As time went on to be Mrs Keppel’s daughter was to have its problems as well as its vicarious glamour. For given a mother so endowed, luminous, desired and resplendent, it was difficult to feel as lovable, good-looking or successful. ‘We do not equal still less surpass her.’
In some invincible way Mrs Keppel was resplendent and fêted because of His Majesty. And Majesty was Grandpapa or ‘Kingy Gateau’, a mix of Father Christmas and godfather, who must be curtsied to, attended and revered but never discussed. ‘And if not Grandpapa – who? What?’ Father perhaps? Or just a large mysterious stranger who smelled of cigars and eau-de-Portugal, wore rings set with rubies, came downstairs from Mama’s bedroom in the late afternoon and around whom life revolved and to whom everyone deferred.
SIX
Each year Bertie, Alice and her girls took their Easter holiday in Biarritz. George went to the office, Alexandra visited relatives. For their spring wardrobe – straw hats with ribbons, light coats, dresses, stockings and black buttoned boots – Violet and Sonia were taken to the ‘juvenile department’ of Woollands in Knightsbridge. A dresser they knew as ‘No. 10’, whose mouth was always full of pins, decked them out.
Bertie travelled out separately, calling himself the Earl of Chester for decorum’s sake. ‘He seldom took more than thirty attendants apart from his suite.’ Three motor cars with chauffeurs were sent on ahead for his personal use. He travelled through France in three private railway carriages – one furnished as a clubroom with Spanish leather armchairs, card tables, drinks, cigars. In Biarritz he and his retinue stayed at the Hôtel du Palais. Soveral ‘the ladies’ man’, and guests for bridge and picnics were always in the royal party.
A palace courier accompanied Mrs Keppel, her daughters, Miss Draper and the nanny. They were all assigned cabins for the Channel crossing and a private railway carriage, divided into compartments. ‘At Calais Mama was treated like royalty,’ Sonia wrote. The chef de gare met her and escorted her through customs. On the French train a car attendant ‘hovered over her like a love-sick troubadour’.
Their luggage filled a van. Violet and Sonia had a large trunk each, several baskets and a medicine chest. Nanny’s trunk was small. Pride of place on the journey went to Mama’s luggage:
Studded wardrobe-trunks, standing up on end and high enough to stand in; hat-boxes; shoe boxes; rugs; travelling cushions; her travelling jewel-case. The ‘big’ luggage went in the van, but Miss Draper was in charge of the ‘small’ luggage.
By day they watched the scenery from large fawn-coloured armchairs. ‘Mama disliked eating in the restaurant car,’ so meals in baskets were brought into their compartments. At night double sleeping berths were unfolded, Violet and Miss Draper slept in one compartment, Mrs Keppel and Sonia in the other. Mother underwent a transformation that made her less than goddess-like in Sonia’s eyes:
Out of a square, silk case she brought a small pillow, a shapeless nightgown and a mob cap. Under the nightgown she subdued her beautifully curved body. And under the cap she piled her shining chestnut hair. Next she greased her face. Then she helped me up the ladder to my upper berth and kissed me goodnight. Lastly she took a strong sleeping pill, put on black night-spectacles and lay for dead till morning.
I dared not move and any inclination to go to the lavatory had to be controlled until daylight filtered through the shuttered window. And even then I was terrified I would fall down the ladder and wake Mama. So I lay through the night rigid and wakeful … Sometimes I would peer over the edge of my berth at Mama and in the weird blue ceiling light her white face with its black-bandaged eyes looked ghastly.
Beauty was restored by the time they reached Biarritz. Ernest Cassel met them and took them to his Villa Eugénie built by Napoleon III. His sister ‘Bobbie’ kept house as she did in London. ‘In fact,’ wrote Sonia, ‘Sir Ernest was fervently served by all his female relations and his approbation or disapproval governed their day.’ The villa was like a vast conservatory with marble tiles and glass doors. Mrs Keppel had a floor to herself. Violet and Sonia stayed on the nursery floor with Cassel’s granddaughters Edwina and Mary Ashley. Richer than the Keppel girls, Bertie was their godfather and their knickers were edged with lace.
At Biarritz Little Mrs George was Bertie’s Queen:
For her it must have seemed the nearest thing to a family life they could enjoy together … There was no question here as to whether Count Mensdorff could or could not invite La Favorita to a formal banquet at 14 Belgrave Square because of those awkward problems of placement she might create around his Embassy dining-table. There was even less question as to whether ‘Mrs G.K.’ should be asked to stay for the weekend at Eaton because both the King and Queen Alexandra were coming as well.
Every day at 12.15 like a staid married couple the King and Alice walked arm in arm along the promenade with Caesar, the King’s white Norfolk terrier who was groomed by Wellard, the second footman. They lunched in the royal suite at the Hôtel du Palais. One of the menus cited hard-boiled plover eggs, salmon, chicken, asparagus, strawberries, Chablis, champagne and Napoleon brandy. In the afternoons they went sightseeing or to the races. None of the entertainments was with children in mind but Violet recorded a visit in 1906 to the Spanish village of Fuentarabbia where she saw posters for a ‘corrida’ and drank chocolate with cinnamon ‘which seemed like the height of refinement’. The King and Alice dined at 8.15 and played bridge until midnight. Bertie was an erratic bridge player and swore if the cards did not suit him.
Cassel’s daughter Maudie described the Biarritz visits as unbearably tedious, the entire time focused round
