by Karen Harper
I HAVE BEEN content these many years since Chad and Johnnie died, I told myself as I strolled the Sandringham grounds alone after David’s chauffeur drove him away. After I left service, Mabel and I ran a boardinghouse in Slough, and later we traveled the world. We both put a bit of money into Rose’s tailoring shop in Piccadilly, for she never became the designer she longed to be. I still enjoyed her company from time to time. Margaretta went back to Ireland but never quite recovered from her losses and died early. I warrant that I could have done that too, but I was too stubborn and built of sterner stuff.
I see my siblings in London, and I’ve coddled their children and grandchildren. I live near Mabel in the grace-and-favor flats Bertie arranged for when he was king. He used to visit too, so Sandringham no longer makes me sad, only sentimental. I often rehearse for myself memories of my little brood. Johnnie’s happiness and Chad’s love gave me the strength to do that.
But I never forgave David for giving up the throne when his father died. And I never forgave him for one more thing: shortly after Johnnie died, David wrote his mother that his youngest brother had not been much more than an animal and it was a blessing he died. Rose had told me that the queen had sent her son a scathing letter, forcing him to apologize.
Queen Mary never told me that, although the two of us corresponded and occasionally saw each other here. I believe she was a better grandmother than she was a mother, for Bertie’s daughter, Queen Elizabeth, treasured her so. Queen Mary has been gone now for eleven years, and I do miss her. One Christmas at the Big House, Queen Elizabeth told me she did too.
And now that David has just visited me in my old age, I feel softer toward him, but I still need this walk on the grounds today. How many more times will I be able to do so? And, still, everywhere I look, I see Johnnie, Chad, the others—and my younger self.
I visited Chad’s grave today and then walked to Johnnie’s. I put one of the roses David brought me on my boy’s grave, then went on, past the Big House where the queen and her family still celebrate their Christmases. I like her immensely, because she reminds me of Bertie with her kind eyes and kinder heart. She knows her duty as did the Saxe-Coburg-Gothas, the Yorks, the Waleses, and the Windsors—all but David—before her.
How proud I was of Bertie, picking up the pieces of David’s derelict duty to his country. Bertie married a fine woman and found a way to stop his stuttering, though the few of us who knew his struggles noticed that he carefully paused before attacking a sentence.
Princess Mary, Countess of Harewood through her marriage, was named Princess Royal in 1932 by her father. Harry, Duke of Gloucester, did well for himself and served as regent for the young Princess Elizabeth until she was of age, lest Bertie die early. My dear Prince George, Duke of Kent, married Princess Marina of Greece and Denmark and had three lovely children, while Mary and Harry each had but one. Sadly, George died in the Second World War at age thirty-nine in a military aircraft, which crashed in Scotland. He had been a proud RAF captain. It is the way, I consoled myself, he would have chosen to die.
How I mourned Queen Alexandra when she passed away here in the Big House in 1925 at age eighty. David once called her wonky, and I knew her thoughts often went astray, but, good gracious, so do mine at times . . . back to that first day I stepped off the railway car on the Wolferton platform and there was Chad waiting for me, and now I wait to see him again. Pictures of him flying a kite with my dear Johnnie or pointing out a bird in flight, even throwing a net over me and knocking me to the ground where I too shall sleep someday . . .
But now I see someone coming toward me on the path near the village, a young woman with a baby in her arms. It is as if I am seeing myself, young and eager and happy again, but I recognize who it is. Our dear Penny was wed here years ago and moved to King’s Lynn seven miles away. I’ve helped tend her four children, but she’s a new grandmother now, and dare I hope . . .
“Lala, there you are! I had to show you my first grandchild, and can you guess his name?” she said as we hugged with the baby between us.
“Oh, he’s just lovely. Is he to be called Chad?” I asked, blinking back tears. “They don’t dare call him Chadwick the fourth because your father didn’t like that name. Too pompous.”
