Sunday to the Rogerses for two nights. We have houses to view. Possible future residences for the Duke and Duchess of Windsor!
5th April 1937, Villa Lou Viei
We’ve looked at properties from Théoule all the way to Nice and my head is spinning. The favorite so far is Chateau La Croe in Cap d’Antibes. Herman thinks it looks like a beached ocean liner. Wally said if she takes it, it’ll not only look like a liner, it’ll be run like one, with constant hot water and staff who know how to mix martinis. Herman said, “Ah! You mean unlike our poor, leaking ship of fools.”
La Croe’s situation is very lovely, though I’m not sure I’d want Willy Maugham as a neighbor. He’s rude and difficult and as he’s had to turn to scribbling, one presumes he wasn’t a good doctor. Lost his license, probably.
8th April 1937, Chateau Candé
Mr. Loo, Wally’s little terrier, is dead. We got back here this afternoon, he went gamboling into long grass, and was bitten by a snake. She’s inconsolable.
I feel badly now that I complained about him so.
9th April 1937
A letter from Pips. Freddie says HRH is in for an almighty shock if he thinks he can have a royal wedding. He predicts the only royal thing about it will be the frosting on the cake. What cleric is going to be willing to do the marrying for them? she writes.
Well, we haven’t gotten around to things like that, but the one thing the world will never be short of is priests. Anyway, now is certainly not the time to bring this up with Wally. She’s visited Mr. Loo’s grave three times today.
12th April 1937
Wally has picked up her wedding lists again, even though, as she says, her heart isn’t really in it now one of the principal little guests is dead. She says they don’t need a clergyman. She says the local mayor will do everything.
13th April 1937
HRH says he very much wishes to have a church wedding. He’s getting Forwood to arrange the English vicar from Vienna. Wally says if it makes HRH happy, she has no objections. The only question is, if there are to be two ceremonies, should there be two wedding gowns? Fern has a pretty little painted cabinet in the drawing room, which turns out to contain a harmonium, so we’ll even be able to have the “Wedding March”!
Wally is hesitating about leasing La Croe. It does need improvements, and HRH’s budget is still far from clear.
14th April 1937
Wally has two new doggies. HRH bought one in St. Wolfgang, and Fern went out and brought one home. It’s been named Pookie. Poopie, more like. Wally hasn’t let it out of her sight all day and screams at anyone who leaves an outer door open.
Some good news. The New Bunch have at last agreed to pay HRH a pension. I should think so, too, after everything he’s done for that country. Fighting in its army. Smiling and nodding his way around those endless factories. Wally says she can now get to work creating a suitably royal ambience for their life together.
Only a week to go, and her divorce should get its rubber stamp. What a long wait it has seemed. She’d have had time to go to Reno, get married again, and be filing for another divorce.
18th April 1937
The Archbishop of Canterbury has forbidden the vicar of Vienna to marry any divorced person. I question why the Archbishop was even consulted on the matter. Everyone knows he’s an avowed enemy of Wally and David. Well, it’s the Vienna man’s loss, not theirs. There must be plenty of vicars in England who’d give anything for a free jaunt to France and the honor of marrying the former King.
HRH has toothache. Gown fittings on Tuesday.
Particulars keep arriving of Paris houses, but so far, nothing seems suitable. Wally says she has to consider appropriateness as well as security. She said, “Royal Highnesses can’t live in a walk-up. They can’t have an address on any grubby little street.”
They can always keep a suite at the Meurice until the right house turns up. There’s a lot to be said for a good hotel. I’m thinking I may take Randolph Putnam’s advice and let Wilton Place go. Claridge’s has always taken good care of me.
20th April 1937
My gown is looking wonderful. Still undecided between raspberry straw or moss green for my pillbox.
Wally said, “Don’t fuss so. The cameras are going to be on me, not you.”
Perhaps so, but that doesn’t mean I should attend her wedding dressed in an unflattering hat.
