Helena Rees-Mogg is flustered to find me already in her sitting room at their Westminster town house when she arrives back from the school run, having popped in for a quick blow dry on the way home. She's dressed in a black dress with a white collar, like a prim looking version of Audrey Hepburn, and is clearly anxious about her appearance.
"Is the photographer here already?" she asks, and is reassured to be told the photographs will be happening later. Her husband, the former MP for North East Somerset, Jacob Rees-Mogg, has built his career on a headline-grabbing, very particular eccentricity. Yet, his wife conveys the impression of not being comfortable in the spotlight.
Helena, 47, has a starring role in upcoming reality show Meet The Rees-Moggs. A fly-on-the-wall documentary, it follows Jacob and Helena and four of their six children (the two eldest, Peter and Thomas, both at boarding school, appear only very occasionally) between their London home in Westminster and the nine-bed 17th century Gournay Court in Somerset. The first two episodes take place during the run up to the recent election.
There are chaotic family scenes - six year old Sixtus and seven year old Alfred like to clamber over furniture with the same disrespect for conventional usage as their father, who once famously lolled on a seat in the House of Commons. But there are also plenty of shots of Rees-Mogg campaigning at his former North East Somerset constituency, now renamed North East Somerset and Hanham. Urging people to vote via tannoy from a moving car and relentlessly knocking on doors, replies vary from "I've heard you make your own cider; would you like to try some of mine?" to "The thing is, Jacob, there are just too many people in the country."
Meanwhile, when not shepherding various offspring into cars or admonishing them at the dinner table, Helena delivers straight to camera deadpan responses to the Tories' nose diving position in the polls. "Hopeful would be accurate," she says in one scene. "Optimistic would be pushing it." At one point, she attempts to reassure an anxious 12-year-old Anselm. "Let's hope it's not a total humiliation, but we'll just have to take it on the chin."
It's an extraordinary documentary that takes viewers deeper than perhaps they ever wanted to go into the private life of the former MP: one scene shows his housekeeper starching his boxer shorts. "The original idea had been that the documentary would look at the day-to-day reality of an MP's life, what it meant to hold a surgery, and so on," says Helena. "But then Rishi called the election early. And then, with the polls being what they were, it became clear that Jacob was probably likely to lose his seat."
Instead, the producers shifted direction to settle for family life chez Rees-Mogg, although given the gilded barminess of the Rees-Mogg lifestyle one wonders why they didn't simply choose this right from the beginning.
Helena says the only red lines were nudity and nightwear - "cute seven year olds in their PJs are one thing but no one wants to see a 47 year old in their nightie, thank you very much." But we do get a glimpse of the marital bedroom in Somerset where a large gleaming crucifix hangs over the bed.
A Rees-Mogg family tradition is a candlelit black-tie dinner each Saturday - often waited on by household staff who serve mash potato and boiled cabbage in silver tureens. Décor in Somerset is very much olde-world shabby landed gentry; in London, where gilt edged round back chairs jostle for space, the vibe is more ersatz Regency.
Alongside the formidable nanny Veronica, who keeps a low profile, they are accompanied throughout by an army of cheerful staff, who make Jacob instant coffee in the morning, clean "posh t---" graffiti from Jacob's campaign posters and polish the woodwork in the family chapel.
Helena comes over as the absolute rock of the family - a no nonsense, practical minded aristocrat - in stark contrast to the more laconic Jacob, who in one scene looks around at a hall scattered with bags and coats and shoes, saying: "I'm just moving them in, I've a nasty feeling someone will sort out where they all have to go in the end". All the same, she's not at all a natural attention seeker, so what on earth made her agree to it?
"My first thoughts were... aaghh. I was probably persuaded that it could be a good idea. Possibly even quite fun." I rather suspect she didn't find it fun at all but, as is her "lets just crack on with it" way, was determined to make the best of it. "I hate how ludicrously posh my voice sounds on camera," she says hesitantly. "But I had to get over that, and how one looks on screen, well that's too bad."
Still, it's hard to get from her an exact answer on quite what the actual intention was - some sort of charm offensive in aid of Jacob's political career? "Well, hopefully not an offensive. Mainly I was just hoping not to come across as a horrendously out-of-touch idiot." Does she think this is what the public think of her and in particular Jacob - who, since leaving Parliament, has continued his Monday to Thursday nightly programme State of the Nation on GB News.
