Georgette Heyer's Regency World (4 page)

More Modest Dwellings

Social standing within the middle class, where ranking was subtle and complex, was largely determined by the extent to which a household employed domestic help, purchased luxury goods and increased the amount of time free from work. Middle-class houses varied greatly in size and furnishings but even the smallest and most modest households were usually distinguished from those of the poorer classes by having more than two main rooms, a separate kitchen close to a water supply, and a single family with at least one servant as occupants. Furze Farm, owned by the young and handsome Mr Mudgley in
The Foundling
, was a moderately sized dwelling set in freehold land, large enough to house a family comfortably but decidedly middle class with the occupants doing much of the domestic and farm work assisted by a servant girl and a number of hired hands. Further up the middle-class ranks, houses could be as large as any of those owned by the upper class and with as many (or more) servants to ensure that the upwardly mobile master and mistress of the house never did anything in the way of manual labour. The ability to hire servants and maintain a carriage and horses was an important indicator of social status—although it was not necessarily a reliable guide to a person’s class as evidenced by the huge retinue of servants and the several carriages and liveried footmen employed by the vulgar Jonathan Chawleigh in
A Civil Contract
. Industrialisation and overseas trade saw a marked increase in the range and availability of consumer goods and many among the growing and increasingly prosperous middle class became eager purchasers of clothes, household items, accessories, furnishings, utensils and furniture with which to enhance their houses.

During the Regency an income of £10,000 a year was enough to enable a member of the upper class to maintain both a country estate and a town mansion and afford all the pleasures of life that went with them. Hugo Darracott in
The Unknown Ajax
teased his cousin Anthea about her (expensive) desire to own, rather than rent, a London house in the event that she moved to the metropolis. A moderately sized town house in Mayfair could be rented for £1,000 a year and between 1810 and 1814 a comfortable town residence and the life to go with it cost approximately £3,000 for the year with half of that spent on food and wine, and about £500 each on servants, carriages and horses. In
Frederica
the opportunity to rent out their home in Herefordshire enabled the Merriville family to afford a London Season and, by practising careful economy, Frederica was able to ensure that she and her lovely sister Charis were as well-dressed as any in the
ton
. By the end of the period a family with an income of £1,000 a year could afford to keep five servants and a carriage and pair, while a family on £400 a year could employ two housemaids and keep a groom and a horse.

Domestic Staff

A great house owned by a member of the aristocracy, such as the Duke of Sale in
The Foundling
or the late Earl of Spenborough in
Bath Tangle
, might employ an enormous number of servants with (in addition to maids, footmen, coachmen, grooms, stable boys and gardeners) a personal household staff of a steward, butler, Groom of the Chambers, under-butler, housekeeper, dresser or lady’s maid, nursery or young ladies’ maid, chef or cook, agent-in-chief, valet, chaplain, governess, tutor-companion, head keeper, head gardener and even a confectioner or pastry-chef. Most upper-class families, however, managed with fewer servants than the number required for service in a ducal mansion. And a more usual retinue might include a butler, cook, valet, lady’s maid, several general maids, footmen, a scullery maid, possibly a page-boy, and the stable staff. Hero and Sherry in
Friday’s Child
decided that they could manage quite comfortably with just a cook, a butler, a valet, a personal maid, two abigails, a footman, a coachman, a couple of grooms and his lordship’s tiger, Jason. For a young man living in chambers in London—such as Captain Gideon Ware of
The Foundling
—a pleasant bachelor existence could be achieved with the services of just a cook, a valet, a maid and a groom.

Servants were an integral and essential part of Regency upper-class life, and their continual presence in almost every aspect of it was, at times, quite difficult for their employers. In
April Lady
Nell Cardross had to quell her brother Dysart’s irrepressible urge to discuss her personal affairs while they were travelling in an open carriage with both the coachman and the footman within earshot, and, in
The Reluctant Widow
, Lord Carlyon and his guests waited until the servants had left the dining room before they discussed a relative’s scandalous behaviour. Although a servant’s presence was largely taken for granted on waking, while dressing, at mealtimes, at social events and when travelling, it could also be a constraint as employers sought to keep their personal affairs to themselves or at least within the family or between friends. Lord Dolphington in
Cotillion
, aware that his coachman Finglass invariably reported his activities to the Countess, often had to resort to subterfuge to prevent the servant passing on information which might have incurred his mother’s displeasure. But there was little that went on within the walls of a large estate, a London town house or a suburban villa that was not known by at least one of the retinue of servants employed to run them and it was a rare employee who did not discuss an employer’s affairs—if not with everyone in the servants’ hall then at least with his or her peers among the staff. Items of interest overheard or discovered by one servant could quickly spread through the house, and frequently beyond, with interesting gossip almost always shared amongst the staff of London’s elite homes. In
Sprig Muslin
, the Earl of Brancaster’s pronouncement to his daughter, Lady Hester Theale, that she had received an offer of marriage from Sir Gareth Ludlow was quickly spread among the servants by the butler, the valet and two footmen.

