Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor (11 page)

Apart from the Sancy diamond and the pearls, the other special pieces of jewellery were the tiaras. Her ladyship had five. The most beautiful and valuable was the Astor heirloom, the second was a bandeau of diamonds and pearls, the third aquamarines and diamonds, the fourth she bought herself – it was of spiky diamonds – and the fifth was an imitation of the first. It was used by her for the less important occasions and she also often lent it to her friends. All her most precious jewellery was expensive to wear because from the moment it left the bank until its return there was a special insurance premium in operation. Not that she ever stopped to think about that. She loved wearing it and she often used too much for my taste. She’d turn round to me and say, ‘How do I look, Rose?’ and I’d reply, ‘Haven’t you forgotten the kitchen stove, my lady?’ earning myself the customary, ‘Shut up, Rose!’

Then she had a big sapphire and diamond chain which she’d separate and wear as bracelets, one on each wrist, and two large diamond earrings, as large as cobnuts they were. One of these she lost one night at some ‘do’ at the Café Royal. There was the usual hullabaloo about thieves. I was round there first thing in the morning and collected it straight away. A cleaner had found it and handed it in; just another example of how honest staff were at that time. One of her favourite pieces was a sapphire and diamond tee that she had won as a prize at golf when she was partnering the Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII. She wore it as a scarf pin when she went out golfing. It was lost and found, lost and found, trampled on, repaired and finally replaced. Rood’s, the jewellers, must have made a lot of money from that piece alone.

I wonder how widely the kind of relationship jewellers had with their clients is known. It wasn’t just making a sale and that’s that. It was as if you had your jewellery on loan from them. They cared for it in every way: cleaning; repairing and resetting. Pieces were photographed and detailed and if lost, replaced, so that you couldn’t tell the difference. Jewellers were all courtesy and kindness towards ladies’ maids and were prepared to teach you how to clean things and keep them looking their best. I take my own small bits to Cartier’s or Rood’s from time to time and I’m always greeted as one of the family, even though I can now be of no value whatsoever to them. It’s just one of those things that makes a lifetime spent in service worthwhile.

I remember once how useful Cartier’s were. It was one of her ladyship’s stormy days when nothing went right or was right. She was getting at me and finding fault with everything. She picked up a bracelet and said, ‘Look at this, Rose, it’s absolutely filthy; don’t you ever clean my jewellery?’

I gave her a bright smile and said, ‘Filthy, my lady? Then what a good thing you noticed it. You see it came back from being cleaned at Cartier’s this morning. I’ll pack it up and return it to them, and perhaps you’ll enclose a note saying how badly they’ve done it.’

There was no ‘Shut up, Rose,’ this time; it would have been ‘Shut up, my lady,’ only I didn’t have to say it.

The restringing of the pearls was a regular event and it developed into a ritual. Miss Grace from Hopkin Jones, the Warwick Street jewellers, did them. We would ring up and make an appointment, I would get the pearls from the bank and together we’d climb to my bedroom and on a table there she would restring them with me supposed to be watching her like a hawk, to make sure she didn’t replace any; she couldn’t have stolen them without doing this because when they were finished I had to count them – they were strung 42, 46, 49 and 54. I still carry the numbers about in my head. Well, I knew it was all a charade really, so did Miss Grace, and so I expect did Queen Mary’s maid, because Miss Grace used to restring her Majesty’s necklaces. Still it had to be gone through. It was at the jeweller’s insistence. You see it covered them against any later accusation, and their good name was their stock-in-trade. I don’t think I have ever seen a more beautiful clasp than those pearls had; it was an emerald snap with six diamonds on either side – whoppers they were.

