Turmoil on the Thames, page 8
Makes the royal scandals of today look pretty tame, doesn’t it?
The Duke of York and his mistress
The king’s second son, Frederick, Duke of York, was also (like his younger brother the Duke of Cumberland), a soldier…in fact, he was named commander-in-chief of the British Army in 1798. Though he wasn’t perhaps the most inspired field commander, he was a more-than-able administrator, and his reforms of the army’s structure and management were likely just as responsible as the Duke of Wellington’s strategic genius for Britain’s ultimate victory over Napoleon.
But in 1809-1810, that was all in the future…and no one would have believed the duke was any good as an administrator either, for he was neck-deep in scandal.
Like most of his brothers, the duke was a ladies’ man. Though fond of his wife, Frederica of Prussia, he generally had a mistress in his keeping, and in 1803 that mistress was Mary Anne Clarke, a popular courtesan (and an ancestress of Daphne du Maurier.)
Mary Anne’s tastes were expensive; though the duke had set her up in her own house with an allowance of ₤100 per month, she was spending at five times that rate. To supplement her income, she hit on the scheme of using her position as the duke’s belle amie to sell army commissions, promotions, and transfers to the highest bidders, undercutting the government, which was also in the same business (yes, at the time, that was how things worked): she’d take the money and see that the names were added to the lists to be approved by the duke. Word eventually got out, and a formal committee was set up by Parliament to look into the matter. The duke sent Mary Anne packing and resigned his position as commander-in-chief; he was reinstated a while later after the commission found that while he was aware of Mary Anne’s activities, he himself had not benefited financially from them. Mary Anne managed to negotiate a good pension from the royal family after threatening to publish the duke’s love letters to her, and after the war eventually moved to France, where she lived comfortably until her death in 1852.
Ladies’ maids and cast-off dresses
While most servants did not make very much in salary, many positions had traditional perquisites attached to them that could prove quite lucrative. Butlers, for example, could claim candle ends and empty bottles to sell; cooks could sell dripping saved from the cooking of meat; while this sounds strange to modern ears, a comfortable sum could be accumulated from these activities.
Personal servants—ladies’ maids and valets—probably had the best perks: it was generally accepted that they could lay claim to their employers’ cast-off clothes, either to sell to second-hand clothing dealers, to send home to family and friends, or to modify for themselves. Annabel’s maid, Winters, likely doesn’t get much of her mistress’s cast-offs, as Lady Shellingham observes.
The King’s Maintenancer of the Tamesian Potamides
This office of course does not exist (at least, I don’t think it does.) But there are any number of royal offices with similar obscure names and purposes left over from the Middle Ages, my favorite being the Queen’s (or King’s) Swan Marker and Swan Uppers, whose job it is to perform an annual count of the swans on the Thames, which (nominally) belong to the Crown.
Dramatis Personae
Or, a brief list of who was really who
For those among you who are not hard-core Regency fanatics, the following are highly idiosyncratic biographical sketches of the historical figures mentioned in this first story.
But first, a quickie tutorial on title usage in England
Peers (anyone of the rank of baron, viscount, earl, marquis, or duke) have a family name or surname like their less exalted fellow humans, but then also have their title, and can be referred to by both. Let’s look at an example…
John Smith is the Earl of Noodle. He is commonly known as Lord Noodle; his friends might just call him Noodle, or he might be referred to as John Noodle to differentiate him from his late father, George Noodle, if the family is being gossiped about…but Noodle is not his surname—that’s Smith. He will never be referred to as Lord John Smith or Lord John Noodle; men referred to as “Lord First-name Surname” are usually the younger sons of marquises and dukes, who are given the courtesy title of “Lord.”
His wife, Mary Smith, the Countess of Noodle, is commonly known as Lady Noodle; she might be referred to as Mary Noodle to differentiate her from her mother-in-law Jane, the Dowager Countess, who is still alive and gadding about in society, and the name might stick even after the Dowager countess is no more just because everyone has gotten used to it. Mary will not be called Lady Mary Noodle, or Lady Mary Smith; women referred to as “Lady First-name Surname” are the daughters of the higher nobility—earls and above—and are permitted the use of the courtesy title of “Lady.” A widow of a peer keeps her rank and title unless she remarries, when she then takes her new husband’s rank (and title, if any.) In social practice, many women who married men of lower rank still kept the courtesy title they were born with.
