Cecil Harrison Eaton
William Harrison Eaton
H Walter S Hatton Bottesford
W Helsdon Stathern
E Hewitt Scalford
F Hewitt Scalford
W Hewitt Scalford
J S Hickman Sproxton
A Bernard Hickson Bottesford
C H Hodson Scalford
Derrick Hollis Branston
Edwin Holloway Branston
A B Holmes Sproxton
E Hughes Holmes Bottesford
Percy Alison Hopewell Granby and Sutton
J Hoyes Clawson, Harby and Hose
Russell Hubbard Thorpe Arnold
W E G Humphries Harston
Arthur John Jackson Croxton Kerrial
Bert Jackson Eaton
Everitt Jackson Harston
Francis Jackson Eaton
George Jackson Eaton
John Jackson Saltby
Montague J V Jackson Bottesford
Matthew Jesson Eaton
I Johnson Muston
E Jones Muston
Cecil F Kemp Woolsthorpe
T A Kemp Clawson, Harby and Hose
Tom Kew Waltham on the Wolds
J Kirk Scalford
W P Kirton Muston
J L Kitchen Barkestone
A Knapp Statherne
W Lambert Scalford
Arthur Latham Woolsthorpe
Harold Lee Granby and Sutton
F W Mabbott Clawson, Harby and Hose
John Henry Mackley Croxton Kerrial
Lord Robert Manners Knipton
Walter Marriott Knipton
Walter Marriott Redmile
C H Marston Scalford
Joseph Matthews Bottesford
Arthur Mayfield Bottesford
Ernest Meredith Eaton
B Miller Scalford
Clifford Millert Bottesford
B F W Mogridge Scalford
P Moore Scalford
George Algernon Morley Redmile
Joseph William Morris Plungar
George Morrison Waltham on the Wolds
James Morrison Waltham on the Wolds
C H Moulds Clawson, Harby and Hose
G H Moulds Clawson, Harby and Hose
George Porter Musson Croxton Kerrial
F Neale Sproxton
John Charles Newell Redmile
William Newton Knipton
Richard Nicolls Knipton
J Norman Muston
J T North Sedgebrook
F A Noyes Clawson, Harby and Hose
Charles Pacey Bottesford
Ernest Pacey Woolsthorpe
Frank Pacey Bottesford
John H Pacey Woolsthorpe
Richard Pacey Woolsthorpe
Thomas Pacey Woolsthorpe
William E E Pacey Woolsthorpe
C Page Stathern
R Turlington Page Bottesford
Charles Paling Thorpe Arnold
Frank Palmer Belvoir
F Parker Scalford
E Parks Stathern
George E Pearce Woolsthorpe
James Pearce Woolsthorpe
John William Pearson Redmile
John Peregrine Branston
George Pick Eaton
J Pick Scalford
William Henry Pizer Goadby Marwood
William Plumb Thorpe Arnold
John W Poyser Eastwell
Harry Pritchett Granby and Sutton
R C Pritchett Muston
Edgar C Raithby Bottesford
Frank Raithby Bottesford
F C Randell Scalford
G Rawlings Stathern
T Rawlings Clawson, Harby and Hose
Joseph William Rimmington Croxton Kerrial
Thomas Rimmington Croxton Kerrial
Thomas Gordon Robert Redmile
Albert Edwards Roberts Redmile
J Richard Robinson Bottesford
Page Robinson Knipton
J Rowe Scalford
W H Rudkin Sproxton
Herbert Scarborough Goadby Marwood
F J Schofield Barkestone
Francis Scott Knipton
Robert W Scrimshaw Eastwell
Frederick Shaw Bottesford
Arthur Shelton Eaton
C Shelton Scalford
Harry Skillington Plungar
Herbert G Skinner Bottesford
George Slater Granby and Sutton
Albert Smith Granby and Sutton
Herbert Smith Granby and Sutton
J Smith Clawson, Harby and Hose
William Staniland Stonesby
G W Starbuck Stathern
C Attewell Steans Scalford
J Stevens Barkestone
A H Stockwell Sproxton
A Stokes Clawson, Harby and Hose
James Radcliffe Streeton Croxton Kerrial
Thomas Goodwin Streeton Croxton Kerrial
Philip Sutton Bottesford
Ernest Swain Redmile
W Swain Scalford
A R Talbot Waltham on the Wolds
Warren Taylor Eaton
John Thornton Branston
