Lady Almina and the Real Downton Abbey (35 page)

Almina felt it too, but for now she concentrated on ensuring that her husband was given the send-off appropriate
to a man whose discovery of the Pharaoh’s tomb had turned him into a national hero. He had received the intimate funeral he wanted, but now it was time to mark the passing of a celebrity. Almina arranged a memorial service at Highclere church for personal friends and estate employees and tenantry two days later. A further service was held by the Mayor and Corporation of Newbury at St Nicholas’s Church. Then she travelled back to London and held a larger memorial service, open to all, at St Margaret’s, Westminster, where her son had married the year before and she had married the Earl in 1895. The service was attended by hundreds of people, including Elsie, Lord Carnarvon’s loyal stepmother, and Mr Brograve Beauchamp, who had become a friend of Lady Evelyn’s and wanted to lend his support.

On the same day a further service of commemoration was held at All Saints’ Cathedral in Cairo. The Egyptian papers had reported every detail of the Earl’s illness and his funeral on Beacon Hill. Now there were many friends and colleagues who wanted to pay their respects to the big-hearted English gentleman who loved Egypt and whose discovery brought the country incalculable recognition and prestige. Abbas Hilmy el-Masri, a distinguished Egyptian poet, paid a beautifully worded tribute to Lord Carnarvon, saying he had contributed to Egypt’s glory in a manner which ‘Sahban the greatest Arabic orator, could not have equalled.’

Lord Carnarvon was just fifty-seven when he died, but the old way of doing things, in the Valley of the Kings and at Highclere, died with him. From now on the Egyptian government would lay first claim to the Pharaoh’s legacy
and, back at Highclere, the family was dealing with the first succession to the title and estate of the twentieth century. The modern world, with its dismantling of privilege for some and extension of freedom for others, had overtaken everyone.

Everything changed for Almina when her husband died in May 1923. All her life she had been supported by men who had loved and spoilt her. Firstly through her beloved father, Alfred de Rothschild, and then her husband, she had effortless access to beautiful houses and distinguished people, the finest lifestyle that Imperial Britain had to offer. She could throw parties, create hospitals, shower everyone around her with presents, and be gifted a sense of community, and her exalted position within it, in return.

During the war she had used her position and her personal attributes and gifts at Highclere and in Bryanston Square in an extraordinarily positive way. Now she was on her own, widowed at forty-seven. On some days she felt
exhausted and quite overwhelmed by grief and loneliness. For the first time in her life, she was unsure of herself. And there was a great deal to think about and to resolve.

Almina started with a few crucial details. What was she going to be called now that she was no longer the Countess of Carnarvon? There was already a Dowager Countess, the indefatigable Elsie, who – though now in her sixties – was definitely not slowing down. She lived mostly at her house in London so that she could be busy with her work for the Vocal Therapy Association and numerous other societies and charities. With that option closed to her, Almina announced in
The Times
that she would like to be known as Almina, Countess of Carnarvon.

Then there was the matter of moving out of Highclere. Tradition dictated that when a new incumbent succeeded, the former holders of the title and inhabitants of the estate retired gracefully from the scene. Naturally the older generations were not exactly put out on the street and, in any case, Almina had her own house at Seamore Place, but even so, she was facing the definitive moment of displacement. Highclere was now the new Earl and Countess of Carnarvon’s home, not hers.

Porchy was utterly devoted to the welfare of Highclere, but he was also just twenty-four years old and had never lived there in his adult life. He had had no opportunity to observe how it functioned in detail, and his wife, who had grown up in a very different environment in the States, was going to have to learn alongside him.

In addition to all the adjustments at home, there was also the international dimension to consider. The man to whom Almina had been devoted had died at the pinnacle of his
efforts and fame. There was an enormous unfinished task currently stalled in Egypt that needed her input to resume, and its repercussions in terms of negotiations with the Egyptian State, various museums and the media had barely begun.

Almina had some significant problems. The 5th Earl had died without mentioning the Valley of the Kings concession in his will. Almina knew she wanted to carry on the work in Tutankhamun’s tomb in her husband’s memory. As far as she was concerned, that meant extending financial help to Howard Carter so that he could press on with the project. She told Carter that she would continue to fund the excavation and that he should make plans for the forthcoming season. On 12 July she also signed an agreement with Monsieur Lacau of the Department of Antiquities that granted her the right to spend a further year clearing the tomb, from November. The rest of the Valley of the Kings no longer formed part of the concession.

Howard Carter was in England for most of the summer and made several visits to Highclere, where he helped Almina to pack the Earl’s priceless collection of antiquities safely. It was utterly unique, with many items worth more than
£
20,000 each. Lord Carnarvon had made various bequests to the British Museum and the Metropolitan Museum of New York, but both Carter and Almina hoped that, if the collection were to be absorbed into a museum, the bulk of it would remain a single unit.

Carter was of course hugely relieved that his work was not in jeopardy, and very grateful to Almina, but he missed his old friend’s company and collaboration terribly. He was incapable of idleness and he spent most of his time preparing a book.
The Tomb of Tutankhamun
was published later that
year. Carter dedicated it to his ‘beloved friend and colleague Lord Carnarvon, who died in the hour of his triumph. But for his untiring generosity and constant encouragement our labours would never have been crowned with success. His judgement in art has rarely been equalled. His efforts, which have done so much to extend our knowledge of Egyptology, will forever be honoured in history and, by me, his memory will always be cherished.’

