A Season of Secrets (25 page)

JANUARY 1926

It was the second week of a freezing-cold New Year, and Olivia, a large diamond encircled by sapphires sparkling on the ring finger of her left hand, was cosily ensconced in
the drawing room of Curzon House in Curzon Street, enjoying a long-overdue gossip with the Duchess of York.

‘It’s been such ages and ages since I’ve seen you that I really don’t know where we should start,’ Elizabeth said, pouring tea for them both from a silver teapot.
‘The last time we had this kind of meeting together, you weren’t engaged, Bertie and I hadn’t left for our East Africa tour and I wasn’t even pregnant – now look at
me!’ She gave a delicious giggle. ‘I’ve still three months to go and Bertie thinks I’ll be as round as a ball by then.’

She put the teapot down.

‘Milk or lemon? You will have to forgive me, but I can’t remember. Apparently it’s what happens when you are
enceinte.
The most ordinary everyday things simply fly out
of your head.’

‘Lemon, please.’ Because so many months had gone by since their last meeting, Olivia had been nervous that the first few minutes of their reunion would be a little awkward, but she
had forgotten Elizabeth’s natural warmth and unaffected nature.

‘I want to know all about Count von Starhemberg,’ Elizabeth said now, dropping a slice of lemon into Olivia’s teacup with a lemon-fork. ‘Thea tells me he is very
Berlinerisch
.’

Her voice was full of happy interest and, remembering how many of Bertie’s German relatives could be similarly described, Olivia knew the remark carried no criticism. ‘He is,’
she said as Elizabeth handed her a cup and saucer. ‘He does all those old-fashioned
Berlinerisch
things, such as clicking his heels and bowing when being introduced to a lady.
He’s very blond and very tall and utterly, utterly wonderful. The very best thing about him is that he is now Third Secretary at the German Embassy, and so we still see each other just as
often as we did when I was in Berlin.’

‘And are you going to have a long engagement or a short one?’

‘A short one. Though Papa did say we would have to wait until my nineteenth birthday – which isn’t until August – he’s now agreed we can marry at Easter.’

‘Wonderful! I think short engagements are so much more romantic. Bertie and I were engaged from January to the end of April, which is nearly exactly the same length of time. And oh my
goodness, what a rush and a whirl everything was.’

Olivia giggled. ‘Mine isn’t a royal wedding, Elizabeth.’

‘For which you can thank your lucky stars. You have no idea the number of family members that a royal family can drum up, when it comes to a wedding. I read in the
Morning Post
afterwards that there were one thousand seven hundred and eighty people squeezed into the Abbey, including,’ Elizabeth – always a good mimic – adopted mock-stentorian tones,
‘
many leading personages of the nation and Empire
. But d’you know my mother had to haggle like a fishwife to ensure that all my Bowes-Lyon cousins were included on the guest
list?’

Olivia helped herself to a petit four. ‘I wish my mother was alive to be haggling on my behalf. All I have is the former Lady Pyke.’

Elizabeth settled herself even more comfortably on the sofa they were sharing in front of a cosy coal fire. ‘Ah,’ she said in deep satisfaction. ‘I so want to hear all about
your new stepmother. I’ve asked around, of course – just as everyone else has been asking around – but no one seems to know much about her, except that her previous married life
was spent almost entirely in Argentina. Is she scrumptiously lovely?’

Olivia grimaced. ‘My father obviously thinks so – and for his sake we are all doing our very best to get on with her, but she’s such an unlikely sort of person for him to have
married that it isn’t easy. She’s hardly spent any time at all at Gorton, and yet she’s ordered such sweeping changes there that it no longer feels like home. The housekeeper
we’ve had for years and years has gone, and housemaids with a broad Yorkshire accent – which is just about all of them – have been replaced by maids recruited from a London
staffing agency. It caused the most terrible row between Thea and Papa, but Papa said he most certainly was not going to overrule any decisions Zephiniah had made, and that Thea had to realize that
although there had been no weekend house-parties at Gorton since before Mama died, all that was now going to change – and that changes in staffing had to be made accordingly.’

‘Goodness. I’m riveted! Are changes taking place in Mount Street as well?’

‘Mount Street is apparently far too informally furnished. Out are going all the comfy chintz-covered sofas and in – when a team of decorators has finished preparing the way for them
– are coming French Empire antiques, and you know how uncomfortable French Empire sofas are to sit on.’

