Page 47 of The Affairs of Ashmore Castle (Ashmore Castle #2)
The Royal Yacht Squadron Gardens was where the beau monde gathered during Cowes week.
There, a band played selections of popular music, there, people took tea at little tables to watch, and strolled up and down to be seen.
The men wore white flannels, variously coloured blazers, and boaters with the ribbons of their clubs.
The women were in voile, chiffon, taffeta, crêpe de Chine and linon de soie , and since the colours of the season were white, biscuit, champagne, pale green and pale rose, the effect was rather like a flock of moths being disturbed into fluttery motion.
Hats were enormous, perched on top of high-piled hair, and frequently upturned like boats or fruit bowls so they could be filled with flowers and plumes and ribbons and lace rosettes.
Rachel was perfectly happy sipping tea, nibbling shortbread, and examining the ensembles with an increasingly expert eye.
She had discovered that she adored clothes: she thought about them all the time, and was deeply happy that her mother, while not interested in fashion on her own behalf, was ready – indeed determined – to dress Rachel in the best possible style, with as many changes as the day required.
Despite the number of exceedingly well-dressed women passing before her, Rachel was satisfied with her present outfit.
The style was for the waist to be tightly nipped in and emphasised by a belt, the blouse much decorated and falling loosely forward while the skirt was gathered, tucked and pleated to form a bustle and train behind so that, with the aid of a punishing corset, the body of the woman of fashion made a sort of S shape in silhouette.
It made sitting difficult: one sat slightly sideways and perched on the edge of the chair.
The piled hair and enormous hat took some skill to balance, and a gust of wind could spell disaster; but as dressmakers had often told Rachel recently, one must suffer for beauty.
Her ensemble du jour was a blouse of champagne voile with sleeves full to the elbow and tight below.
There was a deep yoke of Swiss embroidery, a pelerine of coarse Cluny lace, and the skirt was of ecru crêpe de Chine with cross-way folds at the hem.
Her upturned straw was worn fore-and-aft, and was filled with white plumes and white silk roses, the brim edged with daring narrow black bébé velvet for contrast. She was only sorry it was too warm to wear her darling little ecru coffee coat: coffee coats were absolutely the dernier cri this year.
Aunt Vicky had said Rachel was lucky to have such perfect colouring. ‘Not everyone can wear these biscuit and champagne shades,’ she said. ‘They leave most women looking washed-out – unless they resort to maquillage.’
Rachel knew that she was in a very privileged position at Cowes.
Aunt Vicky and Uncle Bobo were acquainted with the Kaiser, while her mother was acquainted with the King, her late father having been in his circle.
And the Levens were the kindest of hosts, and knew just about everyone.
So she was sure of being where the best people were, and seeing everything.
From the deck of the Tutamen they had watched the Royal Yacht, Victoria and Albert , arrive, and come up to her moorings, which were agreeably close to Tutamen ’s, and had seen all the distinguished guests, including the Kaiser, go on board to be greeted by the King and Queen, fresh from their visit to Ireland.
Rachel had watched some of the racing from Tutamen ’s deck, though it was not like watching a foot race or a horse race, where everyone went in a straight line from the start to the finishing post. It was hard to tell what was happening, with all the yachts going in different directions (‘Tacking,’ Lord Leven explained to her kindly, ‘to get the best of the wind’) and impossible to tell who had won.
(‘The Kaiser,’ Lord Leven enlightened her, when the Schooners’ Handicap finished. ‘That’s his racing yacht Meteor .’)
‘It’s a good thing he’s won,’ Leven added, ‘because it will put him in a good mood, and we’re dining with him tonight at the King’s table. He’s not the easiest of people when he’s put out about something.’
Rachel and Maud had not been invited to dine, but on the Tuesday, in the gardens, the King and Queen came strolling along, stopped to talk to Maud, and kindly asked for Rachel to be presented.
It all happened so quickly she hadn’t time to be nervous.
She managed a creditable curtsy, and dared to peep up at the King’s face.
He looked exactly like his engravings in the Illustrated London News – tall, stout, white-bearded and jolly-looking, with very blue eyes.
And – something the illustrations couldn’t tell you – he smelt delicious.
He asked her if she was enjoying herself, and said she looked very pretty, and she blushed, which did her no harm at all in the royal eyes.
The Queen was fair and surprisingly young-looking; beautiful, but cool and remote.
