Soon Wilson is the only one who knows how to prop Miss Elizabeth up how to brush her little dog Flush how to calm her when she flies into one of her fits of agitation and how to measure out the correct dose of laudanum to help her sleep. Apart from the letters she receives from her mother and sisters, Wilson’s only emotional support is her mistress, Miss Elizabeth, who comes to rely on her in a way that prompts Wilson, in turn, to redouble her loyalty. She has some experience, but her quiet nature and discretion mean that she finds it hard to find friends among the other servants – with the exception of the housekeeper, Minnie Robinson. When Wilson arrives from Newcastle in her early twenties, she is overwhelmed by the grandeur of London and by the size of the Barrett household. Amazingly rich, thoughtful and evocative, Forster’s novel introduced me to the full picture of the great Browning romance – seen through Wilson’s loyal but unsentimental eyes. Letters from the poet Mr Browning are soon the highlight of Miss Elizabeth’s day and Wilson finds herself drawn into a daring plan that will take her further from home than she ever dreamed possible. Yet Wilson’s ministrations are nothing beside the impact that a new correspondent has on her mistress. Gradually, Wilson convinces Miss Elizabeth to take turns in the park, coaxing colour into her face and strength into her limbs. As time passes, the patient Northern maid and her mercurial employer find a sympathy, deepened by Wilson’s reverence for books and by her compassion for the unworldly Miss Elizabeth. When Wilson enters Miss Elizabeth’s service in 1844, her mistress is withdrawn and easily tired, plagued by mysterious physical weakness and given to depression.

She is lady’s maid to Miss Elizabeth Barrett, the invalid daughter of a wealthy London gentleman, who has made a name for herself as a poetess. Yet Elizabeth Wilson is no ordinary maid.

The same criticism cannot be levied at Margaret Forster’s brilliant novel Lady’s Maid, which introduces us to a young woman in service in mid-19th-century London. Two days ago, I found mild fault with No Bed for Bacon for skating on the surface of things, without ever giving them substance.

Lady's Maid by Margaret Forster