Lady Henrietta Spencer-Churchill on life in Blenheim Palace

It’s the mid-19th century, and Blenheim Palace in Woodstock is looking its glittering best. The First and Second Staterooms have been refurbished in gold and white in honour of Bertie, the playboy royal. And what an honour it is to have the handsome Prince to stay — again! Eldest son of Queen Victoria and her beloved husband, Prince Albert, he’s guaranteed to make a party swing.

He clearly loves Blenheim. As dawn begins to break, the glamorous party — hosted by his friend, the 7th Duke of Marlborough — is coming to a close… (For some, at least.) All night, Bertie has danced in the spectacular Long Library, with a seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy. As other eyelids flutter and droop, the Prince of Wales is having none of it; at 4am, he is still dancing a courtly cotillion.

And yet.

If you’re at all envying the Duke this honour, then perhaps think again. Bills; interminable lists; table plans. Who’s not speaking to whom. Who was once accidentally left off the invites last time… *Shudder* The expense, stress and minute planning of such events were eye-watering. (Cue open chequebook.)

So, OK. Maybe receiving — not sending — an embossed invitation was the way to go?

The main approach from the north to Blenheim Palace. Photo: Hugo Rittson Thomas Ah — and maybe not.

‘Often five changes of clothes per-day would be commonplace: one for breakfast, one for “taking the air” for ladies, or hunting or shooting for the men,’ writes Lady Henrietta Spencer-Churchill in her new book, Blenheim — 300 years of Life in a Palace.

In times past, hefty trunks would be loaded into horse-drawn carriages to accommodate at least 20 outfits per person, ‘never mind the jewellery’.

If you’re not feeling the love for party-goers, then at least spare a thought for the other side of the green-baize door: ‘To add to the complexities, guests would arrive with their own staff, who also needed to be housed and fed, loading additional pressures on an already busy household and creating the potential for belowstairs scandals and rivalries.’

Indeed. The book Lady Henrietta has written is full of such tantalising details, as well as an overarching narrative: people, architecture, art, furnishings, grounds. It’s a book she has meticulously researched: ‘I think it is very different [from others about the palace],’ she says. ‘Nobody would have had access to all the material I had access to, except a member of the family: that makes it more personal.

‘Secondly, it’s covering every single aspect. So others books have been more about the building or the architecture but not actually encompassing everything. And [my book] also looks to the future, which I think is very important.’

Welcome to life over three centuries at Blenheim.

The Temple of Diana, where Winston Churchill proposed to Clementine. Photo: Hugo Rittson Thomas HENRIETTA SPENCER-CHURCHILL was 12 years old when her father, the 11th Duke, inherited Blenheim Palace. She knew the house well — the family had often visited her grandfather living there — but home, to her, was Lee Place, a lovely Georgian house five miles up the road. This was an upheaval.

‘To begin with, we spent summers at Lee Place and winters at Blenheim,’ she tells me, as we chat over Zoom. ‘Six months [in each], and my mother was living in another house: so we were living in three houses.’

Not easy for a child?

‘No, especially when you’re also at boarding school… I actually think it was most difficult for poor nanny, who had to move everything twice a year!’

Yet the house began to weave its magic.

Firstly, there was the thrill of being able to choose her own bedroom from amongst its near-200 (depending on how you count them) rooms. Her brother Jamie, now the 12th Duke, picked a tiny suite with low ceilings, looking over the north side. (No bathroom — a perennial Blenheim problem: he had to climb up- or downstairs to use facilities.)

But Henrietta followed the light. For her modest-sized, south-facing room, she chose a flower-sprigged wallpaper: white, with pink and blue ribbons. ‘I’ve always since had a blue bedroom.’

Were the children daunted by a move to such a vast, daunting space?

She laughs: ‘No! We would always be going up really spooky spiral stone staircases which led to the roof. Places where you’d get rats and cobwebs.’

And then, as teenage years dawned, the house truly came into its own. ‘We had a lot of friends [nearby] at Oxford or surrounding schools. And we had a speedboat on the lake and jet skis; we’d have lots of barbecues at the boathouse so, actually, it was pretty good fun.’

The Grand Cabinet on the south-east corner displays many beautiful family portraits and miniatures. Over the fireplace is Caroline, 4th Duchess, by George Romney. Photo: Hugo Rittson Thomas What is enviable — to me, at least — is the way she’d brush past her ancestors and palace predecessors as she gradually explored the rooms. She knew what each of them looked like, thanks to portraits: the bellicose and gloriously bewigged John Churchill, whose resounding victory over the French at the 1704 Battle of Blenheim won them the palace in the first place. The fascinating 4th Duke, the first to use the palace as a proper home, who had 80 indoor and 80 outdoor staff to look after himself, his wife, and their eight children. (He once challenged a running footman to a race; the Duke in his carriage, the footman haring alongside (at least for a while). The footman died of exhaustion.)

‘He was obviously a very smart man: his diaries give a real insight into his intelligence and his habits. He was obsessed by the weather, as to whether he could go swimming in the lake; and then he was also quite a big gambler — which I guess was common at the time — and would meticulously record how much he’d lost or how much he’d won; what he’d eaten, etc.’

Isn’t the 4th Duke the one who allegedly spent three years not uttering a single syllable?

‘I think maybe he suffered a bit from depression, too.’

There are spendthrifts and gadabouts; victims and perpetrators. Yet when you finally get to a Duke of staid and sober demeanour (though, strangely, the same who hosted Bertie), you’ll cry, ‘Bring back the cads!’

