The Shadow Queen

by Rebecca Dean

  It was an impetuosity for which she was paying the price. She had, as her Uncle Sol had remarkably refrained from saying, made her bed and now she had no choice but to lie in it.

  Win’s first words to her when they were together again were, “I’ve been detailed to take charge of a detachment of aviators training at March Field in Riverside. It’s still California, so there’s no sense in you uprooting yourself from here.”

  It was the longest sentence he’d said to her for months. Through the open door leading into their bedroom she saw that his case was already packed.

  She leaned against the doorjamb, dizzy with relief at the prospect of having the house to herself; of being able to live in it free from fear.

  He swung on his heel, striding into the bedroom, snatching up his suitcase.

  “Don’t think just because I’m not here keeping an eye on you that I won’t know if you start getting up to tricks with anyone,” he said viciously as he walked back toward her. “You start fooling around and I’ll know about it the second after it’s happened.”

  She hadn’t the slightest intention of fooling around with anyone, but she didn’t say so. She couldn’t. Her throat was too tight for her to speak.

  Without a kiss good-bye or a word of affection he slammed out of the house.

  Silence enfolded her like a warm embrace. She had no idea how long he was going to be away, but she knew one thing. Every minute they were apart was a minute she was going to treasure.

  Within days, her always full social life picked up speed.

  “Don’t sound so surprised by it,” Corinne said, deeply amused. “Win isn’t comfortable company for anyone anymore. People would much rather have you at their dinner parties without Win than with him.”

  “Is that why Rhoda and Marianna Fullam never went out of their way to be overfriendly to me, and are now inviting me to accompany them to nearly every event they attend?”

  Rhoda and Marianna were the daughters of Rear Admiral Fullam, and the set they moved in was very high-flying. Thanks to them, Wallis now found herself attending polo matches at Del Monte and beach parties in La Jolla and had even, via Rhoda, met and had her photograph taken with Charlie Chaplin at the del Coronado.

  “Rhoda and Marianna absolutely adore you, Skinny, but for them, Win is a fly in the ointment. You can’t blame them. No one wants to socialize with someone who is always in a black mood and who drinks not to have a good time but to get seriously drunk.”

  It was the Fullam sisters who early the following year first leaked the news to her that Britain’s Prince Edward was scheduled to spend a full day in San Diego while en route to Australia aboard the battle cruiser HMS Renown.

  The news was so cataclysmic, Wallis was terrified it was nothing but wild speculation. Corinne silenced her fears.

  “No, Skinny. It’s true and the news will be made public before the end of the week. The governor and the mayor will head the welcoming party, and they’ll be accompanied by dozens of local and military officials.”

  “Will Henry be one of them?”

  “I certainly hope so. I don’t think wives will be included in the welcoming party, though. Our turn to be presented will come later. There’s bound to be a grand ball so that the very maximum number of people will be able to get a close-up view of him.”

  Over the next few weeks, more and more details were made public of the plans being made. There was to be an official Navy luncheon aboard the battleship New Mexico. This piece of news sent Wallis’s heart racing. Throughout the latter part of the war Win had been in command of San Diego’s North Island air station. Surely that meant he would be recalled from March Field in order to attend the luncheon aboard the New Mexico? And surely it meant she, too, would be presented to the prince?

  With Win no longer around to take exception at her doing so, she got out all her old pinup photographs of Prince Edward and propped them up on her dressing table. What would he be like in the flesh? Would he be just as heart-stoppingly handsome? Would he be the embodiment of all her romantic daydreams?

  Corinne passed on any news she received from Henry almost the instant she heard it.

  “The prince will arrive here on April seventh and will be accompanied by his cousin, Lord Louis Mountbatten,” she said to Wallis over the telephone. “After he has been officially welcomed and has had lunch, there will be receptions aboard the Aroostook and HMS Renown, followed by a grand parade through the city streets that will culminate in the stadium, where it is expected he will give a speech. In the evening there is to be a Mayoral Ball at the Hotel del Coronado, followed by a banquet. An invitation for Win and yourself will be with you any day, so get shopping for the most splendid evening gown you can find!”

