Chapter 9

Aunt Edith and I walked up Church Road, past St Andrew's, then crossed the high street to the other side. We'd spent the previous night in the cellar along with Lilian as planes passed overhead, and we were immensely tired. All of us had tried to sleep on the assortment of cushions Aunt Edith kept down there, but the cotton wool in our ears had done little to drown out the racket. A loud bang had shocked us all – it had sounded close enough to be in the back garden. My nerves were as shattered as they'd ever been. The impact of the blitzkrieg was almost as bad in Gatley as it was in London. When I'd looked out of my bedroom window that morning, there were wisps of smoke coming from a fire in the field beyond St Andrew's. No doubt the Auxiliary Fire Service volunteers had battled throughout the night and were continuing to do their good work.

We passed through a gate to a large white house built in Georgian style with an in and out driveway, its small roundabout filled with lavender bushes. A shiny black Rolls-Royce was parked outside the front door. I'd dithered over what to wear and decided on a knee-length green dress with white collar, tightened at the waist by a narrow belt in a darker shade of green. Hopefully, this was an appropriate choice for the interview.

Overcome by all the grandeur, butterflies engulfed me as we approached the front door, and I said, ‘Do you think I'm qualified for this role, Aunt Edith?'

‘You worked in ladies' fashion at Taylor and Stone, did you not?'

‘Yes.'

‘And before you were on the shop floor, you worked as a seamstress?'

‘I did.'

‘Therefore, not only do you know about fashion, but also you're able to design and make dresses, as well as repair them. Besides, your mother was a fine lady's maid, and so it's in your blood.'

I nodded. I was as qualified for this role as anyone could be without having actually worked as a lady's maid.

‘And you remained at school until you were sixteen years old, a sensible decision on your mother's part. You are educated, well spoken, and capable of making polite conversation when required?'

‘Yes, I am.'

Aunt Edith rapped the knocker. ‘Your mother told me you speak a little French, although your prospective mistress won't be visiting France any time soon. Don't forget to only speak when spoken to, and remember to address the dowager as "your ladyship".'

A butler opened the door and greeted us without smiling. This did little to ease my discomfort about being in such lavish surroundings. He led us to a vast drawing room, where we sat down on armchairs covered in gold velvet. The walls, painted in a deep blue, were crammed with portraits in a variety of sizes. Presumably the young woman with a faint smile on her lips above the fireplace was the dowager herself. Expensive-looking objects were dotted around the room: enormous vases, filled with flowers, white marble busts and glass cases, which no doubt displayed a collection of treasures. I longed to get up and study it all, but such comportment would have been unseemly. Although a fire crackled and popped in the hearth, the tall windows and high ceiling meant it was still rather chilly.

The dowager entered the room, her presence instantly evident, and we stood up to greet her. She was probably a little older than Aunt Edith, and the skirts of her dress, made from grey silk, swished as she moved in our direction.

‘Bring me a gin and tonic, Slater, will you, my good man? And whatever my guests here require,' she said to the butler.

He approached us, and Aunt Edith asked for the same for us both. A ruby pendant decorated the dowager's neck, and her immense pile of grey hair was styled into a bun. Her lady's maid had no doubt spent a great deal of time and care dressing her.

Aunt Edith dipped her head slightly, and I followed her lead.

‘Good afternoon, dear Edith, and this must be the niece you've told me so much about.'

‘Yes, Clarissa. Margaret, this is her ladyship, the Dowager Countess of Elmbridge.'

‘How do you do, your ladyship,' I said.

‘Delighted to meet you,' she said, casting me a glance as she lowered herself onto the chaise longue opposite us, arranging the skirts of her dress around her. We sat back down. Mr Slater brought in our gin and tonics, and I took mine and sipped it. It was rather strong, especially for late morning, and I placed the glass on a coaster on the trestle table beside me.

‘Can you get the fire going, please, Slater?'

‘Certainly, milady.' He approached the fireplace and picked up a pair of bellows.

‘Do tell me about yourself, Margaret,' the dowager said.

As I repeated what Edith and I had discussed en route, the dowager looked at me blankly as if her mind were elsewhere, then raised a hand to indicate that I should stop talking.

‘You speak very well. Have you had elocution lessons?'

‘Yes, your ladyship,' I said.

‘Very good. You are less plain than one would like when selecting a lady's maid, but the pool is rather limited, currently.'

Surprised that my appearance was being commented upon during what ought to be a discussion of my capabilities, I merely nodded. She drew in her breath. ‘Evidently, you know about fashion, but I suggest you wear duller colours to avoid outshining my daughter-in-law. It needs to be blindingly obvious that you are the servant and she is your mistress.'

She took a cigarette out of a silver case and placed it in a holder, and Mr Slater leant forwards to light it with a match. He then went to stand by the door, hands behind his back, face without expression.

‘So, what do you think, Clarissa?' Edith said.

