Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abbey Read online

  It was a small party: just Almina, Marie and three other friends. Almina must have known that she was on the brink of securing a future as the Countess of Carnarvon. The machinations behind the scenes had all been overseen by her father. The process sparked by Carnarvon’s attraction to her person and prospects was drawing to a conclusion. She would have been on tenterhooks when she arrived at the Castle that weekend, aware that her destiny was hanging in the balance. If she was nervous, there is no trace of it in her signature in the Highclere guestbook. The letters flow in perfect copperplate script, in faded sepia ink, looping gracefully. Almina’s handwriting is almost a carbon copy of her mother’s, whose name is signed a little further down the page.

  Miss and Mrs Wombwell clearly acquitted themselves perfectly, because that visit was enough to seal the deal. Sometime that weekend, the 5th Earl asked Almina to be his wife. Lord Carnarvon was not a demonstrably romantic man, but he was a gentleman, he was smitten, and, having asked Mrs Wombwell if he could request her daughter’s hand in marriage, he was about to ask a beautiful young girl to be his bride. It is tempting to imagine that he and Almina might have strolled to the Temple of Diana, goddess of love, a mile’s ramble from the house, and that he might have chosen that moment. But, given that it was December, and very probably not walking weather, perhaps it’s more likely that he spoke to Almina in the Music Room, or the Drawing Room. Naturally, she said yes.

  Unusually, the engagement was not announced in The Times, but Lord Carnarvon did make Almina a present of some magnificent pearls. They had been in the family for generations; there is a splendid painting by Van Dyck of Anne Sophia, the 1st Countess, wearing them lightly strung around her neck.

  The marriage settlement was discussed further by the respective parties’ lawyers and, on returning to town, the Earl paid a call on Sir Alfred.

  Lord Burghclere, Carnarvon’s brother-in-law, wrote to his wife Winifred to reassure her on the subject of her brother’s marriage. ‘Porchy had to see A. Rothschild and it is practically settled about Almina. I am really glad … P is not the sort of person to marry merely for money … he likes the girl and that being so the rest will follow. You will hear from him yourself no doubt and from the others so I will not enlarge on the topic but I think you may ease your mind on the subject and hope for the very best.’

  With everything resolved to his satisfaction, Lord Carnarvon promptly chartered a steam yacht and took off for South America with his great friend Prince Victor Duleep Singh.

  Marie and Almina came on a second visit to Highclere, in her fiancé’s absence, to get to know her prospective family and home better. They made the acquaintance of Winifred, the Earl’s elder sister, and Aubrey, his younger half-brother. They had already met Elsie, the Dowager Countess, who had been extremely kind to them both, and who was equally charming on this occasion. Plans began to be made for the wedding, and Almina was fizzy with excitement. Elsie invited Almina to call on her in town, although notably, Marie Wombwell, while most welcome in the country, was still not to be received in London.

  Almina now spent a large proportion of her time in London with Elsie at the Carnarvon town house at 13 Berkeley Square and was apparently every bit as excited as an eighteen-year-old engaged to be married could be. Lord Burghclere, writing to his wife again, said, ‘I have seen Elsie, who is very good and a dear about Porch – and A. who seems to live there. I do not think [she] can keep it secret any time – she was literally bursting with it … she seems to be head over ears in love and says why can’t we be married and go on the yachting cruise together?’

  But Almina was not merely excited. She was, unsurprisingly, almost needy in her clinginess and enthusiasm. After a lifetime spent living half in shadows, between worlds, she was clearly relishing the prospect of being more secure, not just socially, but emotionally. Marie and Almina seem to have been extremely close; the fact that Marie was a frequent visitor to Highclere all her life reflects the continued strength of the relationship. But, despite the relative tolerance afforded by her parents’ domestic situation, the anxiety and frustration produced by her mother’s demi-mondaine status and the antics of Marie’s late husband, Frederick Wombwell, must have been considerable. Certainly it was obvious enough for Lord Burghclere to comment on. In the same letter he wrote, ‘The poor little thing seems desperate … (as I told Elsie) for a decent family as well as a husband.’ He added, rather sweetly, ‘I hope Porch will get on with A 1/50th as much as we do.’

