Chapter 15: New Generations

Gertie’s family expands

On Tuesday, after returning to her London home, Gertie called a meeting of the staff, there being only five of them based at the house, a housekeeper, chef, kitchen maid/apprentice cook, housemaid and her lady’s maid. Her driver was only part-time on an as-and-when-requirement basis and was supplied by Jake’s firm, as she rarely needed her own driver in recent years. So, at the age of 85 Gertie had decided several years earlier that she no longer needed to drive herself or maintain her own motor car.

She announced to the assembled staff as they expected that she would close down the household sometime within the next twelve months, when there would be a new Lady Standhope who didn’t need the London house. The housekeeper announced that she would probably retire, she was of an appropriate age and she was prepared for this probability; Seanpierre had already started to prepare for opening his new restaurant; the apprentice cook was offered and accepted an attractive position at Sean’s restaurant and the two maids would follow Gertie to the Manor where they felt their futures lay.

As far as the London house was concerned, it was owned by one of the many family trusts set up years before, a trust that specifically managed large and particularly fine family-sized properties and the house was likely to be redecorated throughout, the furniture refurbished and stored or repurposed elsewhere, and the property leased out to some wealthy, probably foreign, family until the house was needed by the Standhope Winter family again at some point in the future. Barrington would look after the transfer details until Gertie moved out entirely. Gertie had no doubt at all that the house would be earning money for the family trusts as soon as any necessary repairs, cleaning and modernising of appliances was completed. The Standhope Winters may be very wealthy but they have always abhorred waste.

After another discussion over the phone with Mrs O’Reilly, the housekeeper of the Manor, and therefore a powerful figure in the service provided for the household of the family, Gertie summonsed Charlotte Wellborough to high tea at the London house on Wednesday afternoon and had her driver collect the young woman from the Standhope Winter Merchant Bank where she had been working for several weeks as an unpaid intern.

Gertie had known the girl almost from birth, of course, as she was another of her many god children and she tried to keep tabs on them all. Charlotte was a bright girl and had been in service ever since she started working after leaving school, except for her three years’ reading for a degree at London University and Gertie was well aware that even as a small girl she had often worked in the gardens helping her father and grandfather, Billy Junior and Billy Senior respectively, the latter having been Head Gardener at the Manor ever since his father Old Bill Wellborough retired as Head Gardener. Old Bill had made his name nationally known as a rose breeder since his Wellborough Red Rose was chosen by Queen Elizabeth (later the Queen Mother) as the flower of the Coronation of her husband as King George VI in 1937. Milly Winter, then Lady Standhope, had insisted that as Old Bill had skilfully bred the distinctive rose, which scored top marks for colour, brilliance and outstanding fragrance, that it should be named after him rather than just the place where it was first grown; hundreds of cuttings of the rose had to be grafted onto root stocks to provide the many thousands of flowers that were needed on the day ... and it was still a favourite in millions of gardens around the globe.

As Charlotte was shown into the small sitting room, Gertie noted that the young woman was very smartly dressed in a tailored pin-striped trouser suit, her long blonde hair tied into a neat bun on the top of her head and looked perfectly presentable as a young banker keen to make her way in the world. She was a pretty girl, Gertie had always thought, and had a healthy tanned face against which her even white teeth stood out as she saw her godmother and smiled warmly in response.

“Hello, Charlotte, my dear, do come in and sit here next to me.”

Charlotte curtsied and, as she neared her godmother, leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “You look well, Gran Gertie,” the term that Gertie had long ago asked her to use rather than anything more formal between godmother and goddaughter. Originally it was ‘Granny Gertie’ but Charlotte was too grown-up for that now. “I heard a rumour at the bank that you were seriously ill and Uncle Gerry was briefly worried about you, but then he returned very quickly from the hospital full of bonhomie and immediately moved his offices, while Gill Moorhouse was confirmed as joint CEO and moved into the main office, but other than being confirmed as manager at today’s board meeting there has been no announcement of any impending wedding bells.”

“Well, my dear, regarding the bank what are your plans for the future?” Gertie asked, “as you look completely like the promising future merchant banking high flyer. Is that where your career is taking you, Charlotte?”