The 7th Duke with family. Photo: National Portrait Gallery, London ‘The 7th Duke was nicknamed the Victorian Prig because he was very religious and very anti-anybody having fun on a Sunday. He banned all these raunchy, but very good, paintings, including by Titian and Ruben.’ Under his watchful eye, they were transported to the bake-houses in the first courtyard, Kitchen Court: ‘Where there was a fire. A lot went up in smoke.’

Some of the more recent predecessors Lady Henrietta has overlapped. Such as Sir Winston Churchill, born prematurely in a cloakroom being used for ladies’ coats, during a long shooting weekend in 1874. She doesn’t remember him, ‘And I didn’t go to his funeral because I was very young. My brother went with my father and I remember being with nanny. I think we were in the Savoy hotel, looking out of the windows as the cortege went past.’

THIS IS, AS I SAY, a compulsive book (sumptuously illustrated with photographs by Hugo Rittson Thomas) about a building that occupied 1,000 workmen for 25 years, exhausting local quarries of their stone. For locals, this vast project — begun in 1705 — was a continuation of the grand connections they’d become used to: Woodstock had long been a royal park, right back to the times when Henry II and Fair Rosamund would conduct trysts within its discreet landscape.

But what particularly stands out in its long history is the line of women who shaped and — in some cases — saved Blenheim Palace.

And that story begins with Sarah, the first duchess, whose husband — the aforementioned John Churchill — was gifted the building of a glorious house by a deeply grateful Queen Anne. Sarah, already close friends with the Royal, was a wealthy businesswoman and politician in her own right. What’s more, with her husband away fighting further campaigns abroad, Sarah took charge of the project. But where the Duke wanted his glory reflected in its grandeur, she favoured a more practical family home. In the end, Sarah fell out spectacularly not only with the Queen, but with architect John Vanburgh.

The story of her relationship with the Queen is the subject of The Favourite, a film starring Olivia Colman.

The guest book for a weekend party at Blenheim in June 1936. Edward R was the uncrowned Edward VIII. Photo: Hugo Rittson Thomas ‘Which you have to take with quite a big pinch of salt! The relationship between the two of them was initially good, which is why Queen Anne trusted her. But Sarah began to overstep the mark; she began to try to control too much. Finally, Queen Anne — or perhaps her advisers — said, ‘This lady is getting a little bit out of control; she needs to be reined in’. And then, of course, the Queen moved her affections to Abigail [Sarah’s younger cousin].’

Certainly feisty, Sarah was as strong in body as she was in spirit: she lived to be over 80, unusual for the age — sadly seeing most of her children and grandchildren to their graves. Canny, too: she entailed her fortune to try to protect it from extravagant descendants. It was a policy that worked until the 7th Duke managed to wriggle out of the legalese and sell off treasures to fund accumulating debts.

There are plenty more forceful, interesting women, too. Such as Consuelo Vanderbilt, a darling of America’s Gilded Age, whose ambitious mother was determined to see her marry brilliantly… whether she liked it or not.

And ‘not’ was the reality.

Consuelo, in love with another man, stood weeping beneath her veil as she pledged her troth to the 9th Duke on November 6, 1895, in St Thomas Episcopal Church, New York City.

Yet don’t make too hasty a judgement.

For the Duke, too, was in love with another: but well aware that — to rescue his family seat — Consuelo’s money was key.

‘He definitely sacrificed his own life and happiness to save Blenheim, for which one should always be eternally grateful,’ Lady Henrietta says.

Did she ever meet Consuelo, who died in 1964 (having happily married a second time).

‘I did meet her but I was too young, so I don’t really remember her. I would have loved to have known her better. I’m very proud of that American connection: I’m involved with the Newport preservation society [Newport Mansions, which protects ‘Gilded Age’ mansions of Newport, Rhode Island].’

The magnificent Long Library, originally planned to be a picture gallery, has intricate plasterwork designed by Hawksmoor and executed by Isaac Mansfield. Photo: Hugo Rittson Thomas AS WE SPEAK, there’s scaffolding being put up as part of a two-year project to renovate the roof over the Saloon and the Great Hall. It’s a never-ending story.

It also means less urgent projects — such as Lady Henrietta’s wish to rebuild a state bed, specially made for a visit by George III — have to take a back seat.

The house’s appetite for repairs and maintenance will always be insatiable.

So, there’s another downside. Plus, something less commonly considered, a lack of privacy for its inhabitants.

‘It’s becoming increasingly terrible — to the extent that my nephew, George, who will be the next duke — is actually building himself a house in the Park so that he can have privacy and live like a family, which I think makes total sense.’

But despite its demands; its drawbacks and its compromises, Lady Henrietta’s ties to Blenheim have more than a hint of true affection. The artistic streak that runs through the generations is hers, too. She’s a successful interior designer, with her own business — Woodstock Designs — in the High Street.

‘I was always very curious [about décor and designs and stately architecture], even as a young child. I was lucky enough to visit many lovely houses with my mother and my father; I was always exploring. I was fascinated about where things were and how the houses had evolved. It was something that was naturally built into me.

‘And Blenheim gave me certainly an understanding of architecture and proportions and space.’

An understanding and love encapsulated in Blenheim — 300 years of Life in a Palace.

Lady Henrietta’s new book is published by Rizzoli, UK price £57.50, US price $75. Purchase online at spencerchurchilldesigns.com

For more information about Blenheim Palace, visit blenheimpalace.com

‘Blenheim – 300 years of life in a palace’, by Henrietta Spencer-Churchill