  Splendid evening gowns were in short supply in San Diego, and so she took the train to Los Angeles, returning with a pearl-embroidered gown of turquoise slipper satin that sheathed her greyhound-slim body like a sheet of ice. With it she would wear high-buttoned white satin gloves, white satin shoes, and, around her throat, a choker of pearls that had belonged to her grandmother.

  In an agony of suspense she waited for the official invitation card to arrive. When it did, it was an invitation to the Mayoral Ball only, and there was no mention of the banquet that was to follow the ball.

  “You’ll receive a separate invitation to the banquet,” Corinne said to her reassuringly. “Henry and I have already received ours, and so have the Raineys.”

  Win made a terse telephone call informing her he would be arriving in San Diego on the morning of the seventh. That he wasn’t arriving in the city until the actual day of Prince Edward’s visit was a clear indication to her that he hadn’t been invited to the luncheon aboard the New Mexico.

  She didn’t need to wonder why. That his drinking was finally beginning to ruin his career was something too starkly obvious.

  Another day went by without the invitation to the banquet arriving.

  Then another day went by.

  “Win and I are not going to be invited to the banquet,” she said at last to Corinne, her voice bleak. “I guess Win’s certainty that he’s being sidetracked is just all too true.”

  Corinne, who as well as having been invited to the Mayoral Ball and the banquet had also been invited to accompany Henry to the luncheon aboard the New Mexico, said awkwardly, “I’m sorry, Skinny. There’s nothing I can do. The invitations aren’t something Henry has any control over.”

  “I know that, Corinne.” Wallis managed a smile, determined not to let her mortification at not being invited to the banquet show. She would pretend that not being included among the crème de la crème didn’t matter to her. To behave any differently would only draw extra attention to her and Win’s exclusion.

  As the day of the prince’s visit drew nearer, she was seized by a single, overpowering anxiety. What if Win drank too much at the Mayoral Ball? In showing himself up, he would show her up, too. If Win became visibly unsteady on his feet, he would be forcibly escorted from the ballroom—and she would have to leave with him.

  The prospect of such humiliation kept her awake at night. She also lay awake wondering how she could arrange to be presented to Prince Edward at the ball. There would never be another opportunity for such a thing to happen. The evening of April 7 was going to be a once-in-a-lifetime occasion.

  She stared up at the ceiling, wondering if Rear Admiral Fullam might be in a position to introduce her to the prince. She would speak to Rhoda and Marianna and ask them to have a word with their father.

  And whatever else happened, the minute Win stepped through the door on the morning of San Diego’s big day, she was going to have to keep him away from his bottles of gin. This was one occasion in his life when he simply could not be seen to be inebriated in public.

  The first words he said as he came in through the door were, “It’s all a huge fuss over nothing. Who cares if a British prince stays overnight in San Diego? What has he ever done in life but be born with a silver spoon in
his mouth? It’s bullshit and I’m not having any part of it.”

  Wallis sucked in a deep, steadying breath. For a man of Win’s rank, attending the Mayoral Ball wasn’t something that was a matter of choice. If he didn’t go, his absence would be noted and would be another black mark against him.

  With great difficulty she forced lighthearted gaiety into her voice. “You can’t miss the biggest event San Diego has ever had, Win. There are going to be over a thousand people there, many of them coming from as far away as San Francisco.”

  “More fool them.” He shrugged himself out of his jacket and ripped off his tie. “This country is a republic. Fawning over royalty sticks in my craw.”

  Her stomach muscles began tightening in painful knots. If she persisted in trying to persuade him differently, he would lose his temper completely and she would then run the risk of finding herself trussed up like a chicken, with no way of freeing herself.

  With her mind racing she tried to think of her best plan of action.