“No, no, Gran Gertie, I was born to personally serve the Winter family and, ever since Mrs O’Reilly approached me many years ago to serve my apprenticeship as a maid, I’m determined to make this service my career. After all, my college fees were paid by the family trusts and although the bank regards me as ‘unpaid’, Imam on the staff pay of the Manor. A lot of people still think that to serve a family as a servant, possibly for the whole of a working life, is somehow degrading, and yet these same people serve drinks to rude obnoxious people in bars for minimum wage, or wait tables or slave way in a factory or office for a thoughtless ungrateful boss all their working lives without experiencing a life in personal service. It is not servitude if the people you are working for are respectful, honest and grateful. Life in service can be rewarding and satisfying. My family have been in service with the same family for at least five generations and we have all found it rewarding being part of the greater family that is the Standhope family.”

“Excellent, Charlotte. Do you feel ready to be the Lady’s Maid of the next Lady Standhope?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Gran Gertie,” came the confident reply.

“I obviously know part of your story, but since you finished your apprenticeship at the Manor some four years ago, tell me about what you have been doing since and why.”

“The maid apprenticeship at the Manor is pretty comprehensive, as you know, starting with the basic cleaning and polishing, washing, pressing and repair of clothes, packing and unpacking, anticipating what is required before being asked, accounting for petty cash, keeping dual calendars to cover the lady and her family’s commitments, recording events and reminding the lady of such events. Keeping ears and eyes open for any problems, keeping secrets and confidences. I did my Uni degree in art appreciation, which included studies of art forms, materials, trends and values, paid for by the family trust. Everything in my training up to recently has been general, not having anyone in mind to serve, but I always hoped to be in the running to serve a future wife of Jake’s. Following Mrs O’Reilly’s specific instructions six weeks ago, I have researched Gill Moorhouse and her family and used the bank’s intern service to provide physical access to Miss Moorhouse and learn about her working environment and as much as possible about who she is and how she is regarded.”

“So, you have met Gill?” Gertie asked.

“I have, briefly,” Charlotte replied, “but only as an intern called ‘Lotty’. HR at the bank are used to Standhope servants coming and going, getting work experience, and I have worked as an intern there before during between-terms time, using my previous times to get to know more about Jake himself. I don’t think he ever recognised me because he was rarely at the Manor during my apprenticeship and prior to that I usually only worked in the grounds with my father. But as interns get sent everywhere, I have spoken to Mister Jake many times, and been known as Lotty rather than Charlie.”

“Don’t underestimate Jake, I’m sure he knows who you are. Well, I can confirm here that Jake and Gill are engaged and will hopefully marry later this year, with a meeting at the Manor in two weeks to tie down most of the details; you will be there at that initial wedding meeting, taking notes for Gill’s benefit,” Gertie said, “So, what do you think of Gill?”

“I like her, Gran Gertie, I like her a lot. She’s a brilliant manager, her New Business Department absolutely love her and are confident that her promotion to CEO is also a reflection on them and can only be good for the bank’s future, which is also great for promoting women in business,” Charlotte smiled. “No-one was surprised by the promotion, not surprised in the slightest. To her credit, I get the impression that Gill was the only one surprised. She looked stunned for a moment when she returned to the bank from the hospital but then she was being informed of what other departments were up to and she got into her stride. What did get everyone talking, though, was Jake’s takeover as CEO at Winstone’s which was only announced this morning. Of course, no-one outside the family knows who Jake is or that Jake and Gill are actually a loving couple. But everyone at Standhope Winter loves Jake. I’ve constantly been told all day that Jake is the go-to guy who knew everything about the banking business and pretty well everything else under the sun but they are still shocked that he was able to take control of a very respectable merchant bank that is second only in the Square Mile to the Standhope Winter Merchant Bank. I think when they find out that Jake and Gill are getting married ... well, that is going to set the cat among the pigeons!” She laughed, “oh, I love being part of this ... organisation.”

