Horsham Manor

[meadowland]

Horsham Manor




1
It was April in the year 1936.... I was just 16 years old. My days as a schoolgirl were over... I had left the village school and my school friends far behind. It was time to think of the future and exactly what I was going to do with my life.
At home on the farm I was the eldest of 3 sisters and one baby brother. There was me... Kitty.... age 16, Meg 14 , Jess 11 and baby brother Mathew just 3 years old.
We all lived on a farm in the beautiful county of Kent....... where my father was a tenant farmer ......Kent with its orchards and green rolling hills .....Kent ..... the garden of England.
Being a tenant farmer in those days was never easy.... my father worked long hours in the fields his income entirely dependent on the harvests.
There were good years of plenty yes...... but there were also bad years of poor harvests when life was a constant struggle.
Luckily my mother was a skilled dressmaker and could earn a little extra dressmaking for local families and even the local gentry.
She built up quite a reputation for her work as a dressmaker and her skills with a sewing machine.
It was way back in 1904 that my mother went as a servant girl working for a wealthy family in Canterbury. She began her working life almost at the beginning of the Edwardian Era.
It was there ....at the grand house in Canterbury that she learned her skills in sewing and dressmaking.
How many times had she told us stories of her life in service........... the banquets.......... the grand balls........... the society weddings...
How many times had she reeled off the names of famous politicians , writers and artists who visited the grand old house or stayed there as guests for the weekend.
Famous names like ....Arthur Balfour the Prime Minister, Henry James the writer and on one famous occasion even the King himself ..... Edward V11 ..... accompanied by his lovely wife Queen Alexandra.
That was a red letter day in my mothers young life. She remembered standing in line as the King and Queen were greeted by Her Ladyship as they entered the house for a weekend stay. There was much fluttering in the dovecotes that weekend ...I can tell you !
When she spoke of her memories and life as a young servant girl ....... it was as if the Edwardian Era came back to life. Life back then had a certain style and elegance..... there were women out on the lawn wearing tight bodices and holding parasols against the sun............ there were carriage rides in the park and the clip clop of horses hooves on the cobblestones.
Looking back the Edwardian Era seems like a golden age of endless summers......... a golden age so cruelly ended by the advent of the first world war with its dreadful suffering and high toll in human life.
I enjoyed listening to my mothers stories of her life in service she made it seem so wonderful to a young , impressionable girl. How she was amused when I told her I wanted to go into service too when I left school. She laughed out loud and told me that we were living in a different world........ that I should consider other careers that were on offer.
Of course I listened to her advice but I did nt want to work in a shop or factory..... I wanted something more personal.... something more intimate. I wanted to enter service like my dear old mother.
However she could see how serious and determined I was so eventually she made some enquiries on my behalf.
" Horsham Manor," my mother suddenly announced one April morning as we were sitting at the breakfast table.
She was reading from an official looking letter that had just been delivered that very morning.
" Mr Arthur Fitzsimmons and his wife Margo ," she continued...." require a parlour/kitchen maid to start immediately."
My mother put down the letter on the breakfast table. "Horsham Manor...." she said , smiling across at me..... her blue eyes wide with excitement.... " its one of the finest houses in all of Kent!"

Indeed it was a fine, old house as I was soon to discover.
It was April and the Kent apple orchards were white with blossom. The sun shone brightly in a blue sky as I made my way way up the long driveway to Horsham Manor. The grand old house looked lovely in the morning sunshine with Virginia creeper growing on its 19th century walls. I remember feeling quite calm and composed as I climbed the steps and pulled the doorbell.
A servantgirl greeted me and ushered me into the hallway . Soon I found myself sitting at a highly polished dining table being interviewed by Mrs Fitzsimmons the lady of the house.
She was kind and polite throughout the interview and soon put me at my ease.
I did nt know it then but she was desperate to employ another servant girl to compliment Vera whose main duties were to care for Arthur Fitzsimmons the master of the house.
Mr Fitzsimmons.....I soon learned....... was paralysed from the waist down due to a fox hunting accident the previous autumn.
I sat opposite Mrs Fitzsimmons..... across the wide , oak dining table as she interviewed me and tried to ascertain if I d be suitable for the position of parlourmaid and ..... more importantly.... did I have the temperament and aptitude for life in service.
She listened patiently as I told her about my mother and her time in service at the beginning of the century. Mrs Fitzsimmons smiled to herself and seemed reassured by my seriousness and my obvious pedigree.
"Exellent Kate........" she said at last....clasping her hands in front of her....." I m sure you ll fit in here at Horsham Manor... "
She stood up and shook my hand most formally.... " I ll write to your mother in due course Kate... " she said smiling at me. At that first meeting I was struck by her beauty.... her brown eyes.... her lively demeanor..... her ready smile.
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At that moment Vera the servantmaid appeared at the door and led me out of the drawing room, along the corridor and out into the wide hallway. Vera looked smart in her black skirt and maids uniform. She smiled at me as she opened the front door with its stained glass decoration. I noticed she had pale blue eyes as she bade me farewell and I left the house.
The sun was still shining as I walked down the wide steps and made my way home . I walked along the driveway in the morning sunshine thinking back to my interview with Margo Fitzsimmons...... I felt that I d made a good impression on the lady of the house. As I reached the iron scrollwork gates I looked back at Horsham Manor .
The old house looked wonderful at the end of an avenue of lime trees......yes... I thought to myself.... this will be the perfect place to start my career .... my career in service.