E Wakefield Muston
Ernest Wakefield Eaton
J Ward Barkstone
William Robert Ward Croxton Kerrial
J C Warren Statherne
F Watson Statherne
Harry Welsh Plungar
F Wesson Clawson, Harby and Hose
G Whatton Sedgebrook
T A White Barkestone
Frederick Wilcox Woolsthorpe
Richard Wilcox Woolsthorpe
Herbert Wilford Waltham on the Wolds
Herbert Wing Woolsthorpe
Thomas Wing Woolsthorpe
Walter Wing Woolsthorpe
George Winters Knipton
Ernest Woodcock Thorpe Arnold
Fred Woodcock Thorpe Arnold
Thomas Woodcock Thorpe Arnold
Frederick Francis Woodford Granby and Sutton
L Woodford Clawson, Harby and Hose
George Henry Worn Croxton Kerrial
Cecil Worthington Woolsthorpe
Fred Worthington Plungar
F W Wright Sproxton
W Wright Clawson, Harby and Hose
Epilogue
Between 1916 and 1925, John and Kakoo had five children. To the frustration of Violet and Henry, the first two were girls. It wasn’t until May 1919 that Charles, an heir, was born. A second son, John, followed, and then Roger, born three years later, in 1925.
From early on, however, the marriage proved to be an unhappy one. Two years after her wedding, Kakoo confided in Cynthia Asquith. ‘Talking of Kakoo’s second baby not being a boy,’ Cynthia noted in her diary, ‘she said she didn’t think the Rutland family was one which should be perpetuated.’ The letters at Belvoir show that John was frequently short-tempered with Kakoo. He was also, as we know from his affair with Hilda Lezard, unfaithful to her. By the early 1920s, John was having numerous affairs. One with the children’s nanny, by whom he had a child, threatened to break up his marriage.
Hilda Lezard had taken her secret to her grave. I was unable to find out why she broke into the castle in the dead of night after John died, or what – if anything – she took with her. While her family acknowledged the affair, they had not heard of the break-in.
Of the other protagonists in this story, there are few happy endings.
In 1920, Henry’s vast debts finally caught up with him. He was forced to sell a large portion of his estate – a step he had resisted since succeeding to the dukedom in 1908. Twenty-seven thousand acres in Leicestershire and Derbyshire were sold at auction for £1,100,000.* Thirteen thousand three hundred of these acres were at Belvoir, reducing the size of the estate by half.
After the sale, Henry was beset with depression. Haunted by guilt at being the first in a thousand-year-long line of custodians to break up the family’s main estate, and still haunted by the loss of his favourite son, he could see no point in living. Increasingly,
he sought comfort in visiting Haddon’s tomb. In a symbolic gesture, on 28 September 1920, the twenty-sixth anniversary of Haddon’s death, Henry laid the dark-blue velvet mantle that as a Knight of the Order of the Garter he was entitled to wear on his son’s tomb. The award of the Garter, which he received in 1918, was for his work in raising volunteers for the war.
‘Darling,’ he wrote to Violet:
I have this moment placed the Gown and my bunch of leaves on the stone at the Mausoleum.
It is a glorious day, and Haddon’s robin sang, as I hoped it would. It all made one very hopeful that when one is finally taken there as very soon must happen – one will at last rest in peace.
Henry died five years later at Belvoir at the age of seventy-three.