“Family, dear,” Gertie reminded her, “This whole empire is built on the support —”

“And love,” Charlotte interjected.

“Yes, Charlotte, you are right, of the whole greater supporting family. Well, you have put in the work to make yourself ready to be Gill’s lady’s maid” Gertie said, “you are older and more experienced in the world than my first lady’s maid.”

“Ah, Maisie was and is a legend. But then you were a lot younger and you had no work experience of managing people and situations,” Charlotte replied, “I am older and more experienced in service and education that your first couple of lady’s maids, and Gill is a lot older than you and already very successful and expectant of everything being done right. She will have little time for someone to catch up if her lady’s maid is not already up and running alongside her.”

“And if she recognises you and thinks you have been spying on her to see if she is as ... innocent in her behaviour as she seems?” Gertie asks.

“Then I will explain that I have already worked at the bank as an intern before, between college terms, and wanted to check whether the atmosphere was still as I remember and attune myself to the current state of her career and obligations. She may only vaguely remember me as ‘Lotty’ and I hope she will regard me as ‘Charlie’, her very own lady’s maid and confidante who has her and only her and her family’s best interests at heart. I have already given notice at the bank on Monday and just fulfilling my limited commitment to the bank until Friday afternoon.”

Gertie patted her knee, “Very good, my dear, you can come up to the Manor with me on Friday afternoon. I’ll leave the introductions and confirmation of your appointment to Mrs O’Reilly. Once you start, you will only be required to report to Gill, of course, but, for the first few months, would you please a helpless old lady just to keep me up to date in general terms?”

“Of course, Gran Gertie,” Charlotte replied, closing her hand on her god mother’s hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze, “I may have trained as much as I could over the last seven years for this role, but I will always be open to advice from my dear godmother when I need it and, dear sweet god-grandmama, you are a long way from being helpless and long may that remain!”

“And you can ask me for anything, any time,” Gertie smiled back, “And I suppose from now I better get used to calling you ‘Charlie’, my dear.”

“That would be nice.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie, I think Gill is going to be in good hands.”

They hugged and kissed each others cheeks, each feeling more secure about the future years of this family that had had so much history behind it.

As soon as Gill reached her assigned bedroom in the Manor’s cordoned-off family suite, guided up through the ridiculously lavish main staircase to the third floor and down corridors by a very young parlourmaid, she was impressed by the large size of the bedroom, the fresh decor, the huge double aspect windows and the fact that the room was dominated by a huge four-poster bed.

But then, Gill reflected, everything she had seen ever since she first saw the magnificent Georgian facade of the ... palace, there was no other word to describe this manor house, emerging from a tree-lined bend in the long half-mile drive from the narrow public road through a picturesque village, was absolutely breathtaking, its classical image perfectly reflected in the crystal clear lake in front of the building.

The parlourmaid pointed out the doors leading off the bedroom, a small sitting room, the bathroom, the master bedroom and “the closet”, before curtsying and leaving Gill alone in her private suite.

Gill tried the sitting room first, which was a small cosy room with a single window and marble fireplace, furnished with a sofa and a couple of easy chairs, a bookcase and a small wall-mounted flat screen tv, along with a number of small lamps on small side tables.

She looked in the bathroom, which was equipped with a toilet and bidet, standalone bath and separate shower. There were thick, soft towels on heated towel rails and a couple of fluffy bathrobes, both hand-monogrammed in blue thread with “GM” hanging up and also warmed by hot water pipes. The light switch outside the room had a turn-knob which could be dialled down to give the bathroom a more relaxing ambiance from a series of LED downlighting.

She tried the walk-in closet and there were racks on one side of the few dresses she had sent down on Thursday and unpacked by the Manor’s servants, alongside a mixture of everyday and more formal dresses that she had never seen before but were all her size; with drawers on the opposite side also filled with additional clothing; and at the end of the walk-in closet was a dressing table with drawers and shelves for make up and cleansing creams, the table fitted with mirrors and lights and an array of three full length mirrors at the end of the racks to thoroughly check her look before leaving.