"I think unfortunately they already do. I think that ship has already sailed. I was hoping not to make things any worse if I could help it. Mainly, I thought it would be a good start if I could project the idea I'm not a total berk."
Helena is not a berk, but she is indisputably posh. Her full name is Helena Anne Beatrix Wentworth Fitzwilliam de Chair, and she is the only daughter from the marriage between the late poet, author and aristocrat Somerset de Chair and Lady Juliet Tadgell, 89, who is independently wealthy. Tadgell inherited an estate and an art collection collectively worth around £145 million when she was only 13, after her father Earl Fitzwilliam died in a plane crash with his mistress, Kathleen Cavendish, sister of JFK. Helena will one day inherit the lot.
Her childhood home was Bourne Park in Kent, a nine acre estate with its own cricket ground and where, attended to by a nanny, she would often rattle around by herself during the week when her parents were away. "I'd clean out the canary cage every day after school and spend hours on a beanbag reading."
Her parents were loving, but elderly. Her father, a former Conservative MP for South West Norfolk, was 65 when she was born, and had already been through three wives before Lady Tadgell, who together had given him five children. He was also a grandfather by the time Helena came along, "which means my nephew Toby is older than me".
What's more he was virtually retired which meant Helena saw a lot of him. "I remember sitting on his lap trying to cut his nails with a Swiss army knife on Christmas day. And I have very strong memories of watching Tom and Jerry with him after school." All the same, this didn't prevent Helena from petitioning her parents to go to boarding school. "I was nine. And my mother said, "I think it would be better to wait until you are 10, darling", although I suspect that was because this gave her time to give notice to the nanny."
It was at boarding school where she became aware her family was much richer than that of the other girls. "Helena, is it true you live in a mansion? I had no idea what a mansion was." In the doc, Sixtus also screams at one point: "We live in a mansion!" To be fair, he is only six. "I try not to spoil them," she says. "I don't randomly buy them things between Christmas and birthdays apart from an ice cream at the village fete, which is compulsory. But if they want to buy sweets at Winter Wonderland then I'm afraid I make them take their pocket money."
There is no question, then, of the Rees-Mogg children resting on their financial laurels? "No, definitely not, they will all have to work and earn their living. Although as a stay-at-home mum, I'm aware I should perhaps set a better example." Has growing up surrounded by such immense wealth affected her own outlook on life? "I suppose knowing that one day I'll have an art collection to manage and that sort of thing is a responsibility. One's obviously very lucky. And of course, one must also not be the generation to mess it up and develop a gambling habit and have to sell it."
Helena studied chemistry at Bristol University with a view of working for Imperial Chemical Industries (ICI). But after spending a year in industry as part of her course, she realised that "being by myself in a white coat and safety glasses in a lab was fine for an afternoon a week or so, but that I'd much prefer to be in a suit working in the city. So I got a job working as a journalist for Argus Media reporting on the oil industry."
But then, in 2003, she was introduced to Jacob, at a party in Mayfair held in honour of the campaign for a referendum on the European Constitution by Jacob's younger sister Annunziata. "He delivered a 20-minute lecture on my ancestor Thomas Wentworth, first Earl of Stafford, who was a prominent supporter of Charles I," she says. "I staggered away after about 20 minutes. But I do remember that evening I was wearing a white Jasper Conran trouser suit from Debenhams." Clearly the encounter had indelibly imprinted itself on her soul, and in 2007 they were married in Canterbury Cathedral in front of 650 guests.
Later that year they had their first child Peter, now 17, and by the time Jacob had been elected MP for Somerset North East, in 2010, Helena had given up her job and had three children under three. Of course, she also had Veronica, Jacob's own nanny who joined the family business when Peter was two weeks old.
Nonetheless, this must have been quite a lot to manage, even with a full time live in nappy. "Yes, it was very full on. I'm aware that sounds ridiculously indulged. But the sleep deprivation does start to send you round the twist."
Naturally, Jacob was not around to help with changing the nappies. "Yes, he has never changed one in his life. Not even a wet one which, let's face it, takes five seconds." Did she ever find this frustrating? "No, because crucially he had never given me the false impression he'd be changing nappies at every opportunity."
But he's a very hands-on father in other ways. "He'd always help with bottle feeds, for instance." Certainly, in the documentary, Jacob comes across as a devoted father, playing cricket in his shirt sleeves, dragging the children along on campaign trails and helping them with their homework and their reading - even if his choices are eccentric.