Herman and Kath have invited me to go with them to Italy after the wedding. I’d been thinking of going back to London, packing up Wilton Place, but Kath has persuaded me. She said, “Italy first, then chores. We all need to remind ourselves there’s such a thing as Life After Wally’s Wedding.”
27th April 1937
We are almost through our ordeal. Wally’s lawyer expects her case to be considered on either Friday or Monday. In anticipation, HRH has chosen the first stop on their honeymoon, an Austrian schloss. It’s called Wasserleonburg and is owned by Count Munster. He used to be a friend of Melhuish and the Yorks, but he now seems to be nailing Windsor colors very prominently to his mast. The schloss has a swimming pool and a golf course nearby, and Munster has even offered to have the tennis courts resurfaced.
30th April 1937
Lily Drax-Pfaffenhof knows Wasserleonburg.
She said, “Wally, it’s on the top of a mountain. You’ll never get down to do any shopping. Tell him you want to go to Capri.”
Wally says it wouldn’t have been her destination of choice, but she’s going to let David have his way. It’s his first honeymoon, after all.
1st May 1937
Charlie Bedaux is home. He said, “Can’t have His Highness arriving without a proper welcome from his host.”
Wally slightly miffed. I believe she’s grown to consider Chateau Candé as her own. She was looking forward to playing the grand chatelaine, with Fern discreetly in the background, but Charlie doesn’t know the meaning of background.
2nd May 1937
Charlie gave me a golfing lesson. He says my style is “wristy,” which sounds like a very desirable quality.
Charlie says the New Bunch at Buckingham Palace show no interest in using HRH’s talents and experience, so he intends stepping into the breach.
“Like a Dad,” he said. “Or a big brother. That’s what the kid needs.”
I said, “Hardly a kid. He’s forty-two.”
He said, “Maybe so, but he still seems like a kid to me. And I’m going to give him a bit of fatherly direction. Foreign visits. I’m gonna send him to Germany. Sweden. The States. People love a royal visit. I tell you something, Maybell. He may be an ex-king, but he’s far from finished. And Wally’s a real asset. She’s got the right instincts, and I’ve got the useful contacts. Between us, we’re going to get him back into the swing.”
3rd May 1937
Wally’s divorce was made final this morning, and HRH is already on his way here. Fruity is returning to London till the wedding, so there’ll just be Forwood, a valet, and a detective. Their train should get to Verneuil by early tomorrow. Wally’s sending the Buick and a station wagon to meet him.
I said, “You’re sending a car? Don’t you want to meet him yourself?”
She said, “No. After all we’ve been through, I don’t want to meet him at some hayseed railroad station.”
She is nervous, I think. After all, in a separation of five months, all kinds of changes can occur. I’d say Wally is certainly more in love than she was in December. I just hope HRH is as ardent as ever.
5th May 1937
HRH is as ardent as ever. I watched from an upstairs window as he emerged from the car. He fairly sprinted up the steps to embrace Wally. It was rather a shy embrace, considering he gave up a throne for it, but I like to see physical reticence in a man. Philip Sassoon may be a turncoat, but I will say this much for him: he never pressed for anything more than a kiss on the hand, and even then was restrained enough not to make contact.
Quite a crowd had gathered outside the gates to see HRH a
rrive, and several of the maids were watching from a landing window, till the majordomo hauled them back downstairs to be on parade. Charlie greeted David American-style, Fern curtsied, and by the time they all trooped through the front hall, Wally had already gained a bouquet of edelweiss and a gold bangle. HRH was delighted to see me. He’s thinner.
6th May 1937
The wedding date is now firmly fixed for June 3rd, and Planning Headquarters have been set up in Charlie’s den. Fern and I expected to spend the day sending out invitations, but only Wally’s Aunt Bessie is to get anything in writing. HRH says we can circulate the date by word of mouth, and then it’s up to people to propose themselves as guests. I suppose this is another of those royal wedding customs.