“Yes, meet just plain Chad Johnson,” she told me. “Isn’t he perfect? Someone said they’d seen you walk this way, so let’s go back to your flat and you can give him one of your famous cuddles. Once a nanny, always a nanny, even a royal one.”
“Yes,” I told her, smiling down at the new little one. “Yes, indeed.”
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Meet Karen Harper
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Author’s Note
Reading Group Discussion Questions
About the author
Meet Karen Harper
NEW YORK TIMES and USA Today bestselling author KAREN HARPER is a former university (Ohio State) and high school English teacher. Published since 1982, she writes contemporary suspense and historical novels about real British women. Two of her recent Tudor-era books were bestsellers in the UK and Russia. A rabid Anglophile, she likes nothing more than to research her novels on site in the British Isles. Harper won the Mary Higgins Clark Award for Dark Angel, and her novel Shattered Secrets was judged one of the Best Books of 2014 by Suspense Magazine. The author and her husband divide their time between Ohio and Florida.
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About the book
Author’s Note
I HAVE BEEN INTRIGUED by Britain’s royals since I was ten and had a British pen pal who used to send me magazine photos of England’s “young queen,” Elizabeth II, who, of course, recently had her sixty-years-on-the-throne Diamond Jubilee, as did her great-great-great-grandmother Queen Victoria in this story. Over the years I have enjoyed such great BBC series as Upstairs Downstairs and Downton Abbey, but it is my many trips to England that set me on the path to write about the Saxe-Coburg-Gothas, who changed their last name to Windsor. During my most recent visit, for a meeting of the Historical Novel Society, I toured Buckingham Palace and researched at the Victoria and Albert Museum for this novel: the places do help to reveal the people.
Not only did the late Victorian, Edwardian, and World War I eras teem with fascinating people and worldwide upheaval, but I have always been astounded by the fact that, among the British upper classes, parents seldom tended or reared their own children, the future of their nation and their once great empire. As we know today, those early formative years in children’s lives can make or break them.
Women who tended young children were first called nurses, but that term slowly changed to nannies to differentiate them from medical nurses. (In earlier years, they did much of the nursing of babies and toddlers.) In my research, I came across numerous examples of these Victorian and Edwardian servant women who had far-reaching impact on great people and so on history. This could be a tragedy—as it was with the true case of David and Bertie’s terrible nanny, Mrs. Peters—or a blessing, as with Charlotte Bill.
Besides “Lala,” another great example of a supportive nanny is the one who reared another famous person. The first five years of Winston Churchill’s life were totally impacted by his nurse, Mrs. Everest, who was his constant companion while his parents were busy elsewhere. Churchill visited and supported her financially for years, was with her when she died, and when he died years later, the only photo he had next to his bed was of her.
Another incident illustrates the fact that servants reared noble and royal children: Mrs. Sly, a nurse employed by Queen Victoria, once fell ill on a trip and, despite a retinue of nursery maids, maids of honor, and servants, Queen Victoria and two of her ladies found that, by accident, they were in charge of two royal children, both under age three, in a railway carriage for a journey of several hours. The women had no clue how to entertain or cont
rol them. The children ran around, broke things, yelled, and would not settle down. “The Queen became irritated, then furious, finally exhausted, despairing and helpless” (The Rise and Fall of the British Nanny by Jonathan Gathorne-Hardy).
Since I have written several Tudor-era historical novels, I must mention that it is not unusual for earlier royals to see that their nannies were well taken care of in old age. Both Henry V and the notorious Henry VIII supported their nannies for years. Although I have no doubt the British monarchs loved their children, they were often absent and distracted parents. Royal librarian Owen Morshead once told British diplomat and politician Harold Nicolson: “The House of Hanover, like ducks, produce bad parents . . . they trample on their young” (Edward VIII, A Biography by Philip Ziegler). From that book also, the royal private secretary Alec Harding is reported as observing, “Why George V, who was such a kind man, was such a brute to his children [is unknown].”