Fred Smith, Viscount Macaroni, is Lord Noodle’s eldest son. Most members of the higher nobility have multiple titles, so an eldest son (and ONLY an eldest son—there are a whole set of rules around heirs apparent—direct offspring—and heirs presumptive—brothers and nephews and cousins—that we won’t get into right now) is permitted to “borrow” his father’s second most prestigious title as a courtesy (though if there is a third title and if Fred has a son, the lad might get to use that one if grandpa allowed it.) Fred’s younger brothers are just plain Honourables (only younger sons of marquises and dukes use the courtesy title of “Lord”, don’t forget) but his sister is Lady Susan because the daughters of earls (and marquises and dukes) have the courtesy title of “Lady.”
There are other rules—in fact. dukes have their own special set. So…
Aurelius Smith is the Duke of Megapounds. Unlike his cousin John Smith, Earl of Noodle, he is never known as Lord Megapounds. He might be addressed just by his title, Megapounds, by his friends and acquaintances…or he might be addressed as “Duke” by others of his (relative) social class or as “your grace” by his inferiors. When he’s being gossiped about, he might be referred to as Aurelius Megapounds or as “the seventh Duke” to differentiate him from his father Julius Megapounds, the sixth Duke. Aurelius’s wife Ruby Smith, the Duchess of Megapounds, is likewise addressed as “Duchess” by friends and acquaintances, or as “your grace” by her inferiors, or as Ruby Megapounds to differentiate her from her mother-in-law the dowager duchess, Pearl Megapounds.
Now for the who’s who…
Sally Jersey
Sarah Sophia Child Villiers, Countess of Jersey (1785-1867), known as Sally Jersey to differentiate her from her mother-in-law, also Lady Jersey (and well-known as a mistress of the Prince of Wales). She was also known by the ironic nickname “Silence” as she was reputed never to stop talking, and was a Lady Patroness of Almack’s and very influential in society for many years, though never as actively interested in politics as were many of the other Lady Patronesses. Fascinatingly, she inherited the senior partnership in a bank—Child & Co.—from her maternal grandfather (as well as his fortune—she was one wealthy woman!) and on attaining the age of 21 took her role very seriously and was active in the bank’s management for her entire life. She is reputed to have had many love affairs, including one with Henry “Cupid” Templeton, Emily Cowper’s squeeze.
Georgiana Bathurst
Georgiana Bathurst, Countess Bathurst (one of the exceptions to all my rules above; in this case, the title and family surname were the same), 1765-1841. Georgiana was born a member of the Lennox family, descended from King Charles II and his mistress Louise de Kérouaille, and niece to the famous Lennox sisters, one of who nearly married George III. Aside from the basic information around her ancestry, her marriage to the 3rd Earl Bathurst who held several government positions, a list of her children, and the fact that she served as a Lady Patroness, almost no information about her seems to be available…which left me free to create a personality for her.
Emily Cowper (pronounced “cooper,” just so you know)
Emily Mary Cowper, Countess Cowper (another exception where the surname and title coincide), 1787-1869. Born Emily Lamb, daughter of the well-known Lady Melbourne (another mistress of the Prince of Wales), brother of William Lamb, later Viscount Melbourne, Queen Victoria’s first prime minister, and sister-in-law of crazy-cakes Caro Lamb, lover of Lord Byron. She was married at a young age to Peter Clavering-Cowper, 5th Earl Cowper who was ten years her senior. She bore him a son, then embarked on a series of love affairs in London while he remained more or less contentedly in the country at their estate in Hertfordshire. Her grand passion was Henry John “Cupid” Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, who was the probable father of a few of her children and whom she married in 1839 after her first husband’s death. She was a political hostess par excellence, being the sister of one Prime Minister and the wife of another. She was one of the most popular of the Lady Patronesses, known for her kindness and social élan.
