23rd May 1934
To Carlton Gardens for tea, which turned into a lecture.
Violet said, “I hear Minnehaha is running Wales’s Ascot party, with her husband out of the country. Does she have any idea what an affront it is to Their Majesties?”
I said, “Why don’t you ask her?”
She said, “The opportunity will never arise. I don’t associate with kept women, and if you have any sense of how to behave, you’ll distance yourself from her.”
I said, “Even if I wanted to drop Wally, which I don’t, it’s not so simple. The Prince counts me as a friend, too.”
She said, “In that case, you’d better use your friendship to discourage him in this folly. You, of all people, know Wally’s background. Tell him. Remind him about her husbands. The Empire will thank you for it someday.”
Flora was parading up and down the nursery corridor, draped in a counterpane, playing Queen Simpson. She seems to have regained her good spirits.
Doopie was out to a matinee with George Lightfoot. The Chocolate Soldier. They might have asked me.
26th May 1934
To Trent Park for lunch. Seated between Lord Birkenhead and Lord Duveen. Crab flown up from Lympne, truffled noodles, warm apricots.
Philip took me to one side. He said, “Your naughty friend is causing rrructions, I suppose you know? Syb says her name rrreverberates at Buck House.”
Wally will be thrilled.
29th May 1934
Lunch with Ida. She’s met a man who knew her thousands of years ago. They were walled up together alive in Babylon, apparently. How small the world is.
1st June 1934
Saw Benny Thaw on my way into the Savoy. He cut me stone-dead. It made me very sad when I think how often we used to see him and Connie. We used to have such gay times. I appreciate he must feel a certain loyalty to Lady Thelma, but after all, it wasn’t me who stole the Prince of Wales. These things don’t seem to bother Wally. She and Ernest are going to a dinner for the Ribbentrops, given by Lady Cunard. The von Ribbentrops. Wally says omitting the von is a gross discourtesy.
4th June 1934
Lunch with George Lightfoot. He was at the Cunard dinner. He said “von Ribbentrop, my eye! The man’s a complete phony. He bought his title. He married his money. And I’m not even sure he’s so very bright. I think he’s only here because he speaks English. He’s Hitler’s fake Englishman.”
George heard from Nellie Hardinge that the King has ordered HRH to look very seriously into marrying Frederike of Hanover. He said, “I don’t think he’ll do it without a big fight. She’s young enough to be his daughter. But frankly, he’s brought it on himself. This Wally business is just the final straw for Their Majesties.”
I asked him why he’d taken my idiot sister to a matinee. He said, “Because they’re less crowded than the evenings.”
I said, “You know what I mean. If you pay her attention, she’ll develop a crush on you, and what a mess that’ll be. You know she’s not normal.”
He said, “That hadn’t occurred to me.”
Precisely. People just don’t think.
7th June 1934
Hurried off the telephone by my own sister. She said, “The Nicholases of Greece are here, and I have a thousand things to do. Call me after Ascot.”
All I wanted to do was to deliver a little sisterly advice on the subject of Doopie, and verify Lightfoot’s rumor about the German child bride.
8th June 1934
Anne Belchester’s charity auction. Violet was in attendance, with Elizabeth York. She was about to present me to Princess Nicholas Greece and her girls, when she suddenly froze. She said, “A certain friend of yours has just walked through the door. Have the goodness to keep her away from Their Royal Highnesses.” Spoken through clenched teeth.
As though Wally, whose bedside rug has been trodden by princely carpet slippers, could give a hoot about Duchess Bertie York and her poor Greek relations.
I bid for a very pretty musical box but let it go to Daphne Frith.
Ernest has sailed for New York. He has important business to attend to at his office there. HRH has arranged for Wally to watch Trooping the Color from a window in the Admiralty Building. Wait till the Salty Lairds hear about that!
11th June 1934
Wally’s apartment is awash with flowers. Calla lilies and black iris from HRH. Red carnations from Mr. von Ribbentrop. With his wife in town, too. How blatant.
I said, “Why didn’t you send them back?”
She said, “Why go to the trouble? They’re only flowers. And anyway, he’s all right. One never knows when a tame German may be useful.”
I said, “Has the Prince seen them? Won’t he be jealous?”
She said, “He doesn’t come here anymore. I go to him. But anyway, a little jealousy in a man is never a bad thing.”
I said, “Are you in love with him?”
She said, “Surely the question is, is he in love with me?”
Always joking, always avoiding the point.
I said, “George Lightfoot heard they might have found a princess for him. Frederike of Hanover.”
She laughed. She said, “Frederike! That news is so old people have it laid underneath their rugs. David won’t marry her. You can take it from me. They’re going to have to come up with something better than that.”
I said, “Well, everyone’s saying he’d better hurry along and make up his mind before all the princesses are taken. He is obliged to marry, after all. And then where will that leave you?”
She said, “It’ll leave me precisely where I am now. Even a prince is entitled to private happiness, and his marrying or not marrying doesn’t come into the case.”
Hattie Erlanger says Wally’s not entirely wrong about this. She says, the longer HRH delays in choosing a wife the greater the risk of having an absolute horror foisted upon him, which would strengthen Wally’s position as special friend and provider of extramural pleasures.