She did not speak to her. Her mother told her afterwards that the poor Queen was very deaf, which shut her out from normal society.
On the following day, they were invited with the Levens to tea on the Royal Yacht, and there Rachel met the Kaiser, or at least was mentioned to him, and curtseyed from a distance.
He glanced at her briefly but did not otherwise acknowledge her or her mother.
He was quite handsome, with the same blue eyes, but was not as imposing a figure as the King.
He had a strange little waxed moustache that poked out to either side, and held himself very stiffly.
There were half a dozen tables set out under a canopy on the after-deck for tea, and Rachel was at the furthest away from the royalty, but she was quite happy with her share of the honour.
The tea was very good: little sandwiches – salmon, cucumber, and egg-and-cress – cakes with lemon icing, and fancy biscuits.
Best of all was that, because the Kaiser was at Cowes, lots of German nobles had come, like the Rantzaus, the Hardenbergs and the Schliebens, which meant that there were plenty of Rachel’s previous dancing partners among their sons to flirt with.
There were balls every night, at which she never had to sit a dance out; and during the day there were carriage rides and boat trips and picnics, and the daily strut in the Gardens, where her admirers could ask her to take a turn up and down with them, and everyone could see how popular she was.
Frittie Landau was there, and she still thought him the most amusing of her satellites. Unfortunately, Prince Paul Usingen had also arrived, and made a beeline for her and her mother, and bowed over their hands like – like a fawning dog , she thought.
‘He’s very rich,’ said the American Nancy Ortenberg – she too had come with her husband, and joined Rachel at the tea table one day for a chat.
Their eyes followed Usingen as he strolled past with Maud Stainton on his arm.
He seemed to be talking to her urgently, but still broke off as they passed to doff his hat to Rachel and smile ingratiatingly.
‘I suppose he thinks he’s being charming,’ Rachel said discontentedly. ‘He really shouldn’t smile at all, when his teeth are so bad.’
‘Oh, Rachel, so cruel!’ Nancy said.
‘I can’t help it. I hate him. Why does he keep hanging around me? I’ve never encouraged him. But Frittie Landau jokes me that he’s going to make me an offer.’
‘Frittie’s a terrible tease,’ Nancy said.
‘But honestly, Rachel, if he did offer for you, would it be the worst thing in the world? Like I said, he’s very rich.
And you’d be a princess. I know my ma and pa would have loved me to be a princess.
It was really hard work explaining to them what a landgrave is.
I think they still don’t really get it. If Manfred had only been a duke, they’d have known where they stood.
They have dukes in Germany, though they don’t spell them the same. ’
‘It would be nice to be a princess,’ Rachel said, ‘but not if it meant marrying Paul Usingen. He’s so old .’
Nancy laughed. ‘Then you wouldn’t have to put up with him for long, would you? But he’s not really that old – and I think he’s rather sweet. Kinda like a hound pup, you know, all sad eyes and long floppy ears.’
Rachel burst out laughing. ‘He doesn’t have long floppy ears!’
‘No, but he gives the impression of them. Still,’ she gave Rachel a sidelong look, ‘I suppose you’ve given your heart to Frittie Landau, and that’s the end of that.’
‘I like Frittie – he’s good fun. But I don’t think he’s serious about me. Or not yet. And there’s loads of time. I haven’t even had my London debut yet. I definitely want to have a London Season before I get married.’
‘Quite right. All the flirting and a lot of the dancing stops when you get married. But there are compensations.’
‘Yes, a house of one’s own, and a dear little baby,’ Rachel said dreamily.
‘Oh, Rachel, you’re such a stitch!’ Nancy said, laughing. ‘There’s a bit more to it than that.’
‘Oh, I know. I mean, I suppose there is. But you’re happy, aren’t you, being married?’
‘It’s pretty much the way I expected it,’ said Nancy, ‘except that we don’t go on the way Ma and Pa go on together – they’re still real spoonies, and do everything together.
But my Manny’s a sweetheart, and no trouble at all.
And I get to travel, which I love. I want to go everywhere !
Manny says we might go to Russia next year.
Half the Russian court are married to Germans, and Manny knows most of them. He’s related to quite a few.’
‘I’d like to see Russia,’ Rachel said, impressed.
‘Well, you can always marry Prince Usingen,’ said Nancy. ‘I’m sure he’d take you.’
Rachel made a face.