Although we had occasional dramas with the expensive jewellery, these pieces more or less looked after themselves because their appearances were not everyday affairs. It was the smaller pieces that caused me the most concern. These her ladyship treated casually, lending them here and there, and sometimes even giving them away, without telling anybody. I needed eyes in the back of my head to keep tabs on them. Her furs sometimes caused me similar worries. When I first went there these were not officially made over to my charge. By that I mean I wasn’t given a list and made to sign for them. Nevertheless in fact I was held responsible and after an altercation with the office over one that went missing it was decided that they would from then on as it were be my property. This suited me. It was no good being half responsible, all or nothing was what I wanted, and I got it. A list of furs will I think show the scale of things in those days. Lady Astor had a long sable cape (for the opening of Parliament and state occasions), a mink, a nutria, a black broadtail and a Persian lamb; she had a short mink jacket and a short mink cape, short and long sable stoles, a chinchilla cape, a sable tie (made from three skins she brought back from a visit to Russia), a black velvet evening coat lined with white ermine and some of her hats were decorated with expensive furs.

Bradley’s of Bayswater were responsible for cleaning, repairing and remodelling. I don’t think I shall give offence if I say that they were the leading house for furs at that time, though Bayswater seemed a bit provincial for such a company. The altercation to which I referred earlier was over the Russian sable tie. I had sent some of her ladyship’s furs, including that one, to Bradley’s for cleaning, and when I unpacked them on their return I found it was missing. Bradley’s swore it had been sent. After her ladyship cross-examined me it seemed apparent that she believed what Bradley’s had said. As I said to her in no uncertain terms, that meant that I must have stolen it, as I was the only person to have handled the furs on their return.

‘No, I believe you, Rose. I know it’s out of the question that you would do such a thing.’

‘But you still think Bradley’s sent it; that doesn’t make sense to me,’ I said. ‘The only right thing for you to do, my lady, is to call in Scotland Yard and I won’t rest until you have.’

She did this and an inspector questioned me very thoroughly, which I didn’t mind. By a stroke of good fortune I’d kept the tissue paper that the furs were wrapped in, and I was able to demonstrate, by repacking, those that had been returned and how they had arrived. Now today, people who like me are economical, because they have to be, keep tissue paper for re-use. It was a firm rule of her ladyship’s that it must never be used twice, and that went for my things as well, so it was strange that I’d kept it. Anyway the inspector then went to Bradley’s. Two days later he called at St James’s Square and I was asked to go and see him. He was with Lady Astor and he said, ‘I have to tell you, Miss Harrison, that the mystery has been solved. There was never any question of you being under suspicion, neither are Bradley’s staff to blame. There was a third party involved, but we are not taking proceedings against them, and the matter will now be dropped.’ It all sounds a bit strange as I write it, but it was clear as daylight to me. One of her ladyship’s acquaintances must have persuaded Bradley’s to part with it, the police had found out who it was but it had been decided not to pursue the matter. In society at that time dog did not eat dog. The only mystery to me was that we never saw the tie again.

Valuable coats are always a great worry. Unlike jewellery, which as it were never leaves the person when it’s worn, coats have to be continually put in the charge of other people who don’t necessarily give them the protection or the care they need. Then again they can be easily forgotten, particularly when the warmer weather comes along. I must say that, generally speaking, Lady Astor took care of hers and very rarely did I have any real worries over them. I think too that at that time people were more honest. I also know the police were more effective, probably because there were more of them. The constable on the beat was a great comfort, a good friend and a link with the local police station. It was easy to ask for help, it was always forthcoming and given in a friendly way. It was the same on the railways, and you can imagine I used them a lot not only on our lengthier travels but shuttling backwards and forwards between Cliveden and London every week, with a multitude of trunks and cases.

I was to learn over the years how to pack for every conceivable period of time, climate and occasion and to be ready at a moment’s notice to do so. Whenever I travelled by train I would tip the guard and porter well. They got to know me and would look after me. They gave me a lot of useful advice about taking care of luggage and I think largely because of the trust and friendship that was built up between us I am able to say that I never lost as much as a piece of ribbon. People complain about the railways. I don’t. I’ve found that if you treat the people who run them properly and try to realize their difficulties and the things that can happen that are beyond their control, you can travel in comfort and with an easy mind.

I’ve mentioned that I tipped well: it was with her ladyship’s money and advice. I always had a reasonable float given me by the office and accounted for by me at the end of each month. It was sort of petty cash, but it had to be quite a sizeable amount as her ladyship was continually running out of money and having to rely on me.

That then is the bare bones description of the duties of Lady Astor’s personal maid. The spirit and the flesh follow later.

