Wayward Winds Read online

  Gifford had already pushed propriety ever so slightly with his purchase of Lord Berkeley’s former home on highly fashionable Curzon Street only a quarter mile from Park Lane. Eyebrows had gone up around Mayfair at the time, but most accepted the fact on the basis of what everyone recognized as the changing mores of the modern age.

  In years gone by, self-respecting English “gentlemen” had little in the way of occupation to bother with, other than making sure the income from their estates came in on time. The diversion of sporting events was what really got the blood going. The year’s social events in London originally came to be associated loosely with the schedule of the House of Lords, whose members anticipated their adjournments no less than schoolchildren awaiting holiday. Their recesses were scheduled for the precise purpose of enjoying those sporting events.

  The real business throughout the fall months was the hunt. It wouldn’t do to have to attend to politics when the foxes were running and the hounds must be after them, and when grouse and pheasant and deer were plentiful.

  Grouse season opened in mid-August, when Parliament adjourned. Everyone who was anyone headed north, either to their own “grouse moor” in Scotland, or to that of an acquaintance. Those who weren’t fortunate enough to have a lodge in Scotland retreated to their lodges elsewhere in the country. Partridge season began in September, the pheasant season in October, and on the first Monday of November at last came the traditional opening of the fox season.

  After the weather turned too cold for such outdoor pursuits, only then did the lords and their ladies think of locking up their hunting lodges and vacating their country estates and returning to London to prepare for the opening of Parliament. A modest round of winter social functions followed.

  The height of the London social season opened, however, a few months later, after the return of Parliament from its Easter break and another brief visit to the country. Throughout spring and early summer the city witnessed a constant round of parties and horse-racing events, when the intent of the ladies was to be seen in their newest dresses and finest jewelry.

  This was the time of the year when the new crop of maturing young ladies was officially presented to society. Fathers and young men throughout London used the occasion to survey the landscape for the most suitable matches. When the reign of Queen Victoria was at its height, young girls throughout the empire dreamed of nothing more than being presented at the royal court as the most exciting possible debut of all into this magical world of balls and beaux.

  The annual exhibition at the Royal Academy of Art came in May, and was usually the first major gala event of the season. A whirlwind of dinners and balls, parties and breakfasts, followed. The Derby and Ascot came in either May or June, followed in July by the Henley Regatta and numerous cricket matches. As the summer progressed and the weather warmed, talk between men gradually turned toward the grouse, and between the women to what new engagements the season had witnessed and who they were planning to visit in the fall. For when August arrived, it would be time for the whole year’s cycle to begin all over again.

  19

  Amanda’s Coming Out

  The wife of Gifford Rutherford did not care for the twentieth century’s modernism. The new informality and equality between the classes, not to mention between the sexes, was not for her. If the fabric that held society together broke down, where would England be then?

  And voting—heavens!

  In Martha’s eyes, the idea of women wanting to vote was much ado about nothing. Who could possibly care about voting! Let the men handle the world’s affairs and good riddance.

  For Martha Rutherford, Amanda represented a link to the social circles she had once longed to be part of, yet who had only been familiar with its lower portions. Nor had she had a daughter of her own, a fact which hadn’t helped propel her higher. To be able to take the girl under her charge would give Martha grounds to insert herself into the very middle of it, and now to a greater extent than her own position had previously justified.

  Amanda was, after all, the daughter of a Knight Grand Commander. Her father’s standing as lord of the manor of Heathersleigh did not quite make him a peer. But it was certainly far more title than Gifford could lay claim to. Along with Charles’ high parliamentary reputation, and the fact that Amanda would be two or three years older than most of the year’s new debutantes . . . Martha had no doubt that within weeks Amanda would be the talk of London.

  It might even turn out in her favor that she had waited so long to come out. It would add to the interest shown her. And she would be there at Amanda’s side!

  Amanda’s reasons for wanting to be part of the glamorous society scene were not so very different from her cousin’s. All her life she had dreamed of attending a ball on the arm of her father. They had talked about taking London by storm. He had then shut himself off from all that in favor of his religion. And she had been shut out of it in the process. She had hoped coming to live with the Pankhursts would involve her in the life of her girlish fancies. In reality she spent more time in streets than in ballrooms. Now all at once Cousin Martha had made it possible to rekindle those former dreams.

  Martha and Amanda Rutherford, an unlikely pair, each had a large store of personal hopes as together they entered into the round of social events during the remainder of the spring of 1911. Both were caught up in shopping and fittings and plans. Amanda’s spirits rose higher than they had been in a year. As her name began to circulate, new invitations began to pour in.

  Martha’s husband Gifford watched it all with amused satisfaction. He shrewdly appeared now and then, carrying himself with detached fatherly demeanor. He would imperceptibly deepen Amanda’s dependence upon him for her newfound and rapidly climbing social standing. He was willing for the perception to spread among their associations, though nothing was said—the girl must not hear it prematurely—that Amanda and his son Geoffrey had an “understanding” as to how things were between them.