Poor Carter was permanently downcast after Lord Carnarvon’s death. His dedication never wavered and he eventually completed his task, but it was a struggle. He and Almina ended up in a dispute with the Department of Antiquities that ran until the end of the following year. It began when Carter resumed work in the November of 1923. He couldn’t cope with the constant interruptions and eventually closed the tomb completely. The Egyptian government promptly banned him from both the site and his laboratory. For a nation exploring its new-found independence, it was an ideal opportunity to try to bring the excavation back under an Egyptian aegis. Exhausting wrangles with Egyptian officialdom, legal arguments over rights and obligations and much petty squabbling caused Carter to sink further into depression.

The outcome of the legal case in the Egyptian courts was disappointing for Almina and Carter. Mistakes were made, all of which would probably have been avoided if Lord Carnarvon were still alive. She did, however, succeed in persuading the Egyptian administration to allow Carter to complete the excavation and recording of the tomb. For a man who had only ever wanted to be left alone to do his work, that was enough.

Meanwhile, there was more paperwork to contend with at home. The 5th Earl had left Highclere entailed to his son and his heirs, but almost everything else, from horses to other houses, was left to Almina. There was a knotty tax situation that was absorbing a lot of time and looked set to absorb a great deal of money as well. This was the scenario that Carnarvon had been quietly dreading for years, ever since Lloyd George’s super tax became law in 1910 and his annual tax bill started to climb from something negligible to, by 1919, more than 60 per cent of his income. The nation naturally needed to rebuild itself after the war, pay for pensions for the war wounded and the widows, and build the thousands of homes ‘fit for heroes’ called for by Lloyd George, but it was a very sudden change in the amount of money that the old class of landowners had to find.

Lord Carnarvon was permanently worried about the overdraft at Lloyd’s and how to plan for the future. The Earl, like so many of the aristocracy, was much richer in assets than cash, and spent money on a lifestyle more as a matter of custom than on the basis of carefully calculated net income. He had written to Rutherford only months before he died to ask him to ensure all expenses were trimmed as much as possible, but that proved to be too little too late: now Porchy, his heir, and Almina, his widow, were facing a very substantial death-duties bill.

The issue of death duties, payable when a large estate passed from one generation to another, was the other tax nightmare that haunted the landed classes, especially after 1920 when they were massively increased. Cash had to be raised fast to pay the tax owed on these enormous assets,
and often that meant that the house had to be sold, or at least emptied of contents. The situation with Highclere was alleviated, as always, by the Rothschild money. Almina was stoical – as far as she was concerned, it was simply a question of deciding which paintings to part with, but the bill was certain to be huge and the whole process complicated. It meant that none of the bequests to George Fearnside, Albert Streatfield and other longstanding friends and staff could be carried out until the matter was resolved. In the meantime, Almina wanted to stay busy. It had always been her tactic when under pressure, and now she swirled out to dinner from Seamore Place, visited Porchy and Catherine at Highclere, was looked after by friends and went to Paris to shop. She also began to spend more time with Lieutenant Colonel Ian Dennistoun, whom she had met through his ex-wife, who was a friend of hers.

Almina met Dorothy Dennistoun when their mutual friend, General Sir John Cowans, was dying in 1921; the women immediately became very close and Dorothy came constantly to Highclere. Sir John was the brilliant quartermaster who had played a crucial role in the Great War, but his reputation was overshadowed by revelations that he had had a number of affairs. One of them was with Dorothy, who had been separated from her husband for some time. After the Dennistouns divorced, Ian was often alone. He used a wheelchair, as he had broken his hip very badly, and he had terrible money worries too, but he was kind, charming and a good friend to Almina after her husband’s death. Almina had never in her life been alone, and now she found herself drawn to Ian. She looked after him and they began to spend more and more time together.

There was a great piece of good news for the Carnarvon family in the midst of all their difficulties: Eve was getting married. She and Mr Beauchamp had been meeting for several Seasons now, and Eve’s fondness and respect for him had been growing steadily. He was a lot of fun and they loved to dance together. When her father died, Eve was completely bereft. Brograve offered her his support and that summer he became a constant visitor to Highclere.

He had spent the previous year attempting to follow in his father’s footsteps as an MP, with no success. He was the National Liberals’ candidate in Lowestoft after his father resigned the seat, but lost heavily. That general election was a drubbing for the divided Liberal Party, but Brograve fought hard, despite the fact that his heart lay more with a career in business. He decided not to follow his own inclinations, though, chiefly to please his mother, Lady Beauchamp. Brograve was always very protective of both his parents after his older brother Edward was killed in France in 1914.

He was by nature cheerful and relaxed, and got on very well with Almina as well as Porchy and Catherine. He played golf badly, bridge well and enjoyed racing only because Eve loved it so much. Aside from all his personal qualities, she appreciated the fact that her father had liked him. They shared a passion for cars and had been known to go out for a spin together in Lord Carnarvon’s Bugatti. Brograve had been wonderful at cheering Eve and making her laugh again. If ever she was down she used to ask him to sing ‘God Save the King’. He was completely unmusical and it was so flat that everyone would fall about laughing. In truth he was the only man Eve had ever seriously
contemplated marrying, and the wedding was set for October, much to everyone’s delight.

The other joyous announcement that summer was that Catherine, the Countess of Carnarvon, was pregnant with her first child. The baby was due just after Christmas. Highclere would be a home to children again, and there was a sense of renewal in the air, despite the family’s sadness.

The relief at the good news was short lived. Aubrey had been feeling very low in spirit due to his worsening health for most of the spring and hadn’t been able to face battling back from Italy for his brother’s memorial service earlier in the year. But by summer he was feeling a bit better and he and Mary returned to England and went to stay at Highclere in July. It was to be his last visit. He went on to Pixton and consulted various doctors. He had always been slim but now he was looking gaunt; he was nearly totally blind and was running out of energy to battle his lifelong health problems and cope with the loss of his sight.