Next morning, trudging with Thea in a light fall of snow around the southern edge of the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens, Olivia said, ‘Elizabeth was just as easy to
chat to as always. I really do think she’s one of the nicest people in the world.’

‘She is. Everyone adores her. According to David, even his father can find no fault with her.’

Olivia’s friendship with the Duke and Duchess of York hadn’t yet led to friendship with Prince Edward, though she was hoping for Dieter’s sake that it would soon do so and that
it wouldn’t be long before they, too, would be able to refer to the Prince as David. For a young German diplomat to become part of the Prince of Wales’s circle would be viewed by his
superiors in Berlin as a great coup and would be a huge step up the promotional ladder towards his goal of one day becoming an ambassador.

Thea was saying that the Prince of Wales’s long affair with his mistress, Freda Dudley Ward, had become ‘relatively detached’, but Olivia was too busy wondering where Dieter
would be posted when ambassador to pay much attention.

London was always Dieter’s first choice whenever they spoke of the golden future lying in wait for them. It was never her first choice. London was home ground and therefore not glamorous
enough. ‘Paris,’ she would say dreamily, ‘or Washington.’

‘This is too cold to be fun.’ Thea’s voice brought Olivia sharply back into the present. ‘I know I said I’d act as chaperone for you while you had lunch with
Dieter, but Zephiniah demanding that I do so is ridiculous. It’s not as if I’m married, and I’m only a year older than you. Why she thinks my being with you will make your lunch
respectable, I don’t know.’

‘It’s because she’s hostessing a luncheon of her own today and because we haven’t – thank God – an army of aunts and married cousins living near at hand that
she can call on. Nor has she women friends in London who can chaperone for her.’

Of all the aggravations that had come with Gilbert’s marriage, the chaperone issue had been the one they had found most tedious.

‘We haven’t been chaperoned since Aunt Hilda was in London for my coming-out ball,’ Thea had said to Gilbert in a voice of sweet reason when the subject had first arisen.
‘It’s nonsensical that we should start being chaperoned now. How ridiculous would it look, my attending Labour Party meetings with a chaperone in tow? Please thank Zephiniah for her
concern, but the only person needing a chaperone in this family is Violet.’

She’d hoped that would be the end of the matter, but it hadn’t been. Her father had said how guilty he felt about his previous neglectful attitude where chaperoning was concerned,
and how grateful they should all be that Zephiniah was being so caring and diligent in her duties as a stepmother.

‘I’m not at all convinced about the caring bit,’ Thea had said to Olivia. ‘It’s her own reputation she’s concerned about, not ours. She doesn’t want any
gossip about the new Viscountess Fenton not being quite up to snuff.’

Remembering Thea’s comment, Olivia said now, ‘I suppose we shouldn’t give the gossips any ammunition, Thea.’ As they left the park she dug her gloved hands deep into a
beaver muff that matched her hat. ‘It will only cause a row – and I hate rows. They make Papa so unhappy.’

‘Then he shouldn’t have married the Pyke. If there’s one thing I’ve realized these last few months, it’s that although Papa is very much a man of the world where
politics are concerned, he’s pathetically unworldly about women. It comes of him having fallen in love with Mama when he was so young, and of his being faithful to her memory for so long.
Where is it we are meeting Dieter for lunch? The Savoy?’

‘Claridge’s. Dieter likes it there.’

‘Then I’m going to flag down a cab – which is something else that will give Zephiniah the vapours if she gets to hear of it.’

On the cab ride from Kensington to Mayfair, she asked, curious, ‘What does Dieter think of Zephiniah?’

‘He thinks she’s jaw-droppingly beautiful and extremely exotic. So exotic he finds it hard to believe she has no Latin blood in her veins.’

‘She does look very Latin, but according to
Burke’s Peerage
she’s English all the way through – and Dieter is probably using “Latin” as a euphemism for
“Jewish”.’

‘Why on earth should he?’ Olivia stared at her, mystified. ‘Sometimes, Thea, you do talk the most awful rot. If Dieter thought Zephiniah had Jewish blood in her veins, he would
say so. Why would you think he wouldn’t?’

