On His Majesty’s service

This article is taken from the July 2025 issue of The Critic. To get the full magazine why not subscribe? Right now we’re offering five issues for just £25.

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It was the first drive after lunch, one of the better ones, when a fellow guest sidled up to me and asked whether I would consider becoming our county’s next Lord-Lieutenant. My shocked response was, “But I was going to recommend you … ”

My proposer, a peer recently retired from the Lords, then spent five minutes relating how arduous, unthanked, unpaid and often dull is this position of undoubted soft power — and how unsuitable, as a titled aristo, he would be for the role. “Besides, whilst one of my forebears was lord-lieutenant, these days they would never choose someone like me.”

“They” being the King, choosing from a list of two or three filtered up by the Cabinet Office. Richard Tilbrook is the Prime Minister’s appointments secretary and clerk to the Privy Council who, when he is not working from home, is responsible for lieutenancy and senior ecclesiastical appointments. Given there is a lieutenancy in every county and with numerous priests wanting to be upgraded to Right Reverends and Very Reverends, there is always a consultation in progress. It is not a democratic exercise nor, like the monarchy, should it be.

It is very discreet and English, this “customary process of consultation through the usual channels”. So is the lobbying. For twelve months, as the retirement of the incumbent lord-lieutenant approaches, at the age of 75, the tempo gently increases. I found myself invited to dinner parties with acquaintances who would stress how much they enjoy their voluntary work as deputy lieutenants, such as attending charity events, presiding over citizenship ceremonies and wreath-laying at small town Remembrance services. Then they would ask who did I think should be the Monarch’s next representative in the county, meaning I should be considering them.

Then comes an email saying a Cabinet Office official will be visiting on a certain date and would you have time to meet him, to establish views. I could not make my slot and so, in time, had a brief online call with Mr Tilbrook. He asked which names I would recommend for the shortlist to be submitted to the King. I mentioned one name approvingly and another disparagingly. Then he said that my name had been suggested by others and would I consider it, if formally asked? I was under the impression that he asked the question to most of those he talked to.

He consults widely. All DLs have the opportunity to make their views known. The local council and municipal leaders are asked, which is just as well because lieutenancy offices in the counties are often staffed and paid for by them. Royal visits are good for the community and very often bring trade and tourism, so a functioning office is for their benefit, even if they have republican sentiment. Local bishops, deans and, by tradition, privy councillors are also consulted, though I am not sure how diligently this is adhered to. The counties are consulted, but local consensus is secondary to Mr Tilbrook’s agenda.

One must consider the past, so that there is no embarrassment to emerge

When the unexpected telephone call came, I had to think carefully. I had three months to organise myself and find space for what is essentially a full-time role. One must consider the past, so that there is no embarrassment to emerge, and the future, so that you have scope to do it properly. I was, in truth, surprised to be asked. I suspect that with little to discern between me and who I think were the other two on the list, I benefitted from being a woman.

Diversity as an ideology has permeated every aspect of public life, and the lieutenancy is no exception. Lord-lieutenants are in post long-term — 15 years is not unheard of — and most of the current office holders, whilst very good at what they do, are upper-middle class (or worse), landed and male, which I am not. Lieutenancies have been urged by the Palace to appoint deputies more reflective of the population. This is easier announced than achieved, especially in rural areas.

As Lord-Lieutenant, I choose my deputies — the number of whom is prescribed by population — and, of course, my predecessor’s appointments remain in place until death or retirement. One has to be careful. Those who want to have DL after their name are not necessarily suitable in terms of discretion and dignity. It is an honour, (“the county knighthood”, I have heard it called), but one needs as deputies those who do, rather than be. Those who understand their social responsibilities and community obligations are often best. There are no resources to train them. They must already know how to behave.

Lest you imagine that this is merely a niche concern of the county set, it has wide implications. In recent years, after an upgrade in Cabinet Office computers, lord-lieutenants have become a greater part of the verification process of those nominated for national honours. MBEs and BEMs are for local achievements, so lieutenancies use their DLs to undertake discreet research on nominated individuals.

This takes time and must be done by those who know how to check the “facts” stated in an application. Unsurprisingly, these often turn out to be exaggerated or pure fiction.

The monarchy’s relevance rests upon the work it does in the regions. Lord-lieutenants facilitate that. Always in the shadows, as the eyes, ears and unwavering supporters of the Royal Family, they smooth the way. They know the unfashionable concerns and priorities of their communities far better than palace courtiers. When a small charity, school or project receives a royal visit or support in some way, the lord-lieutenant is usually behind the initiative and has certainly supervised the details. To have politicians or celebrities perform this role — which they would not do as extensively nor without calculation to their advantage — is just not the same.