George Gordon Moore, the man John had to thank for the introduction to Field Marshal Lord French, left England under a cloud in January 1916. The rumours circulating in the foreign press had at last been published in a British newspaper. Moore, the report alleged, was an enemy agent; through his special relationship with French, he was passing secret information to the Germans, gleaned from his many visits to General Headquarters. The rumours were without foundation, and Moore sued the newspaper for libel. Though he won the case, it left him feeling bitter and vengeful. On his return to America, he claimed to have documents in his safe which, if published, would shake the foundations of the British Empire. They were never published, but the scandal brought to an end his love affair with England and the English – and his friendship with Lord French.
In America, Moore’s notoriety – based on his immense wealth and his brooding presence – continued. A celebrated breeder of polo ponies, the matches he hosted at his palatial Californian ranch were attended by Hollywood film stars and some of America’s wealthiest families. When F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby was published in 1925, it was thought that Moore was the model for the novel’s mysterious hero, Jay Gatsby. Four years later, Moore lost the bulk of his fortune in the stock-market crash.
His ‘Great Friend’, Lord French, fared little better. In 1921, after serving as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland for three years, he left the sumptuous surroundings of Vice Regal Lodge in Dublin. It was his last official posting. Without Moore’s financial support, French was unable to afford a home in England. Shunned by his wife and family for his many affairs, he led an itinerant existence. Much of his time was spent in France, where he spoke at ex-servicemen’s gatherings and unveiled war memorials on the battlefields of Flanders. In 1923, after he was given an earldom, Lord Beauchamp, Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, offered French the appointment of Captain of Deal Castle, an honorary position which gave the field marshal the right of residing at the castle.
He died there in May 1925. Two weeks later, a funeral service was held at Westminster Abbey – the first of a major war leader. Spectators stood twelve deep outside the abbey and in the nearby streets. The majority of them were veterans of the original British Expeditionary Force that had set out for France in August 1914, and which French had commanded. As his biographer wrote, ‘they stood stiff and hatless as the coffin passed. Some wept unashamedly; not so much for their old chief, perhaps, as for their own youths and for a past which now seemed as remote as the long aching summer of ’14.’
Charlie Lindsay also died that spring. He was sixty-three and had cancer. His last letter to John, written a few weeks before his death, is in the Muniment Rooms at Belvoir. He had entrusted John with looking after his valet, to whom he’d left a large sum of money. He was anxious that the legacy should be kept secret. At the time, homosexuality was illegal; the implication in Charlie’s letter is that his valet was also his lover:
Dear Jacko
I explained to you a few days ago what I wanted done. So this is only to remind you. Alongside of this letter is my will, in which you will see that I have left Birt some money, as I mentioned to you. He has behaved well to me, and I have been selfish in keeping him in my service when in my opinion, with the talents which I believe he possesses, he might have started some career which would have been more lucrative. I therefore take this opportunity of thanking him, as well as making up – to a certain extent – for my selfishness. At the same time I do not feel very happy in the way I have done it, and if I am given time, I propose to make you a trustee for this money, which I feel, though it might give you a little trouble, you would do for me as a great kindness.
The money I have left him is too much for him to have command of all of a go. What I should have wished would be that he should have had the interest only of the money for a certain number of years – say till he was about 30 years old … Anyhow would you do the best you can for him. I shall speak to him myself and recommend him strongly to take your advice. And Jacko, keep an eye on him, that he doesn’t go to hell – he hates service I believe, and hankers after stage and dancing, the latter he is very good at, and it may be his metier – I don’t know – abroad and colonies I cannot believe he would prosper in.
I am writing all this very fast, and can think of very little else to say. I don’t want my will read out, if that can be avoided, and, of course, no funeral ceremonies or expenses that can possibly be avoided. And Jacko I have a pleasant fancy for that mausoleum at Belvoir – isn’t it odd! – a dislike to being away from my friends perhaps, but really indeed it cannot possibly matter one little bit – so don’t even suggest the thing unless it seems to you right, and quite easy.
So, to a possible future meeting, you dear old pet, what wouldn’t I give to think it could be so.