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[meadowland]

2, It was only a matter of days before Mrs Fitzsimmons wrote to my mother confirming my position as parlour/kitchen maid at Horsham Manor.
Before long I found myself a resident at that wonderful old house ...... sharing a room with Vera .... a spacious bedroom at the end of the landing.
It was April 1936 ... I was just 16 years old. I felt as if a new chapter was beginning in my young life.
In a curious way the whole of Britain was entering a new chapter in its long history. King George V had passed away in January, only two months before...... and his son.... Edward.... the dashing Prince of Wales.... had been proclaimed King Edward V111.
The Prince had been groomed from childhood for his role as King by his stern father King George V and his equally stern and straight laced mother....... Queen Mary.
Preparations were being made for the Coronation to take place in May 1937. Everything was being prepared for a glittering Coronation Ceremony....one that would showcase Britain to her Empire and the rest of the civilized world.
The public were reassured and began to look forward to the Royal Coronation.
They were unaware however, that the Prince of Wales had a romantic attachment to a certain Wallace Simpson.... an upper class American lady. The public were equally unaware of his determination to marry this American dame who ........to make matters worse.... was a divorcee twice over.
Only people in the upper echelons of society knew about the Princes infatuation and devotion to Wallis Simpson....who was... let it be said.....was an attractive and stylish American lady.
In the spring of 1936 the great British public had no conception of the growing crisis at the very heart of the British Monarchy.

As the days went by I felt I was settling in well to my new life at Horsham Manor.... that wonderful old house built in the year 1812 when George 111 was on the throne of England.
Vera was kind and helped me feel at home. She was aged 19 with pale blue eyes ... and wavy blonde hair . Mrs Fitzsimmons assigned her to show me around and outline my duties for the week.
Vera herself was employed primarily as a nurse and helpmate to Mr Fitzsimmons.... the master of the house, so cruelly confined to his wheelchair since the fox hunting accident.
He was a kind man aged 62 who still had a sense of humour despite his sad physical condition. I was often called to the bedroom to help Vera lift him into the wheelchair or lift him into bed at night.
I remember from the very first he christened us...... "My guardian angels"............. it was gratifying that he appreciated our help so much and thanked us for every act of kindness....
." How can I ever complain about my life..." he often said..... "when I have two such heavenly angels to attend me ! "
I must say.... on first meeting him I was surprised at how much older he was than his dear wife Margo..... she was 35 while he was 62.
With his balding pate and side whiskers, I must confess , he looked more like her father than her husband. Yet he was quite charming and full of fun........ I could easily understand how a young gal could be attracted to such a man and agree to become his wife.
And what an attractive wife Margo was.... with her thick brown hair that grew down to her waist.... as thick and luxuriant as a teenage girl. Speak also of her smooth , white complexion.... her hazel eyes ....her aqualine nose.... yes she was quite lovely..... like a beauty transported from a painting by Burne Jones.