15th June 1934
Red carnations continue to arrive at Bryanston Court. From Ribbensnob, as George Lightfoot calls him. Wally swears she’s done nothing to encourage him, but still. I said, “Just remember what happened to Thelma. An innocent shipboard friendship, and she was done for.”
“Maybell,” she said, “Thelma was finished before she even set foot on that ship. And don’t presume to tell me my business. I’m no Thelma Furness. No one has ever meant what I do to David.”
Of course, men say things like that. She’s sleepless wondering what he’s going to give her for her birthday. She’s going to be so disappointed if it isn’t the black-pearl bracelet she keeps visiting and viewing and sighing over at Van Cleef. Well, what are birthdays for if not surprises?
I think I may give her scented drawer liners. They are always useful. It’s much harder to know what to give the heir to the throne for his birthday. He must have vaults full of cufflinks and tie pins. I’m thinking of a cigar cutter. Wally is getting him a silver frame for her new photograph.
16th June 1934
Lunch with Penelope Blythe. She says the Ribbentrops will never amount to anything in London. According to Fergus, he doesn’t even have a portfolio. Perhaps Wally should think of getting him one next time we’re in Asprey.
18th June 1934, Sunninghills
To the Crokers with Pips and Freddie and Judson and Hattie. Charlie and Fern Bedaux are also here. The azaleas are a picture. Wally’s at the Fort with the Fruity Metcalfes and the Perry Brownlows. HRH has to go up to the Castle each day for the landau procession.
Ethel has a girl coming up from the town to do our hair and nails before we go to the track tomorrow. We’ll show those English frights.
19th June 1934
Ladies’ Day. Wore my cerise. Violet was in the third carriage in a disaster of lime silk and marabou. She springs for new gowns so rarely, if only she’d come to me for guidance when she does.
Dinner at the Fort. HRH is giving Wally a dog for her birt
hday, but it’s too young yet to leave the kennels, so she has a photograph of it for the time being. I thought it fell rather flat until he brought out a delicious little package from Cartier. A brooch. A Cairn terrier in white gold with yellow sapphire eyes. A stopgap until the real terrier is of an age to come home and begin the ruination of her rugs. “Oh sir!” she said. “You spoil me!”
He said, “Wally darling, I consider it my duty to spoil you.”
Violet would have had a fit.
Champagne by the swimming pool. Shrimp appetizers, veal scallopine, and a kumquat parfait. After dinner, HRH played “Happy Birthday” on his ukulele, then we danced till late. We’re all invited back for his birthday on Saturday.
Wally’s showed the kitchens how to make Southern fried chicken and peaches in bourbon. The housekeeper is reportedly fit to be tied, but Wally knows what the Prince likes, and they’ll do well to listen to her recommendations.
24th June 1934
HRH adored the cigar cutter I gave him, and added it to his watch chain immediately. Wally was in high spirits all day. She gave him her new photograph framed in silver and a rubber duck for his bathtub. Evidently some kind of private joke, because they spent a great deal of the evening replying to one another with quacking noises.
HRH has taken a villa in Biarritz for the month of August and particularly asked me along. “For Einum Meinum ,”he said. “A special holiday. She’s worked tirelessly, reorganizing things for me at York House. She’s been making an inventory, you know? And choosing new decorations. She really deserves a rest, but Ernest finds he can’t be spared from business, so she’ll need a companion. If you could join us, Maybell, I’d count it the greatest favor.”
We leave on August 1st, which means barely six weeks for the purchase of villa-wear.
Freddie says Einum Meinum is Walesian German for “one’s own most precious little chickywickywoo.”
26th June 1934
HRH has asked the Crosbies and the Erlangers to Biarritz, too. Of course, he asked me first.
3rd July 1934
Bathing suits, kimono wraps, open-toe sandals, all picked up at bargain prices, because the woolen suits are about to come in. The sales clerk said the time to buy summer wear is February. Perhaps for people like Violet, who know they’ll be spending every August of their life in Scotland.
6th July 1934, Fort Belvedere
Wally, Boss, and Ethel Croker, the Humphrey Butlers, Whitlow Trilling, and the hugely bloated Gladys. Why she doesn’t just stay out of sight until this child has arrived I can’t imagine, nor why people insist on having a third. Look at what a mistake Doopie was.
7th July 1934
Prince George drove over to dinner. He taught us a wonderful new dance called the Palais Glide. He learned it from a footman at Buckingham Palace.
Poots Butler says there’s a great deal of maneuvering going on between the equerries. No one wants to be the one to go to Biarritz. She said, “Their Majesties are appalled that Wally’s been invited without her husband.”
I said, “But Ernest can’t get away for a whole month. He’s in business.”
She said, “I know. It’s frightful. And as far as the King’s concerned, Ernest’s first business should be to keep his wife in check.”
It seems to me whatever he does, Ernest is bound to displease one Royalty or another.
