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Family history is most interesting to family members and seldom to anyone else. However, every once in a while things just happen that you never would have expected and they become memorable, possibly even family lore. My English mother-in-law. Phyllis Catchpole died in the early 1990's and my wife and I flew to the UK for the funeral and to be with her brother and his family. Phyllis lived on an estate owned by the Goring family of Sussex, a property that the Gorings have owned since the Domesday Book (I'm not sure which one as there are two, but 1086 is still over nine hundred years ago) which is about as long as anyone could say they have ever owned a piece of land. The Goring family has steadfastly maintained a low profile. It is pretty amazing that with all the English history that I have read, that I have never once seen any mention of the family. No titles, no medals, just tending their rather large estates.
I never met John Goring who must have been born around the same time as my father (1910) but his widow, Lady Hersey (her father was the Earl of Glasgow) invited us over for drinks the night before the funeral. My mother-in-law lived with a companion, Corey Cosgrove, who was a busy body who Lady Hersey gave some secretarial work to from time to time and as Corey loved titles and hanging with the upper crust, she was delighted to join us for drinks with Lady Hersey. The house Lady Hersey was living in had initially been rented by my wife's family, but a swap was engineered between Lady Hersey, her eldest son, Harry and Phyllis so that the son had more space for his growing family. Everyone was pleased with the swap and so drinks were at the house that my wife, Ann, knew very well. Lady Hersey invited us in (Dooo come in!) and then proceeded to talk to me, the only male in sight--she was a wonderful flirt. I enjoyed it, but my eyes were distracted by a superb Pembroke table, likely by Ince and Mayhew or perhaps John Linnell. It is one of the best I have ever seen.
Lady Hersey never allowed a lacuna--furniture ogling on my part--to stop her flow, however, and proceeded to tell me about her late husband's genealogy. Jis mother, apparently, was from Barbados and her maiden name was Alleyne. As it happens, my grandfather is from Barbados and his name was Alleyne Carlton Howell. These are all Badian (pronounced like Cajun) names and as it happens, the family the elder Mrs. Goring was from were all clerics in the Anglican Church. So too was my grandfather only it was the Episcopal Church which is as near as dammit the Anglican Church in the US. When we finally parted, I mentioned to Corey that I might indeed be a cousin to the Gorings. Corey, living proof of busy body-ness, called Lady Hersey and said to her that we might be cousins to the Gorings. "Not yet!" was Lady Hersey's reply. When I was next in the UK, I asked Lady Hersey if she would like to have lunch which she agreed to. At the end of the lunch, which was quite enjoyable, she said, "you aren't going to get that table, you know, it belongs to my son, Harry." She was a wily soul, Lady Hersey--a character I will always recall, if not fondly, then as the epitome of a titled English lady.
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