In the years after the war and the early 1920s Margo had been a chorus girl on the London stage....... famous for her willowy figure and her long....long hair . She was a stunning beauty at that time, attracting her own band of male admirers each night at the stage door.
In the spring of 1922 the young Noel Coward saw her dancing on stage....... plucked her out of the chorus line and put her into a revue.... a sophisticated and popular show that required her to learn new skills of acting and singing.
In that same year Arthur Fitzsimmons was aged 48 and a pillar of the London Stock Exchange. By then he d been divorced for 6 years. He was wealthy...handsome... a man of property..... he had every luxury of life but for all that he was lonely and tired of living a bachelor life.
Seeing Margo dancing and singing on stage one night , transformed him into her most devoted fan.....after seeing just one performance he was hooked..... he became a stage door Johnny.
Of course Margo was flattered by his persistant attentions and the expensive gifts that arrived regularly from Fortnum and Masons or Selfridges.
The love struck Arthur Fitzsimmons set his sights on the pretty young actress and soon they were writing letters to each other on a daily basis. The romance soon progressed to carriage rides in Hyde Park and glittering nights out to the theatre and the ballet.
Of course the 21 year old actress was flattered by the attention and devotion of this charming , urbane, middle aged man. Margo enjoyed being treated like a princess..... she enjoyed being wined and dined at the top London restaurants and clubs.... but she had to keep reminding herself that in just 2 years time her suitor would be 50 years old.
The girls at the theatre were intrigued at the sight of this middle aged man with balding pate and side whiskers.... meeting Margo each night at the stage door and ushering her into his chauffeur driven Rolls Royce.
Meanwhile Margos stage career prospered.... she became quite famous with her own band of admirers... many of the female sex. Women especially loved her liberated attitude..... there she was each night on stage standing up for women in a male dominated society. She was independant... outspoken.... playing roles where she often dominated the men making them appear trivial and subservient.
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Arthur Fitzsimmons was there in the theatre ...in his private box... at least twice a week to watch her perform and revel in her fame and success.
Outside the theatre their relationship was sometimes a little like father and daughter.... Arthur the devoted father.... Margo the coquettish... teasing daughter. She even called him Daddy on occasion which if anything only made him more amorous and infatuated with his young paramour.
In truth, by then they were more than friends... they were lovers. Margo had given in to his charm and his constant pleading to take their love making further than stolen kisses in the back of his Rolls Royce.
Arthur was fast approaching 50 but he still had the desire and sexual vigour to satisfy a young woman. He was also well endowed.....so much so that Margo was completely satisfied and fulfilled on the occasions they spent the night together..... whether it was in a Mayfair Hotel or a night in his country house at Horsham Manor.


By the summer of 1925 Margo was the toast of the London Theatre. She had her very own band of female admirers who hung on to her every word.... she had a rich , middle aged lover who worshipped the very ground she walked on .....Yes life was sweet for the glamorous young actress.
In that warm, lazy summer of 1925 Margo was at the peak of her success.... but her high life was to change so quickly when she discovered that she had been made pregnant by her middle aged lover. There was nothing else for it.... her triumphant career on the London stage would have to be put on hold.
In September 1925 she became Mrs Arthur Fitzsimmons and in April 1926 she became the proud mother of his daughter.... Rebecca.

to be continued.......



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[meadowland]

