Lady Catherine, the Earl, and the Real Downton Abbey

by The Countess of Carnarvon

  Porchey was desperate to see action and serve his country. Finally, in autumn 1917, he got his wish when the regiment was sent to Mesopotamia to fight the Turks. They landed at Basra and marched 500 miles in blistering, spirit-sapping heat to Baghdad, where they had been ordered to join reinforcements to mop up the retreating Ottoman Army. Porchey and his men mounted an ambush on the Aleppo Road as another unit rode into the desert to cut off the flank of the enemy troops. The operation was a total success and the Ottoman 50th Division was duly defeated. Porchey had played his part well and with courage, surviving some near escapes. Lives were of course lost and he and his men had seen terrible suffering among the Arab civilian population that moved them profoundly. But overall, the Hussars’ experiences were more like a boys’-own adventure story than anything resembling the grinding horrors of the Western Front or the blood bath that was Gallipoli.

  Porchey made it back to London in June 1919, exhausted and (according to his mother) in need of a good delousing, but unharmed. Almina, the Countess of Carnarvon, knew a great deal about the afflictions of returning soldiers. She had spent the last four years nursing wounded and traumatised officers, providing a level of care that was singled out as exceptional by the highest military authorities. At the outbreak of war, Almina had turned Highclere Castle into a hospital and nursing home, before moving the bulk of activities to Bryanston Square in London in 1916. When the amnesty was signed she packed up, exhausted but convinced she had found her life’s vocation. She nearly didn’t live to fulfil it. At the end of 1918 she fell ill with the Spanish flu, the deadly virus that raged around the world and claimed even more lives than the conflict that had just ended. Almina was fortunate, and strong. She survived to read the letters that poured in from grateful ex-patients who wrote that without the superb care they had received at her hospitals, they would have lost legs, or their minds, or hope.

  Now the Castle was once again a home, but the houses of the aristocracy had to justify their existence as never before, and privilege was no longer taken for granted to quite the same extent. For the Carnarvons and the wider community of Highclere, as for families and communities from every walk of life up and down the land, the post-war years saw an uneasy return to normality in a changed world.

  For everyone, there was grief and relief. There was also, initially at least, a sense that, however ghastly it had been, it had all been worth it. In the immediate aftermath of the Allied victory, and as the Versailles Peace Conference got under way, the opinion in victorious nations was that a decisive blow for peace and stability had been struck. It took a decade or so for that optimism to wear off and the scale of the war’s tragic consequences to emerge. By 1929, the certainty that the Allies had won a war to end all wars was being shaken, but in 1918 all of that was to come. For now, life had to go on, had—in fact – to be appreciated as never before. For those lucky enough to survive, it was time to live a little.

  Porchey suffered appendicitis just after getting back, but his mother leapt into action and nursed him back to health after the operation. Then, as he waited to hear about his next posting with the 7th Hussars, he abandoned himself to the huge party that London society was throwing, seemingly every night of the week. Catherine Wendell was doing something similar. The spring and summer of 1919 were riotous with dinners, dances and gaiety of all kind. They must have criss-crossed the streets of London’s fashionable districts on the same nights, going from one ball to another without ever quite being at the same party at the same time. It was not in a ballroom in Mayfair that Catherine met Porchey, but on a harbourside in the Mediterranean.

  3

  The Girl in the Yellow Dress

  In May 1919, Miss Catherine Wendell appeared in a light entertainment whimsically entitled In a Persian Garden, organised by Lady Allington. The event took place at London’s Palace Theatre and was to raise money for the Church of England’s Waifs and Strays Society. Such tableaux vivants in aid of a good cause were tremendously popular among the smart set well into the Thirties. The daughters of London high society were enlisted to do good and to amuse themselves with dressing up and amateur dramatics at the same time. One imagines that such a divertingly exotic spectacle as a Persian garden must have proved very appealing to the young gentlemen in the audience.

