion shows with her. Her favourites were those of Jeanne Lanvin and Madame Chanel. Although she would buy the occasional model I suppose I should be sorry to say that we cheated; we plagiarized. I had a very good memory for the cut and line of a frock and Lady Cranborne was clever at remembering the detail. Sometimes we’d even make quick pencil sketches, though we were careful never to get caught doing this. When we got back home we wouldn’t make direct copies, we would take a feature of one dress and add it to a feature of another. Lady Cranborne’s favourite material was Mousseline de Soie; unheard of today, it felt like chiffon but was just a little heavier. Her ladyship was easy to fit and to sew for because as I have said she was tall and slim and had excellent and generally simple taste. She was a great credit to me, and I mean what I say, for ladies’ maids were very much judged by the way their employers were dressed; indeed it’s always been my opinion that that is how I came to work for Lady Astor, though she never would have said so.

Much of Lady Cranborne’s underlinen came from Paris, mostly made from triple ninon, beautifully appliquéd by French seamstresses. The rest I made, copied from what she had bought. All the lace we bought there too, and gloves, and her shoes were from Pinet except for her heavy ones which were bespoke in London. For her tweeds and some suits she went to Lord Cranborne’s tailor in Savile Row. It was a wonderful thing to be a young woman in society at that time. You could afford to dress, indeed you were expected to dress, elegantly, expensively and in the fashion, and remember fashions changed every year; today with most women it’s only in their later years that they are able to buy good clothes, when their looks and their figures have deteriorated. I suppose that it why we see so much mutton dressed as lamb.