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  The butler was in charge of the footmen and responsible for the wine and wine cellar, the plate and the silverware, of which he kept an inventory. He welcomed guests at the front door (which had been answered by the footman) and announced them to the master or mistress of the house. He ensured that the house was always kept in good order, decanted the table wine, oversaw the serving of meals, carved the meat and stood behind his master’s chair until the meal was over, at which time he led the other servants from the room, returning when the gentlemen had finished their port to oversee the clearing of the table and lock up the plate and silverware. A good butler was expected to be able to recognise class and good breeding and was extremely knowledgeable in all matters of etiquette and propriety—he was also aware of everything of importance that went on inside the house. In The Toll-Gate the butler, Huby, had been in service to the Stornaway family for many years and it was only his strong sense of loyalty to them that enabled him to commit the appalling (for a good butler) act of watering the wine in a bid to get rid of an unwelcome guest. A butler earned between £25 and £35 per year, had his own room (usually near the pantry and the silver or plate safe) and, like the steward, did not wear livery.

  As the personal attendant to the man of the house a valet was always employed by him directly rather than by the steward. The valet’s main occupation was the care of his master’s wardrobe, including his boots and shoes, but he could also shave him each day and generally accompanied him when travelling. An upper-class valet took enormous pride in seeing his ‘gentleman’ properly turned out in the latest fashion, knowing he had helped him into his exquisitely cut, skin-fit coat, proffered a perfectly starched neckcloth for tying, or eased him into a pair of boots polished to a high gloss with blacking made from the valet’s own secret recipe. In Arabella, Mr Painswick was a peerless valet to the hero, Mr Beaumaris, and such a master of his craft that many gentlemen of fashion had sought to acquire his services. Valets were on call around the clock and often sat up into the early hours waiting for their masters to return home (even when instructed, as was Painswick by Mr Beaumaris, to go to bed) at which time they would retire to their own room.

  The housekeeper was the steward’s equivalent in charge of the female staff (with the exception of the personal staff such as the nurse, lady’s maid and cook), and was one of the busiest servants in the house. She directed the maids in their work and oversaw the running of the house in terms of its cleaning, linen, storeroom, still-room and china closet. She also kept the household accounts (submitted weekly) and met regularly with her mistress to take her orders. The housekeeper was expected to know about home remedies and basic first aid and was also required to turn her hand to sewing, mending, and bottling, preserving and drying the excess fruit, vegetables and herbs from the kitchen garden. It was the housekeeper, Mrs Gurnard, in Venetia who organised a large hamper to be carried to the Priory when Aubrey was thrown from his horse, and she who refused to take orders about the running of Undershaw from the social-climbing Mrs Scorrier. Although they did not wear uniform, most housekeepers were plainly dressed in dark colours and were usually paid about £25 a year, with their own room or set of rooms. With the steward, the housekeeper presided at the table in the servants’ hall and in the housekeeper’s room where she ate with the rest of the upper servants.

  The lady’s maid was also known as an abigail or dresser, and was the personal attendant to the lady of the house who directly employed her. She was required to wait on her mistress before breakfast to ensure that she had hot water and was ready to rise. She then laid out her lady’s clothes, helped her dress, did her hair, attended to any clothes that needed mending, special cleaning or ironing, tidied things away and made sure her mistress was looking her best before going downstairs. During the day she attended to her lady’s wardrobe and other household tasks, such as making lotions and cosmetics, or accompanied her mistress while shopping or walking. A lady’s maid had to be well dressed, quick, efficient and discreet as she was often in her employer’s confidence as well as her company. Some lady’s maids developed a close personal relationship with their mistresses and, while they remained respectful, took on the role of confidante and advisor. In Lady of Quality, Annis Wychwood’s formidable abigail, Jurby, had attended her mistress since childhood and knew her better than her own family.