12th July 1934, Wilton Place
Rory’s thirteenth. Heavy rain, so we went to a cartoon show and then to Ganes’s Tea Rooms. He had requested a place called Ye Little Tea Shoppe in Charing Cross Road. His friend Massingham had been taken there by an uncle during the Easter break, but Melhuish has forbidden Rory to go anywhere near it. He says it’s the haunt of theatricals and showgirls. How does Melhuish know, is what I’d have liked to ask but I didn’t, for the boy’s sake. Actually, not such a boy anymore, although he’s still on the short side. I don’t think he’ll ever make the Grenadier Guards.
He starts at Eton College in September, so will have Ulick overshadowing him again, but he doesn’t seem concerned. He says he’ll be in a different House, and they’ll practically never see each other.
The Habberleys won’t be shooting at Drumcanna this year, apparently.
He said, “I think Mummy’s still cross about the broken potty.”
13th July 1934
According to Penelope Blythe, the real reason the Habberleys are missing Drumcanna is that Ralph has become most erratic and has gone off, quite contrary to Jane Habberley’s wishes, to Ceylon, to look into tea.
15th July 1934
Ernest is back from New York. HRH has left on a tour of Scotland. Hattie says they’ve become like those little weathermen on a barometer. When one’s out, the other is in.
18th July 1934
Wally’s dog has arrived. It is to be named Mr. Loo.
20th July 1934
To the Kit Kat. Saw no one we knew.
24th July 1934
Mr. Loo makes Ernest sneeze. Wally says it hardly matters, because he has to go to Sweden next week.
26th July 1934
A potluck at Wally’s. Just me and the Crosbies. Pips said, “I’m not going if Ernest and Sir are both going to be there.”
I said, “They won’t be. David’s away prince-ing.”
She said, “I hope you’re right. The sight of Ernest being cuckolded at his own drinks’ trolley would be too gruesome.”
It turned out just a rather dull evening. Even Wally didn’t seem able to jolly things along. Ernest was pink and wheezy, brought on by the dog, he says. Wally says he has a summer cold.
Pips said, “Poor Ernest. I reckon Wally only invited us so she didn’t have to spend an evening alone with him.”
29th July 1934
To the Palm Beach Club with Wally, the Erlangers, and Penelope Blythe. Fergus has already left to fish on Deeside. Wally asked to come and stay with me at Wilton Place till we leave for Biarritz, because Mr. Loo ate von Ribbentrop’s predictable carnations and was so sick she had to get the cleaners in. It would have been just too inconvenient. The house is practically closed up, and I’m down to just Kettle, the cook, and one maid. Also Mr. Loo has not yet learned to ask for the restroom. She went to the Erlangers instead. They’re as silly as she is about animals.
30th July 1934
Wally stayed at York House last night. The maid told me when I telephoned. That maid needs training in discretion. I might have been anyone.
2nd August 1934, Biarritz
Caught the afternoon boat train with Wally, the Crosbies, and Hattie Erlanger. Judson, HRH, and Jack Aird who is equerrying, flew to Le Bourget and joined us at the railroad station.
Castel Meretmont is adorable. Pink-and-white stucco, shady catalpas around the terrace, and matchless ocean views. I can hear the thunder of the surf from my bedroom. I find it perfect, but Wally started making changes the moment we arrived. Chairs moved, the whisky changed, a large order placed for perfumed roses, the help sent searching for extra vases.
Hattie’s already drawing up lists of activities. Today a display of folkloric dancing in Anglet, but Freddie was the only one she could persuade to go with her. He’s so good-natured.
She said, “Let’s motor into Spain at the weekend and see a bullfight!”
Let’s not! Her infernal busyness reminds me of Violet. Ida Coote says the urge to fill every minute with activity may be a reflection of unresolved turmoil from past lives. Anyway, Wally’s not the only one who’s had a busy year. I’m here to rest and take beautifying cures.
4th August 1934
Dinner in town and then baccarat. Several familiar London faces at the Casino. Marthe Bibesco, the Dimitri Shapaleffs, Daisy Fellowes.
5th August 1934
Pips and I have begun our seawater therapies. The Erlangers are only here for two weeks, and Judson was hoping to play some golf, but so far HRH won’t budge from Wally’s side. Jack Aird says Judson should regard this as no great loss, because HRH has a weak drive and a tenden
cy to misremember his score.
Wally and HRH are being most unsociable, emerging late, taking long siestas. And when they are by the pool, there can be no sustained conversation, because he’s always fidgeting around, rearranging her pillows, or preparing a towel for her while she’s taking a dip.
7th August 1934
Judson still mooning around, playing imaginary golf strokes. Jack Aird asked to be released for the day so he could play with him, and Wally tore him off such a strip. She said, “You’re not here to take a vacation. You’re paid to take care of His Royal Highness.”
Pips said, “I’ll bet he isn’t paid.”
Boss and Ethel are coming over tomorrow. They’re staying with Jessie Woolworth at Saint Jean de Luz.
9th August 1934
A fabulous poolside party given by Jessie Woolworth’s friends, the Bajavidas, who have taken Chateau La Colline for a month. The gardens floodlit, a team of gleaming kitchen hands turning an ox on a roasting spit, and a gay Cuban band to entertain us. Daisy Fellowes swam in her diamonds.
11th August 1934
Gone With the Windsors Page 18
