Free Diamonds at Dinner by Hilda Newman and Tim Tate

illustrious women in the country. She had been born and raised at the family estate at Chatsworth; she was married to a brave and dashing soldier who had been wounded in the Great War and had two young daughters. It certainly seemed like a very promising opening.
    The other was Nesta, Countess of Coventry. I knew nothing about her at the time and Worcestershire, where she lived at Croome Court, seemed an awful long way away. Nonetheless, I resolved to write to both the Countess and Lady Cobbold, enquiring about a position as their lady’s maid.
    I don’t know what I would have done if both had replied – quite probably, I would have preferred to go to Suffolk, given Dad’s connection with the county. But as it happened it was Lady Coventry who sent me a handwritten note inviting me to come for an interview.
    First, though, there was the little question of getting Dad’s permission. He was quite adamantly opposed to the whole scheme and, since it was so rare for Dad really to put his foot down, I knew that I would need allies. Fortunately, Mum and my aunts were both on my side: together we slowly won Dad over and I was granted his blessing to go for the interview.
    The funny thing is that, however much I try, I can’t remember a thing about it. You might put that down to my age but I’m convinced it was nerves: I’d never been outside of Stamford and my interview was in Worcester – miles and miles away and, as far as I was concerned, a big city. I couldn’t tell you how I got there, nor what was said by the Countess – much less what I said to her. But somehow or other I must have done well enough, for a few days later aletter arrived at Vine Street, addressed to me in a firm handwriting style: her Ladyship was pleased to accept me for the position of her lady’s maid.
    Well, what an excitement there was in our little house. Everything that I owned – not that there was much – needed to be packed up into a little cardboard suitcase. I would need suitable clothes (out came the sewing machine) and strong sensible shoes. Even though it was summertime, because I was going to a grand mansion, I would also need a hat – women and men always wore hats to go anywhere in those days – and gloves. I’d also needed the fare for my journey, which wasn’t to be sneezed at in our frugal household. Above all, I’d have to find out how to get there. And this journey I do remember clearly
    I don’t know if you can imagine what it was like nearly 80 years ago for a young girl to set out on an adventure like this. These days, of course, it’s easy to find train times and everyone is used to travelling all over the place. But in those days very few people ever strayed more than a mile or so from their hometown and the transport system was cumbersome and rather daunting – at least to a girl like me. After a trip to the station to consult the big and complicated book of railway timetables, we worked out that I would have to take three separate trains. The first would take me from Stamford to Leicester. Here I would get off and have to locate the train bound forBirmingham. Once I got there, I had to change again, this time onto the local service for Worcester. All in all, what with the slowness of the steam engines and waiting on the platforms at each stage, the journey was going to take all day: and this for a journey of just over a hundred miles.
    Slowly, the day for my departure came around. My suitcase was packed and I laid out a nice new dress, the thick black stockings everyone wore in those days, hat, gloves and – of course – my shoes polished to within an inch of their lives. My heart was racing as I closed the door on the little bedroom I shared with Joan: this was it – I was off out into the big wide world and who could know when, or if ever, I’d see my home and my family again?
    Dad was very upset: I knew how much he was worried and how much he didn’t want me to go. But, being Dad, he was strong and