Wally has a new engagement ring and is radiant. She always felt the emerald had been selected with undue haste and is much better pleased with this sapphire. HRH has asked to see me privately tomorrow morning. I expect he’s eager to settle Wally’s expenses over these many months. I think, too, I may be offered an official position in the new household. Lady-in-waiting, perhaps.
He’s presented the Bedaux with a cuckoo clock, as thanks for the use of the chateau. I wonder whether Kitty R. ever got anything for her trouble.
A new wireless was delivered today, to ensure good reception of a certain event in London next Wednesday, an event I’d have thought we’d all be happy to ignore.
7th May 1937
I was fully an hour with HRH, who is completely recovered from his long journey and bouncing with energy. He said he was fully cognizant of the debt of gratitude he owed me, for remaining staunchly at Wally’s side while others ratted on her, right and left. He presented me with a set of painted wooden spoons, which are apparently a very popular item in Tyrolean kitchens. He wanted to know whether London is still talking about him.
I said, “Sir, London will never forget you.”
He said, “I’m jolly glad to hear it. Not that I miss it one iota. Now on to business. I notice you’re not yet in the habit of curtsying to Wally. Well, in less than a month, she will be a Royal Duchess, so I must insist that you accustom yourself to correct behavior without delay. Others who aren’t certain of protocol will be watching you and following your lead. You have an important role to play.”
It’s going to feel very odd, curtsying to a girl from Biddle Street. I shall have to ease myself into it. Heavens, even Ena Spain doesn’t expect curtsies from me anymore.
I asked whether I’d have any other role. He said, “Yes. I want you to continue as before, doing those little things that relieve Einum Meinum of at least some of her worries. And you know, Maybell, you will always be welcome in our homes.”
So, effectively, lady-in-waiting!
It seemed an opportune moment to bring up the subject of some accounts that are overdue.
He said, “These dressmakers won’t expect to be paid. They only send in their bills to satisfy their accountants. Don’t give it another thought. Dressing Wally is a huge honor for these johnnies, and of course, in the long run, they’re going to benefit enormously from the connection. In fact, it seems to me that if any money is to change hands it should be them paying us.”
He said he had planned to wear his Welch Guards uniform on his wedding day, but it transpires he’s no longer their colonel-in-chief. The small print of abdications!
11th May 1937
The wedding date has been announced to the press. Tomorrow is Coronation Day. How far away London seems. Tried to put a call through for news of Lightfoot, but couldn’t get a connection.
12th May 1937
The Yorks were crowned this morning. King George VI and Queen Elizabeth. We listened to Bertie York’s Coronation broadcast on Charlie’s new wireless. A very labored affair. He isn’t a natural speaker. Heavy rain here and in London, too, according to Pips, who called this evening. She said everyone at the Abbey sparkled, even Violet, whom she’d spotted sitting between Ettie Desborough and Anne Belchester, but Loelia Westminster had stolen the show with her rubies. She said everything ran like clockwork until after the Royalties had processed out. Then it developed into a robed free-for-all, and Tommy Minskip complained that Baron Hulver had pushed his way out to the conveniences ahead of all the viscounts. I expect he was in a hurry to get back to Yorkshire for the Battle of Waterloo.
She said Freddie hopes to be offered a peerage before the next Coronation, because you get a better seat.
HRH is knitting a sweater for Wally, “to match her beautiful eyes,” he says.
14th May 1937
I was worried that the arrival of the British newspapers might cast a pall, but Wally has greatly enjoyed the Coronation photographs. She’s gone over them and over them. She describes Bertie York as looking like a rabbit caught in someone’s headlights, and his wife like a little roly-poly cook. Bunny and Cook!
She said, “I’m glad it’s done. Now all that’s out of the way, we’re going to show the world how these things should really be done.”
