Agatha Christie: An Autobiography

by Agatha Christie

As a guide to social life, Nursie was in her element. ‘You must eat up your dinner quicker than that. Suppose now, that you were to be dining at a ducal house when you grow up?’ Nothing seemed more unlikely, but I accepted the possibility. ‘There will be a grand butler and several footmen, and when the moment comes, they’ll clear away your plate, whether you’ve finished or not.’ I paled at the prospect and applied myself to boiled mutton with a will. Incidents of the aristocracy were frequently on Nursie’s lips. They fired me with ambition. I wanted, above everything in the world, to be the Lady Agatha one day. But Nursie’s social knowledge was inexorable. ‘That you can never be,’ she said. ‘Never?’ I was aghast. ‘Never,’ said Nursie, a firm realist. ‘To be the Lady Agatha, you have to be born it. You have to be the daughter of a Duke, a Marquis, or an Earl. If you marry a Duke, you’ll be a Duchess, but that’s because of your husband’s title. It’s not something you’re born with.’ It was my first brush with the inevitable. There are things that cannot be achieved. It is important to realise this early in life, and very good for you. There are some things that you just cannot have–a natural curl in your hair, black eyes (if yours happen to be blue) or the title of Lady Agatha.