3,
Life at Horsham Manor was a new adventure for me..........helping in the kitchen...........serving at table..........running errands to the village shops...... I was kept fully occupied all the livelong day.
Martha Simkins the cook gave me lots of help and advice......... she d been with Mr Fitzsimmons for nearly 20 years. She remembered how things were before the divorce and scandal..... though she never spoke of such personal matters....... at least not to me.
I knew I had a friend in Martha..... she was kind and homely.... someone I could turn to for comfort and reassurance.
Meals took on a special significance at Horsham Manor..... breakfast.... luncheon.... high tea....... dinner.......... they were all elaborate rituals that divided the day and gave it shape and structure. Perhaps it was Mr Fitzsimmons confinement in a wheelchair that gave mealtimes that extra significance and importance.
Certainly Martha the cook worked tirelessly preparing and planning elaborate meals for the master and mistress of the house.
As a rule dinner was served at 7 in the evening ...........then at around 7.45 Vera was called in to wheel Mr Fitzsimmons into the drawing room where he would read or write or perhaps Margo would put some records on the wind up gramophone.
Usually they did nt retire till at least 11pm at night when Vera and I would be summoned to wheel Mr Fitzsimmons along the corridor to his downstairs bedroom..... the room which.... in former times ..... was once an elegant parlour .
Mr Fitzsimmons was paralysed from the waist down and we had to lift him into his bed. I think he enjoyed this nightly ritual.... he would put his arms around our shoulders each night and say.... "My ministering angels are carrying me to my bed.... to the arms of Lethe...." or some such Greek nonsense.
Usually Margo was standing by ....highly amused and laughing at his turn of phrase.
She knew it was a Godsend that he made light of his condition...... that he could find humour in his sad situation. If he had been a man of a more gloomy disposition and become depressed..... then surely that would have plunged the whole household into gloom and despondency.
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It was Friday night.... the end of my first week at Horsham Manor. I walked back from the bathroom dressed only in a nightgown and slippers.
I entered the bedroom..... Vera was already in bed but lying propped up on the pillows.... wavy blonde hair on her shoulders...... the outline of her breasts visible through her thin nightgown.
" Shall I put the light out ? " I asked ...... I could hear the grandfather clock chiming midnight down in the hallway.
"No Kitty ... " said Vera emphatically "leave the light on.... lets talk a while."
I climbed into bed and sat up on the pillow wondering what exactly she wanted to talk about.
Suddenly she jumped out of bed and knelt down on the carpet between our two beds.
Her nightgown was low cut... I could see her breasts and her gold necklace with a pearl.
She smiled up at me.... "I ve got a surprise for you...." she said.... and with that she reached down under her bed and pulled out half a bottle of Bordeaux wine and two wine glasses.
"The masters finest..." she said , grinning and handing me a glass filled to the very brim.
It transpired that Vera had a special arrangement with Martha the cook that.... in return for extra duties and more personal help, Martha would save Vera the odd half bottle of leftover wine that would otherwise be disposed of down the sink.
It was a good arrangement and served to oil the wheels of cooperation between the two women.......... "We have a secret understanding." Vera said conspiratorally.
Vera stood by my bed in her nightgown as we clinked glasses and drank a toast to Horsham Manor. I could nt help noticing her full breasts that were outlined in her blue nightgown with its rosebud decoration.
She drank some wine and then sat down on my bed.... she smiled at me as I lay there on the pillows.
" Its good to have some company..." she said... looking deep into my eyes.... she touched my hand....
"you ll be happy here at Horsham Kitty... I just know it..." she took a sip of wine......".Mrs Fitzsimmons.....now shes the finest lady in all of Kent..." Vera took yet another sip of her Bordeaux wine.....And Mr Fitzsimmons.... .... " well hes the finest gentlemen in all of the county..."
"I don t doubt it .." I said as Vera filled up my empty glass with yet more red wine.
It felt so nice...lying there between the white linen sheets...my head resting on the soft pillow....it was a lovely end to my first week at Horsham Manor.
I looked at Vera..... at her wavy blonde hair.... at her low cut nightgown that seemed to emphasise her lovely breasts. It felt so cosy and intimate lying there.... we were like two schoolgirls sharing a secret midnight feast.
The wine felt warm in my breast.... I wanted Vera to lean over and kiss me goodnight.... to cuddle me like a mother cuddles her daughter.
We talked together and drank the wine.... even to the very dregs.... while Vera sat on my bed and told me little stories and incidents of her 3 years at Horsham . I loved her stories... I loved her soft Kentish accent and I think she enjoyed telling me her tales of life in service.
She was a country girl like me........ she was attractive with a feminine figure. Her breasts were lovely..... I could nt help feeling that she was showing them off to me as she sat there on the side of my bed...... she was almost coquettish !
I don t know whether it was the wine but I was feeling such affection for her. ....... I wanted to cuddle her..... I wanted to reach out and touch those lovely breasts...... to kiss her sweet lips.
So many emotions were rushing through my mind until suddenly I heard the clock in the hallway chime 1 o clock.
Vera immediately collected up the bottle and glasses and secreted them once again under her bed. She then stood up and leaned over me..... "Goodnight my darlin..." she said and kissed me on the forehead. As she did so her breasts pressed against my hands which were on the linen coverlet.
It was a wonderful ... intimate moment .... a moment I savoured as Vera crossed the carpet and switched off the electric light.
I relived that sweet , intimate moment again and again as I lay there in the darkness.... until eventually ...... I fell into a deep...... heavenly sleep.

To be continued.......

 

[meadowland]

4.
As the weeks passed slowly by, life at Horsham fell into a routine. There was no end to my duties..... serving meals..... helping in the kitchen..... polishing the brass work..... cleaning the stair carpets. Between them.... Mrs Fitzsimmons and the cook could always find some little task for me to do.
For my part I was nt complaining... I was happy to be fully occupied. It was hard work and long hours but at the same time I was getting an insight into the running and upkeep of a large household.
My mistress Mrs Fitzsimmons had a way of making me feel appreciated. I remember one occasion when I had spent the whole day cleaning the hallway and the staircase with its elaborate carved banisters. In the late afternoon my mistress appeared and praised my work saying she d never seen the hallway and the staircase looking so spick and span.
Such a compliment from her made me feel special and that all my efforts had been worthwhile.
I had nt been at Horsham Manor long when Martha the cook informed my mistress that I was skilled with a needle and thread. In the course of the next few days I almost had occasion to regret telling Martha about my dressmaking skills and my prowess with a singer sewing machine as Mrs Fitzsimmons began bringing me the odd clothing item for repair.
A fox fur stole I remember was the first garment she presented me with....... then a delicate lace blouse. I carried out the repairs to the best of my ability and Mrs Fitzsimmons seemed very pleased with the results.
My own foolishness ....... in being too free in conversation with Martha....... had brought me a whole new series of tasks. All too soon I became the first port of call whenever my mistress needed a hem to be repaired or a new dress to be adjusted. She even brought her daughters school uniform to me for repair and renovation.
Rebecca......... how often had I heard my mistress speak her name......... yet I only knew Rebecca from photographs on the sideboard in the drawing room. Rebecca was 10 years old and already boarding at a posh school on the coast near Brighton. She looked charming in the photographs with long, luxuriant hair .... just like her dear mother. I looked forward to the Easter holidays when I would meet her at long last.
Of course Rebecca was the sole reason that Margo gave up her glittering career on the London stage.... yet she had no regrets. From snippets of conversation I overheard whilst serving meals I could tell that Rebecca was the light of her parents eyes and the focus of their love and affection.