‘What do I think?' The dowager took a drag of her cigarette and exhaled. ‘Margaret is the best we shall find under the circumstances. I did not expect the government to call up our servants and can understand the middle classes are able to do without help, for they are more capable of looking after themselves. We, on the other hand need a number of employees to run our households smoothly. Thank goodness Slater here is too old to go and fight.' She looked at me. ‘Although you have no experience, I'm sure Mrs Willis, the housekeeper, will bring you up to speed.'

She turned to Aunt Edith and they made small talk about the weather and the war. The dowager explained that billeting officers knocked on the door every day. She'd taken it upon herself to give up a wing of the house to mothers and their young children from the East End of London.

‘How very kind,' Aunt Edith said.

‘Their cockney accents are so strong, no one can understand a word they are saying. Thank goodness for our kitchen maid from Whitechapel, who acts as a translator when needed. Lady Violet has been kind enough to take in two mothers and their children, who will reside above the stables at Gatley Hall,' the dowager said.

‘Generous indeed,' Aunt Edith said.

‘One hopes it won't be too long before she has children of her own,' the dowager said, drawing on her cigarette. It was clear an heir was expected, and soon, and I didn't envy Lady Violet for being put in such a position. ‘Her two predecessors have failed in their endeavours, and my son is becoming rather anxious about my nephew superseding him. Well, we all are.' She sighed.

The dowager seemed to be divulging more information than appropriate, especially in my presence, and Aunt Edith nodded.

‘And did you hear about the vicar's wife, Mrs Whitby experiencing the misfortune of coming across a German parachutist while walking her dog across a field?' Aunt Edith continued.

‘Yes, Slater keeps me informed of all the local news. He gathers up all the gossip in the servants' hall and delivers it directly to me,' the dowager said.

‘Poor Mrs Whitby couldn't remember any of the German she'd been taught in order to deal with such a situation. Thankfully he spoke English, his leg was broken and he couldn't get very far without being captured and sent to a prisoner of war camp.'

As they continued with this tittle-tattle, I studied a white marble statue in the corner – it appeared to be a Greek god, no less. No doubt Gatley Hall would be like this house but on a larger scale. The dowager stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray on the trestle table and put a hand over her mouth as she coughed.

‘You must excuse me, dear Edith, for I have been battling with a cold and am rather fatigued,' she said. Looking directly at me, she said, ‘I shall instruct Slater to telephone Mrs Willis and say you'll commence work with immediate effect.'

‘Thank you,' I said. Aunt Edith nudged me in the ribs. ‘Your ladyship,' I added, wondering why Lady Violet wasn't involved in the recruitment process. Did she even know this interview was taking place? I would have appreciated a little more time to mentally ready myself, but at least there would be a bed for me to sleep in that night – presumably.

‘We are most grateful for this opportunity,' Aunt Edith said.

‘Slater, will you see my guests out?'

‘Certainly, milady,' he said.

The butler led us out of the drawing room and into the hall, opening the front door, without making eye contact or uttering a word. We walked back to Aunt Edith's cottage, the September air lukewarm, and there were people wandering up and down the high street, looking bewildered.

‘Poor things, bombed out of their homes, no doubt,' Aunt Edith said, as we passed a man carrying a battered suitcase. ‘You must be delighted to find a role so quickly, Margaret?'

‘Thank you for arranging the interview,' I said. ‘Shouldn't I have met Lady Violet before accepting the offer?'

‘I'm sure the two of you will get along just fine,' Aunt Edith said. Taking a key from her coat pocket, she unlocked the front door and, once we were both inside, I went upstairs to pack.

It didn't take long to gather up my belongings and, as I placed a brassiere in the suitcase, I was reminded of the moment I'd bumped into the chauffeur, Tom, at the station. The prospect of him being below stairs at Gatley Hall was reassuring.

When I came downstairs with my suitcase, Aunt Edith was in the sitting room, reading the newspaper.

‘I have something for you, Margaret.'

She got up and went over to her desk, retrieved a notebook from the drawer and handed it to me. It was made from black leather, and probably worth a few bob.

‘Promise me you'll start a diary. I guarantee that it will help you on those days when the black dog rears its ugly head.'

‘This is very generous of you, Aunt Edith. Thank you.'

‘I always keep a few spare. There is nothing worse than being without pen and paper. I would be grateful if you accompanied me to St Andrew's on Sundays, when you are able.'

‘Of course, if I can get permission from my new mistress.'

‘They can't stop you from going to church, I'm sure,' Aunt Edith said. ‘I shall call Mr Foster and ask him to take you to Gatley Hall.'

This new world I was about to enter was sumptuous and impressive to an outsider, but at the same time rather formal and cold. The thought of working as a lady's maid filled me with dread. Adapting to life as a servant with little, if any time off would be a hurdle to overcome, no doubt. All I could wish for was that Lady Violet would treat me with respect and that I'd get along with the other servants. I hoped Tom at least would be kind to me.