Thelma says she may give up country life now she’s divorced. Her son likes the horses, but she says he could have all this and more in the Argentine.
I said, “But what about the Prince?”
“Oh,” she said, “I won’t run out on him. I’ll wait till my time’s up.”
I said, “Has he found a princess? Is there a wedding on the cards?”
She said, “Oh, not that. I expect he will marry soon, but that won’t make any difference to us. No, I mean when he finds someone new.”
I said, “But he adores you.”
“Yes,” she said, “but he adored others before me, and I’m sure there’ll be many after me. My Little Man has a restless soul.”
I wonder what happens to his circle when he moves on. Wally won’t be happy if the Thelma connection is severed, after all the hard work she’s put in.
A scratch lunch. Thelma’s resting, Benny’s making heavy weather of a crossword puzzle, Ernest is dozing with a book. The dressing needs changing on his carbuncle. Wally ought to see to it, but she’s in the morning room with Connie and Poots and causing great shrieks of laughter. Sharing advice on the secret bedroom art of Pang Chung, I suppose.
How slowly time passes in Leicestershire. Prince George is dining this evening.
I think my ox-blood crepe and an angora wrap.
15th October 1933
A narrowly averted disaster, for which I blame the Chinese, with their mischievously confusing language, and Hattie Erlanger, who sowed the seeds of a dangerous misconstruction. First, Thelma’s boiler failed, and it being Sunday, nothing can be done to repair it. Then Poots Butler insisted we play bridge, but I left the table at the earliest opportunity. Bridge can bring out such unpleasantness in people. I’m sure anyone can mislay a silly card, especially when they’re playing in gloves.
The Prince doesn’t care for bridge, either, and was working on his needlepoint. He patted the seat beside him. “Maybell,” he said, “I’m chilled to the bone. How about warming up with a spot of Ping Pong?”
I believe I blushed. One hears of droit de seigneur, but he was so matter-of-fact about it, and we were fully within earshot of Thelma, and thank goodness. She saved me from myself.
She said, “Darling, don’t drag Maybell off to the games’ room. It’s like an icebox in there. I’m already worried she’ll go home with pneumonia. I’ll ring for tea. We can watch some more Mickey if you like.”
Wally said, “Anyway sir, Maybell never hit a ball in her life.”
He said, “I think you’re mistaken, Wally. When we were at the Lido this summer, she was the talk of the tennis courts.”
That silenced her!
He left after tea. He has to go to Birmingham tomorrow to visit a bicycle factory, then on to South Wales.
16th October 1933
Sad farewells to Thelma. She’s leaving for the States on Wednesday, going to help her sister Gloria get back the child that’s rightfully hers.
She said, “Maybell, I’m depending on you and Wally to take care of my Little Man while I’m gone. He’s sure to be lonely.”
17th October 1933, Wilton Place
With Wally to Asprey for an urgent belt. She said, “Thelma’s going to be gone for months, so this is our chance to become indispensable. As soon as David gets back from visiting his coal mines, we’re going to give him the most wonderful time. Cozy suppers. Lively people. It’s a pity you don’t have a country house, Maybell. If you were to get one, I could help you do wonderful house parties. Not like those dull little affairs at Borough Court. Thelma’s sweet, but for an American, she really doesn’t have much style.”
I think HRH seems perfectly contented with Thelma’s weekends. Anyway, I’m not interested in getting a country house. More staff to subdue. More cold corridors to heat. Violet is a perfect example of the dangers of spreading oneself too thin.
Rory is allowed home from school this weekend. It’s called an exeat.
21st October 1933
To Lyons in the Strand for a Viennese Whirl. Flora was allowed to join us, because she’s notched up a full week at St. Audrey’s without any misdemeanors. She doesn’t appear to have made any friends yet. Rory said, “You soon will. You should pick out a girl who looks nice and start chatting to her during recreation time.”
She said, “I don’t want to. I like torging to myself.”
To the opera with the Friths and the Belchesters. Elektra by Strauss. Not one of his usual, hummable waltzes. Lightfoot was in a box with that girl Belinda.