The door leading to the main bedroom was unlocked. She walked in to see a room that virtually mirrored her own and was if anything might be a little larger. There were vases of flowers in the room, she counted four and the colours seemed be a little more muted, with more blues and greens than the first impression of the filled vases in her own room.

She closed the door behind her and walked over to her own bed and sat down, the bed so high that she almost had to stand on tiptoes before setting down safely without slipping off. It was a firm mattress, she confirmed by bouncing up and down a couple of times which pleased her; she had a firm mattress at home and on trips organised by the bank some beds were too soft for comfort; this bed, her bed, seemed just right in its level of support.

Looking around she counted five vases of flowers in her room, mostly dominated by vibrant reds and soft pinks. She breathed in and relaxed as she realised that the room was wonderfully permeated by the flowers’ rich heavenly scents and the tension of visiting Jake’s ancestral home finally eased away from her shoulders.

She sighed and then took out her phone from her clutch bag, pressing the one-touch button for her mother’s number. The mobile called the number, responding by ringing just twice before her mother picked up.

“Hi dear,” her mother’s welcoming voice sang out from the loudspeaker, “how’s your weekend so far?”

“You won’t believe where I am, Mum,” Gill said, “I’m sorry I didn’t ring last night as usual but this week has been quite frantic ... lovely in many respects but definitely overloading. This is the first time I’ve sat down on my own to give me a moment to catch my breath and get you and Dad up to date.”

“Oh, really, sweetheart, do you have any particular news updates for us, then?” Her mother asked sweetly.

Gill started to smell a rat. Although last week at the time she rang her mother for their weekly chat she was having personal doubts about her relationship with Jake, she hadn’t actually voiced them to her mother, trying to maintain a fiction that Jake was away on business but everything between them was fine. Over the course of the previous few weeks she had spoken to her mother about her increasingly promising relationship with “a friend ... called Jake ... from work”, without elaborating much further.

Now that all had been revealed to her about who Jake actually was, she was about to reveal her exciting news to her family but had first expected to wade through Mum’s usual enquiries about what the children were up to before addressing whatever might be happening in Gill’s life. Janet Moorhouse was always predictable in her patterns of behaviour.

There was an edge of practised innocent calm to her mother’s voice as if she was already expecting some particular news announcement from the eldest of her three daughters.

Mmm, Gill thought suspiciously.

“Is Dad there?” Gill asked, trying to maintain a similar innocent calm to her voice.

“Yes,” came her mother’s instant reply, “he came in from the allotments an hour ago and we’re having a cup of tea and a biscuit on the back deck; looks like being a spectacular sunset in Weymouth. Did you want to speak to Dad? We are on speaker.”

“Hi, honey!” came a distant call over the loudspeaker, her father’s voice, “is it as nice there this evening as it is here?”

That sounded suspiciously unusual for her father, Sidney Moorhouse, to be sitting waiting for her call; if she ever missed a Thursday call she always tried again on the Friday night at the same time and her father was rarely on hand to speak to. Friday early evening for Sid usually meant a pint at The Black Dog pub before supper, and her father was forever a creature of habit.

Gill glanced outside as she marshalled her thoughts. She was perched so high on the bed and windows so high and deep that she could see the sparkling lake reflecting the deep blue of a sunny spring late afternoon sky slowly easing into evening. It was a glorious day, in more ways than one.

“Where do you think I am?” Gill asked innocently.

There was a pause of silence before one of them spoke. “Ah, I suppose Jake has taken you on one of his active and interesting outings somewhere?” her father asked, adding, “is this your weekend with the kids or Wayne’s weekend, dear?”

“Oh, we have the kids with us, in fact we’ll have the kids pretty much every weekend for the next couple of years, so you’ll be able to see a lot more of them if you want.”

“Oh, that’s good, dear,” Gill’s mother Janet cooed, “we always love to see the grandchildren. But what’s happening to Wayne?”

“He’s been persuaded to go back to negotiating high profile loans and investments, he was always good at the sales side of the business rather than being CEO at Winstone’s, but he’ll be based in the Middle East, no doubt dealing with oil billionaires.”

“Oh, that’s nice dear, but won’t the kids miss him?” Janet asked.