  “We’ve had an emergency at March Field and I’ve had no proper sleep for twenty-four hours,” he said, striding away from her in the direction of the bedroom. “Don’t wake me. Especially don’t wake me in order for us to go to the del Coronado.”

  The bedroom door slammed shut after him.

  Slowly she let the breath ease from her body.

  Win might feel very differently about going to the del Coronado when he woke, but it wasn’t something she could depend on. Her best plan of action was to now make alternative arrangements for getting herself there. She would beg a lift from Corinne and Henry. Arriving with the commander of the Air Detachment, Pacific Fleet, would put her in an excellent position when it came to contriving an introduction to the Prince of Wales.

  When it came time for her to dress for the ball she entered the bedroom on tiptoe, no longer eager for Win to wake. Going to the ball without him would be far preferable than going to it with him. By deciding that the ball in Prince Edward’s honor was “bullshit” and that he wasn’t going to attend it, he had unintentionally done her the biggest possible favor.

  Hardly daring to breathe, she carried her evening gown, gloves, shoes, and jewelry out of the room and dressed in the sitting room.

  When the Mustins’ car drew up outside the house, she didn’t wait for anyone to knock on the door. She simply opened it and closed it behind her as quietly as a burglar leaving the scene of a crime.

  “Skinny, you look sensational,” Corinne said as Henry’s driver opened the rear passenger-side door for Wallis and she slid into the car next to her. “I’ve told Henry that Win will be joining us later.” She squeezed Wallis’s hand tightly to indicate that this was the story she had given Henry and that it was a story Wallis should stick to. “Wouldn’t it be just swell if Prince Edward fell in love with an American girl tonight? Can you imagine it? An American future queen of England? Wouldn’t it just be the most sensational thing you could possibly imagine?”

  As the car sped off in the direction of the Hotel del Coronado, Wallis was immediately reminded of Pamela and of the way Pamela had daydreamed for years of winning Prince Edward’s heart and of becoming the Princess of Wales and, one day, queen.

  As she looked out of the car window at the dusky light now clouding the sky, turning the water of San Diego’s magnificent bay from blue into deep indigo, she wondered what Pamela’s relationship with the prince now was. Edith’s latest letters hadn’t mentioned her. They had been too full of the fact that she was now finally engaged.

  “Let me tell you how splendid the lunch was aboard the New Mexico,” Corinne said as the twinkling lights of the Hotel del Coronado came into view. “Prince Edward was charm personified. He went out of his way to speak to every single person who was there. I dipped the curtsey I’d been practicing ever since we received our invitation and he smiled right at me. He’s unbelievably handsome, Skinny. Every inch a fairy-tale Prince Charming.”

  As they neared the creamy white Victorian chocolate-box confection that was the hotel, it seemed to Wallis that it, too, had come from the pages of a child’s fairy story. The rose-tinted roofs of its turrets and cupolas were a deep wine red against the smoky light of the early evening sky. Its sea of verandahs had gingerbread trims that were straight out of something by Hans Christian Anderson. It was the perfect venue in which to meet a prince who would one day rule an empire.

  She had been to the del Coronado many times but never on an occasion so splendid. Chandeliers blazed with light. Jewels glittered on evening gowns so fabulous they made Wallis’s mouth water. Dress uniforms sported magnificent displays of medals. Wallis had never before seen so many gold stars. In the ballroom the orchestra was playing Irving Berlin’s “A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody,” and when Fidelia Rainey’s husband asked her if she would like to dance, she accepted unhesitatingly.

  Several dances—and several partners—later, she caught sight of Rhoda Fullam. Rhoda, resplendent in purple taffeta, weaved a way toward her.

  “What time is Prince Edward due to arrive, Rhoda?” she asked.

  “Nine. Isn’t this just too magical for words? Papa is hoping very much that the prince will dance both with me and with Marianna.”

  Wallis caught her breath. The prospect of actually dancing with Prince Edward hadn’t even occurred to her. All she was struggling to do was to be presented to him.