Charlie
John had mourned his uncle’s death deeply. It was only when he came to go through his mother’s papers in the last years of his own life that he discovered that Charlie, the person he had depended on as a boy and whom he had loved and trusted more than anyone else, had betrayed him. Not a single one of Charlie’s replies to the many conspiratorial questions Violet asked him in the first year of the war has survived in the Muniment Rooms. We cannot be certain of John’s motives, but it seems he destroyed his uncle’s letters because the evidence of his betrayal was simply too painful to him.
Nor had John kept many letters from his sister Diana. She was the one true patriot in the family; her war was spent tirelessly nursing the sick and the wounded. Many of her closest friends were killed, a loss she wrote movingly about, and which remained with her for the rest of her life. She, of course, was instrumental in John’s escape from the war. Yet after it, their relationship seems to have been distant. Again, we cannot be certain, but the suggestion from the absence of letters between brother and sister is that it was the cause of some sort of rift between them.
After the war ended, Diana disappointed all of her mother’s dreams by marrying Duff Cooper. ‘That awful Duff,’ as Violet called him, was neither a royal prince nor the heir to a great fortune: he was a career diplomat earning the paltry sum of £300 a year. His pedigree also fell far short of Violet’s expectations: though Duff’s maternal uncle was the Duke of Fife, his mother was a ‘bolter’, and his father a doctor who specialized in venereal diseases.
When Violet first learned of the engagement, she was beside herself. She told Diana that she would rather John had been killed in the war, or that Diana had cancer, than that she should marry Duff. ‘Her Grace is raising tally-whack and tandem all over London,’ wrote Lady Desborough, who disliked Violet intensely and was thrilled at her disappointment. The press were equally thrilled when news of the engagement leaked out. Cassell’s Saturday Journal gleefully reported that the couple would have to live on ‘£300 a year and a ducal curse’.
Diana’s old admirers rallied around her. George Moore offered to give her £6,000 a year from the time of her marriage. The offer was refused, but Diana allowed him to deposit £500 in her bank account and to guarantee her overdraft.
Violet retaliated by insisting that her engagement should last for at least a year. She accused Diana of wanting to marry Duff purely to spite her and, in a series of acrimon
ious letters, did her best to put her off:
What has always been my cry to others who have repeated it to you? That I cannot believe in your love, since you have always given it to others to tell me of.
I never have in my life had the feeling ‘I don’t want to be beaten’. ‘To win’ never gives me pleasure at the expense of anyone I love ‘giving in’ to me – in fact I always have the feeling ‘please don’t’. But you have always, I think, seen in this a fight. Why?
God knows, I have said to you – before Letty and Kakoo – if only I could believe you loved as I understand love!
My nature is not snobbish. I shall always maintain that – however much you and friends may think so. If you are born in a set that without snobbish struggling is ‘up there’ – say in highest worldwide interest – there is no need to fling it all away as you have always loved to do triumphantly as against me.
After raging at Diana, Violet had tried to make her feel sorry for her.
‘Anyhow,’ she wrote, ‘your friends completely took you from me – and I have been very very miserable in consequence in a year and a half.’
Diana married Duff in June 1919. Soon after their wedding, she became a successful actress. By 1923, she was earning $1,500 a week touring America playing the lead role in Max Reinhardt’s play, The Miracle. Mobbed and fêted wherever she went, her success, combined with Duff’s burgeoning political career, ensured that they became one of the most glamorous, most sought after couples of their generation.
And finally to Violet.
When Henry died, she sold the contents of 16 Arlington Street, and moved into the Lodge, where Mrs Seed, her gatekeeper, had lived. Then, after the house itself was sold, she devoted the last years of her life to creating a home out of the two houses she bought in Chapel Street, Belgravia. ‘With the huge nest-egg laid by Arlington Street’s sale,’ Diana recalled, ‘my mother doubled its length, lit it with high orangery windows, joined the two houses and built a second orangery drawing-room on the opposite side which still left a large garden with a terrace, a lawn, flower-beds and a statue.’
Her days were spent finishing Haddon’s tomb and filling her house with things that dated from his childhood at Cockayne Hatley. She even wore the clothes she had worn then.
The Secret Rooms: A True Gothic Mystery Page 41