‘Because Roz told me that when she visited you in Berlin last year she heard the word “Jew” used quite often on the streets and in cafes – and not always about people who
were obviously Jewish. She said it seemed to be a catchall phrase used disparagingly for anyone not obviously fitting in – people such as Eastern Europeans and gypsies. So Dieter would be
careful, don’t you think, about using that word in connection with Zephiniah?’

‘I think you’re cracked and you go to too many socialist meetings and that, when she’s with you, Roz falls too quickly and easily into your cracked way of thinking.
That’s what I think. Now are you coming with me into Claridge’s, or aren’t you?’

Just as had happened so often when they were children, they were on the verge of falling out with each other for no real reason. Aware of it – and aware that their falling out was
senseless when in order to cope with Zephiniah they needed to maintain a united front – Thea said, ‘I’m coming in. And just remember that I’m here as a chaperone, so no
holding hands.’

As the head waiter led them across the dining room to Dieter’s table, Thea appreciated for the first time just how distinctive-looking her future brother-in-law was. Until now she had only
seen Dieter at Mount Street and – once – at a German Embassy function she had attended with Olivia and their father, at her father’s request. Her attitude then had been churlish.
True, the war had long been over, but she’d still found Olivia’s choice of a German for a fiancé – and the ready way she had adapted to life in Berlin – crass.

Now, as he rose from the table to greet them, she suddenly saw why Olivia was so smitten. Tall and athletic, with a lean face and high cheekbones, piercing blue eyes and straight blond hair
swept away from his forehead, he had the look of a Viking god. It wasn’t a look that did anything for her, but combined with his aristocratic lineage and what her father predicted was going
to be a dizzyingly successful diplomatic career, she could quite see that it was a package few women would be able to resist.

He clicked his heels, kissed the back of her hand and said how pleased he was that she was joining them for lunch.

Over glasses of Pol Roger champagne and sautéed scallops he told her why Claridge’s was his favourite place for lunch.

‘The Prince of Wales and his brother, Prince George, dine here together. It is a good recommendation, I think.’

‘If you start patronizing everywhere the Prince of Wales patronizes, you’re going to be kept very busy,’ she said drily. ‘He can fit in more social engagements in a day
than most people manage in a year. As for Prince George . . .’

It occurred to her that Dieter probably didn’t yet know about Prince George’s bisexuality and, as the kind of clubs Prince George favoured were not the kind that would enhance
Dieter’s reputation if he were to be seen in them, she decided not to get involved in talking about him.

He didn’t seem to notice.

‘It is good you and Olivia are such friends of Prince Albert and Princess Elizabeth. Albert is much different from his brothers, yes? More . . . what is the word in English? More the
introvert?’

‘He’s certainly quieter,’ Thea said, ‘but so would we all be, if we had his stammer. And a word of advice, Dieter. In society Albert and Elizabeth are almost always
referred to simply as the Duke and Duchess of York – and Bertie is never referred to as Albert. Speak of Prince Albert and people will think you are referring to the Prince Albert who married
Queen Victoria.’

He shot her a smile so charming she found herself definitely warming towards him. ‘Thank you for that tip. We Germans always err on an excess of formality, and it is good to be checked
when we do so inappropriately.’

The sommelier hovered at his elbow.

Dieter looked from her to Olivia and said, ‘Would you like a different wine order now, or would you rather stay with champagne?’

‘Champagne,’ Olivia said instantly.

Thea, now enjoying herself, nodded agreement.

Their conversation returned to the Yorks, with Dieter saying that Bertie and Elizabeth’s home life sounded very
gemütlicht.

‘
Which means cosy and unpretentious,’ Olivia said for Thea’s benefit. ‘And the word
Hausfrau
is used for Elizabeth’s way of dressing – but that
is because to be fashionable in Berlin means being a flapper and sporting short, cropped hair and mannish clothes.’

‘A look that Elizabeth is wise not even to flirt with.’ There was thick amusement in Thea’s voice. ‘Good Lord, can you imagine Elizabeth as a flapper? She’s far too
softly rounded and pudgy and, between ourselves, I like her floaty pastel dresses and the three-string pearl necklace she wears with nearly everything . . .’

‘. . . and her shoulder-hugging fur collars and long skirts,’ Olivia finished for her. ‘It may be a style unique to her, but it is instantly recognizable, and men do seem to
like it. Perhaps we should all be dressing in pink and cornflower-blue and dove-grey and wearing our hair parted in the middle and prettily curled.’