"Mary [16] remembers long car journeys listening to books on political history," she tells me. "Alfred is currently loving Chinese Cinderella, the biography of a Chinese Canadian physicist."
The children seem utterly unfazed by their father's notoriety. On the contrary, they seem to rather enjoy it: Helena says when Jacob and a then-12 year old Peter were heckled by anti-Brexit protestors outside Parliament in 2019, and were given a police escort home, Peter's only reaction was, "Cool!" In 2018, the anti-Brexiteer Ian Bone staged a protest outside their house in Westminster not long after the family had moved there from Mayfair, during which protestors screamed at Peter and Arthur, "Lots of people hate [your daddy]", which drew widespread condemnation across the political spectrum.
"That whole thing was actually quite funny," says Helena. "There were only about six protestors, one of whom was dressed as a banana. A couple of protestors were holding a banner with the slogan 'We must devastate the avenues where the wealthy live', which dates from 1915. I did think: gosh, isn't there anything more recent you could have used? I don't remember the children being affected by it at all, in fact they rather wanted in on the action." A cartoon mocking the whole event - with Theresa May appearing as Bone, and Boris standing in for baby Alfred, hangs in the downstairs loo in London.
Are the children politically engaged? "Oh yes, we talk about politics a lot. In fact Jacob would say it's the only subject worth talking about." What about Jacob's more absolutist positions on same sex marriage and abortion? "Well, they are all Catholic and the teaching of the Catholic Church tends to come first. Jacob isn't thinking 'X' because he is a politician, but because he is Catholic. It's an end of discussion sort of thing. But I would hope they would also have the courage to express their own opinions, although it's clear they all lean to the right of the spectrum - no one is showing any signs of joining the Socialist Worker's Party just yet."
Mary even helped Jacob out during the election campaign, showing him how the opposition were using TikTok to get their message across. "Jacob is not on TikTok because he is worried about the Chinese connections, but she showed him how the other parties were communicating far more effectively." What does she think of the new Tory leader Kemi Badenoch? "Oh she's terrific, and she has a lovely speaking voice. I am very much looking forward to seeing her tear strips out of Starmer during PMQs."
Jacob, of course, is no longer an MP. At one point, before the election, Anselm - who cuts a rather sensitive figure in the documentary - says anxiously, "I've never even heard of anyone losing their job, let alone someone in our family doing it." Except, of course, it turns out people in his family do do that. Not that the loss of his seat appears to have affected Jacob in the slightest. His standard response during the campaign trail to constituents who told him they were voting Reform or, "anyone but you", was a breezy "Thank you for your support!"
"He is utterly unfazed by things," says Helena. "I certainly don't think it's a case of him being more upset than he is letting on." Is he now under her feet all day? "I occasionally wander into the library during the day in London to find him on the phone to GB News or something, which takes me by surprise. But I'm not falling over him on the stairs.
Then again, "Jacob doesn't sit on stairs." What do the public misunderstand about him? She looks at him for reassurance. "I think they imagine he is rather austere and cold. But he's not at all. He's very light hearted and fun." What's the most romantic thing he has ever done? "Er. Gosh. Well, he once gave me an amethyst shaped like a heart on a chain when we were engaged. Evidently Jacob is not one for spontaneously buying flowers.
Helena shows no inclination to go back to work. I ask if she was ever tempted to go into politics and she looks appalled. "God no, I'd be absolutely hopeless. You have to do amazing things like take decisions and delegate. I can't do those things." Surely running a household containing six children means you are always doing precisely those things? "Yes, well, all my brain power is taken up with running two houses, and worrying about parking permits. It's a slightly mad way to live but anyway. I'm not sure there is much bandwidth for anything else. I don't have any particular ambitions beyond keeping the show on the road generally."
Helena is clearly devoted to her husband and certain of who she is, but very aware that many others regard her and her family as almost dangerously absurd. In the documentary, she cracks a joke about her dress, saying, "I hope I don't get a cease and desist letter from John Boden, saying, 'Please can you not wear my clothes you awful Right-wing, fox-hunting, Tory Brexiteer'". Does this sort of thing worry her? "Not exactly. I don't worry about walking into the village and thinking, everyone here wanted Jacob to be out. But I certainly don't go around assuming people think we are wonderful."
Meet the Rees-Moggs streams on discovery+ from December 2