It was 2 o clock in the afternoon and Vera appeared in the kitchen........ Mr Fitzsimmons had decided to take an afternoon nap........ would I help her lift him into bed.
I followed Vera along the corridor and into my masters bedroom. We lifted him out of the wheelchair and made him comfortable in the bed.
"Thank you my darlings...." he said .... smiling at us as we left the room.... then I heard him say... "Oh Kitty.... one minute please...." I stopped at the doorway and looked back. He indicated to close the door then motioned for me to sit down on the bedside chair.
"Kitty my dear..." he said ... looking at me from his pillow. He had brown eyes... like his dear wife Margo. I noticed there was still a hint of red in his thick sideburns though the rest of his receding hair was silver grey.
"You ve settled in well Kitty my dear..." he said... "I m so pleased... already I feel you re a part of the family.... like Vera and Martha."
I felt myself beginning to blush.... I think Mr Fitzsimmons noticed my embarrassment... but he went on.
"Im not the man I used to be Kitty."... he said
..... he turned and stared out of the window ... out into the garden with its bare April trees. For a moment he looked a little forlorn... but he went on.... " my wife is still young and vigorous.......... I fear I can no longer be the companion I once was......"
His voice trailed off.... I could hear emotion in his voice then his big brown eyes turned to me and he put his hand on the bed...."Give me your hand Kitty...." he said.
I did nt hesitate .... I put my hand in his.
" You re young Kitty, " he said smiling.... my hope is that you ll become more than a servant to this household.... my dearest wish is that you ll become a boon companion to my dear wife ."
"Yes Kitty...." he said ... seeing the blank look on my face........ " a friend and companion.......someone who can accompany her when she goes shopping to London and partner her when she goes riding in the lanes".
He smiled and lay back on the pillow... I felt him squeeze my hand.... "Im sure you ll make the ideal companion for my dear wife Margo."
I saw there were tears in his eyes as I let go of his hand and left him to his afternoon nap.
I felt touched and flattered by his kind words and his trust in me. For the rest of the day as I went about my duties I could almost hear his voice repeating the words...
...."Kitty ... my dearest wish is that you ll become a boon companion to my dear wife........."

There was an informality at Horsham Manor ... an informality that was most obvious by the way my master and mistress refered to me by my first name Kitty. That was such a contrast to the 1900s when my dear old mother entered service. In those far off days there was an unbreachable gulf between master and servant..... there were strict rules of convention.... it just was nt done to address the servants in that manner. Now in the 1930s things were different.... society was less rigid..... there had been the suffragettes .... there had been female emancipation..... there had been the rise of socialism and workers rights.
Certainly things were a changing..... as my father often said as he sat smokin his pipe after a long day in the fields......... "Things be a changin tis true..... but be they a changin for the better ? ........ sometimes I be a wonderin ! "


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[meadowland]