Although it is obvious that Prince William and Duchess Catherine are excellent caregivers of Prince George and their new daughter, Princess Charlotte, I noted that they originally planned to have no nanny—then realized they certainly needed one with their firstborn. William’s own nanny, Jessica Webb, helped out briefly. When she retired, at age seventy-one, they hired Maria Borrallo, whom the press has nicknamed “Supernanny” for her martial arts and defensive car driving skills. That’s a far cry from just hiding a royal child behind one’s skirts in a potentially dangerous situation.
Helene Bricka’s quote about the inequality of the classes in Britain at this time comes from a letter she wrote. I have tried to stay true to the characters in the novel who actually lived, which includes the royals and nobles of that day. Bits and pieces are recorded about Charlotte Bill, and there are several fine photographs of her, all but two with her royal charges. Still, this novel is what Alex Hailey, the author of Roots, appropriately dubbed “faction.” It is based on factual research but has fictional dialogue, situations, and some characters that would fit the facts. I did not put President Theodore Roosevelt in the story simply to name-drop. It is recorded that the former president met Johnnie and was greatly amused by him.
Chad Reaver is an amalgamation of two men on the estate, the village schoolteacher and the gamekeeper, both of whom King George admired. Being a romantic, I would love to have written a happier ending for Lala and Chad, but that would be tampering with her life story too much. Yet I could not resist giving her loyalty and a love life beyond her young charges. Chad’s daughter Penny, although she is fictional, represents a young girl who was often Johnnie’s companion on the estate during his Wood Farm years.
During the era of this novel, little was known about epilepsy (the actual treatments, as described here, were brutal) and nothing about autism, which is of such interest today. Johnnie was definitely epileptic, but I believe what they called “different” and “strange” meant he was autistic also, probably a child with Asperger’s syndrome, although it is wrong to diagnose him from such a distance even if he fits that general pattern.
Some who knew Charlotte Bill wrote her nickname as Lalla with two l’s, but I chose to use the shorter spelling that others have used also. Lala was a minor character in the 2002 BBC production The Lost Prince, which told Johnnie’s story from his point of view. I could only locate that on videotape but I intentionally did not watch it because I did not want to be swayed by the casting or the actors’ portrayals. I did, however, read the screenplay by Stephen Poliakoff. His foreword gives an excellent overall view of the characters and their tumultuous times.
For those interested in the tragic story of the Romanovs, there is a YouTube feature called The End of the Romanovs. Be sure to have plenty of tissues when you watch it, but these were sad times.
The letters David sent Lala were just one example of his naive, indecorous correspondence to women. His letters to Freda Dudley Ward and especially to his first flame, the French courtesan Marguerite Alibert, have come to light. Marguerite, who was later accused in England of murdering her husband, threatened Prince Edward (David in this story) with blackmail and exposure. Special Branch was involved to collect the letters and keep Marguerite quiet (see The Woman Before Wallis: Prince Edward, the Parisian Courtesan, and the Perfect Murder by Andrew Rose).
I was amazed how Lala’s story touched huge events and personalities. She intimately observed not only the royal family of Britain but such movers and shakers as Kaiser Wilhelm and Tsar Nicholas and his family. I love the little details of Victorian/Edwardian life, including the actual collection Queen Alexandra (and Queen Mary) had of agate animals. Take a look at them, many from the Sandringham House collection, at http://www.pinterest.com/fslewis1faberge-animals/.
Sandringham has several places of interest on the large estate. Sandringham House, of course, is where the royal family still celebrates Christmas. Today, York Cottage serves as offices for the estate. Wood Farm is still intact and occasionally inhabited: The Duke of Edinburgh has used it during shooting weekends. The younger royals have had private parties there. Divorced spouses of royals such as Sarah, Duchess of York, are sometimes housed at Wood Farm during the holidays so they can be near the royal children without staying at the Big House. Diana, Princess of Wales, was born at Park House on the estate. And although it played no part in this story, it’s interesting to note that a future king and queen have property on the estate: The ten-room Georgian mansion Anmer Hall was given to Prince William for his thirtieth birthday so he and Duchess Catherine could have a Sandringham retreat. It must be a great getaway spot for a growing family, since it has a tennis court and swimming pool.
