Wayward Winds (12 page)

 20 
Coronation

The Derby and her chance meeting with Cousin Martha began the most wonderful year in Amanda's life. Suddenly she found herself at the very center of London life. As distasteful as she found Geoffrey's presence, she was grateful for his mother's efforts to introduce her to society.

No more fitting culmination to any year's social season could be envisioned than that which took place in the year 1911, when, on June 22, George V, grandson of Victoria, and his wife Mary were crowned King and Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

From commoners to the highest noblepersons in the land, except for a minority who would do away with it altogether, all Britain loved its monarchy. The pomp, dignity, and many-centuried history of its royalty gave the empire's men and women hope for the future strength of their nation. Whenever it was thought that the royal ceremonial coach might be seen, for wedding or christening or any occasion involving the royal family, and of course for the annual passage through London for the opening of Parliament, spectators crowded along the route, many with tears in their eyes, hoping for any glimpse of the monarch.

On the twenty-third, a bank holiday, the day following the coronation in Westminster Abbey, there would be a parade through the city such as came along only once in a lifetime. The Royal Progress
would leave Buckingham Palace at eleven in the morning and wind through the streets so as to give as many as possible of the new king and queen's subjects the chance to see them.

The momentous celebration of the coronation, awaited and planned for thirteen months, at last arrived. Before six in the morning of the following day, London's streets were already lining with tens of thousands seeking good position from which to view the splendid processional from the palace in a great circle and back to Green Park.

After the procession, the ranks of society would gradually again divide along the ancient lines of nobility and rank. Those few of highest station had been invited inside the great abbey to witness the coronation itself the day before. Others of more modest standing would be included for the large outdoor reception at Green Park at the end of today's parade route. This latter event would include the family of London financier Gifford Rutherford, who had secured an invitation for four. Their cousin Amanda would be escorted by the banker's rising prominent son Geoffrey.

None of the London Rutherford party paused to inquire whether Amanda's parents, Sir Charles and Lady Jocelyn Rutherford, would also be in attendance. That the lord of the manor of Heathersleigh and his wife had been selected to receive a prestigious invitation to the coronation ceremony inside the abbey remained equally outside the scope of their reflections. Had Gifford known, it would have struck him as preposterously unfitting and backward from what should be the true order of things.

Amanda had seen nothing of Ramsay Halifax for two weeks. When she awoke on processional morning, she wondered where
he
would be today. She wouldn't be surprised to see him, though his interest in the monarchy had never seemed as great as she would expect for the stepson of a well-known peer. But Ramsay somehow seemed to turn up everywhere.

He went to the Continent with some regularity, though always remained curiously secretive to Amanda about such trips. Whenever she asked what he'd been working on, he laughed it off.

“My paper would fire me,” he told her more than once, “if I leaked stories for the Pankhursts to get hold of.”

“You can trust
me
, Ramsay,” said Amanda with a coy smile.

“Of course. But can I trust them? You
are
one of the inner circle.”

“But I wouldn't tell,” she insisted.

“It's the code of journalism,” he replied, “never to divulge too much. Someone in my position cannot leak information about a story prematurely.”

And now he was gone again. Amanda wondered if it was another of his secretive excursions to the Continent.

Shortly after breakfast on the twenty-third, Geoffrey Rutherford came to the door of the Pankhurst home, presented his card, and asked for Amanda. Without greeting, Amanda accompanied him down the steps.

Amanda wore the blue suit-dress she had bought at Harrods for the Derby. However, today she replaced the large straw hat with a small navy hat with pink veil. She and Geoffrey walked from the house in silence. Geoffrey offered his hand, which Amanda took reluctantly. He helped her into the carriage.

“Oh, Amanda,” exclaimed Martha as she climbed into the backseat beside her, “how absolutely lovely you look. That color is so becoming on you, dear.—Gifford,” she added, tapping her husband on the shoulder in front of her, “doesn't Amanda look beautiful?”

Gifford nodded politely, half turning back toward the two women as Geoffrey sat down beside him. He then returned his gaze forward, glancing momentarily toward his son with the faintest upward turn of the lips. Amanda saw the silent exchange. Were they secretly laughing at Martha's chatter? Or was the expression on Gifford's face meant to communicate something about
her
?

The weather was uncertain and fitful, with brief gusts and drizzling rain. Though the bank was closed, they rode to the tall stone edifice, where during the week the fate of fortunes was determined. From Gifford's office window on the fifth floor, they awaited the processional.

Leaving Buckingham Palace, the plumed and jeweled Indian and Colonial processionals were followed by hundreds of soldiers and horsemen and dignitaries from every nation in the vast British Empire—from New Zealand and Australia and Canada and South Africa, then the ministers of the Crown Colonies and the Dominion Premiers. What seemed a thousand royal horsemen at last led the royal coach with the new king and queen. Every buckle and stirrup, every bright gleaming sword, every button on every red-and-blue uniform, every atom of polished brass and finery of gold and silver, glittered in the occasional sunlight.