“I don’t think so, I think Jake’s given them plenty of other interests to keep them occupied,” Gill said.

“Oh, that’s good dear, they do seem to get on well with Jake, as you seem to, too,” Janet said, asking, “so, Jake’s back from his globe trotting then?”

“Globe-trotting, Mum?” Gill snapped back, “I only said that Jake was on a business trip and, as a manager of a one-man print-room contractor I would’ve expected you to think he was on a UK-based training course or visiting another print-room branch somewhere, not at all a globe-trotter.”

“Ah,” came the distant voice of her father, Sid, “that’s because I mentioned Jake’s name down the pub last Friday and one of the guys who’s a bit of a wizz on his lap-computer-thingy found out that he was the owner of the SWN business and he was rumoured to be abroad on some vital business deal and it all sounded quite exciting and I wondered what the outcome was, dear.”

“Well, he’s back from his trip and, although I thought he was just a manager, the devious bugger has owned up that he not only partly owns the company I work for, he owns most of Wayne’s company too and has replaced him as the CEO.”

“That’s nice, dear, so you are celebrating his promotion somewhere nice then, dear?”

“Yes, we are celebrating, and it is definitely very nice here, but then I think you know exactly where I am staying, I don’t know why I know but I can feel it.”

“Ah ... Yes, dear, we do know you are at Standhope Manor, we looked it up at the library last Saturday, it looks magnificent,” Janet admitted, “And we have both been invited to visit on Monday to meet Lady Standhope there. A car is coming to pick us up in the morning and we are staying the whole week as guests at a furnished cottage on the estate, so we will see you there next Friday evening.”

“So you knew about Standhope Manor last Saturday? How?”

“Ah. A very nice young man rang us on Friday morning direct from Heathrow airport,” Sid called out. “He had just flown in overnight from Buenos Aires, via The Netherlands, and said he was calling on behalf of Jake Nicholls who had to stay on in Chile for the weekend after completing his negotiations, as guests of all his family over there who all wanted to meet him on his first visit to South America.”

“So who was this nice young man?” Gill asked, wondering who that could be.

“A Mr Jamieson, a smart young with a cut-glass accent, in his late twenties I would say when we saw him,” Sid said. “He told us he was your boyfriend Jake’s private secretary and had been for about five years. He’d been with Jake in South America for a fortnight where he was securing the bank’s future and therefore your future at the bank, and he needed to speak to us urgently before Jake returned on Monday this week. We told him we were free now, because we are retired, and he drove straight down from the airport.”

“Well, Mr Jamieson didn’t actually drive himself, Sid,” Janet interjected, “he used one of Jake’s limos, did you know Jake had a fleet of limousines, Gill?”

“I do now, Mum,” Gill sighed. “One of them drove the kids up here on Friday afternoon as soon as school finished and my driver brought Jake and me up here after work.”

“Your driver?” Sid asked.

“Yes, I got promoted to joint CEO of the bank and my driver is employed by Jake’s company, SWN,” Gill said, “so Jake not only owns the printing department and the IT department but the security and reception staff for the bank too. It was his father’s business, that his step-father expanded before Jake took charge about twelve years ago, he tells me. I’ve never met Jamieson, but everyone who knows him says he does an excellent job for Jake. So why was he coming to see you?”

“Jake really wanted to ask me in person for your hand in marriage but his South American family had never met him before and apparently they are all about family—”

“Believe me, Mum, Dad, his English family are just as fierce when it comes to family ties,” Gill interposed laughing, “It’s wonderful how much they care but, until you get used to it, it is all-encompassing and exhausting.”

“Well, Jamieson arrived about lunchtime on Friday and he brought a letter from Jake addressed to me,” Sid said. “Your mother sat the young man down in the kitchen and took a cuppa out to the driver after he refused with a smile to come in because he said he was only the driver and Jamieson’s mission was private family business.”

“I wondered what this was all about,” Janet said, “because although we knew from what you said, that you and Jake were seeing each other for about six weeks or so but you hadn’t even said you were close enough to be considered ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ yet.”