Clementina Sarah Drummond-Burrell
Clementina Sarah Drummond-Burrell, later Lady Willoughby de Eresby, 1786-1865. Clementina was a Scottish heiress and daughter of an earl; her husband, Peter Burrell, added her last name to his own so that they became known as Mr. and Mrs. Drummond-Burrell. Later her husband inherited a pair of baronies from both his father and (unusually) his mother; the older, more prestigious title was his mother’s Willoughby de Eresby one, so that’s the one they used. While Peter pursued a political career which Clementina’s fortune subsidized (as well as his habits as a dandy), Clementina pursued a social one, becoming a hostess of some renown. She was reputed to be proud and haughty in nature and a stickler for correct behavior, which inspired the power I gave her, though some historians contend that it was her mother-in-law, not her, who was so snooty. Unusually for the time (and among her fellow Lady Patronesses) Clementina’s marital reputation remained unstained, and she and her husband appear to have enjoyed a faithful, devoted relationship.
Maria Sefton
Maria Molyneux, Viscountess Sefton and later Countess of Sefton, 1769-1851. While much is known about her husband William’s career as both a politician and a noted friend of the Prince of Wales (as well as a founder of the exclusive Four-in-Hand Club), very little is known about Maria beyond her connection with Almack’s as a Lady Patroness. Might that excessive prudence be a function of the fact that her parents, Lord and Lady Craven, had both lived rather scandalous lives and had divorced, a rarity at the time? She was reputed to be extremely good-natured, however, and an excellent if self-effacing hostess for her busy husband.
Dorothea Lieven
Dorothea von Lieven, Countess (and later Princess) Lieven, 1785-1857. Born in Riga, Latvia, Dorothea was a Russo-German noblewoman (she was educated at a convent in Russia and served as a maid-of-honor to the Tsar’s mother) who was married (at age 14!) to General Count Christopher von Lieven. He was sent by Tsar Alexander I to serve as the Imperial Ambassador to England in 1812 (ssh, yes, I know that’s two years after the setting of my stories. I invoke my creative license.) Dorothea took to London like a duck to water. She adored politics, knew everyone, and was the first foreigner asked to serve as a Lady Patroness at Almack’s. She was known to be haughty and snobbish, had multiple affairs (including one with Count Metternich of Austria and again with “Cupid” Palmerston), received her own secret diplomatic assignments from the Tsar, and generally had a grand time of it for twenty years, until her husband was recalled to Russia. Not long after she left him to live in Paris, where she established a salon and went on her merry way with a finger in every diplomatic pie until her death.
William Almack/Mr. Willis
Although he is referred to by contemporaries as a Scot, it’s not known either when or where William Almack was born, though Thirsk in Yorkshire is a likely bet (so not a Scot, though perhaps of Scottish parentage?) Earliest reports of him are as valet to the Duke of Hamilton, but he soon went into business as a proprietor of a tavern and then as owner-manager of a gaming club in Pall Mall to which he gave his own name—and which eventually became known as Brooks’s, one of the best known of London’s men’s clubs and still in operation today. In 1764 he built his famous Assembly Rooms in King Street and gathered his Lady Patronesses to administer them…though perhaps not in quite the way told in this story! On his death, he left Almack’s to his niece and her husband, Mr. Willis, who continued to run it and seems to have passed it onto other descendants, as the club was renamed “Willis’s Rooms” in 1871.
Lord Palmerston
Mentioned above in Emily Cowper’s entry, Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston (1784-1865) was a British statesman, serving as Prime Minister twice (from 1855-1858 and from 1859-1865), as War Secretary, and as Foreign Secretary. He was charming, intelligent, and handsome and something of a ladies’ man (as can be seen from the number of Lady Patronesses he conducted amours with), but remained single until the love of his life, Emily Cowper, was widowed. Their subsequent happy marriage, lasting until his death, was (according to contemporary observers) one of “perpetual courtship.”
Sneak Preview: An Event at Epsom
Here’s a sneak peek at the next installment of The Ladies of Almack’s, An Event at Epsom, due out on August 2, 2022.