  Starting at 6.30 a.m. in summer and 7.00 a.m. in winter, the footman began his day filling the coal scuttles in the main rooms, cleaning the household’s shoes and boots, polishing plate and laying the breakfast table. In The Corinthian it was the under-footman who discovered, as he went about his morning duties in Sir Richard Wyndham’s library, the shawl, the cravat and the telltale strands of guinea-gold hair that set Sir Richard’s family in such a bustle. At every meal it was the footman’s job to lay the table, carry in the food, wait at table, stand while the family ate and then clear away. Back in the kitchen, they washed the glasses and silverware before starting the whole routine again. In houses with more than two footmen, the third footman and below did the rougher jobs such as fetching wood, coal and water and cleaning the boots, while the first and second footmen cleaned plate, trimmed lamps and candles, answered the door (after midday) or went out on carriage duty (sitting or standing behind the carriage). As Frederica discovered, a footman could also be required to attend a member of the household on a walk or shopping trip, following on foot at an appropriate distance. Footmen slept in the basement or cellar and wore a formal livery of knee-breeches, tail-coat, stockings and a powdered wig.

  Next to the kitchen, scullery and laundry maids, the housemaid was one of the hardest workers in the house. She was up by 6.00 a.m. to light the fire in the kitchen, open the shutters and start sweeping, cleaning and dusting the hallways, living rooms and stairs and polishing the banisters, grates, fenders and furniture. Before her master or mistress got up she lit the fires in their bedrooms and, after they had gone down to breakfast, made their beds, dusted and swept their rooms and emptied the chamber-pots and wash-basins. Maids were expected to fulfill their duties as quietly and unobtrusively as possible and were often so good at moving quietly about the house while they worked that in Arabella the sound of fire-irons crashing in the hearth was so unusual that it woke the heroine from a sound sleep. The kitchen maid mainly worked as an assistant to the cook, preparing food, cleaning utensils and sweeping the kitchen. The scullery maid rose at dawn to clean the kitchen range and start the fire so that the cook could prepare breakfast, and spent the day washing the dishes and cleaning, scrubbing and scouring any pots, pans, bowls and utensils not dealt with by the kitchen maid. She also scrubbed the floors. The laundry maid did most of her work in the wash-house at the back of the main house. If there was more than one laundry maid then the more skilled of the two was usually responsible for the family’s personal linen while the other maid did the general washing and the servants’ laundry. Maids earned between £6 and £8 a year, slept on the top floor of the house and were each provided with a close gown, stockings, cap and apron to wear while they worked.

  Servants were often able to augment their income through tips and other perquisites such as cast-off clothing or household items. The lady’s maid and valet had first entitlement to their employers’ unwanted clothes, shoes and accessories which they would often sell, and the cook and butler in some households were not above fiddling the books or helping themselves to extra food or wine as did the Groombridges—and later the Bradgates—in Friday’s Child. At Christmas time servants could expect a gift of money and when visitors stayed in the house it was expected that they would tip the staff according to their station and the degree of service. These tips, known as vails, were an important addition to many servants’ wages and, in houses where employers failed to entertain, servants often felt compelled to seek a place where tips were more likely to be forthcoming. Charles, the new footman at Darracott Place in The Unknown Ajax, was so unimpressed by his employer’s ill temper and parsimony that he had decided to l
eave his lordship’s employ at the end of a year and seek a position in London where the potential for tips and ‘extra gelt’ was far greater.

  The upper class had many beautiful houses set in rolling

  parklands or surrounded by landscaped gardens.

  GREAT ESTATES AND COUNTRY LIVING

  Although many wealthy families came to London for the Season, most spent a large part of the year at their homes in the country. Land had long been the foundation of wealth and power in Britain and, although the nation was still largely rural in the early nineteenth century, industrialisation had begun to make its presence felt with improvements in agricultural techniques and transport, the growth of towns and many new technologies. For those new to the peerage or to positions of wealth and power, a great estate was essential for consolidating their social position and, it was hoped, the means of establishing a dynasty. Stacy Calverleigh in Black Sheep understood fully the social cachet attached to being ‘Calverleigh of Danescourt’. Landed families were careful to protect their estates through a system of primogeniture and entail whereby the house and lands were bequeathed to the eldest son or next male heir and he was prevented from selling any part of the estate during his lifetime. Many upper-class families considered it their duty to enlarge the family estate with each new generation (often through marriage to the heir or heiress of a neighbouring property) and encouraged interaction between the sons and daughters of local landowners. In Lady of Quality Lord and Lady Iverley had long held hopes of a match between their son Ninian and Lucilla, the daughter of an old friend and heiress to the neighbouring estate.