Only three weeks to go, and Forwood still hasn’t managed to find a clergyman. They all seem to be yes-men to the Archbishop of Canterbury, all too frightened of hazarding future preferments.
17th May 1937
A letter from Ernest in today’s post, wishing Wally all the very best in her new life and informing her that he and Mary Kirk hope to marry before the end of the year, too. Funny the way things turn out. We all made our debut the same year—me, Wally, Pips, Violet, Mary. Now Wally’s going to be a Royal Highness, and Mary gets Ernest as a consolation prize.
He wrote that he deplored the way she’d been made the target of so much ill feeling in Britain, and hoped she’d found the happiness she deserved with “her princely Peter Pan.” I thought it was rather sweet, but HRH was fuming when he read it. I think it was the Peter Pan bit he didn’t like. He’s asked me to retrieve the letter from Wally’s room and destroy it. Wally says she’s torn it up already, but I’m not sure I believe her.
The Dickie Mountbattens will not be coming to the wedding. Neither will the Princess Royal.
19th May 1937
Not a single member of HRH’s family will be at the wedding. At the very least, they might have sent Harry Gloucester. Wally says she couldn’t care less.
“Bunny and Cook got at them,” she said. “And there’s not one of them with enough spunk to defy them.”
Then we heard that the mayor expects Wally and David to go down to the Town Hall, like ordinary people. HRH got on to the British Ambassador immediately. He’s insisting on a house call. They can’t possibly be expected to trail down there and get jostled and gawked at and photographed by all and sundry. Mr. Cecil Beaton is coming to do the wedding portraits, and absolutely no one else.
20th May 1937
A breakthrough. A vicar has written, offering to officiate at the wedding, for the usual fee plus travel expenses. Dudley Forwood is investigating his bona fides.
The Crosbies and Lily Drax-Pfaffenhof have proposed themselves, but the Perry Brownlows find themselves already engaged for June 3rd. Pips says it isn’t to be wondered. They’ve taken such punishment from the coterie around the New Bunch. All the more reason, I’d have thought, to remain firmly in HRH’s camp. Fruity Metcalfe will be HRH’s supporter. I’m to be the matron of honor.
24th May 1937
The plucky Reverend Jardine has been hired to perform the wedding ceremony. He told Forwood he thinks it’s a scandal the way HRH has been treated and he doesn’t care a damn about the Archbishop of Canterbury; in fact, he’s been thinking of emigrating to America anyway. The wife is insisting on coming, too. Wally objected, but soon gave in. It’s too late in the day to start quibbling over extra little expenses.
Wally and HRH in such high spirits, opening wedding gifts, throwing sticks for the dogs, dancing to gramophone records till long after midnight last night.
30th May 1937
The Crosbies have arrived, and the Erlangers and Walter Monckton, who, as lawyers so often
do, brought with him a black cloud. The King has issued a decree that Wally will not become a Royal Highness. She’s to be styled Her Grace, the Duchess of Windsor. It’s to be gazetted in London tomorrow, so it will be general knowledge and a great triumph for Wally’s enemies. A charming wedding present.
There was the most blistering row between Wally and HRH after Monckton broke the news. We could hear her throwing things. Then we heard David crying outside her door, begging to be let in. It was pitiful.
Freddie says either HRH didn’t pay proper attention to the terms that he agreed or the lawyers have dropped a tremendous clanger. Monckton says there was nothing in the abdication settlement about Wally’s future title. This is an afterthought, and one that can be challenged. He says Elizabeth York was a commoner, but there was never any question of denying her an HRH.
Pips thinks Wally will call off the wedding. She said, “I can’t see Wally settling for this. As well ask her to be called Mrs. Windsor.”
Neither Wally nor HRH came down to dinner.
I went in to her late, and she was wide awake, wearing eye shades. She said, “Another insult from Bunny and Cook. And not the last, I’m sure. They’re little people with little minds.”
Gone With the Windsors Page 36