  “For some reason Win’s name and mine haven’t been included on the official presentation list,” she said, trying to sound as if it were an oversight that could have happened to anyone. “I wondered if your father could have a word with whoever is in charge of the presentations? Win isn’t here, as yet, and may not be able to get here, but I would hate to miss out on such an opportunity just because of a silly error.”

  Rhoda’s eyebrows pulled together. “But why would there have been such an error, Wallis? I don’t think Papa could do as you ask, because I’m sure the names of everyone who is to be presented were submitted and approved weeks ago.”

  Wallis was sure they had been as well, but she wasn’t going to let such a detail stand in her way.

  “Please, Rhoda. A word from your father to whoever is in charge of presentations would do the trick, I’m sure of it.”

  As they were talking, Rear Admiral Fullam was standing only a few yards away from them, and with a slightly irritated shrug of her shoulders, Rhoda walked over to him. Wallis, not wanting to look too pathetically eager to hear what the result of Rhoda’s request was going to be, moved away.

  She didn’t move too far away, though. She didn’t want Rhoda to be unable to find her again.

  Suddenly a ripple of tension ran through the ballroom.

  “He’s here!” The whisper ran from mouth to mouth like wildfire. “The prince has arrived!”

  There was such a crush in the vast room that Wallis didn’t see his entrance. As she stood on tiptoe, straining for a glimpse of him, Rhoda squeezed a way toward her, saying, when she reached her, “My father obviously has a soft spot for you, Wallis. He says he’ll make sure you’re included in the list of those to be presented.”

  With great difficulty Wallis resisted the urge to punch the air in glee. Instead she said warmly, “That’s swell, Rhoda. It’s a favor I won’t forget.”

  The band, which had stopped playing as Prince Edward had entered the room, picked up their instruments again and began a foxtrot. As people again took to the dance floor, their necks craning in their efforts to keep the prince in their line of sight, Wallis saw him in the flesh for the first time.

  It was a moment she was never to forget.

  Though he was twenty-six years old, he looked younger. There was a boyishness about him that made it hard to believe he had spent the four nightmare years of the Great War as an army officer, always seeking to be where the greatest danger was. Everything else about him was just as his photographs had led her to believe, and as the people who had met him had described.

  He wasn’t very tall. His cou
sin, Lord Louis Mountbatten, who had accompanied him into the room and was standing beside him, was far taller and, being broad-shouldered, far more imposing.

  But he didn’t have Prince Edward’s charisma, nor did he remind her of medieval drawings of St. George, about to slay the dragon.

  Physically he was the absolute, utter antithesis of Win. His masculinity had nothing bullishly threatening or aggressive about it. It was impossible to imagine him giving vent to senseless rages or coarse, offensive behavior. As she watched him in conversation with Governor Stephens and Rear Admiral Fullam, she noticed how he gave each man his full, undivided attention, even though she was quite sure he was impatient to take to the dance floor.

  She drew as near to where he was standing as she possibly could, watching with a fast-beating heart as senior officers and their wives began to be invited to step forward to be presented to him.

  He spoke a few words to each person he shook hands with. Every one of them received a smile of immense charm.

  Among the long line of those being singled out to be presented was Fidelia Rainey and her husband. Then it was Marianna Fullam’s turn to dip a deep royal curtsey.

  Wallis dragged her eyes away from the prince and toward Rear Admiral Fullam, willing him to look in her direction.

  He did so, giving her an infinitesimal nod of the head to indicate that she should join the next group of naval wives waiting to be presented.

  Wallis drew in a deep steadying breath.

  As she did so, Corinne came up behind her like a whirlwind, seizing hold of her arm.

  “Come with me now!” she hissed, her face bloodless. “Win is here and about to create a scene that will ruin his career in five seconds flat!”

  “I can’t, Corinne,” she hissed back. “Rear Admiral Fullam has arranged for me to presented to the prince. I have to join the next group and—”