Work as a parlour maid in London was less grimy but no less arduous than work as a scullery maid in Cardiff. The hours were still long and the work was still hard, but I had a nicer uniform and I spent more time above stairs. And I had a room in the attic which I shared with one of the other parlour maids. I was moving up in the world.
The family lived in Kensington so my afternoons off often included a walk in Hyde Park, and I found myself rather pleased with how things were turning out for me. Here I was, a fifteen-year-old girl from the Valleys, and already I was living in a big house in London and taking walks in one of the most famous parks in the world. Admittedly it wasn’t my own house and I only managed to get to the park once a fortnight, but it still seemed like an enormous step up the ladder from a mining town in South Wales.
I kept in touch with my family, writing at least once a week, and they seemed pleased that things were going so well for me. I missed Gwenith most of all and begged her to come to London and join me but she was working with Mam in the shop and was still, I think, at least partly convinced that I had lost my mind. Why would anyone want to move to somewhere so crowded and dangerous when they had the Brecon Beacons on their doorstep. And everyone “talked funny”, too. I knew for a fact that she’d never set foot on the Brecon Beacons, having never ventured farther from our house than the mountain above Mamgu’s cottage, but there was no persuading her.
I was greatly enjoying my new life in London. My accent softened and I began to think myself quite the sophisticated girl about town. Time passed quickly and, once again, I found that two years had flown by without my really noticing. It was 1894, I was seventeen, and just as before I was getting itchy feet and beginning to look around for new opportunities.
As a parlour maid, I not only had more frequent contact with the family, but occasionally with their guests, too. Sir Clive Tetherington, the owner of the house, was a Permanent Secretary to the Foreign Office which meant that a number of rather important people came to call. This, in turn, meant that as “the well-read one” I often found myself wheeled out when the family wanted to impress guests with the high quality of their staff. If I’d known a little more about the world I should probably have found it a little condescending, but as an ambitious seventeen-year-old, eager to impress, I relished the chance to show off.
One of Sir Clive’s particular friends was a colleague of his from the Foreign Office by the name of Sir Roderick Hardcastle. He and his wife Emily visited often and whenever I was around, Lady Hardcastle made a point of talking to me, asking me interesting questions about what I was reading, what I thought about the events of the day and, for the first time in my life, treating me as though I were an intelligent adult.
One summer’s afternoon, I was folding napkins in the laundry room when John, one of the footmen, came to find me to tell me that I was to go to Lady Tetherington’s study at once. He and I had never got along and there was an evil smirk on his pointy face as he implied as heavily as he could that I was in trouble.
I straightened my pinafore and pushed past him, making my way calmly upstairs to the Mistress’s study. I knew I wasn’t in trouble, despite Evil John’s leering insinuations, but I was very curious as to why I might have been summoned in the middle of the day.
I knocked on the door and entered to find Lady Tetherington and Lady Hardcastle seated on the armchairs beside the oak desk. They were drinking tea and chatting, but they stopped as I came in.
‘Ah, Florence,’ said Lady Tetherington. ‘Thank you for coming up. I hope we’re not interrupting your work.’
‘No, my lady,’ I said. ‘Just some linen folding. I can catch up any time.’
‘Splendid,’ she said. ‘You know Lady Hardcastle, I think.’
‘Yes, my lady. Good afternoon, my lady.’ It was going to get confusing with all these ladies about.
I could see that Lady Hardcastle was amused, too. ‘Good afternoon, dear,’ she said with a smile. ‘Your mistress and I have been having a little chat, and she’s given her consent for me to make you an offer.’
‘My reluctant consent,’ said Lady Tetherington.
‘Her reluctant consent,’ agreed Lady Hardcastle. ‘You see, I am in somewhat urgent need of a new lady’s maid. My own – a lovely girl – has fallen in love with a soldier and will be moving to… oh, I can’t remember where. Wiltshire somewhere. But anyway, once she’s gone, I’ll be entirely without help. And we can’t have that, can we?’
‘No, my lady, I don’t suppose we can,’ I said.
She laughed. ‘Quite. Now we’ve met a few times and we seem to get along, and I’d really rather like to offer you the job.’
I was somewhat taken aback. I had imagined that all this was to be an elaborate way of saying that she was reorganizing her staff and would I be prepared to fill a parlour maid vacancy in her household, but here she was offering me the position of lady’s maid. It was unheard of. To my eternal embarrassment, I just stood there with my mouth open.
Lady Hardcastle looked disappointed. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘No, my lady,’ I eventually managed to stammer. ‘I should be honoured. I just…’
‘Well that’s a relief,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d horrified you.’
‘No, my lady. You surprised me, to be sure, but I’m thrilled.’ I looked towards Lady Tetherington. ‘Are you certain that this is all right, my lady? I don’t want to let anyone down.’
It was Lady Tetherington’s turn to smile. ‘I shan’t pretend that it will be easy to lose one of the best parlour maids I’ve ever had. One of the best I’ve ever heard of, in fact. I seriously thought of telling Emily to shove off if I’m honest. I mean. The blessed cheek of the woman. But it’s a remarkable opportunity for a girl of your age, dear, and I honestly couldn’t live with myself if I thought I had stood in your way.’
I paused for just a moment to make it at least appear that I was giving it serious, mature thought, but I couldn’t keep up the pretence for long and abruptly I blurted, ‘Yes, please, my lady. Please can I?’
They both laughed.
‘I think that’s settled, then,’ said Lady Tetherington. ‘I shall leave you two to work out the details. But don’t let her bilk you, dear. Lady Hardcastle is a notorious cheapskate and I have it on the best authority that she underpays her servants and makes them work under the most appallingly harsh conditions.’ She winked.
‘Out, Jane, before I take my hunting whip to you, you impudent knave!’ said Lady Hardcastle, pointing imperiously to dismiss Lady Tetherington from her own study. ‘Actually, dear I can’t mean knave, can I. What’s a female knave? But out! Out, I say, you foul slanderess!’
I knew we were going to get along famously.