  A kitchen garden was an important part of any great estate.

  Country houses varied enormously in size, style and layout, and castles, manor houses, converted priories and even palaces—some dating from as early as the fourteenth century—were home to many of England’s noble families. Usually built beside or in the midst of the owner’s tenanted farm land, the great houses, such as Stanyon Castle in The Quiet Gentleman, were often architectural showpieces kept separate from their more mundane agricultural acres by beautiful landscaped gardens, lakes or wooded parkland. The private land immediately surrounding the house (known as the demesne) was often laid out with formal garden beds, topiary hedges, rose gardens, rolling lawns and magnificent stands of trees. Many houses had a ha-ha on the edge of the manorial lawn to divide the garden from the surrounding parkland. This was a ditch or escarpment, designed to be invisible from the house, with a vertical wall on the inner side and a shallow slope on the park side designed to keep out wandering livestock. In addition to the ornamental garden, a country estate also had a well-stocked kitchen garden that supplied the main house with most of the fruit, vegetables and herbs necessary for its day-to-day running. A very wealthy estate often had a whole series of rectangular walled gardens linked by lockable wooden doors as well as several succession houses which could produce such desirable fruits as melons, grapes, peaches and nectarines, and exotic blooms, such as orchids and carnations. Succession houses enabled gardeners to cultivate a range of fruit and ornamental trees and plants by bringing them on in stages and re-potting or re-bedding them in protected conditions. A few of the great houses also had a pinery for growing pineapples and during the Regency these exotic fruits were highly prized. It was considered a great honour to receive one of the coveted fruits from a noble friend or relative. Lord Charlbury in The Grand Sophy had some of the finest succession houses in the country and the Ombersley family were grateful for his gift of grapes and honoured by the promise of the first ripe pineapple from his famous pinery.

  Architecturally, the great houses varied in design from the medieval priory to the Elizabethan hall or the newer Gothic buildings which had become fashionable by the time of the Regency. Sometimes houses were a mix of architectural styles, the result of several centuries of additions. Staplewood in Cousin Kate had been home to succeeding generations of the Broome family from the time of James I and the ensuing two centuries had seen each new heir enlarge or embellish the original manor house with its Great Hall and Grand Stairway. Magnificent from the outside, the interiors were frequently designed for breathtaking beauty as well as habitation and housed many priceless works of art including sculptures, paintings by the great masters, weapons and armoury, tapestries, rugs and furniture.

  Life in the country tended to be lived at a slower pace than life in London and, for the upper classes, the months spent on the family estate could be either a wonderful escape from the demands of city living or a period of intense boredom to be endured until the return to the metropolis. Houses were generally large with spacious rooms, high ceilings and large fireplaces in the main hall and living rooms. Most great houses had several wings, at least one of which was reserved for the family. The rest of the house usually comprised a main entrance hall, drawing-room, dining room, breakfast room and library on the ground floor, with the bedrooms, dressing rooms and bathrooms upstairs. Many houses had a grand ballroom and, increasingly during the Regency, a billiard room. Richmond Darracott in The Unknown Ajax preferred to challenge his sporting cousin Vincent to a game of billiards rather than spend the evening playing cards with his mother and grandfather in the long drawing-room. The master of the house usually had a study and his wife had a small sitting room or boudoir next to her bedroom. Conservatories were also popular during the period and were generally built on the south side of the house to catch the sun. Many aristocratic houses had their own private chapel, either in the house or as a separate building.