  The settlement had been drawn up by the couple’s wedding day, but it was not executed until one month later, safely after the happy event had taken place. The three parties were Alfred de Rothschild, Almina Wombwell – now the Countess of Carnarvon – and the 5th Earl. Carnarvon may have been struck by Almina’s many lovely qualities and have already developed a fondness for her, but he had also sensed his opportunity to drive a bargain. The Earls of Carnarvon had married heiresses before, thereby acquiring various other estates, and he was fully aware that aristocratic lifestyles frequently needed injections of new money to maintain them.

  The first clause stipulated that Alfred de Rothschild would pay £12,000 yearly to Lady Carnarvon, or Lord Carnarvon if she died before him, throughout his life. A Highclere footman was paid £22 a year at that time, so the multiplier would put the value of this annual income at £6.5 million in today’s terms. This in addition to the fact that Lord Carnarvon had asked Alfred to clear his substantial debts before the wedding took place so he could start married life with a clean sheet. Provision was also made for any children born to the couple. Alfred readily agreed to everything and the way was eased for these two young people to live in their gilded world, with every sort of extravagance and delight to amuse them.

  4

  A Triumph for Her Ladyship

  Almina arrived at Highclere as an outsider, but with an enormous sense of excitement and self-confidence. How could she not, when recent events suggested that she had finally managed to combine the social prestige brought by her marriage with the fabulous wealth of her father? Now she was sure of her place and her role, for the first time in her life. She had a title that told her who she was: as of now, Almina Wombwell was the 5th Countess of Carnarvon.

  But she was only nineteen and this role, this title, was so much bigger than she was. She was the Countess, but she was also a teenager, a high-spirited girl sure of herself one moment, nervy the next. Moving into Highclere was, if not humbling (Almina was never in her life humbled), definitely overwhelming. Relics of Almina’s desire to impress herself upon the place – literally – are still visible all over the Castle. She engraved and stamped her new initials and the Carnarvon coronet on innumerable household accessories, from visitor books and notebooks, to stationery, travelling trunks, linens, menu cards and calling cards.

  She brought trunks full of clothes and set about installing her belongings in the bureaus and cupboards of Highclere. She also brought with her one trusted personal servant, Miss Mary Adams, her lady’s maid, who helped her to unpack and to settle in. She, alone of all the servants, was allowed to sleep on the same storey as her mistress. Mary was an ally and a friend, the other stranger at Highclere who was her eyes and ears in the servants’ hall, a bridge between the staff and their new mistress. In those first few weeks after her marriage, whilst touring the estate, meeting the local gentry and the tenants, finding her feet, Almina grew to rely completely on Mary.

  Almina had always been the special child, doted upon; lavished with love by her mother and with money by her father. Her wedding had enshrined her own sense of her importance. But actually, now she had signed up for life as the Countess of Carnarvon, she had to adjust to living in a world in which she was not the centre of the universe. The furniture and the superb paintings didn’t really belong to her, or even to her husband, but to the house, to Highclere as a presence in its own right. The Castle, layered with decorations reflecting the taste of its inhabitants over the years, had to be sustained across the
generations. When Almina arrived, the Drawing Room was in need of refurbishment. Alfred de Rothschild had given her bolts of green silk as part of his wedding present and she used them to cover the walls. Following his taste, she redecorated in the style of the ancien régime, with gilded ceilings and doors. The green silk damask had been inspired by Marie Antoinette’s sitting room at Versailles. Meissen porcelain was displayed on the eighteenth-century furniture that Almina loved.