Domestic staff were usually required to work long hours to ensure their employers’ comfort and the smooth running of the household, and valets and personal maids frequently had to wait up in order to attend to their master or mistress late at night. Some servants, such as Evelyn Fancot’s valet Fimber in
False Colours
and Sophy Stanton-Lacy’s personal maid Jane Storridge in
The Grand Sophy
often chose to stay up in order to attend their master and mistress on their return from a ball or night on the town. A wealthy employer might keep a large staff, all of whom were expected to be neat, clean, punctual and efficient in the performance of their duties and on hand around the clock or at their employer’s pleasure. Most servants’ work was hard, repetitive and boring. Footmen were constantly expected to fetch and carry, run errands and wait at table, maids toiled up and down multiple flights of stairs carrying coal scuttles and linen, grates had to be cleared, cleaned and polished and fires lit before breakfast, while general cleaning, polishing, mending and making were never-ending tasks.

Food and cooking were a major preoccupation during the Regency and it required a sizeable kitchen staff to provide throughout the day and evening the varieties and quantities of food which wealthy families had come to expect. Connoisseurs such as Sir Bonamy Ripple of
False Colours
were passionate about food and took great delight in trying new dishes, planning extravagant menus and selecting the best wines to accompany even a minor meal. Breakfast and dinner were considered the most important meals and it was customary to serve a large evening repast with several removes over a number of courses. Kitchen staff were confined to the basement with its bare stone floor, where they began work early and spent their day preparing food in Spartan conditions over a labour-intensive wood- or coal-fed open range and oven or—in more fortunate, modern households—a new closed stove such as the Bodley installed at Fontley Priory in
A Civil Contract
. After each meal the vast numbers of dishes, pots, pans and utensils had to be cleaned and scoured—often without the convenience of running water—then dried and put away ready for the next meal. Food had to be bought, prepared, cooked, served and cleared all without drawing any aspect of the work involved to the attention of the servants’ employer.

Many servants began life in domestic service at a young age, starting as a scullery maid or an odd-job boy and working their way up the ranks, with some of them reaching the exalted heights of butler or housekeeper. A strong sense of loyalty to a long-term employer was not unusual and personal servants, such as a lady’s maid or valet, often developed close relationships with their mistress or master. Lord Damerel’s valet in
Venetia
had stood by his master through many adventures and remained in his employ for years despite the erratic salary and Damerel’s wild moods and often scandalous behaviour. For many in the upper class there was a strong sense of
noblesse oblige
; an ability (held to be innate in anyone born into the aristocracy) to interact with the servant class in a way that allowed a degree of respect, friendship, and even affection, between master and servant. Even so, clear divisions between the classes were maintained in the relationship. In
Bath Tangle
there was a stark contrast between Lady Serena Carlow’s ease of manner when dealing with servants and the estate staff and that of her cousin Hartley who had unexpectedly inherited the earldom but was neither born nor bred to the role. It was not uncommon for servants to remain with one family for their lifetime, growing old in their service until they were eventually pensioned off or, in some cases, retired to a cottage on the estate to live out the remainder of their lives as did the twins’ old nurse, Mrs Pinner, in
False Colours
.

As the commander-in-chief of the general domestic staff, the steward was responsible for employing all the male servants in the house, with the exception of his master’s valet. He kept the household accounts, ordered necessary household items, paid the bills, servants’ wages and expenses, and dealt with the local tradespeople. He earned about £40 a year, had his own room and did not wear livery but instead dressed in a dark coat and trousers, with a waistcoat and neckcloth.

The Groom of the Chambers was second in rank to the steward among the male servants. Although the role of Groom of the Chambers was becoming less common during the Regency he remained an important figure in many of the great houses where his main responsibility was to take charge of the guests and their servants during their stay. He ensured that visitors were properly attended to, knew the daily programme, and knew where they needed to be and how to get there. In
The Foundling
the Groom of the Chambers, Mr Turvey, relished the idea that the young Duke of Sale, having attained his majority, might fill the house with guests and thereby grant him the opportunity to demonstrate his talents.

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.