“Well, Dad, we got pretty close pretty quick, we just clicked. We are in love, so everything is great between us, but taking everything in is, well, overwhelming. So what was in the letter?”

“It was a very nice letter, long, about four pages both sides, all written out by hand. Neat handwriting, no crossings out or anything,” Sid said.

“Yes, but what was contained in the letter?” Gill asked.

“Well, he introduced himself, his full name, his birthday, explained that he was a successful businessman in the services industry specialising in banks, insurances and corporate headquarters where security was essentially the bedrock of the service, as well as having access to substantial income from investments, in property mostly, as his company had long ago reached a comfortable and manageable size for a family business. He owned his own residential property in London he said and had an interest in a comfortable country estate. He then went on to say that although you had only been a couple for a few weeks, he had been attracted to you from the first moment he knew you, some twelve years or so ago but as you were married at the time he made no attempt to let you know of his feelings.”

“When I first started at Standhope Winter on a part-time basis working around the children, 9 to 3, doing a 30-hour week,” Gill said, “because although I started my banking career at Winstone’s, and left on maternity leave for three years before sorting out day care for Clay, Winstone’s didn’t have a part-time scheme that they could offer me. Standhope Winter Bank did offer part-time positions, but my manager treated me with suspicion because of my past work experience and husband currently at Winstone’s and he only gave me ‘go-for’ jobs. These were often with impossible requests and deadlines. Jake, although I called him ‘John’ at the time, was the only friendly person I knew in the bank’s print department, which was pretty big before we all had personal printers and he was smart enough to offer all sorts of ways of getting around the impossible.

“I remember once a client dumped on us a whole load of papers for a 60-page document and his secretary had run off 50 copies of each individual page and my boss asked me to get them sorted while he took the client to lunch; I took it to ‘John’, handed him the huge bundle of papers and, while I was explaining what I needed, he carried the bundle over to a machine on a bench behind him, and started counting the pages while still carrying on a conversation with me, checking top and bottom copy and sticking each counted bundle into a sort of rack. I asked him what the machine was, he replied it was a collator and did I want them stapled top left corner or down the spine? I said top left would be fine and he started the machine. In about two minutes he popped the finished documents into a box and handed them back all done. I always liked him, even back then, but then I was married and happily so, I thought.”

“Yes, he wrote that he liked you too, right from the start,” Sid continued, “Even after learning of your separation and divorce proceeding towards completion, he made no attempt to contact you as your series of promotions at work had reduced your contacts in recent years to rare and fleeting, and he doubted if you even knew he existed. Then he was delighted to be approached by you for advice and was therefore able to see you, renew your friendship which was developing so well that he wanted to take the next step, to become engaged and hopefully married in due course and, therefore, he wanted to ask me, quite formally, for your hand in marriage.”

“And he did propose, Dad, so I hope you said ‘yes’,” Gill said with a smile. “He proposed quite beautifully actually ... and I accepted his proposal more than willingly. So, I’m getting married and, despite my experience of one bad marriage, this time I think it will be different, this time I believe it will be right.”

“Congratulations, my dear, we are very happy for you. Did you know he was a Lord before he told you?” Janet asked.

“It was too long, for me too. No, he didn’t tell me anything about being a Lord or about this place where we’re staying until Monday evening; it was his cousin Belinda that told me over the phone when I was alone in the car,” Gill replied, “I just thought he was this sweet guy from the print room who didn’t seem to want to take on too much responsibility in his job but was more than willing to take on the responsibility of a whole new family, even after all he had gone through. That was good enough for me.”

“In his letter Jake want on to say that he considered family to be the most important thing in life,” Sid continued, “and, due to losing his parents at a young age, he had only his grandmother as close relative. He had known Jen and Clay almost as long as he’d known you and wanted to be the best step-father to both of them. His reason for asking my permission to ask my daughter to marry him by the letter and not in person was because he was tied up with his South American family and he wanted to pick up the ring Monday morning and ask you to marry him as soon as he next saw you. He hadn’t seen you for nearly two weeks and he said that was two weeks too long.”