5.
It was Easter Week........ the Wednesday before Good Friday. I was in the workroom that leads off from the kitchens...... I was lining some curtains for Rebecca's bedroom.
Rebecca was due home from school the following day as it was the Easter school holidays.
I worked at the Singer sewing machine by the window...... working the treadle with my foot and controlling the white cambric as it slowly went through the machine. It was a straightforward task.... I had no difficulty.
I stopped for a moment and looked through the window ...... out across the wide lawn. It was a fine, sunny day with lots of blue sky. I watched Vera pushing Mr Fitzsimmons in his wheelchair along the path on the far side of the lawn.
How I envied Vera .......... she was out in the fresh air..... enjoying the sunshine..... while I was here......couped up inside.... slaving away on a sewing machine ! Once more I almost wished that I d kept quiet about my machining and dressmaking skills.
Just at that moment Martha entered my little workroom.
"Madame requires you to run the bath Kitty .......leave your work my dear.... you can finish that later. "
I walked through the kitchens....... along the corridor and into the hallway. I climbed the wide staircase with its carved oak banisters and went along to the main bathroom.
There was plenty of hot water in the system and soon the bath was filling up nicely. I put in two different kinds of scented bath salts and laid out the requisite towels on the chair. Next I went to inform my mistress that everything was ready for her bath.
I found her in her upstairs bedroom.... the one she used when her husband was out of sorts .... at such times it was more comfortable to sleep in separate beds.
She was sitting on the wide bed looking very sophisticated in her silk dressing gown the one with an elaborate Japanese design. Her long hair was loose...... falling on her shoulders and breast.

I informed her that everything was ready for her bath . At that point I assumed that I would be dismissed..... as on former occasions.... and would return to my sewing... but no.....
" Come and take my gown Kitty..." Margo said as she walked past me and out along the corridor then into the bathroom.
She walked up to the ornamental bath with its gold taps and gold inlay..... felt the temperature of the water with her elegant hand then undid the belt of her dressing gown. She lifted it at the shoulder and half turned to me.....instinctively I took hold of the silk dressing gown as my mistress slipped out of it and stepped naked into the bath.
For a brief moment I glimpsed the arch of her back......I saw her white skin..... even the curve of her lovely breasts. She lay back in the warm bath water as the soap bubbles came up to her neck .....she smiled up at me.
"Take my dressing gown Kitty and lay it out on my bed..... I ll call for you presently...."
I left the bathroom .....gently closing the door behind me .......and went along the corridor to the bedroom. I laid out the dressing gown as my mistress had instructed and admired the colourful design and the feel of the smooth silk. Then I walked over to the bow windows to admire the view of the garden with its high walls and trees so lifeless and bare.
There were patches of yellow daffodils at the edge of the lawn...... there were pots with flowering crocus...... It was a lovely scene of springtime... the garden bathed in bright April sunshine and beyond..... way beyond the garden wall.....I could see the fields and farms of rural Kent.
I thought of my dear father...... he d laboured in those fields ever since he was a small boy...... work on the farm was all he knew..... it was his life. I thought of my own childhood on the farm.... of leading the horses through the stableyard and out into the wide green fields in the morning sunshine....I remembered so many spring days just like this one. I was daydreaming.... I was thinking of my childhood ..... already it seemed so long ago and in the past.... now here I was at Horsham Manor....
A call from my mistress awoke me from my reveries....... she had finished her bath and required my prompt attendance.
I picked up the silk dressing gown from the bed and hurried to the bathroom. Margo was still lying in the bath...... she watched me enter with the silk dressing gown over my arm.
"No Kitty dear...." she said "I need help with the towels.... you should have left the dressing gown on the bed till I get dry.... still.... for now.... put it there over the chair. "
I did as I was instructed then picked up the large bath towel.
My mistress stood up in the bath with her back to me as I placed the towel round her shoulders. She stepped out of the bath and I began to towel her down.
The fragrance of the bath salts filled my senses as I towelled her back and shoulders..... as I rubbed her soft, white skin.
I d never been that close and intimate with a woman before....at least not with anyone outside my own family..... I had no idea that this would be a part of my duties.
I passed Margo a clean towel and she towelled her ample breasts and her tummy while I dried her back and her wide hips.
Her long brown hair was wet and straggly reaching down almost to the middle of her back.
At last she pulled a large bath towel around her shoulders... turned to me and smiled....
" Thank you Kitty... you may go..."
Her smile was almost coquettish..... also there was a look in her eye that seemed to say something to me..... something I was nt quite sure of.

I returned to my little workroom and my singer sewing machine to complete the task of lining the bedroom curtains.
I must confess that as the needle worked its way across the cambric my mind was on other things. I thought of my mistress lying naked in the bath...... I thought of how intimate we had been together. It was pleasant to think back and run the pictures through my minds eye. Once more I could see the expensive silk dressing gown falling off her shoulders and Margo stepping into the bath....... once again I could smell the heady perfume of the bath salts.
Informality was the watchword at Horsham Manor..... I knew that so well...... but was my mistress taking informality a little too far I wondered ?
I thought of my mothers years in service.... she had told me so many stories and incidents of her time at the big house in Canturbury..... yet she never mentioned anything about attending her mistress naked in the bath !
Had she witnessed such scenes but never told me about them I wondered.

to be continued......



