And we did. It was typical of her ladyship, as I was to find out; she’d change her mind as often as she’d change her clothes. But although I was shaken I wasn’t sorry. It meant that I should have the opportunity of seeing more of America and I’d have only one lady to look after, who was much more predictable in her ways and in her moods.
Our permanent home during our stay was with Mrs Dana Gibson, though we travelled widely. Every weekend we’d be away. There was a continual round of dances and I would accompany Miss Wissie to every one. It meant many late nights for me, but her aunt was more considerate than her mother and I was always allowed to stay in bed until midday after a late return. This wasn’t so much perhaps consideration on Mrs Gibson’s part as the fact that in America maids expected much more time off than we did over here, so it was more the rule of the house. It happened everywhere we went, homes like Lady Granard’s and at Vincent Astor’s place near Rhineback, on the Hudson river. I came into contact with the staff of many houses. The thing that I found most extraordinary was that there was no overall mode of behaviour; every house seemed to be run differently, and there were so many nationalities in service there. Of course I was set in my ways when I went there but once I got used to the unexpected I enjoyed it. They were so immediately friendly and helpful, and I seemed to get a welcome everywhere I went. Although their hours were shorter and wages higher, they were expected to work hard. Their employers demanded their pound of flesh. One thing though that I could never get used to was that the butlers were called by their Christian names. I used to imagine an employer calling Mr Lee, Ed, and shuddered at the thought – and the consequences.
We travelled back to Britain on 5 December 1928 on the Leviathan, a German ship we had taken as an indemnity after the war; it was fast and very comfortable. Apart from the enjoyment of my travels I’d got to know Miss Wissie well and I looked forward to many years of service with her.
On my return I was immediately summoned by Lady Astor to give an account of our journeyings. Apparently Miss Wissie had spoken well of me, so I came in for no criticism. Then suddenly her face changed. ‘You know Mrs Vidler has left me?’
‘So I understand, my lady,’ I said.
‘Did you know she was going to?’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because it was told me in confidence and in any case it was none of my business,’ I replied.
‘Very well, Rose, you may go.’
It was a curt dismissal and I could see she didn’t like what I had said. I also knew she wasn’t happy with the maid she had engaged temporarily and would be glad when she’d left. She would not have been if she’d known what was going to happen. She had arranged to employ the former maid of Beatrice the Infanta of Spain, and I think she felt that getting her was a bit of a coup. It wasn’t. The maid lasted two weeks; she didn’t even stay to collect any wages. She did what was called a moonlight flit; nobody saw her go, not even the nightwatchman. I suppose she couldn’t stand the pace and decided just to put it all down to experience. Again I was cross-questioned, but this time I knew nothing. I must say at first I was a little bit amused by it, but the smile was quickly wiped off my face when I found that I’d got two ladies to look after and pack for, as we were going away for the weekend.
I bridged the gap until a Miss Byles joined. I’m afraid from the start it was clear that she wouldn’t last long either. Whether her ladyship was going through a bad spell or what I don’t know, but Miss Byles soon took on a haggard, worried and worn expression which never seemed to leave her. One day Mr Bushell, his lordship’s valet, cornered me and said, ‘A word in your ear, Rose, don’t ask me how I know but her ladyship is going to take you away from Miss Wissie and get you to work for her.’
This aroused my Yorkshire obstinacy. ‘Is she?’ I said. ‘We’ll have to see about that.’
Then Mr Lee sent for me. ‘Miss Harrison, I think you should know that her ladyship will be asking you to work for her shortly.’
‘I don’t think I’m up to it – I mean, up to her standard,’ I said.
His, ‘She thinks otherwise,’ was intended to close the conversation. However, when he saw the set expression on my face he said, ‘Anyway, forewarned is forearmed.’ I’m not sure but I think he had a word with her ladyship and told her that I wasn’t going to be easily persuaded. She duly sent for me to her boudoir. ‘Ah, Rose,’ she began, ‘I’m not happy with the way you’re treating Miss Wissie.’
This took the wind right out of my sails. ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I heard myself saying.