  Six weeks after their wedding, Lord Carnarvon left Highclere to go to Scotland to shoot, as was his custom once the grouse season opened on 12 August. Given his newly improved bank balance, he decided to take a month’s shooting at a grouse moor near the Balmoral estate. Almina could go with him or not, as she pleased, but there was no possibility that he would alter his routines for her.

  She was very keen to go to Scotland with Carnarvon on his shooting trip. It wasn’t the custom for ladies to go out with the gentlemen, and nor in fact was Almina particularly interested in riding, but she enjoyed her time with her husband and began to get to know his friends. Lord Carnarvon, who was an excellent shot, took a party of close friends with him: their royal highnesses Prince Victor and Prince Freddie Duleep Singh and James Rutherford, his agent at Highclere, amongst others. It was a very male occasion, and Almina must have felt like an adornment rather than a participant, but it was a magnificent landscape, and a very popular and fashionable place, given the proximity to Balmoral, which was adored by Queen Victoria.

  Alfred de Rothschild was elegantly networking behind the scenes in London. He hoped to engineer a visit by the Prince of Wales to Highclere Castle; it would testify to the success of Almina’s arrival and give a royal seal of approval. Highclere was renowned as one of the most exciting shoots in England and the Prince knew the food would be exquisite and copious in quantity, the wines the best that Alfred de Rothschild could procure. His private secretary confirmed the dates for the visit.

  The royal party had accepted an invitation for the middle of December and Almina threw herself into preparations. Carnarvon continued to travel from one estate to the next with the same band of friends. He went to Bretby, his house in Nottinghamshire, and to Shelford for more shooting. In fact, by 1 December, Lord Carnarvon had shot on more than sixty days since the season opened.

  Back at Highclere, Almina set about spending an extraordinary amount of money on redecorating, hiring extra staff and laying in provisions. It is unlikely that she had met the Prince before since, despite the fact he was a great friend of Alfred’s, he didn’t visit Halton House at the same time as her. Alfred’s advice on the delicate details that would ensure a successful visit was most welcome. The two men had been socialising together for years, either at Marlborough House, the Prince’s London home, at Halton House or at Seamore Place, Alfred’s London house, where the Prince enjoyed the intimate dinners that Alfred delighted in giving. The Prince of Wales was a gourmand and, as the next King and Emperor, tremendously grand. Almina wanted to make sure that every little comfort had been thought about, that all was opulent and perfectly delightful, just as it should be and just as he was used to. She threw money at the situation, spending £360,000 in today’s terms on the three-day visit.

  The first task was to redecorate a bedroom for the Prince of Wales. A large bed was commissioned (the Prince was notoriously unable to curb the amount he ate and had a girth of some four foot), and new French furniture, vases and clocks filled the room, which was hung with red silk damask. The adjoining dressing room received the same treatment.

  Almina spent £856 13s 9d with W. Turner Lord & Co., who were specialist decorative contractors based in Mount Street, Mayfair. Carpets were bought from Turbeville Smith & Co. for £312 13s 2d. China, lamps and curtains were bought and hired. The billiard table was re-covered; hundreds of the finest beeswax candles were bought.

  Extra carriages and horses were hired and special railway carriages were commissioned to bring everything, and everyone, down to Highclere. Records of various gifts give an idea of the extent of the preparations. There were gifts in November to four inspectors at Paddington Station, and all the stationmasters from Reading to Whitchurch, Newbury, Highclere and Burghclere benefited from Almina’s determination that no detail was too small and that nothing should go wrong. There were also gifts to postmasters, police superintendents and all the tenant farmers on the estate.

  As for the food, which was to be a central part of the whole proceedings, no expense was spared either on the supplies or the kitchen staff. All the meals were rigorously planned in advance, and then Almina dispatched Streatfield to London to hire Savoy chefs and waiters, to order flowers by the armful from Veitch of Chelsea, and to purchase an incredible amount of provisions, wines and champagnes. Streatfield spent £215 4s 4d (approximately £22,000 today) on meat, chickens, eggs, fruit, and chocolates from Charbonnel.