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[meadowland]

6.
It was Thursday afternoon... the Easter weekend and the school holidays were upon us. I was in Rebecca's bedroom where I had just put up the new curtains . I was busy wiping the window ledges and putting the finishing touches to the lovely room with its two single beds and its tall windows overlooking the garden.
Suddenly I heard a car outside on the driveway and then the slamming of car doors. It was my mistress returning from the station with Rebecca.
Soon I heard voices down in the hallway. I looked at my reflection in the dressing room mirror. I adjusted my white pinafore and brushed some fluff off my black skirt. I wanted to look smart for my first meeting with Rebecca..... the daughter of my mistress.
Soon I heard footsteps in the corridor then two young girls entered the bedroom closely followed by Mrs Fitzsimmons. All three turned to see me standing by the bed in my black skirt and white pinafore..... a white maids cap on my head.
"Rebecca darling this is Kitty our new maid...." said Margo....." Kitty ... this is Rebecca my daughter..."
She looked quite tall for a 10 year old girl I thought as we shook hands. She was wearing a blue blazer and a Beret.... her long hair tied up in a pony tail.
" And this is Amy..... " continued Margo...." Rebeccas best friend who s staying with us for the holidays."
Amy had pale blue eyes... she shook my hand and smiled. The girls then looked round the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Mrs Fitzsimmons and I then left the girls to unpack and settle in together. The introductions were over... I could see the girls were exited at the prospect of a long holiday and a break from routine and their school lessons.

For the rest of the day I was assigned to chaperon the two young girls in their outdoor activities. We spent a full hour out on the lawn throwing a tennis ball to each other. I enjoyed the fresh air and our simple game of catch..... it was a pleasant diversion from my usual household duties.
The girls had changed out of their school uniforms and were dressed in woollen sweaters and woollen stockings... they were dressed against the cool , spring weather. It was good exercise for them...... running across the lawn to catch a tennis ball.
They were so agile and athletic.... I just could nt keep up with them !
At dinner that evening the dining room was filled with the eager chatter of the two young schoolgirls. Mr Fitzsimmons's sat back contentedly in his chair... he wanted to hear all about Rebecca's adventures during the school term.

I learned quite a lot myself as I passed too and fro from the kitchens carrying a tray of dishes or wheeling in the serving trolly.
The main meal was a lamb casserole I remember..... its delicious aroma filled the kitchens and invaded the house.
While the family were enjoying their meal I went into the drawing room and banked up the fire with logs from the shed. I lit the large oil lamps on either side of the mantelshelf. They were nt strictly necessary in this age of electricity ......... but my mistress loved their soft light and the quaint.... old fashioned look it gave to the drawing room.

At 8 o clock my work was done and I returned to the kitchens where Martha had kept our meals warm in the oven.
Lamb casserole with potatoes, carots and turnips....... I was so ready for that delicious meal. It had been a long day and the game of catch out on the lawn, had given me such an appetite.
We ate our meal together sitting at the table near the stove..... Martha... Vera and I. It was my favourite time of the day.... my work was over.... I could relax ..... enjoy my meal and listen to Marthas stories of her life in service. More particularly.... about her life at Horsham Manor.
In many ways she reminded me of my own mother.... she had the same wisdom and quick intelligence. I loved to hear what she had to say ..... I knew I could learn a lot from her.
She was age 59 and she d been at Horsham Manor for nearly 20 years..... since the end of the first world war in fact.
She sat there at the head of the table in her white bonnet.... her grey hair pinned at the back. She looked so neat and prim sitting there in her white pinafore and her blouse with the high collar. She looked like a mother hen...... Vera and I her two young underlings.

 

[meadowland]

7.
At 8 o clock Vera and I retired to our servants quarters. I lay stretched out on the bed writing a letter to my mother while Vera sat in a chair reading a racy novel from the 1920s.
Just at that moment we heard a noise outside the door. I watched as the door handle slowly turned and the door swung open. It was Amy and Rebecca standing there in their night dresses ready for bed.
They stood in the doorway smiling and giggling ..... they were in high spirits and they d come to seek me out. After our ball game in the garden they thought of me as their newest friend............ I was flattered.
At last Amy spoke out..... "Kitty."... she said..." Rebecca wants you to read us a bedtime story...."
" Yes Kitty," said Rebecca...." " please come and read a story .... it ll help us get to sleep.."
How could I refuse ? The corridor was cold... the two girls were shivering .... standing there in just their nightdresses.
" Run along and into bed then...." I said... " I ll be along presently."
They ran off.... racing each other to see who would be first into bed. I followed them along the corridor to their bedroom at the back of the house.