25th October 1933
Zita and Bernie Cavett are taking a house on Mount Street till January. Zita says the first thing they’re going to do is throw a costume party.
To the Century Club with the Crosbies and the Erlangers. The Simpsons promised but never showed up.
27th October 1933
Wally says the Prince has dined with them three evenings this week. I said, “We expected you on Monday evening. Why didn’t you bring him to the Century?”
She said, “He was too comfortable to move.”
I said, “And who have you invited to dine with him? Aren’t your old friends good enough anymore?”
She says Benny Thaw came one evening, but otherwise they’ve just been a threesome. She said, “It’s not at all that you aren’t good enough, Maybell. But sometimes he likes to relax and not be with lots of people.”
Surely, that’s what a tray supper for one is for.
1st November 1933
Lily Drax-Pfaffenhof wants me for Christmas and won’t take no for an answer. Wally and Ernest will be going, and Wally’s keen to have me along. Once Ernest gets his head in a book, he’s no company.
Lunch with Pips, who is very tense waiting to hear whether Freddie’s got promoted to PPS. Whatever it is, I hope it means more money for them. Daphne Frith says they’re living on their capital.
3rd November 1933
To Bryanston Court, where there are now three armchairs arranged around the fireplace. They never know if the Prince is coming until he appears, sometimes as early as five, sometimes as late as nine. Tonight we knew he definitely wouldn’t come, because he’s gone to Norfolk to shoot with Bertie York.
I said, “Don’t you waste an awful lot of food?”
Ernest said, “We waste nothing. Wally’s very thrifty in the kitchen.”
I said, “But it must be so unsettling, waiting around for hours.”
“Maybell,” he said, “I can think of nothing more rewarding than entertaining the future King of England.”
Some kind of stew, followed by crepes filled with the Prince of Wales’s leftovers.
Ernest says a PPS is a parliamentary private secretary, which doesn’t sound to me like a promotion. Freddie Crosbie as a stenographer!
7th November 1933
Freddie Crosbie didn’t get the new job. Daphne Frith says the problem with Freddie is everyone likes him, which is all very well on the golf course but useless in the Commons. He completely lacks the killer instinct.
10th November 1933
George Lightfoot gave a small dinner at South Audley Street. Came: Fergus and Penelope Blythe and a couple called Metcalfe. Baba and Fruity. Baba is the sister of the poor departed Cimmie Mosley, and Fruity is just Fruity.
Penelope said, “What’s happened to your friend Wally? I haven’t seen her anywhere lately.”
Baba Metcalfe said, “Wally who?”
Penelope said, “Simpson. A little American. Before the summer, she and her husband were all over London like a rash.”
Lightfoot said, “It’s true. Wherever two or three were gathered together and a small bottle of tonic wine was opened, Wally Simpson was guaranteed to appear, but not recently. What’s she up to, Maybell?”
I said, “She’s taking care of the Prince of Wales.”
Uproar. Fruity Metcalfe said, “Bugger me. I thought Oxer Bettenbrooke was supposed to be doing that.”
Much laughter. Apparently, Fruity also equerries from
time to time.
Baba said, “But why should Wales need looking after?”
I said, “Because Thelma Furness is in America and she particularly asked Wally and me to make sure he wasn’t lonely.”
“I see,” she said. I don’t think she did though. According to Lightfoot, she’s from a top-drawer family, the Curzons, but I never heard of her. He says she was reckoned to be a great beauty in her day. Fruity cuts a good figure, tall, commanding. I can see he was a catch.
Lightfoot suggests I go to the Cavetts’ party as Little Bo-Beep. He’s offered to accompany me as a pet lamb.
11th November 1933
Remembrance Sunday. Melhuish laid a wreath at the Cenotaph War Memorial. Lest we forget. I wonder how healthy it is to keep harping back. The world is surely a better place than it was, except for those Roosevelts and the Reds. We’re all friends now. And if you start brooding over all the people who’ve gone to their rest, you can end up feeling too depressed even to face the breakfast tray.
