in which no expense was spared in the pursuit of pleasure and the acquisition of beautiful things, Almina enjoyed herself immensely. She had been spoiled all her life, but now she had a space in which to show off. Good clothes would have been ordered, day dresses and evening wear, hats and gloves in colours to match. The fashion of the 1890s was for corseted waists laced down to almost nothing, shoulders bare in the evenings, masses of lace trims and feathered fans. They were opulent times for the upper classes, and Almina’s wardrobe was her arsenal in the battle to attract a suitable husband. Doubtless the proprieties were observed in terms of her dress and her introduction to male company, but Almina certainly attended dances, dinners and concerts, all the regular entertainments in Alfred’s weekend home, always chaperoned by her mother, but very much on display. Out of sight of the critical gaze of London Society, Almina could be introduced, under strict conditions, to people that she had no opportunity to meet in town. She flourished and, given that she was petite, beautiful and charming, she began to attract attention.
Sir Alfred let it be known, discreetly, that he was prepared to settle a fortune on his ‘goddaughter’ on her marriage. Lord Carnarvon had been charmed by Almina at the State Ball in July; on discovering the good news about her prospects, he secured an invitation to a house party she was attending at Halton House in August 1893. They spent the weekend getting to know each other a little better. They were never alone, but flirtation could be managed,discreetly, in the drawing room or strolling in the gardens. She must have been delighted with this handsome, amusing, eligible young noble. Lord Carnarvon could be reserved in big gatherings of people, but he was a man with a knack for making you want to know him better. Almina was, in any case, vivacious enough for both, and there was a definite attraction between them. The courtship took a long time to come to fruition, though. Carnarvon was asked to shoot at Halton in the December after he met Almina, but after that there appears to have been a hiatus. He took off on his travels and left England to winter in warmer climes, as usual, and there is no record of a further meeting until almost a year later, again at Halton, in November 1894. It would seem, however, that whatever the doubts on the Earl’s part, or outstanding finer details of the arrangement, they had by then been resolved, because in December 1894, Almina was invited with her mother to spend the weekend at Highclere.
It was a small party: just Almina, Marie and three other friends. Almina must have known that she was on the brink of securing a future as the Countess of Carnarvon. The machinations behind the scenes had all been overseen by her father. The process sparked by Carnarvon’s attraction to her person and prospects was drawing to a conclusion. She would have been on tenterhooks when she arrived at the Castle that weekend, aware that her destiny was hanging in the balance. If she was nervous, there is no trace of it in her signature in the Highclere guestbook. The letters flow in perfect copperplate script, in faded sepia ink, looping gracefully. Almina’s handwriting is almost a carbon copy of her mother’s, whose name is signed a little further down the page.
Miss and Mrs Wombwell clearly acquitted themselves perfectly, because that visit was enough to seal the deal. Sometime that weekend, the 5th Earl asked Almina to be his wife. Lord Carnarvon was not a demonstrably romantic man, but he was a gentleman, he was smitten, and, having asked Mrs Wombwell if he could request her daughter’s hand in marriage, he was about to ask a beautiful young girl to be his bride. It is tempting to imagine that he and Almina might have strolled to the Temple of Diana, goddess of love, a mile’s ramble from the house, and that he might have chosen that moment. But, given that it was
Victoria Christopher Murray
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