‘You do far too much for her,’ she went on. ‘She’s not learning to stand on her own feet, she must be more independent and do things for herself.’ I thought, You cunning old so-and-so. ‘I’m getting her an inexperienced maid to replace you and I want you to come and work for me.’
‘I’m perfectly happy where I am, my lady,’ I said. But she’d got me cornered and I knew it.
‘Of course you are, Rose, but it’s Miss Wissie I have to consider.’
I knew she wasn’t considering anyone but herself, but I couldn’t tell her so. I wasn’t going without a struggle. ‘What happens if I say no?’ I asked.
‘Then I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.’
‘I’ll go away and think about it.’
‘Yes, you do that, Rose,’ she said, all sweetness and honey.
She knew she’d got me; I’d really no option. I was happy there and since there was no point in cutting off my nose to spite my face, I later agreed. In a way I suppose I was flattered, but the feeling didn’t last long; I hadn’t time to think about myself. I was right about my limitations. It was the concentration. I remember at school we were always being told to concentrate. Well, I think I managed it then. But with Lady Astor I found I was expected to do it for eighteen hours a day, seven days a week; and even when I had concentrated on doing something she would suddenly change her mind, and expect me to do the same – and at the same speed. Being lady’s maid to her wasn’t the job I’d learnt or been taught. As Mr Lee said, she wasn’t a lady in the terms that my experience had led me to think of one. Nevertheless, even if she wasn’t a lady, she was a great character and an international personality. So, there I was, I’d reached the top rung of the ladder for my kind of job. What I had to do was to stay there. It wasn’t to prove easy and I swayed about a lot in the earlier years. Eventually I learnt to be an acrobat.
4
My Lady and My Duties
When I began working for her ladyship I looked at her with professional eyes. She was short, five foot two, but slim. She had a good figure and carried herself well, though often she moved too fast for my liking. She was strong and had no time for illness or feminine weakness. She had adopted the faith of Christian Science at the beginning of the First World War. Before her conversion she had been a semi-invalid and spent a lot of time in bed, but while I was with her she was strong as a horse. Although she was small she made no attempt to increase her height by wearing high heels. Both her day and evening shoes had ordinary Cuban heels. Looking at her I was reminded of that Yorkshire saying, ‘Good stuff in little room’.
Either she was very fond of games or she believed in keeping fit, probably a bit of both, for she was always taking exercise. She swam nearly every day in the summer in the river at Cliveden, or the sea at Sandwich; she played squash at St James’s Square. She had got his lordship to build her a court for her own personal use. She played tennis and golf; there was a practice course at Cliveden. And she rode regularly until her later years. In the winter we always went abroad for sports; skiing and skating. It seemed there was nothing she couldn’t do, and do well.
My duties were similar to those that I’d had before for the other ladies, only they were more so. I would go down to her ladyship at seven-thirty, collect her clothes from the night before from her dressing-room and take them to my room where I would have to press them later. At eight o’clock I
would have my breakfast. I took hers up at eight-thirty and ran a cold bath for her; she took one both winter and summer. After her bath, it would then be nine o’clock; she would read her Christian Science lesson. She wouldn’t have this interrupted except for the most urgent of telephone calls, and I learnt by trial and error what she considered urgent. After that everything was action. The political secretaries would be summoned and they would arrive at the double, feet coming first and their bodies following. The mail would be opened, the phone would start to ring or else she would demand a number. She always started her calls in a comical way: ‘Hallo, is that you? Yes it’s me.’ Eventually the secretaries would be bundled off, almost pushed out of the door on the run, and her ladyship would demand her clothes for whatever exercise she happened to be taking that day. She seemed hardly gone for a moment and she’d be back, into a warm bath this time, which I’d prepared. She always slung her clothes into the bath after sport – squash things, golf blouses or tennis skirts. I suppose she wanted to make certain they were washed each time. I had seemingly endless sets of things ready in case there was any delay in the laundry. Then she would dress for whatever the occasion demanded that morning: for the House of Commons; for visiting; or shopping. After lunch she would change for the afternoon or, if she was relaxing, for golf, and she changed again for dinner. She generally got through five sets of clothes in a day. This required from me a deal of organizing, pressing, cleaning and repairing. Also there were perpetual messages to be run or delivered, shopping to be done either on my own or with her ladyship and dressmaking or copying. I made many of her ladyship’s things.