  Catherine, whose father had so loved acting, and whose siblings were famously good dancers, evidently treasured her time on the stage, since she kept the programme and the press photos from the event in her personal scrapbook, which is still at Highclere. She was one of an ensemble of dancers and sadly there is no photo of her in costume, but it was her headshot, alongside that of another participant, Miss Lois Sturt, that the press chose to illustrate their brief report. Her fair hair is waved and bobbed, her expression guileless and tranquil, except for a hint of a smile at the eyes. Catherine, like her siblings, seems to have inherited some of the physical charisma of their father. Eileen Carr, who was later to marry Catherine’s brother, Jac, remembered going to one dance and seeing this pretty blonde girl absolutely surrounded by young men. She asked her dance partner who she was. ‘Don’t you know? That’s Catherine Wendell. It’s said she has had thirteen proposals of marriage and I’m thinking of being the fourteenth!’

  By the time she met Porchey, in Gibraltar in the autumn of 1920, Catherine had certainly bewitched many of London’s most eligible young men. Louis, Lord Mountbatten was an admirer, as was Prince George, a younger son of King George V and Queen Mary, who remained a friend for life. There seems to have been something about her that inspired devotion. She was a tremendous flirt, fun and pretty, but also totally innocent and very sweet, and she had indeed received numerous proposals of marriage before her engagement to Porchey. They ranged from the inconsequential to one that seems to have been accepted and possibly even announced in the press in the States in early 1919, before it was subsequently broken off. Francis Collingwood Drake was a neighbour of Catherine’s, the son of Mr and Mrs John Ramsey Drake of Batchwood Hall in St Albans. There is nothing to suggest what occasioned the break, but perhaps Catherine, somewhat dazzled by so much attention, simply realised she had been hasty.

  In any case, her mother decided, in 1920, that it was time for Catherine to see a little more of the world. Catherine and Marian set off together on a trip around Europe and the Levant, leaving Philippa in the care of her brothers, and cousin Gertrude.

  Arriving in the south of Spain, Mrs and Miss Wendell were invited to Gibraltar by Lord Inverclyde, who was one of the Governor of Gibraltar’s two aides-de-camp. The other was Lord Porchester, who had been appointed a few weeks previously. The posting was a very welcome change of scene from the damp chill of the regimental barracks in Catterick, Yorkshire, where he had spent much of the previous six months.

  One of Porchey’s first tasks was to organise the annual Governor’s Ball, which had occasioned Lord Inverclyde’s invitation to the Wendells. Lord Inverclyde asked Porchey, as a favour, to collect his guests from the mainland. Ever obliging, Porchey made his way to the Wendells’ hotel and found himself face to face with a lovely girl with beautiful eyes and a delicious wide smile. He was captivated. They chatted as they strolled down to the quayside to board the boat for the crossing to the Rock, and Porchey noticed the faintest trace of an American accent. Catherine felt totally relaxed in this dapper young gentleman’s company. She had been rather glad of the break from the London social scene and, since she was so close to her mother, had been enjoying herself immensely, but it was refreshing to meet someone new, especially someone so charming.

  Two days later, 150 guests dined in the courtyard of the Governor’s residence. The gardens were strung with lanterns entwined in the flowers and all the men looked resplendent in their uniforms. Catherine was besieged by hopeful partners who wanted to dance the night away, and was much admired by all. She wore a pale yellow dress that her mother had helped her to choose, and to some others’ chagrin, spent much of the evening gliding across the dance floor in Lord Porch
ester’s arms, chatting as they danced. Marian sat on one of the little gilt chairs that lined the walls of the ballroom with the other chaperones, proudly looking on and noting Lord Porchester’s evident interest.

  It seems probable that Catherine and Porchey must have spoken again before his sudden departure in the days shortly after the ball, as over the months that followed they began a correspondence. They had evidently made quite an impression on one another but, much to his irritation, Porchey was not in a position to stay and further the acquaintance. The British Army was engaged in cost cutting, and henceforth the Governor would have to manage with only one ADC.