I entered the room to find them both snuggled up in the same bed...... the sheets pulled right up with just their eyes peeping out at me. They were giggling as usual and eagerly awaiting my bedtime story ... I could nt help laughing seeing them there.
I found a book of fairy tales on a shelf at the side of the room .... one I had noticed while dusting the previous day. It was a large, thick book with a paper cover...... Tales from Many Lands.... was the title in bold green lettering. I opened it and found a tale I thought would amuse and entertain them.
The tale concerned the handsome Prince Sylvester whose father ruled a mountainous kingdom in a land that is now a region of southern Germany.
It was a time of peace and the King arranged for his 19 year old son ... Sylvester .... to marry Princess Elsa..... the eldest daughter of the King of a neighbouring kingdom.
One spring day Sylvester set off to woo and marry Princess Elsa. He travelled in a train of seven coaches with many servants and attendants dressed in full Royal livery.
It took them 4 days to reach the home of Princess Elsa..... a splendid white castle set high amidst the mountains .
At last Prince Sylvester met Princess Elsa and they exchanged gifts. The princess was attractive with long blonde hair and blue eyes. After their first meeting the princess told her father she thought Sylvester was a handsome and dashing young prince and that she would be happy to marry him.
The King and Queen were delighted and began preparations for an elaborate wedding ceremony to be held at the castle.
I looked at Rebecca and Amy........ they were enjoying the story.... it was new to them..... they d never heard it before....
It seemed like this story was going to have a happy ending. Rebecca looked at me..... "Wheres the wicked witch ? " she asked ....... as if hoping that something would go wrong for the happy couple.
" Twenty seamstresses worked night and day... " I continued... ignoring her question " to make an elaborate wedding gown of pure silk. They sewed 1000 pearls onto the dress using the finest silver thread. At the same time 12 cooks worked day and night in the kitchens preparing a magnificent wedding feast.
Everything was being prepared for the big day when Prince Sylvester would marry Princess Elsa and unite the two kingdoms in peace and harmony.
While all these preparations were underway the Prince was living as an honoured guest at the castle.
He had time to relax and get to know Princess Elsa his future bride and Princess Enid her 14 year old sister.
As the days went by however he began to realise that Princess Elsa was a spoiled princess. She had been pampered by her father the king from when she was a tiny girl.
As a result she had grown up to be pompous and vain ..... always wanting her own way in all things.
The prince began to find her manner and behaviour unbearable. Her sister Princess Enid by contrast, was modest and shy.....the very opposite of her overbearing sister. The Prince found Enid to be gentle and loving.... he was quite charmed by the young Princess.
Soon Prince Sylvester found himself falling in love with the 14 year old sister of his intended bride..... he no longer cared for the spoiled Princess Elsa at all.
He arranged to meet Princess Enid in secret and confessed his love for her.... he told her that there was no way he could ever marry her sister ...... but alas....... the wedding preparations were nearly complete !
At that very moment the seamstresses were putting the finishing touches to the wedding gown...... the whole kingdom was preparing for the nuptual celebrations.

It was the night before the wedding.... poor Prince Sylvester was in a terrible dilemma. He knew he could nt marry Princess Elsa because he just did nt love her.... he had given his heart to Princess Enid.
The prince also knew just how upset the two Royal Families would be if he did nt go through with the marriage.
In the end Sylvester and Enid ..... two star crossed lovers.... waited for nightfall and under cover of darkness they led two horses from the stables and galloped away into the night...."
I looked at Amy..... she was asleep already.... dreaming of fairy castles and handsome princes. I gently lifted her and carried her to her own bed. It was warm in there with two hot water bottles.
Rebecca watched me.... but her eyelids were heavy.... it had been a long day..... the train journey from Brighton..... the ball games out on the lawn...... she would have to hear the end of the story some other time.
"Goodnight Kitty.... " she said in a soft whisper.
"Goodnight my darling..." I replied as I gave her a goodnight kiss.

I returned to the servants quarters to find Vera stretched out on her bed ..... still reading that racy novel by Aldous Huxley.
"You ve been a long time.... " she said looking up from her book..... "
"It was a long story ...." I replied.
I looked at the clock on the chest of draws... already it was twenty minutes to ten. I fell onto my bed and lay there staring at the ceiling.... it had been a long....long day.
I thought of my duties at Horsham..... helping cook in the kitchens..... cleaning the house...... working at the sewing machine. Now ..... on top of all those tasks I had become nanny to Rebecca and Amy.... and official storyteller to boot !
There simply were nt enough hours in the day.... I thought as I lay there on the bed....... and the school holidays had only just begun !!


To be continued......