Chapter One
Mid-June 1810
En route to Epsom, Surrey
“I have always wondered why they call them ‘downs,’” Maria Sefton said, gazing at the rolling green countryside outside the carriage window. “Don’t they go up as much as down? Indeed,” she said, warming to her subject, “since they must go up in order to go down, why are they not called ‘ups’? It seems very arbitrary.”
Across from her, Annabel smiled. It was an exceedingly Maria-ish thing to say. “I don’t know, but ‘Epsom Downs’ sounds much better than ‘Epsom Ups,’” she replied.
“That’s true.” Maria’s brow wrinkled. “I shall ask Derby about it when I see him. If anyone would know, it is he.”
“Except I believe there are downs elsewhere and not just in Surrey,” Annabel couldn’t resist adding.
“Oh, dear. That does complicate the question.”
“Does Lord Derby know we’re coming?” Georgiana Bathurst, seated next to Maria, asked. She’d spoken barely a word since they’d left London, and had spent the intervening hours wearing a slight frown as she gazed fixedly at nothing. Annabel had feared she was carriage-sick, but they’d not needed to pause for her to cast up her accounts in the hedgerow. The only other conclusion to be drawn was that something was troubling her.
“Of course he is expecting me. I don’t think he knows you’re coming,” Maria replied. “This investigation was Mr. Almack’s idea, not Derby’s. However, I am certain he would be monstrous glad of our help, if it turns out that there is indeed something not-quite-right going on here.”
They were on their way to Epsom, site of two of the most hotly-contested (and lucrative) horse-races in England—the Derby and the Oaks Stakes—which had somehow also become one of the more popular events of the season. Mr. Almack’s death had not blunted his keen interest in the Sport of Kings, and a curious story had come to him that made a man—er, ghost—of his experience sit up and take notice.
“Speaking of peculiar, there’s something verra odd going on in racing circles,” he’d announced at Monday’s Lady Patronesses meeting after they had discussed the incident with the Potamides at Eton. “Something that I think you ladies might want to look at.”
“Odd in what way?” Sally had asked, taking a fresh leaf of paper and dipping her pen.
The tale Mr. Almack had recounted had indeed been an odd one. Earlier that spring a new filly had appeared on the local race circuit around Newmarket and had won almost every race she ran. Her owner, a Sir Oswald Broxley, was known amongst the gentlemen of the turf as a not-very-successful amateur breeder and trainer. With this horse, however, his luck finally seemed to have turned the corner. When asked, Sir Oswald was not forthcoming about Maharahnee’s origins; he would only smile smugly and say that she’d been bred and born on his family’s estate.
Dorothea had snorted. “I do not see what is so mysterious about this as to be of interest to us.”
“I’m getting to that part,” Mr. Almack replied, a little testily. “What is of interest is that she’s a verra intelligent horse; as far as anyone can see her jockey is more or less along for the ride whilst she chooses her own path. She also doesna seem to need to rest; she’ll run one day and be at a race twenty miles away the next day, ready to go.”
They’d all been silent, absorbing that. Sir Oswald was not known to possess a wagon capable of carrying horses, so how could this Maharahnee win a race one afternoon then walk twenty miles to the next one in less than a day and be ready once again to race?
Sally had finally spoken. “Either this Sir Oswald has managed to tame a kelpie—”
“Can one tame a kelpie?” Frances interrupted, wide-eyed.
“Nae, it canna be. It’s a filly, and most all kelpies are male.” Mr. Almack sounded amused. “’Twould be difficult to hide that.”
“Oh. Yes, it would.” Frances blushed. “I beg your pardon, Sally. Pray go on.”
Sally nodded and went on, “—or some poor horse has been put under a compulsion spell. I expect it must be that.” She turned to Mr. Almack’s empty—or rather, apparently empty—chair. “I presume the horse’s owner is making a tidy profit in winnings?”
“Aye, he is. And from all accounts, he needs it—the man’s known to have the worst luck—or judgment—in three counties.” Mr. Almack’s tone made it clear which he thought was the case. “The Oaks Stakes—it’s a race for three-year-old fillies, ye ken—comes up at the end of this week at Epsom, and if there’s somethin’ not natural about one of the competitors, I think we should look into it.”
