Highgrove House, in the soft green hills of Gloucestershire, has long been sold as the beating heart of King Charlesâ environmental vision. More than 40,000 visitors a year wander its immaculate borders, wildflower meadows, and organic kitchen gardens. From the outside, it looks like harmony: nature, royalty, and sustainability blended into a living masterpiece.
But in the summer of 2025, an internal investigation tore through that picture-perfect image.
The Kingâs Foundation, which runs Highgrove, noticed something it could no longer ignore. Of 12 full-time gardeners employed in 2022, 11 had left within three years. Two head gardeners walked away from what should have been the peak of their careers. A deputy followed. Others quietly disappeared. For a place promoted as a gardenerâs dream, the staff turnover was a red siren.
This wasnât an ordinary employer. This was the private estate of the British monarchâa man whose global brand rests on caring for the planet. So why were the people caring for his gardens fleeing?
The foundation hired WorkNest, an independent HR consultancy, to find out. Their task sounded simple: interview former and current staff, examine conditions, and explain why so many professionals were stepping away from a supposedly prestigious role.
What they uncovered was not a one-off clash of personalities, but a systemic crisis in the kingâs own back yard.
âParadiseâ on Minimum Wage
Investigators heard the same themes again and again: crushing workload, low pay, and relentless pressure.
Some gardeners at Highgrove were earning ÂŁ11.98 an hour in March 2022âthe legal minimum. Others made just over ÂŁ12. For highly trained horticulturists responsible for one of Britainâs most famous gardens, the numbers were shocking. These were roles youâd expect to be the envy of the profession. Instead, they were paid little more than retail or entry-level jobs.
One long-serving senior gardener, Jack Stokes, had given around two decades of his life to Highgrove. He didnât just drift awayâhe burned out. He spoke of operational changes that turned an already demanding job into something he described as impossible. After 20 years in royal service, he decided heâd rather leave than break under the strain.
Other staff told similar stories: exhaustion that seeped into their bones, frustration at never having enough people, and the crushing sense that nothing they did was ever enough.
The King, the Red Ink, and the Fear of Mistakes
The investigation made clear that the problem wasnât just workloadâit was culture.
King Charles is famously hands-on with Highgrove. To visitors, that sounds charming: a monarch personally involved in pruning, planting, and planning. To staff, it meant something elseâconstant inspection.
He carried out regular walkabouts, scrutinizing beds, borders, and individual plants. What he noticed in the morning became urgent tasks by afternoon. The pressure never let up.
Then there were the notes.
Charles communicated through written memos in thick red inkâlengthy, emotional, often highly specific. One note reportedly ordered the removal of a single weed near the pool. Another scolded gardeners over grammar in internal communications. Others criticized the failure of certain flowers to meet aesthetic expectations.
In one particularly chilling episode, a gardener made a simple mistakeâexactly the sort of thing that happens in any complex garden. The king reportedly said, âDo not put that man in front of me again.â For staff, the message was clear: mistakes werenât lessons, they were career-ending.
Over time, gardeners became less creative and more terrified. They werenât trying to innovate anymoreâthey were just trying not to disappoint.
The Middleman Who Couldnât Say No
At the center of this tension stood executive director Constantine âCostaâ InnemĂ©, one of Charlesâ most trusted advisers.
On paper, he was supposed to balance the kingâs vision with professional horticultural reality. In practice, multiple staff said he almost always sided with royal wishesâeven when they went against expert advice.
If the king wanted a plant moved to a spot where it would likely die, gardeners say Costaâs answer was simple: move it anyway. If staff raised concerns about lack of manpower or realistic timeframes, they were told to âfind a way.â
That attitude, investigators heard, led to injuries, chronic strain, and a dangerous culture of silence. Gardeners were explicitly discouraged from talking about staffing shortages. Complaints were seen not as warnings from professionals, but as an unwelcome inconvenience.
Then came one of the most controversial details: after Russiaâs invasion of Ukraine, Charles reportedly floated the idea of using Ukrainian refugeesâand elderly volunteersâto help in the gardens. To a team already running on fumes, the suggestion felt disturbingly out of touch, even exploitative. Skilled work, they felt, was being treated as something any spare pair of hands could do.
A Garden That Looked Perfect and Felt Broken
The investigation found that the head of gardens role had become practically impossible. Whoever held it had to satisfy the kingâs microscopic standards, absorb constant criticism, and somehow protect their team with too few people and too little support. One by one, the leaders broke under the pressure and left.
The human cost was severe. Gardeners described simmering anger, constant anxiety, and sleepless nights spent mentally walking through beds, worrying what the king would see next. Some sought medical help for stress, headaches, muscle tension, and insomnia. The very place marketed as a haven of peace was damaging the people who kept it beautiful.
By the time WorkNest finished, Highgrove was still stunning to visitorsâbut behind the scenes, it looked like a burnout machine.
The Verdictâand the Spin
WorkNestâs report was blunt. There were serious issues with recruitment, retention, pay, and management. It recommended:
- Mandatory management training
- Better mental health support
- A full review of pay
- Structural changes to leadership
The foundation responded by scrapping the âhead of gardensâ title and creating a âhead gardenerâ role, while boasting that wages had recently risen and profits had doubled since 2022. Official statements talked about staff welfare, surveys showing âhigh satisfaction,â and new education projects.
But crucially, the statement did not explain why 11 out of 12 gardeners left, nor did it publicly confront the kingâs intense personal involvement.
On paper, changes were made. In reality, the hardest questions were left hanging in the air.
Power, Passion⊠and the Price of Perfection
The Highgrove investigation raises a brutal question:
What happens when one manâs ideal of perfection outweighs everyone elseâs wellbeing?
Charlesâ love of the land is undeniable. Former staff repeatedly said they admired his knowledge and passion. But that same passion, fused with royal power and insulated from honest feedback, created a system where professional gardeners felt trapped, unheard, and disposable.
The report concluded that the issue wasnât a lack of mission or values. It was a structure where devotion slid into domination, where excellence demanded a price paid in broken health and shattered morale.
What investigators found in King Charlesâ garden wasnât a secret tunnel or buried treasure.
It was something far more uncomfortable: a paradise built on people who couldnât bear to stay.
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