The processional proceeded around Hyde Park Corner where the sun shone through briefly upon the royal carriage, by the Wellington Arch, where a Royal Pavilion had been built for foreign royalty, all of whom stood as King George and Queen Mary passed, along Piccadilly, thence through Trafalgar Square and along Whitehall past Westminster Abbey, along Victoria Street and back to the precincts of the palace, where it would arrive at length at Green Park.

The elegant coach at last came into view where Amanda and her relatives stood, with the new king and queen smiling and waving at the throng. By their very gait even the four perfectly matched white horses pulling their carriage seemed to sense the reverence of the occasion. The two most honored footmen from the royal brigade stood tall on its back, glancing neither right nor left. At such a moment nearly every Englishman, regardless of creed or station, was equally the humble servant and loyal admirer of the king.

Amanda glanced toward Martha. Tears stood in the older woman's eyes. Amanda looked down at the street again. Surprising even herself, the pride of her heritage swelled unexpectedly in her heart. She could not have said why, but a lump rose in her throat.

This was a good and proud nation, Amanda thought, whether women could vote or not. She did not want to hurt or destroy it. Not even being counted as important as men in the political arena was worth that.

Then the coach was by, and the rest of the procession slowly followed. As soon as the parade was past, the Rutherford party of four descended again to the street and returned to their carriage. They attempted to follow the route of the parade. But the throngs were too vast.

Gifford ordered the driver on to Green Park by another route. If they made haste, they would get there before the royal party and be able to see King George and Queen Mary make their arrival.

 21 
Reception

Even the Kensington Lawn Tea, which Amanda had attended two months earlier, as much as it had impressed her, was nothing at all like this. Today's outdoor setting was as elegant as could be imagined. Endless tables crowded with food and delicacies and wines of every sort spread as far as one could see. The organizers only prayed a downpour didn't drench it all, though the sun's occasional rays poking through the clouds were hopeful.

Hundreds were already present when they arrived. About twenty minutes later, a buzz began to circulate that the newly crowned king and queen were on their way. An electric current of anticipation immediately spread through the gathering.

Across the way as they watched, Amanda saw Ramsay Halifax with a companion she did not recognize. How did he always manage to show up everywhere! If only she might get away from Geoffrey and work her way through the crowd in Ramsay's direction.

Even as she scanned the faces of those present, Amanda managed to sustain her end of various fragmentary conversations. The previous weeks of social activities since the Derby insured that wherever she went now, no end of attention came her way. To her great annoyance, Geoffrey did his best to fend off visitations from the persistent male element.

Well aware of the opportunities Geoffrey's mother and father were opening for her, during the preceding weeks Amanda had
forced herself to behave with a certain decorum and geniality toward her cousin. She could not exactly be said to be friendly or warm toward him. Yet she was noticeably less cool and snappy than before, occasionally going so far even as to grit her teeth and smile at one of his banal remarks. Whether her cousin misinterpreted this subtle change might have been an important question to consider. In any event, Amanda did her best to circulate as he tagged along and generally made a nuisance of himself.

Meanwhile, Martha Rutherford beamed at how easily Amanda fit into the scene. She could not keep from priding herself on what she had done with her in such a short time.

“Oh, Martha,” exclaimed one of her lady friends, “isn't it all so wonderful! And, Amanda dear, how beautiful you look.—Hello, Geoffrey,” she added with a sly expression. “Your cousin is lovely, is she not?”

Geoffrey mumbled some indistinct words of reply. Amanda cringed and glanced away.

“Excuse me, Martha,” she said. “I see someone I must speak to.”

“Go along with her, Geoffrey, and keep her company,” said Gifford.

“Please, I would rather go by myself,” rejoined Amanda. That would be all she needed—to walk up to Ramsay with Geoffrey following like a puppy dog!

Amanda moved off quickly before anyone could argue further.

Before she had taken more than a half dozen steps across the lawn through the crowd, however, she was arrested by another face not twenty feet from where Halifax stood chatting and laughing.

Amanda's steps froze. Her face went pale. Slowly she retreated back to Martha's side.

“Cousin Martha,” she said, “could you take me home?”

“But, dear . . . why—your face is white, Amanda. You look—”

“I'm not feeling well,” said Amanda. “I really need to get out of here.”

“Geoffrey will have James drive you. Go with her, Geoffrey. Tell James—”

Martha stopped.

“—Oh, but, Amanda,” she exclaimed after a moment. “Is that . . . it is! There are your parents across the way.”

“I don't want to see them, Martha. Please . . . I must get away from here.”

Martha glanced bewilderedly back and forth between husband and son. Gifford could not have been more delighted at the turn of events. He was one of those small natures who enjoyed seeing division in a family, especially one he envied. He would be only too happy to take Amanda's side against his cousin. Apparently the rift in the family went deeper than he had imagined. Amanda's reaction only showed how much more likely they were to solidify her loyalties to his side of the family.

He nodded to his son with the same hint of a smile, and Geoffrey led Amanda away.