June 1895, London
‘When one came to London for the Season then, one came prepared for an orgy of parties and ivory cards fell like snowflakes.’ – DUKE OF MANCHESTER
Rotten Row in the early morning was a good place to do one’s thinking. Minnie Paget smoothed down the silk folds of her riding habit, carefully, meticulously, before giving the signal to her horse to walk on. The navy habit was tight-fitting, through necessity and design. Although she was now considered middle-aged, at forty-two Minnie’s beauty endured and she was particularly fastidious at maintaining and showing off her lithe figure. As her exquisite horse, a present from Arthur after a particularly profitable few days at the races, began to trot purposefully down the rusty brown track that ran along the south side of Hyde Park, the day ahead looked promising. There was the wedding of Sir Charles Hartopp to Miss Millicent Wilson, daughter of the MP Mr C H Wilson, to attend, followed by a formal call from Alva Vanderbilt and then dinner and the opera.
It had been only a few days since she had returned from America but Minnie was approaching the Season with renewed vigour. She was all too aware that Marietta’s death had left her languishing behind the social merry-go-round and she really did feel more comfortable when she was ahead of the game. Her trip had proved vexing at times. There seemed to be an ever-increasing pile of paperwork to go through with Marietta’s lawyers and her trip to Newport to attempt to settle the fate of her mother’s mansion and its contents had proved fruitless. Minnie was keen to get back to England, after all this was her busiest and most important time of year. So, after weeks of negotiations and very little movement on the sale, she booked her passage home.
Minnie had been thrilled to observe the familiar signs of the London Season springing into life on her return. All around her, the houses of Belgravia and Mayfair had undergone their annual facelift, giving them a smart sense of uniformity that delighted the crowds of visitors that the Season commanded. She could practically smell the freshly painted exteriors and marvelled at the beautifully planted window boxes groaning under the weight of vast collections of brightly coloured flowers. The royal standard flew over Buckingham Palace, acting as a reassuring beacon to the aristocracy, calling them home to the capital. Even now, after so many years on the treadmill of the London Season, she always felt a frisson of excitement when the gloomy London fog was finally swept away by the promise of spring. The upper classes began to make their way to town, a slow and steady drip, drip of familiar faces before the final flood of society descended on the capital by June.
‘When one came to London for the Season then, one came prepared for an orgy of parties and ivory cards fell like snowflakes,’1 remembered the 9th Duke of Manchester in his memoirs. June was when the Season was at its peak. It was then that Minnie was thrown into a never-ending whirl of garden parties, charity bazaars and balls. State dinners followed regimental banquets, with the opera and exclusive musicales filling every waking moment, along with annual events such as Henley Regatta, Royal Ascot, the Eton-versus-Harrow cricket match and shooting at Hurlingham. All of these occasions were short hops away from London but were eagerly frequented by the most fashionable set, and by default became simply unmissable events for ladies or gentlemen keen to make their face known. Minnie remembered how she had witnessed with wide-eyed incredulity the flurry of activity that accompanied those few weeks for the first time as a debutante. How her mother had ensured she barely slept, commanding her to dance at grand balls until the early hours of the morning and then instructing her to wake early to ride on Rotten Row, a habit she had retained during every Season since. By the end of her first Season she had been suffering from a delightful exhaustion that came from knowing she had grasped every opportunity possible. Twenty years later, she still felt the same about the Season. The hazy gauze of youthful innocence had been lifted, with the whole society scene crystal-clear to her now, yet none of that first flush of euphoria born from committing to and conquering London during the summer had disappeared.
Among the well-travelled upper classes, London was considered the pinnacle of all the social Seasons. While Paris was a perfectly acceptable training ground for young debutantes and a vital stopover to procure the latest fashions, its society was limited and suffered from the kind of immorality that encouraged Britain’s aristocracy to partake in nefarious behaviour. Minnie considered Mrs Astor’s bid to install New York and Newport society as the most well-regarded across the globe and felt a certain sense of satisfaction that this goal had floundered. Mrs Astor had simply put too many restrictions on the American aristocracy and so, while the lavish entertainments of The Four Hundred sometimes overshadowed European efforts, the rigidity of the behavioural code rendered the American upper classes stuffy and tiresome. London society struck a perfect balance between the two, representing a glorious confection of nationalities and talents. While maintaining its adherence to tradition, it had evolved by accepting those who could genuinely enhance its ranks. Bertie, the Prince of Wales, through his continuous bid to banish insufferable boredom, had encouraged wit and nurtured social talents and in so doing had discarded the formality of Queen Victoria’s court and established his own, embracing all that was modern and provocative. It was an intoxicating mix and one that presented a myriad of opportunities for those willing to capitalise on them.