  Porchey had arrived in Gibraltar determined to have a good time, and it had far exceeded his hopes. Now he expected to be returned to his regiment, which had been sent back to India, but to his surprise he was offered another, rather intriguing posting, this time on secondment to the British Embassy in Constantinople. When he arrived he discovered that his principal role was to do a spot of spying on a certain high-profile critic of the British position in the Middle East. Whoever had arranged this mission was either inept or running an expert double bluff. Porchey’s target was none other than his uncle, Aubrey Herbert, his father’s younger brother. Aubrey was a renowned expert on the Balkans and Turkish affairs, and very much persona grata with the Sultan. He was also an energetic eccentric, who had twice been offered the throne of Albania in recognition of his outstanding work in the region and, consequently, just the sort of man from whom His Majesty’s government did not wish to hear criticism.

  Porchey was not really the mastermind sleuth type, so he had accepted the brief in the spirit of adventure rather than willingly. It was with relief as well as delight in the ridiculousness of the situation that he met Aubrey for dinner and told his uncle all about his role. The two men resolved to formulate some amusing stories for Porchey to channel to his superiors.

  As well as the spurious information gathering, Porchey enjoyed various adventures, both amorous and commercial, and very much made the most of his time in Constantinople. In between he prepared for the arrival of Catherine and her mother, whose voyage through Europe and North Africa had continued after his departure from Gibraltar. Porchey found that Miss Wendell was still very much on his mind and he was anxious to arrange some day trips to amuse her while she was visiting Constantinople. They had been corresponding ever since he left, though the tone of the letters seems to have been low key rather than ardent. ‘Have you bought a lot of chic clothes [in Paris]?’ he enquired in May 1921. And then, ‘Write me a line or send me a wire or do something to cheer me up as a man cannot live on bread alone.’

  One could never have accused Porchey of being a dedicated romantic, but he was superbly amusing company, always ready to laugh and to entertain. He also formed strong and sincere attachments to women, and he really could not wait to see Catherine again (though that was of course no reason to forswear dalliances in the meantime). As for her part, it seems very likely that much of his appeal must have have lain in the way his boisterous anecdotes and sense of fun reminded her of her father, who had always been ready with a good story to cheer people up. Though he was perhaps not the most sophisticated man in society, he possessed a warmth and a straightforward charm that made him very attractive to women.

  When she arrived, all their favourable impressions of one another were confirmed. The two of them went riding and attended several dances together. Catherine charmed everyone she met and Porchey found himself totally under her spell. He was dimly aware that she was by no means significantly wealthy, and he suspected that his father would object, but he found himself thinking more and more about what an agreeable life companion Catherine would make. There was something enchanting about her simplicity and sense of fun. When the expected call came for him to return to his regiment in India at the end of the year, Porchey realised that he did not want to go alone. He asked Catherine to marry him and was thrilled when she eventually accepted. According to Catherine’s great-niece, he had to ask several times.

  It was a grand marriage for her, there can be no doubt, which perhaps accounts for her initial hesitation. The prospect might have seemed like something out of a fairy tale on one hand, but it surely also felt daunting to have to step into the role of Countess. In the end the strength of her feelings overcame any doubts. Catherine was, as later events were to prove, utterly devoted to Porchey.

  Marian’s feelings on the engagement are not known, but one can surmise that she was pleased. On their return to London in the early autumn, when Catherine told Jac, her oldest brother, he was also enthusiastic for Catherine’s sake, but when he subsequently met his future brother-in-law, he slightly reserved his judgement. Perhaps he had deduced something that Catherine and her mother had not, which made him wonder about the degree of Porchey’s capacity to support and look after his sister.

  Certainly some of the letters that Porchey wrote to Catherine when their engagement was still a private agreement, not yet officially recognised, might have given a different woman pause for thought. He had a tendency to tell her what to do. Learn about polo, he advised, so as to be thought of as interesting and a good sport. ‘It’s awful to be classed a bore or even a non-entity.’ But elsewhere he could be brimful of affection and assurances. ‘Oh, C, if you only thought of me as much as I think of you, then you’d have no time to sleep! I have a feeling that next year all my dreams are going to come true, and we will have such fun.’

