Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abbey (30 page)

The Carnarvons went as usual to Egypt in January 1921.
They found it almost as unstable as ever. It was becoming clear that the British would have to relinquish their Protectorate. They had exiled Saad Zaghloul for a second time after he had organised demonstrations to protest against Sultan Fuad’s appointment of a rival as Prime Minister. The reaction from the public was, as the previous time, to riot. Lord Allenby was leaving Cairo as the Carnarvons arrived, heading back to London to try to persuade the Cabinet to declare Egypt’s independence.

There was a sense of wearying familiarity to the excavations as well. Despite attaining the longed-for concession in the Valley of the Kings, Carter and Carnarvon had still not found anything of real note. Money worries were now becoming acute for the Earl, whose expenditure in Egypt was enormous. In July 1921 he sold the furniture from Bretby Hall. He had already sold land to Dulverton Rural Council at
£
5 an acre for house building.

Lord Carnarvon might sell his land but he would never sell his Egyptian art. He had built up the finest collection in private hands in the world and had turned the Smoking Room at Highclere into the ‘Antiques’ room in order to exhibit it. The walls were hung with paintings that had been in the family for generations. Over the fireplace was the still life by sixteenth-century Dutch painter Jan Weenix that still hangs there today. But along two sides of the room there were dark wooden cases the height of a tall man, on which were ranged the Earl’s exquisite pieces: a faience chalice, jewellery from Queen Tye’s tomb, a bronze mirror from the 12th dynasty which was therefore about 4,000 years old, a beautiful electrum statue, several vases, charming pieces with delicately carved animals
and a gold statue of the god Amun as the Pharaoh Tuthmosis III.

Howard Carter was at Highclere for the summer with other friends from Egypt such as Leonard Woolley and Percy Newberry. A new guest that year was a young man called Brograve Beauchamp, a very tall and striking gentleman who went on to be Conservative MP for Walthamstow East for fourteen years. He had met Aubrey through his father, who was also a politician, and Aubrey had – in his typically open-handed way – invited him down to Highclere.

One person was particularly glad to make his acquaintance. Eve had been out in Society for three Seasons now and had met Brograve at various balls; she adored dancing with him. Eve was beautiful and charming and of course she was rich, so was never going to be short of admirers. But she was no timorous mouse desperate to find a husband. She had helped her mother to nurse wounded soldiers when the hospital was at Highclere and had been going for years to Egypt to share her father’s passion for ancient art. She had a bookish mind as well as a lovely disposition, and she was perfectly conscious of her own worth. So were her parents. Eve had been told she should take her time in choosing a husband, and she did.

Brograve caught her eye at Highclere that summer. How could he not, when at more than six foot tall he towered over her? He was the son of the Liberal politician and former Chairman of Lloyd’s of London Sir Edward Beauchamp, and was handsome, thoughtful and excellent company. The two young people flirted gently in the Drawing Room and Eve found she had a decided
preference, but she resolved to wait and see what the coming months would do to Brograve’s interest. They were sure to see each other in London before too long.

That summer, Lord Carnarvon spent a few days in Paris with his son. It was a city they both loved. Porchy’s Army career was prospering and he had been in Gibraltar for most of the year. It was there that he met a girl called Catherine Wendell, an American with no great financial backing but considerable charm and sweetness. Porchy always figured prominently on the social scene wherever he was – he was a great ladies’ man; but he was quite clear that Catherine was ‘the only one I could even begin to see as a future Lady Porchester.’ He, like Eve, was not minded to make sudden moves, and although he had his preference, he bided his time.

At the end of 1921, Howard Carter was helping Lord Carnarvon to organise the catalogue for an exhibition mounted by the Committee of the Egyptian Exploration Society, of which the Earl was a prominent member. Carnarvon lent the society the bulk of his collection for the show, which was held at the Burlington Fine Arts Club and was a roaring success. Then, in January, the two men set off on the annual trip. They spent most of the first three months of 1922 out in Egypt.

Aubrey was also back in one of his favourite stamping grounds – Constantinople; as was Porchy, who had just been sent on secondment from his regiment to the British Embassy there. Aubrey’s vocal criticism of the British position in the Middle East had earned him the suspicion of His Majesty’s government, so a junior member of embassy staff was to be dispatched to keep an eye on what he was
up to. Whoever was in charge of that mission hadn’t done his homework properly, because he chose to send Lord Porchester, Aubrey’s nephew. The two men were delighted to see each other, and over dinner on the first night, Porchy told his uncle what he was up to. They agreed to cook up a few stories to keep Porchy’s superiors entertained.