‘The supremacy of the new English court, like that of its French predecessor, was based on the chief characteristic of the age – the trend towards internationalism, democracy’s great ideal. The court of Tuileries had been exotic, that of the Prince of Wales was cosmopolitan. The difference was chiefly one of leadership,’2 wrote W R H Trowbridge, Princess Alexandra’s biographer, when describing the appeal of the Marlborough House Set and England for wealthy travellers. Edith Wharton also captured the lure of English society when one of the American heiresses in her novel The Buccaneers declares:‘Why, you dear little goose, I’d rather starve and freeze here than go back to all the warm houses and the hot baths, and the emptiness of everything – people and places… because London’s London, and London life the most exciting and interesting in the world, and once you’ve got the soot and the fog in your veins you simply can’t live without them…’3
Marriage was a constant preoccupation during the London Season. Minnie was perpetually conscious that, just as it was the most important time of the year for her, where all the careful foundations she had laid during the previous months would either come to fruition or evaporate to nothing, it was also considered a crucial time of year for other society hostesses. She had spent many years crafting her business, perfecting her techniques and establishing American contacts who would assist in the process, but there were other formidable ladies who sought to benefit from the same methods. English rivals, like the Duchess of Sutherland, who offered the same type of services for British debutantes. Lord Beaconsfield described the Duchess as a ‘social fairy’4 on account of her ability to procure sought-after invitations to costume balls or introductions to powerful aristocratic families. Lady Dorothy Nevill also commented on the practice: ‘A curious development… is the system by which, for some financial consideration… well-known ladies of good social standing undertake to arrange entertainments for rich people anxious to attain a prominent place in London society.… I fancy some of those who organise entertainments for wealthy hosts or hostesses very often make something out of it directly or indirectly.’5
Lady Nevill was right: services related to the marriage market could be varied and lucrative for ladies like the Duchess of Sutherland, who was an integral part of elite society. However, other members of the upper classes could take advantage of the industry too. Adverts could often be found in newspapers or magazines, implicitly offering connections for money:
‘A lady in the smartest society in London wishes to chaperone a young lady. Terms £1,000 for one year. Highest references given and required.’6
There was great emphasis placed on husband-hunting during the London Season, whether you were an English or American debutante, hence the rich pool of services the young ladies could draw on to help guarantee their success. Under the constant pressure of the ticking social clock, they had only perhaps two or three Seasons to secure a match, after which they were considered a failure. By the age of thirty, an upper-class lady who hadn’t married was classed a spinster.
‘Marriage was considered not so much an alliance between the sexes as an important social definition; serious for a man but imperative for a girl. It was part of her social duty to enlarge her sphere of influence through marriage,’7 wrote the historian Leonore Davidoff in her book The Best Circles. The Season was a chance for debutantes to meet the widest selection possible of potential suitors, to make contacts, to impress influential society hostesses, all within the pressurised confines of a few precious months, forcibly pitted day after day against wealthier, better-connected or more beautiful competitors. It was no wonder that Minnie and her rivals were much in demand when so much was at stake.
Any heiress that Minnie was to take on had to have certain qualities. She could not be seen to be championing just any debutante, no matter how great her fortune. Minnie had spent many years as a young lady studying the social attributes that would be imperative for the rest of her life. She was described by a reporter for Harper’s Magazine as having ‘not only a natural grace in her movements and gestures, but she is also entirely mistress of herself… the same impression that Mrs Paget makes in a drawing room, that is, of a woman of the world, absolutely and with good reason sure of herself, and equal to any emergency that may come along’.8
Such skills had been mastered with great care and diligence, and she expected nothing less from any charges she agreed to take on. Her heiresses must be intelligent, charming, refined and possess a certain amount of fortitude, enough to get them through the Season and beyond. It was a characteristic she wasn’t convinced Consuelo Vanderbilt possessed, although the girl had endured and survived a whole life in the presence of the domineering Alva, so perhaps she did have an inner resolve to draw upon that wasn’t immediately apparent.
Minnie had made extensive enquiries about Alva Vanderbilt’s position among New York society during her trip to America. She had been encouraged to hear that, despite the inevitable scandal the press coverage of her divorce had generated, there were those within the elite who were still prepared to support Alva. After her long trip to Europe, she would be cautiously welcomed back into the fold during the society’s summer escape to Newport. Alva was just too powerful to cast aside, a position that Minnie both admired and envied. There was no doubting, though, that a proposal of marriage from Sunny, the Duke of Marlborough to Consuelo would help to silence Alva’s critics permanently. She had turned to Minnie, as Minnie knew she would, to ensure the deal was done. Minnie had suggested that Alva and Consuelo attend a ball at Stafford House, where she had been pleased to see Sunny lay claim to several dances with the young debutante. The next step was a visit to Blenheim Palace, the Marlborough family seat, where Consuelo would unknowingly audition for the part of Duchess.
Minnie had been careful to advise Consuelo on the nature of English husbands, warning that it was best to compare them to a simple egg: ‘So full of themselves that they are incapable of holding anything else!’ She wanted Consuelo to see Marlborough for what he was, not some romantic notion of an aristocratic husband that was perpetuated by the novels and magazines of the day. Then they would all find out whether she had the heart and strength to commit to such a plan.
The morning spectators were gathering now, taking up their usual spot to observe the very best of London society. To be seen at Rotten Row wasn’t just an opportunity to meet close acquaintances or engineer an encounter with those who were embracing the Season for the first time and so surreptitiously assess their fitness to be accepted. It was a chance to be seen by reporters, society watchers and the general public. An opportunity to be talked about, written about and remain a constant presence in public consciousness. For now that the newspapers reported every move of the aristocracy, the stakes of the Season were moved ever higher. This was the time the society game began in earnest, and Minnie galloped off down the track with her usual aplomb, always knowingly ahead of the chasing pack.