  In any case, the two young people were convinced they were right for one another, and there was no objection from Catherine’s side. There was still the matter of Porchey’s parents, though. Being of age, Porchey could marry whomsoever he wished, but he had no desire to incur his family’s disapproval. Nervously, he delayed his return to India by applying for cavalry training in Wiltshire and set off from Constantinople to return to Britain in late autumn. He dropped in to Highclere en route, to speak to his father.

  The interview must have been uncomfortable but it was not a disaster. The 5th Earl expressed exactly the reservations that Porchey had anticipated. He cautioned against marrying an American and, most especially, one with no money. He had done neither, and had enjoyed a very happy and successful marriage. Porchey couldn’t have known it, but Lord Carnarvon was already conscious that the vast fortune his wife had brought to their union, which had for twenty-five years seemed unlimited, was, since her father’s death, now finite. The 5th Earl had begun to instigate economies but the situation was not yet critical, and he could see that his son was sincere in his affection. Lord Carnarvon was a pragmatist but he had a heart. He suggested that Porchey bring Catherine to London to meet them.

  Number 1 Seamore Place was the Carnarvons’ home in town, a large and elegant mansion, resplendent with artworks, situated behind Hyde Park Corner and with views onto the park. Both the house and the art collection had been left to Almina three years previously by the man who was generally accepted as her father, Alfred de Rothschild, who had settled a vast sum of money on her when she married.

  Catherine must have been unspeakably nervous as she and Porchey stood between the stuccoed columns and waited for Almina’s butler, Roberts, to open the heavy black door to them. She could feel sure of her fiancé’s love for her, but of very little else. Porchey had asked his sister, Eve, to come along for support. She had helped to get him out of numerous childhood scrapes and was used to mediating between her brother and their parents. Porchey knew that she would be a great friend to Catherine.

  The evening passed off as well as it possibly could have done. Almina, doubtless conscious that she herself had undergone the same assessment twenty-seven years previously when she met her prospective parents-in-law, was the perfect hostess, and later pronounced Catherine to be a very sweet girl. Lord Carnarvon admitted to his son when they were alone together after the ladies had retired to the drawing room that Catherine was really quite good looking. He reiterated his concerns, but Porchey could tell that his beloved Catherin
e’s powerful charm had worked again. His father was not going to object. The wedding was set for the following summer.

  When the engagement was announced, in June 1922, the New York papers noted that Lord Porchester was wealthy as well as aristocratic and would inherit some 50,000 acres of land, including real estate in Melbourne, Australia, and property in London. The jewel of the inheritance was of course Highclere Castle, described as ‘one of the most magnificent country seats in England … set in a glorious old park 13 miles in circumference, celebrated far and wide.’ They also proudly reported that the bride was a descendant of the Washingtons and the Lees, and claimed (erroneously) that she would also inherit a large property fortune. Porchey had a large square sapphire reset for his bride’s engagement ring. The stone had been given by the 5th Earl to his great friend, Prince Victor Duleep Singh, who had then left it in his will to Porchey, who was his godson.

  The official engagement photos released to the press show Catherine at her sweetly radiant best, with softly waved bobbed hair, clear eyes and a cupid’s bow of a mouth. Her luminescent expression suggests an innocent delight in her circumstances, mingled with perhaps a tiny hint of anxiety.

  She and her mother were helped out hugely in the wedding preparations by Almina, who took on the role that had been played for her by Elsie, her husband’s stepmother, when she was a nervous bride-to-be of somewhat uncertain parentage. Catherine’s ancestry might have been considerably more solid, but she, unlike Almina, did not have the confidence that comes from possession of a vast fortune. Almina found Catherine absolutely charming and could see that she made her son happy, so with her typical disregard for expense or effort, she set about preparing a lavish welcome to the family.