Lady Astor was always immaculate in appearance and she took a pride in being so. She treated her clothes well and was very tidy. When she changed she hung her discarded clothes on a hanger, put her hat on the hat-stand and trees in her shoes. She was particularly fastidious about her underwear. It was kept in sets in silk pouches which I had to make and decorate in his lordship’s racing colours, blue and pink. Every evening I would leave one pouch on her stool and she would fold her underwear into it and tie the ribbon, and so it would be sent to be laundered. I’d heard of this being done before but I thought it was a habit only of elderly ladies. Her ladyship’s underwear was handmade in France, at some school for crippled girls, from a silk and wool mixture for winter, with knickers fitting above the knee, and of triple ninon for the summer, beautifully appliqued and sewn.
For the House of Commons she was impeccable in a tailored black suit, a double-breasted satin blouse lined with white silk with a collar and revers and a three-cornered felt hat with a corded ribbon cockade: or a black all-wool dress with white pique collar and cuffs, and in the summer a thinner material black dress with either frilly jabots and cuffs or broderie Anglaise ones, which had to be spotless. I always had a number of sets of them by me and her ladyship never wore the same set twice before laundering.
I know her ladyship was often complimented on her appearance, but she never passed the compliments back to me. The nearest she got was when she said, ‘Lady So-and-so would like to know how you keep my collars and cuffs so clean, Rose.’
I couldn’t resist being a bit short with her. ‘Tell her by washing them, my lady.’
She always wore black court shoes and black silk stockings, though when coloured stockings came into vogue she changed to steel grey. Her white suede gloves were from Paris, again only being worn once before being sent to the cleaners. Finally before she left the house she would fling a full length black cloak over her shoulders.
There was one thing which distinguished her: her buttonhole. That was Frank Copcutt the gardener/ decorator’s contribution. He would send it up to the house if we were at Cliveden, or post it if we were at St James’s Square, a fresh one every day. Her ladyship demanded white and it had to be scented. ‘If a flower hasn’t a scent, Frank, it isn’t worth growing,’ she’d say to him. He used to manage to meet her demands all the year round, concentrating on gardenias, tuberoses, stephanotis, lilies of the valley and a lovely white orchid with a little gold centre which fortunately flowered in the winter; even this had a beautiful perfume. Though I’m sure her ladyship took her political responsibilities very seriously I think she also felt that, being the first lady elected to Parliament, she had to set a standard for those who followed. She only once slipped up and for the life of me I don’t know why. It was one day shortly after I had joined her. ‘I’m not wearing black today, Rose. Get out my red dress. It’s time I looked different.’ I tried arguing with her but got the now usual, ‘Shut up, Rose,’ for my pains. I don’t exactly know what happened but apparently she was the laughing-stock of the Commons. She also put his lordship’s back up. Whatever it was she was trying to prove, she didn’t, and she never tried again.
Though I have gone into detail over her ladyship’s clothes for the House of Commons it is because they always remained the same in style. This was not true of her others. She followed fashion, but she never attempted to lead it. She was never way-out. She was expensively but not extravagantly dressed. Simplicity was her keynote. It suited her personality best. It was as well she wasn’t showing off all the time. Dressing her wasn’t difficult; what was impossible was to attempt to keep up with her quicksilver mind. ‘I didn’t want this dress, Rose, I told you I wanted the purple,’ was a common occurrence, and off I’d have to go to press it and bring it back for her only to find that she’d put on the one she had originally asked for. I’d try to say, ‘Would I have put it out in the first place if you hadn’t told me to?’ only to get the reply, ‘Shut up, Rose.’ When at last she was dressed she’d stand in front of the mirror and go over herself in detail. If anything was wrong I was for it. ‘She didn’t let me forget a hairpin,’ as the saying was amongst ladies’ maids.