W
hat sort of person was I as a result of my experience over the last nine years? I hadn’t changed, or I didn’t think I had. I believe character forms during your childhood and you never grow away from it, indeed that you never really grow up. So I was young in heart. I’ve not mentioned my love life which nowadays is called sex life, but I prefer the earlier way of putting it. Perhaps I’ve given the impression that in service there wasn’t a lot of time for that sort of thing. Let me put it this way: we didn’t give it the amount of thought that it seems young people do now; there were so many other things to think about. Still, I didn’t neglect the romantic side by any means, and I got a lot of fun from it, but while it’s something I enjoy recalling, it’s a personal thing and in any case would make very dull reading.

Professionally I was, I thought and indeed still think, highly competent by the standards of the day. If you enjoy your work as I did, I don’t think you can help but become good at it. I’d developed the skills I’d begun with and learnt many others. I’d travelled a lot for my age and become a Marco Polo for my class. I’d met people and enjoyed them and I was able to get on well with my colleagues below stairs and my employers above, or so I thought until I began working for Lady Astor. From the start she knocked the stuffing right out of me. I had imagined things would be quite easy; after all I’d managed to get by when I’d looked after both her and Miss Wissie on our trip to America, but that I found didn’t seem to count. It was in a way as if I was with a complete stranger. Difficult though the job was I know I could have done it left to myself, but I wasn’t. The moment I began one thing she wanted another. She was quite unpredictable and always unappreciative. She was sadistic and sarcastic. If I reminded her of something, she’d say, ‘I never need telling anything twice, thank you, Rose.’ She mimicked me, not out of fun but to hurt. She’d change her mind purposely over her clothes, accuse me of not getting things right and then call me a liar if I protested to her. She shouted and rampaged like a fishwife, though without using the bad language.

It all seems strange as I tell it now, and I don’t think anybody knew at the time quite how bad it was. I just wasn’t used to ladies behaving in that way towards servants. Gradually it wore me down. I began to think I was to blame, that I’d lost my grip on the job. I did forget things. My work went to pieces and so her criticism became justified. I had too much pride to go to anyone and ask for help. When I told Mr Lee about it some long time later he said, ‘Why didn’t you come to me, Miss Harrison, that’s what I’m here for. It wouldn’t have been easy, but I would have sorted things out with her ladyship.’ He would have, too, but at the time I saw it as my battle, something I had to fight for myself and I’m glad I did for both my sake and her ladyship’s.

The change in our relationship was not something that happened subtly over the years. It couldn’t have been. I should have either collapsed or given in my notice if things had only altered gradually. I can pinpoint the day, indeed the time almost to the hour, when I got the resolve and the strength to come to grips with the situation. I’d had a very bad morning of it, with her ladyship at her most demanding. After lunch, feeling both physically and mentally tired, I went to my room. I began thinking about my work and the way my life was going. Then my thoughts switched to my childhood, my early ambition, the efforts Mum and Dad had made for me. I was back in our village, in the school, in our cottage, in our church, singing in the choir, and thinking about the beauty of life then. I don’t think I was consciously praying, but suddenly something seemed to touch my spirit: I had a feeling of inner happiness and release. It was as though I was in a trance. I allowed myself to drift.

I don’t know how long it went on but gradually the dreamy feeling fell away and my body took over again. I didn’t hurry it, the sensation was so relaxing and enjoyable. When I came to myself it was as though I’d gained a new strength. I didn’t feel tired, the things that had worried me almost to death now seemed insignificant. It had all been my own fault. I’d allowed her ladyship to walk over me and make mincemeat out of me. I now knew that my work had been right; where I’d been wrong was in not defending it and myself when we were both under attack. 1 saw her in a different light, not as a mean spiteful person any more, but as someone who in her own way was putting me to the test. She wanted a maid in her own image and she thought she could get one by destroying me and then building me up again as she wanted me to be. She hadn’t succeeded and from now on she wasn’t even going to get the chance. Two could play at her game, and henceforth two did. What had begun as a battle gradually mellowed into a kind of game between us. It went on for thirty-five years; neither of us won, neither of us lost.