  While the master and mistress of the house had certain responsibilities and duties to perform to ensure its smooth running as well as that of the estate, unless they took an active interest and physically involved themselves in the farming or household work (as a few of them did), they mainly spent their time in recreational pursuits. With a large contingent of servants to ensure there was always plenty of good food, cosy fires, pleasant rooms and personal service, the country house was ideal for playing host to large numbers of guests. For several months of the year the family and their guests spent their days enjoying (or enduring) the rituals of country living. In False Colours a house party at the Denville family’s country seat of Ravenhurst was enjoyable for those among the guests who appreciated the quiet entertainments of country living. For women this usually meant taking pleasure in the garden or going for a walk, ride or drive in the countryside or parkland belonging to the estate. If they preferred being indoors, or if the weather was inclement, they could read, write, embroider, paint or indulge their musical tastes on the pianoforte or harp. Men had a wider range of activities available to them and could spend entire days out of doors with their dogs tracking game, shooting or fishing, with fox-hunting in the winter. Visits between local landowners were also an important part of rural life and evenings were often spent conversing over the dinner table with friends and neighbours and their families, followed by cards, music, or an impromptu dance. In The Nonesuch Sir Waldo Hawkridge’s extended stay at Broom Hall was the signal for the local gentry and other well-to-do families to embark on a series of increasingly lavish dinner parties, dances and balls with Sir Waldo and his cousin as the honoured guests.

  Regency society was largely a land- and property-based entity and the upper class drew its base income mainly from the rent paid by urban and rural tenants. Land was a precious and jealously guarded commodity and a son and heir who exploited his estate for his sole benefit (instead of maximising its productivity for the benefit of his family, his tenantry and the wider community), or who lost any part of his holdings through waste, mismanagement or profligate behaviour, was often looked down upon or even despised by the ton. Even for those landowners, such as Stacy Calverleigh in Black Sheep, who took no direct interest in their estates—leaving their management to an agent or bailiff—the idea of having to sell part of their land to fund debt was abhorrent. Some members of the aristocracy took an active interest in the management of their estates, ensuring that the
land was worked effectively, tenants cared for and improvements made. In A Civil Contract, Adam Deveril was keenly interested in agriculture and making the most of his acres. He travelled from Lincolnshire to Norfolk to attend the famous Holkham Clippings at Thomas Coke’s pioneering estate and there meet with other farmers and learn as much as he could about new crops and methods of farming. Most landowners’ primary interest, however, was not in how their land was farmed but how much it paid them. To some it did not matter whether the income from their land came from the rents paid by tenant farmers, mining leases and the royalties paid on the coal, iron, tin or other metals dug from their land, from building leases or from the money paid to cut a canal through their estate. While the Regency lasted, land still equated to wealth, to power and to status and as such it remained an essential part of upper-class Regency life.

  3

  A Man’s World

  UPPER-CLASS REGENCY MEN

  In Regency England men determined the legal, social and political order of things, and for many men in the moneyed upper ten thousand it was a hedonistic time devoted to entertainment, merriment and debauchery. Etiquette and protocols were often a mass of contradictions both within and between the classes. A man could marry for love or convenience or money or power, but he was not bound to be faithful. Discretion was hoped for, even expected, but if he failed in its delivery a man could still be accepted into the heart of the ton. Given the nature and indulgences of the Prince Regent himself, this was not surprising. So much of the grand self-indulgence, the immorality, the gambling, the ornamentation and the waste perpetrated by the upper class and condemned by the middle and lower classes was to be found in the actions of the once-loved, but now increasingly despised, Royal Prince. Although often well intentioned and with an eye for beauty and a love of the arts, the Prince Regent and his royal brothers (in particular the Dukes of Clarence, Cumberland and York) seemed to lead the way in almost every area of vice. Practically nothing was too extreme or too opulent or too expensive, making it difficult for criticism to be effectively levelled at those who followed their example. Lord Ombersley in The Grand Sophy was a particular friend of the Duke of York’s and, like him, pursued a life of pleasure which was marked by debt, mistresses and a sublime disregard for many of the proprieties laid down by the ton.