  Mrs. Pankhurst saw a change in Amanda immediately. Most days now, instead of participating in rallies and protests, Amanda was off to Curzon Street to spend the day with Martha. If she felt torn between her two worlds, she did not show it. Mrs. Pankhurst was wise enough in the ways of the world, however, to recognize the advantage one such as Amanda represented. Her value was based on the fact that she was the daughter of Sir Charles Rutherford, not because Amanda brought one more foot soldier into the ranks. A thousand young women in England would have given anything to live in the Pankhurst home. All the while, however, it never dawned on Amanda that had she been the daughter of a commoner, the invitation to take up residence with them would never have been extended in the first place.

  Therefore, Mrs. Pankhurst said nothing about Amanda’s fling with society. She could bide her time for the present in order to keep so great a prize safely within the ranks of their cause.

  Amanda knew far less of the world than she thought. Thinking herself sophisticated in the ways of adulthood, she yet remained oblivious to the many motives swirling like an invisible dust cloud about her. Imagining that she held the reins of her fate in her own hands and had stepped with maturity into her stature as a woman, in many respects she was merely a pawn in a larger chess game with a growing range of players. Unknown to her, another was already watching for the opportunity to stealthily make use of this particular pawn in a far higher contest already under way.

  She despised the fact that her father had prevented her from attaining her most cherished ambitions. Sir Charles Rutherford, however, occupied the vital and pivotal center from which many of these wheels in Amanda’s life turned. It was because of him that people were interested in her. Though Amanda perceived it not, it was the power her father represented which was opening the doors now before her.

  They were doors that would lead for a little while to her pleasure and satisfaction . . . but ultimately to her danger.

  20

  Coronation

  The Derby and her chance m
eeting with Cousin Martha began the most wonderful year in Amanda’s life. Suddenly she found herself at the very center of London life. As distasteful as she found Geoffrey’s presence, she was grateful for his mother’s efforts to introduce her to society.

  No more fitting culmination to any year’s social season could be envisioned than that which took place in the year 1911, when, on June 22, George V, grandson of Victoria, and his wife Mary were crowned King and Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

  From commoners to the highest noblepersons in the land, except for a minority who would do away with it altogether, all Britain loved its monarchy. The pomp, dignity, and many-centuried history of its royalty gave the empire’s men and women hope for the future strength of their nation. Whenever it was thought that the royal ceremonial coach might be seen, for wedding or christening or any occasion involving the royal family, and of course for the annual passage through London for the opening of Parliament, spectators crowded along the route, many with tears in their eyes, hoping for any glimpse of the monarch.

  On the twenty-third, a bank holiday, the day following the coronation in Westminster Abbey, there would be a parade through the city such as came along only once in a lifetime. The Royal Progress would leave Buckingham Palace at eleven in the morning and wind through the streets so as to give as many as possible of the new king and queen’s subjects the chance to see them.

  The momentous celebration of the coronation, awaited and planned for thirteen months, at last arrived. Before six in the morning of the following day, London’s streets were already lining with tens of thousands seeking good position from which to view the splendid processional from the palace in a great circle and back to Green Park.

  After the procession, the ranks of society would gradually again divide along the ancient lines of nobility and rank. Those few of highest station had been invited inside the great abbey to witness the coronation itself the day before. Others of more modest standing would be included for the large outdoor reception at Green Park at the end of today’s parade route. This latter event would include the family of London financier Gifford Rutherford, who had secured an invitation for four. Their cousin Amanda would be escorted by the banker’s rising prominent son Geoffrey.

  None of the London Rutherford party paused to inquire whether Amanda’s parents, Sir Charles and Lady Jocelyn Rutherford, would also be in attendance. That the lord of the manor of Heathersleigh and his wife had been selected to receive a prestigious invitation to the coronation ceremony inside the abbey remained equally outside the scope of their reflections. Had Gifford known, it would have struck him as preposterously unfitting and backward from what should be the true order of things.

  Amanda had seen nothing of Ramsay Halifax for two weeks. When she awoke on processional morning, she wondered where he would be today. She wouldn’t be surprised to see him, though his interest in the monarchy had never seemed as great as she would expect for the stepson of a well-known peer. But Ramsay somehow seemed to turn up everywhere.

  He went to the Continent with some regularity, though always remained curiously secretive to Amanda about such trips. Whenever she asked what he’d been working on, he laughed it off.

  “My paper would fire me,” he told her more than once, “if I leaked stories for the Pankhursts to get hold of.”

  “You can trust me, Ramsay,” said Amanda with a coy smile.

  “Of course. But can I trust them? You are one of the inner circle.”

  “But I wouldn’t tell,” she insisted.

  “It’s the code of journalism,” he replied, “never to divulge too much. Someone in my position cannot leak information about a story prematurely.”

  And now he was gone again. Amanda wondered if it was another of his secretive excursions to the Continent.