Please visit my website (www.Karen HarperAuthor.com) and my facebook page (www.facebook.com/KarenHarper Author) where I will be posting pictures of Lala and the royal children and the Sandringham Estate, and, of course, of Johnnie.
Special thanks, as ever, to my husband, Don, for putting up with an obsessed Anglophile and for proofreading my manuscripts, and to Dr. Roy Manning for advice on inherent dangers in birthing practices.
Besides the books mentioned earlier, others that I relied on for this story include: Sandringham Days: The Domestic Life of the Royal Family in Norfolk, 1862–1952 by John Matson; Matriarch by Anne Edwards; The Real Life of Downton Abbey by Jacky Hyams; Pocket Guide to Edwardian England by Evangeline Holland; Upstairs & Downstairs: The Illustrated Guide to the Real World of Downton Abbey by Sarah Warwick; Four Sisters: The Lost Lives of the Romanov Grand Duchesses by Helen Rappaport; Epilepsy, Hysteria, and Neurasthenia, Their Causes, Symptoms & Treatment by Isaac George Briggs (1892); World War I, The Definitive Visual History, ed. Richard Overy; The Century by Peter Jennings and Todd Brewster; Sunrise and Stormclouds, ed. Roger Morgan; A King’s Story by Edward VIII, Duke of Windsor; A Family Album by Edward VIII, Duke of Windsor; King Edward VIII by Philip Ziegler; Edward the Uncrowned King by Christopher Hibbert; The Rise and Fall of the Victorian Servant by Pamela Horn; and A Spoonful of Sugar: A Nanny’s Story by Brenda Ashford.
On-site and on-line research also helped fill in the gaps, including a well-made documentary on Johnnie’s life available on YouTube called Prince John, The Windsors’ Tragic Secret, which includes many photos and Johnnie’s “Nanny, I love you.—Johnnie” note to Lala, who died, unwed, at the age of eighty-nine in 1964.
—Karen Harper
Reading Group Discussion Questions
1.Do you think it is true that “The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world”? If so, why did the upper-class ethic during the Victorian and Edwardian eras allow servant women to rear their young children? And what sort of people did this practice produce? How has that thinking changed over the years to now?
2.Really, what is the definition of “motherhood”? Is it strictly biological or is it more?
3.A study of the royal Yorks/Windsors reveals a lot about the relationships of fathers to their children. It’s obvious that the dynamic between Prince Albert, later King Edward VII, and his son George, later King Ge
orge V, was dysfunctional. Can you read between the lines to say why? And how would you assess the relationships of George, Duke of York, to his six children?
4.Likewise, the royal marriages of Edward/Alexandra and George/May have unique arrangements. Is this just because “the royals and very rich are different,” is it the result of arranged marriages, or is it just a product of a stricter, different time? Have you seen modern marriages with similar problems?
5.David, later king and Duke of Windsor, is a fascinating study, a man who gave up the throne for “the woman he loved,” a twice-divorced American who pretty much wore the pants in their marriage. Do David’s early years with the strict and cruel nanny really explain this, or is his family to blame also for his later lack of duty?
6.Many of us saw the movie The King’s Speech. Does this book throw more light on why Bertie stuttered and had a bad digestive system? Yet where did he find the strength to rule and take the British nation through the trials of World War II?
7.Perhaps the Yorks/Windsors coped with Johnnie as best they could for that era—or did they? Autism was not known, and epilepsy was feared. Did they handle their youngest child well? Did Lala?
8.As a reader, what do you think of historical novels that are what Alex Hailey, author of Roots, dubbed “faction”—that is, well-researched books that have fictional scenes and dialogue and some invented characters? Does faction work in a way a straight history book would not?