Porchy was having a fine time, as was his way. He ran into General Baratoff, the White Russian commander to whom he had delivered a shipment of gold on the shore of the Caspian Sea when the British were still trying to prop up the Russian Army back in 1917. Porchy was sent because he spoke French, the common language, and had been under orders to ascertain how much fight the Russians still had in them. The answer was not a great deal: Baratoff was generally depressed, though plainly relieved to receive the gold. Since then the General had lost a leg and been forced to flee the Bolshevik revolution. He was penniless and even gloomier than ever. Porchy also bumped into Miss Catherine Wendell again. She was accompanying her mother on her travels and the three of them dined together several times. It was enough to make up Porchy’s mind. He asked Catherine to marry him and, being accepted, invited her to meet his parents when she was in London later in the year.

When the time came, Porchy was very nervous. He knew full well that his father was worried about money and would have hoped for his son to marry an heiress, as he had done. Porchy wrote to Eve begging for her support in the matter. His sister stepped in to play mediator once again. The family assembled in Seamore Place to receive Catherine and her mother. Despite the Earl’s disappointment he could see that
Porchy was in love and that the girl was delightful, so he allowed himself to be won round. Almina was enthusiastic, as one might expect, unconcerned about anything except that Porchy be happy and Catherine be welcomed into the family in style. She threw herself into arranging the wedding.

Almina decided to give a little dance for Catherine on 14 July, at Seamore Place:
The Times
reported that 1,000 people were invited. The wedding was held three days later, in St Margaret’s, Westminster, the same church at which, twenty-seven years before, Almina Wombwell had married the 5th Earl of Carnarvon. Catherine wore a simple satin gown and a floor-length veil over her fashionable waved bob cut. She had eight attendants who wore large white hats dressed with ostrich plumes and, in the photo of her and Porchy with their pageboy, the couple look relaxed and happy.

Naturally, given that Almina was the driving force, it was a huge event. The church was packed, and among the relations and friends were Prince George the Duke of Kent, the Marquess of Milford Haven, the American Ambassador, the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, Miss Edwina Ashley and Lord Louis Mountbatten, who were to be married the following day and, of course, Elsie, the redoubtable Dowager Countess of Carnarvon. The guest list must have been overwhelming for the bride, with a host of titled dowagers and aristocrats. Her own friends from America were of necessity a much smaller crowd.

Watching Catherine marry her son, Almina couldn’t help but remember standing in the same spot and pledging her life to the Carnarvon cause. The difference was considerable, though. When she married into the Herbert family she
might have been a relative unknown, but at least she had a fortune backing her up. Catherine did not, and it was up to Almina to champion her. She assisted Mrs Wendell in finding a house in which to hold the wedding reception, just as Elsie had helped her and Marie all those years ago. Twenty-one Grosvenor Square was lent for the occasion and the couple were given a tremendous send-off. Henry and Catherine Porchester left to spend a few days’ honeymoon at Highclere before sailing for India to rejoin Porchy’s regiment.

Almina revelled in extending her habitual largesse, but it was a bad moment for Porchy to be marrying without money. The Earl had spent months steeling himself to have a conversation he was dreading, with Howard Carter. He had decided to ‘draw stumps’ on his concession to excavate in the Valley of the Kings. He simply couldn’t afford to continue. It is estimated that by 1922 the Earl had spent some
£
50,000 (
£
10 million in today’s money) over the course of fourteen years on excavating in Egypt. It was a serious outlay, even for a man of means. He had sold three of the four estates he had inherited and was one of the last private excavators left. Britain had given up its Protectorate and declared Egypt a sovereign state earlier in the year, and the era of British aristocratic archaeologists was fading. Excavation was increasingly the province of museums or government bodies. And, to cap it all, although he had amassed a great collection of art and was renowned for the diligence and scientific method of his expeditions, he had failed to find the great treasure, the tomb that he and Carter had believed in for so long.

He told Carter of his decision at a Highclere house party
during Newbury races. Carter was desperate and, having been unable to move Lord Carnarvon by persuasion, said simply that he would fund one last season himself. Carnarvon knew this would bankrupt his old friend. He considered. Touched by Carter’s willingness to risk everything he owned, the Earl agreed to pay for a last season. He was, after all, a gambling man, and it was true that there remained an unexplored area in the vicinity of the tomb of Ramesses VI.

The two men met again in London in October. Lord Carnarvon came straight from the Memorial Service for the war dead at Newbury, where the Bishop of Oxford had presided over a ceremony attended by 8,000 people.

The mood was sombre all round. This was the last chance for Carnarvon and Carter’s joint dream of glory. They had decided that they would begin the excavation work earlier than usual this year. By January there were always so many visitors to the tomb of Ramesses VI that it would be quite impossible to investigate what lay under the remains of the workmen’s huts in front of it.

Carter arrived in Luxor on Friday 27 October. He began work the following Wednesday. On Monday 6 November, less than a week later, he sent Lord Carnarvon the cable that would change their lives:

A group photograph of the 5th Earl’s son, while he was Lord Porchester, to Catherine Wendell in 1922. This was taken four months before the 5th Earl’s discovery of the Tomb of Tutankhamun in November of that year.

The Earl of Carnarvon with his daughter Lady Evelyn at Deauville Races, August 7, 1922.
(photo credit i4.2)