To tea at Carlton Gardens. Flora didn’t say a word. Just sat on a couch, swinging her legs and gazing vacantly.
Doopie said, “Vora’s nod abby.”
Violet said, “Flora’s perfectly happy, thank you, Doopie. Please don’t interfere. She’s been a very good girl this week.”
I went up to the nursery to see how Doopie’s getting on with my shepherdess gown. She said, “Bayba, Vora’s nod abby adall.”
This was always likely to happen. Doopie’s had the child to herself since the day she was born, and she doesn’t like it now Flora’s going to school and learning how to behave like a young lady. I’d say it’s Doopie who’s “nod abby.”
My gown is looking very well indeed.
12th November 1933
Wally has asked to borrow my diamond stomacher for the Cavetts’ party. She’s going as the Snow Queen. Pips is undecided between the Little Match Seller or the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Lightfoot is being very perplexing about his costume. He said, “I shall be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Or is it the other way round?”
There also remains the problem of a shepherd’s crook.
15th November 1933
Ernest is worried about insurance for my diamonds. He turned quite pale when I told him they were worth ten thousand at the last valuation, not to mention their sentimental value. He said, “In that case, I think they’d better remain in your bank. Wally can wear paste.”
Wally was furious. She said, “Wally cannot wear paste. And I’m not ruining my costume because you lack nerve, Ernest. Maybell’s diamonds will be quite safe with me.”
Personally, I think she’s overdoing things. It’s only a party in a vacation home, after all. It’s not as though she’s going to Londonderry House.
16th November 1933
Monsieur Jules wants me to try a finger wave. Not sure.
Drinks at the Yugoslav Legation. Good champagne, but served with an extraordinary sour jam. Perhaps they can’t afford caviar. Wally was touting Ernest’s slight acquaintance with a commercial attaché. As I reminded her, I’ve taken afternoon tea with their Royalties on many occasions, Crown Princess Olga being practically glued to my sister Violet’s side.
17th November 1933
I’m invited to a gala ball at Lancaster House, in aid of Anne Belchester’s orphanages. Offered to make arrangements for Violet to get something done with her hair, but she declined. I bet she’s going to turn up in that ancient eau de nil, too. Tired brocade and day shoes. No wonder people can’t believe we’re sisters.
19th November 1933
A wonderful party! Zita and Bernie spared no expense, and my Bo-Peep gown looked darling. Spotted white muslin over a full skirt in sky blue satin silk, and a ravishingly deep sweetheart neckline.
George Lightfoot seemed to have forgotten he was meant to be a Lost Sheep, and turned up as the Tin Man, but I forgave him, because he’d managed to borrow me a divine brass crozier from one of his bishop friends.
The Erlangers were Humpty Dumpty and Miss Muffet, Pips was the Pied Piper, because Freddie had told her she has good legs and should show them off to their full advantage. I don’t think they’re all that good, especially in harlequin-patterned hose. Freddie himself was in a yellow vest, making absurd noises all evening, supposed to be a motoring character called Mr. Toad. Ernest wore a muffler and carried a jar of honey. A feeble effort, I thought. He said he was Pooh Bear. Daisy Fellowes came as Tinkerbell.
Tinkerbag, Lightfoot kept calling her. Not sure who Bernie was meant to be. Some kind of gnome. But Zita looked very pretty as the Sugar Plum Fairy, in froths of pink net hung with candy. HRH looked in briefly and was asked to judge the best costume. I’m sure it was a close-run thing between me and Zita, but Wally pushed herself forward beneath a chandelier so my diamonds would sparkle to advantage on her white taffeta. Even her opera gloves had rows of tiny rhinestone buttons. Lightfoot said she wasn’t so much the Snow Queen as the Walking Icicle.
I suppose after all those dinners she’s made for him recently, HRH felt obliged to choose her. She got a magnum of champagne and a kiss on the cheek.
Zita said, “We hoped you’d come in costume yourself, sir.”
He said, “Lord no, I spend enough of my life in fancy dress.”
She said, “But if you had to, who would you be?”