  Shortly after breakfast on the twenty-third, Geoffrey Rutherford came to the door of the Pankhurst home, presented his card, and asked for Amanda. Without greeting, Amanda accompanied him down the steps.

  Amanda wore the blue suit-dress she had bought at Harrods for the Derby. However, today she replaced the large straw hat with a small navy hat with pink veil. She and Geoffrey walked from the house in silence. Geoffrey offered his hand, which Amanda took reluctantly. He helped her into the carriage.

  “Oh, Amanda,” exclaimed Martha as she climbed into the backseat beside her, “how absolutely lovely you look. That color is so becoming on you, dear.—Gifford,” she added, tapping her husband on the shoulder in front of her, “doesn’t Amanda look beautiful?”

  Gifford nodded politely, half turning back toward the two women as Geoffrey sat down beside him. He then returned his gaze forward, glancing momentarily toward his son with the faintest upward turn of the lips. Amanda saw the silent exchange. Were they secretly laughing at Martha’s chatter? Or was the expression on Gifford’s face meant to communicate something about her?

  The weather was uncertain and fitful, with brief gusts and drizzling rain. Though the bank was closed, they rode to the tall stone edifice, where during the week the fate of fortunes was determined. From Gifford’s office window on the fifth floor, they awaited the processional.

  Leaving Buckingham Palace, the plumed and jeweled Indian and Colonial processionals were followed by hundreds of soldiers and horsemen and dignitaries from every nation in the vast British Empire—from New Zealand and Australia and Canada and South Africa, then the ministers of the Crown Colonies and the Dominion Premiers. What seemed a thousand royal horsemen at last led the royal coach with the new king and queen. Every buckle and stirrup, every bright gleaming sword, every button on every red-and-blue uniform, every atom of polished brass and finery of gold and silver, glittered in the occasional sunlight.

  The processional proceeded around Hyde Park Corner where the sun shone through briefly upon the royal carriage, by the Wellington Arch, where a Royal Pavilion had been built for foreign royalty, all of whom stood as King George and Queen Mary passed, along Piccadilly, thence through Trafalgar Square and along Whitehall past Westminster Abbey, along Victoria Street and back to the precincts of the palace, where it would arrive at length at Green Park.

  The elegant coach at last came into view where Amanda and her relatives stood, with the new king and queen smiling and waving at the throng. By their very gait even the four perfectly matched white horses pulling their carriage seemed to sense the reverence of the occasion. The two most honored footmen from the royal brigade stood tall on its back, glancing neither right nor left. At such a moment nearly every Englishman, regardless of creed or station, was equally the humble servant and loyal admirer of the king.

  Amanda glanced toward Martha. Tears stood in the older woman’s eyes. Amanda looked down at the street again. Surprising even herself, the pride of her heritage swelled unexpectedly in her heart. She could not have said why, but a lump rose in her throat.

  This was a good and proud nation, Amanda thought, whether women could vote or not. She did not want to hurt or destroy it. Not even being counted as important as men in the political arena was worth that.

  Then the coach was by, and the rest of the procession slowly followed. As soon as the parade was past, the Rutherford party of four descended again to the street and returned to their carriage. They attempted to follow the route of the parade. But the throngs were too vast.

  Gifford ordered the driver on to Green Park by another route. If they made haste, they would get there before the royal party and be able to see King George and Queen Mary make their arrival.

  21

  Reception

  Even the Kensington Lawn Tea, which Amanda had attended two months earlier, as much as it had impressed her, was nothing at all like this. Today’s outdoor setting was as elegant as could be imagined. Endless tables crowded with food and delicacies and wines of every sort spread as far as one could see. The organizers only prayed a downpour didn’t drench it all, though the sun’s occasional rays poking through the clouds were hopeful.


  Hundreds were already present when they arrived. About twenty minutes later, a buzz began to circulate that the newly crowned king and queen were on their way. An electric current of anticipation immediately spread through the gathering.

  Across the way as they watched, Amanda saw Ramsay Halifax with a companion she did not recognize. How did he always manage to show up everywhere! If only she might get away from Geoffrey and work her way through the crowd in Ramsay’s direction.

  Even as she scanned the faces of those present, Amanda managed to sustain her end of various fragmentary conversations. The previous weeks of social activities since the Derby insured that wherever she went now, no end of attention came her way. To her great annoyance, Geoffrey did his best to fend off visitations from the persistent male element.

  Well aware of the opportunities Geoffrey’s mother and father were opening for her, during the preceding weeks Amanda had forced herself to behave with a certain decorum and geniality toward her cousin. She could not exactly be said to be friendly or warm toward him. Yet she was noticeably less cool and snappy than before, occasionally going so far even as to grit her teeth and smile at one of his banal remarks. Whether her cousin misinterpreted this subtle change might have been an important question to consider. In any event, Amanda did her best to circulate as he tagged along and generally made a nuisance of himself.

  Meanwhile, Martha Rutherford beamed at how easily Amanda fit into the scene. She could not keep from priding herself on what she had done with her in such a short time.