  The stoical Streatfield was a loyal retainer and well used to carrying out orders without so much as a raised eyebrow. In private, he might nonetheless have looked somewhat askance at all this expense. He had been the house steward at Highclere for eight years and had seen a fair few entertainments for the great and the good in his time, but the 4th Earl’s taste in party-giving had not been on the scale of Almina’s. And, of course, Streatfield’s shopping bill for the weekend was more than four times his annual salary, a fact he surely cannot have failed to notice.

  When the day of the visit finally arrived, Almina herself wrote the menus for that night, in French, as always. The placement of guests at dinner had taken some time to arrange and her clothes had been planned in advance with Adams. Five or six different outfits might be needed each day. The bare minimum at such an occasion was a dress for the morning, one for walking in the afternoon, a tea dress and then evening clothes.

  Almina stood next to her husband, near the iron-studded walnut door of Highclere Castle, to greet the Prince of Wales as he alighted from the carriage. As she dropped into a deep curtsey, Almina hoped that she had done everything in her powers to provide amusement and entertainment for him. The Castle loomed up behind them in the low winter light. Inside, it was lit by over 150 oil lamps, and candles provided a warm glow around the galleries and in the new Drawing Room.

  The Earl and Countess of Carnarvon had given a great deal of thought to the question of their other guests. It was usual to invite both local friends of the Prince of Wales and some of his familiar Marlborough set, whose company he clearly enjoyed. In the end it was a large party that included family: Lord and Lady Burghclere and friends: among them the Earl and Countess of Westmoreland, Lord Ashburton, Lord and Lady Chelsea, the Nevilles and the Colebrookes. They also asked the Russian Ambassador, who was a friend of the Prince’s. The crowd were there partly to enjoy themselves, of course, but they had also been asked in order to entertain the Prince and had been selected with his interests in mind.

  Dinner that night was an Epicurean feast and the Prince was extremely appreciative. Almina had received numerous compliments already on her exquisite taste, on the beauty of the Drawing Room she had decorated and the charming and comfortable bedroom she had put at his disposal. The Prince was in a humour to be pleased with everything, and dinner was never going to disappoint. It began with a soup, a consommé, followed by the fish course: turbot grillé Dugléré (after Adolphe Dugléré, who was one of the most famous chefs in nineteenth-century Paris and had cooked for the Rothschild family for years). Then came the entrées: pâtés and a chicken dish. Next up were the roasts, a vast amount of game birds, stuffed with foie gras, all served with numerous vegetable side dishes. It was followed by soufflé d’orange and ices.

  After the entertainments (on this occasion, accounts show that a band played for the assembled guests in the Music Room), there was a little light supper of cold meats such as pheasant and cold beef. Unsurprisingly, the Prince retired to bed satiated and in an excellent mood. Almina must have breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  The shoot took place the following day,
and this was Carnarvon’s territory. It covered two drives on the Highclere estate: Biggs and Warren. The higher chalk downland was essentially a rabbit warren and wasn’t farmed, so as to provide excellent shooting. There were eight guns – HRH the Prince of Wales, Lord Westmoreland, Lord Burghclere, Lord Chelsea, the Hon. Seymour Fortescue, Sir Edward Colebrooke, M. Boulatsell and Lord Carnarvon. Between them they shot a tremendous quantity of birds and rabbits – it was the era of quantity rather than quality in shooting circles.

  The Castle’s game book records the disposal of all the game shot at Highclere – nothing was ever wasted. It was compiled using figures given to the housekeeper by the head gamekeeper who, at the time of the Prince of Wales’s visit, was a man called Cross, soon to be replaced by the long-serving Henry Maber. Flicking through the pages it is possible to track the social life of the Castle from year to year, and mostly there are relatively modest lists of game given to guests at house party weekends. But on the pages that record the Prince’s shoot, the columns are full; the list goes on and on. Like everything else about that three-day stay, the extravagance is startling.