“No idea,” he said. “What do you suggest?”
She said, “Peter Pan.”
Wally said, “Oh no, sir! I don’t agree. I’d make you the King of Hearts.”
Pips muttered, “Oh please! Take me somewhere I can throw up.”
20th November 1933
Lunch with Penelope Blythe. She just had an “adventure” with a man who came to rehang her dining-room doors, and recommends the experience. “None of those boring preliminaries,” she said. “You know? Drinks. Dinner. Phone calls. You should try it. It’d take you out of yourself.”
I told her, I don’t want to be out of myself. I’m quite happy where I am.
24th November 1933
Philip Sassoon will be celebrating his birthday at Park Lane this year. A Sunday afternoon tea party. Wally and Ernest have gone to Fort Belvedere for the weekend.
Pips said, “What are they doing? Keeping Thelma’s place warm for the King of Hearts?”
Since Freddie failed to get that position he’d hoped for, I notice Pips has become very bitter about the success of others.
29th November 1933
Anne Belchester’s ball. Violet wore full-length tartan and a limp white blouse. She said, “I know it’s not quite the thing, but Trotman forgot to freshen up my eau de nil.”
Melhuish said, “Stop fretting, Vee. You look ravishing.”
Ha!
I thought the flowers rather skimped. Violet said, “The idea is to raise money, not waste it on flowers that will be dead by midnight.”
I’m sure the orphans wouldn’t have begrudged us a few hundred carnations.
4th December 1933
Philip Sassoon’s birthday. I gave him a walking stick with a cherrywood duck’s head handle, Lightfoot brought him a bottle of something made from Polish liquorice.
Sybil was there, with two of her children. Also the dark-complexioned Cousin Hannah.
Philip said, “Maybell, your friend Wally Simpson bombards me rrrelentlessly with invitations. It’s like being back in the Somme.”
I said, “Yes, she’s very keen to get you. She’s taken charge of the social life of the Prince of Wales while Lady Furness is away. She wants to keep him entertained.”
“Ach,” he said, “Wales! As well try to entertain a pet rrrodent. Tell her to put him inside a little rrrrunning wheel.”
Smoked haddock sandwiches, an original touch. And delicious chocolate cake all the way from Austria.
Philip wore a long velvet jacket and zebra-hide slippers. Such a pity he doesn’t think of marrying.
5th December 1933
Lunch with Ida Coote. She’s taken to blackening her eyes with a
kohl pencil since learning of her Ancient Egyptian lineage.
6th December 1933
To the Adelphi Theatre with Lightfoot to see Nymph Errant.
He said he’ll be relieved when school ends, because he doesn’t think St. Audrey’s is suiting Flora at all.
I said, “But she’s finally settled down. She hasn’t done anything naughty since she started there.”
“Precisely,” he said. “And she looks like a wan little candle. I think she’s depressed.”
I said, “You mean Doopie thinks she’s depressed.”
“Yes,” he said. “And I agree with her. We do know her rather well. We are her gobparents, after all.”
I see the start of a campaign. I shall warn Violet.
10th December 1933
Violet says St. Audrey’s has been a great success and Flora has never been more amenable. She said, “Lightfoot’s a dear, but he’s something of a theorist on the raising of children. Well, he’ll find out someday.”
I said, “Do you think he’s going to marry that girl Belinda?”
“Very likely,” she said. “It would be perfectly suitable. Her people have a very fine house in Gloucestershire, her uncle is Lord Lieutenant, and her brother was at school with Lightfoot. I can’t think of a more perfect match.”
15th December 1933
To Elspeth Laird’s Bazaar in aid of Life Boats. An entire stall filled with Doopie’s handicrafts. Padded coat hangers, lavender sachets, little knitted hats for soft-boiled eggs. Flora was assisting her uncle Rear Admiral Salty on the Lucky Dip. Violet was with Elspeth on the tea urn, Melhuish was selling prize draw tickets, Rory and Ulick were circulating with Guess the Weight of the Cake. A real family affair.
Gone With the Windsors Page 14