Perhaps because of the exercise she took she had a lovely complexion, which lasted her till the end of her days. She had few wrinkles, which I found astonishing since her face reflected her emotions and she practised these to the full in her constant contact with people. She used make-up very sparingly. It was through an unfortunate accident which happened shortly after I joined her that she was brought into contact with a make-up expert from whom later she was able to learn such a lot. She was playing golf one afternoon with a young friend of hers, David Metcalfe, and instructing him a bit as they went round. She stood too close behind him while he was driving, the club hit her on the cheek and she was very badly bruised. That night she was going to a state ball, which on no account did she want to miss though not unnaturally she didn’t want to go there looking as she did. The Bond Street firm of Elizabeth Arden was telephoned and it was arranged that one of their beauticians would come round to St James’s Square to do her best to make her ladyship presentable. It was a very good best and Lady Astor was delighted. From then on for any occasion the same young lady would come and see to her ladyship’s make-up. As a result Lady Astor learnt some of her techniques and of course all preparations used by her were Elizabeth Arden’s. She used scent sparingly, and always Chanel No. 5.
As I’ve said, she didn’t mind how much she spent on clothes, so it came as a surprise to me once when some years later she asked me to go to Marks & Spencer’s to choose a frock for her. ‘Marks & Spencer’s?’ I echoed, astonished.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I hear they have some very nice things there now. Anyway you go along and see.’
That was that, so I did. To my amazement I found a grey stockinette dress with delightful grey pearl buttons decorating it. It cost three pounds, nineteen and six. When I took it back I didn’t sing its praises, I presented it to her and said, ‘I don’t know whether it’s going to suit you, but if you don’t like it or it doesn’t fit, I can return it and get the money back.’ That seemed to please her. I unwrapped it and she liked the look of it, then tried it on. It fitted her to perfection. When she heard how little it had cost, she seemed to like it even more. She almost wore it out; it was literally threadbare, something she never did with he
r other clothes. She’d come back and tell me that her friends had admired it and asked her where she had got it from.
‘Did you tell them the truth, my lady?’
‘No, of course not, Rose, they’d never have believed me anyway. I told them Jacqmar made it.’ Jacqmar was a shop she used in Grosvenor Street. ‘I expect they’ll be round there tomorrow, trying to get one like it.’
The success of the Marks & Spencer’s frock sparked off her ladyship’s enthusiasm for the shop. I was never able quite to repeat our first success but I came near to it with some golfing skirts which also fitted perfectly and were much admired.
Hats were a big thing. I remember once when we’d been travelling in America and had returned to New York, where we were spending the night before sailing, she announced her intention of going to look round Bergdorf Goodman, the big store on Fifth Avenue. ‘Don’t you come back with any more hats, my lady,’ I said. ‘The luggage is all packed and the hat boxes are full.’ She waved me a perky goodbye and I knew then it would have been better to have said nothing, that my remark was now a challenge to her. True to form, back she came laden with parcels.
‘I hope those are not hats you’ve got there,’ I said.
‘Rose, I just couldn’t resist them,’ she replied. She should have added, ‘After what you said,’ because that’s what she meant.
‘You’ll have to carry them yourself,’ I said, ‘my hands will be full, as I told you.’
And she did carry them and when we got to Southampton I told her she must declare them at the customs. ‘Oh no, Rose, I’m not going to pay any duty on them. They’ve cost me enough already. If they ask for it I shall tell them they can keep the hats.’
But they did ask for it and she did pay it. Mind you, give her her due, she could wear hats and I think to some extent she influenced fashion. There was the case of Miss Welham who opened a hat shop in Knightsbridge. Lady Astor was one of her first customers. Not only did she go there regularly but all her friends did the same until Miss Welham had a very thriving business. She paid her debt to Lady Astor because when she died she left her £IOO; and how her ladyship appreciated it. It was to her in a way the widow’s mite and as greatly to be treasured. Shoes and gloves were also a mania with her and whenever she went to Paris she’d come back laden with them. I’m glad to say she was very careful with gloves, I wasn’t left with a box of odd ones as some ladies’ maids were. I remember one saying to me, ‘I must have thirty single-handers stored away and I am not allowed to get rid of them. My lady is certain she will be able to make a pair one day. At the rate she is going on I wouldn’t be surprised. If there was a society for one-armed gentlewomen perhaps she would let me give them to it.’ I could guess how she felt.
Rose: My Life in Service to Lady Astor Page 7