Lies and Weddings(10)
It’s easy for Lady Arabella to dismiss the casual racism that she encountered back then, because no one would ever mistake her for the help nowadays. The couture-clad countess is regarded as one of the world’s best-dressed women and the visionary behind some of the most drop-dead chic hotels on the planet. It all began three decades ago when Arabella first caught the fashion world’s attention—and, more important, the eye of Francis, 18th Earl of Greshamsbury—as she walked the runway of Azzedine Ala?a’s show in Paris.
A whirlwind romance followed by a glorious wedding ensued, though Arabella soon discovered that life at Greshamsbury Hall wasn’t exactly a fairy tale. The local gentry, it seemed, weren’t prepared to put out their welcome mats for the Hong Kong girl who had snagged the dashing viscount who could trace his lineage back to Edward the Confessor (and perhaps more crucially was heir to one of the few earldoms still in possession of its vast lands and even vaster trusts).
“Oh, they were downright mean at first. Every move I made was criticized—from the stiletto boots I wore to the village fête to how badly I curtseyed to Princess Alexandra when she came to visit. Nowadays, everyone pretends that it never happened, but they know who they are,” the preternaturally youthful countess says with a wink. While Lord Francis “could not have cared less what anyone thought,” Arabella decided to rethink her game.
“Look, I was never under the illusion it would be easy. I knew my family was never going to be accepted as truly English. At first I tried to follow my mother-in-law, who was a stickler for tradition, but everything I did only made me stand out. Then I realized, I’ll never not stand out, so why fight it? I knew then I had to create my own style and do things my way.”
The first thing she did was give Greshamsbury Hall a sorely needed restoration—its first in more than a century. Out went the ancient Aga and the decomposing Tassinari et Chatel damask, and in came a bold, futurist East meets West look that designers now dub “Arabella Chic.” “I was the first to do forty-eight layers of tobacco lacquer on the floors of a manor house. I was the first to mix brutalist furniture with wicker.”
Arabella credits her own mother for her confidence to upend centuries of tradition. “My mother grew up in Shanghai, which was the Paris of the East, so for her, Asian Fusion wasn’t a fad, it was a way of life.” Arabella’s barrister father hailed from one of Hong Kong’s most respected legal families. “People are constantly surprised to learn that I didn’t grow up in a rice paddy. My grandfather and father both went to Oxford, and we had a house in Kowloon Tong with five servants.”
After every shelter magazine raved over the transformation of Greshamsbury Hall, everyone jockeyed to be invited. By this time, the Greshams had no need for the neighbors—they were already playing in a different social stratum, one that mixed Hollywood royalty, design pashas, and global plutocrats. “We host truly diverse, inclusive weekends. We invite Malay sultans, Nigerian oil barons, Indian oligarchs. Everyone is welcome!” Arabella proudly declares.
The countess never imagined that her modern spin on Marco Polo would spawn her own design and hospitality empire, but after a famously finicky Qatari prince spent the weekend and was wowed by the countess’s hospitality, he commanded her to design a hotel in London “for people who can only bear to stay in palaces when they travel,” promising to book out the entire place every year for the London Season. Arabella quickly conceived of Bella’s, the gemlike London oasis that has set the standard for boutique establishments everywhere. Then came the Bella outposts in Hong Kong, Antwerp, and the Maldives, all of which possess the perfect alchemy of understated glamour, exquisite service, and discretion that have made them de rigueur destinations for the cognoscenti.
Now Arabella is poised to unveil her biggest creation—a super-luxe eco-resort on the Big Island of Hawaii that, if early whispers are to be believed, should make the Aman folks very nervous. (Three of the villas come with their own private waterfalls.) One might think all this was part of Arabella’s master plan all along. “Never my intention—I just needed a home that wasn’t so drafty my babies would die of pneumonia.”
Speaking of which, Arabella’s babies are all grown up and have clearly inherited their parents’ unaffected charm and effortless style. Lady Augusta, whose ethereal beauty and gravity-defying Ashtanga yoga poses on the beaches of Bali log millions of views, is merging her own wellness brand with that of Prince Max, the social entrepreneur and microdosing coach who grew up between his father Prince Julius of Liechtenburg’s Ibizan villa and his Norwegian mother’s Malibu ranch (Princess Hanne Marit hails from the von Melke av Sjokolade clan, who have so many gallons of Norwegian North Sea Brent crude gushing through their veins you can’t light a match anywhere near them). Younger sister Lady Beatrice made her sensational runway debut at the Iris van Herpen show in Paris last year. With her Titianesque hair and Swintonesque cheekbones, this year’s hottest It Girl is poised to nab any prince she sets her pretty eyes on.
And then there’s the prodigal heir—Rufus, Viscount St. Ives, or “Viscount St. Abs” as he was nicknamed after that famous ironing photo went viral, a pro surfer turned travel photographer currently based in Hawaii who’s broken a string of hearts on both sides of the Atlantic. Now that his big sis has made such a splendid match, the pressure’s been turned up for Rufus to deliver another royal match made in heaven. The Gresham siblings seem to effortlessly embody everything that modern aristocrats are supposed to be—stylish, conscious, global. It would not be surprising at all if Arabella’s kids ended up siring the next generation of Europe’s royals, and what fitting revenge that would be for the countess who was mistaken for the nanny.