This morning, they left without even saying good-bye. I suppose he’s had to hurry on with his tour of working conditions. Next stop, Monte Carlo. A prince’s work is never done.
17th August 1933
Barbara Hutton is in town, honeymooning with her Russian prince. She’s throwing a little cocktail party on Saturday and has invited all of us on the basis of Judson’s connections with her aunt Jessie Woolworth.
Pips said, “What a sad sack. Imagine inviting a bunch of strangers round when you’re on your honeymoon.”
It depends on the length of the honeymoon. When a husband is in business, as Brumby was, he gets back into harness before boredom sets in, but I suppose all Prince Mdivani has to do is count Barbara’s money. Anyway, it’s nice to meet new people, even on a honeymoon.
19th August 1933
The Hutton party was pleasant enough. We went over by motor launch and arrived in a thunderstorm. The sky was dull orange, and the Grand Canal looked rather as though it were coming to the boil. Barbara looked so young, so bewildered. I think she was grateful to those of us who braved the weather. Gladys wore a print day dress and no jewelry. Hattie with a run in her stockings and a sad little topaz brooch. These English girls!
The skies had cleared completely by the time we came home. We bumped back across the lagoon at quite a clip. The Lido lights looked like a diamond bracelet strung out.
Tuesday, to San Remo. It will be a relief to be around someone like Zita Cavett, someone else who has a sense of elegance. The Trillings are going straight back to London, and Freddie is going to Ireland to fish with Lord Templemore, so there’ll be just me, Pips, Hattie, and Judson.
23rd August 1933, San Remo
The Cavetts’ villa is heavenly. Corn lilies everywhere, and wild thyme and basil, and the sea is midnight blue. Zita and Pips went for a swim in the buff.
Another couple are arriving tomorrow. Kath and Herman Rogers, Americans, but they’ve made their home in France. And why not? If Randolph Putnam could see me now, relaxing beneath a fig tree, sipping a glass of pretty pink wine, he’d realize there’ll be no luring me back to Baltimore.
25th August 1933
Herman and Kath Rogers are not only great company, they also know Wally Simpson, or perhaps knew is the word. They were in Peking in ’24. Herman was attached to the U.S. Embassy. Kath said, “I’ll say we knew her. We practically adopted her. Actually, I knew her slightly from San Diego, before I married Herm. But then she turned up in Peking, no husband, no chaperone, and it was such a dangerous time. Fighting in the streets, foreigners being kidnapped, and Wally was wandering around, like a kid at Luna Park. She didn’t seem to have any sense of danger. In the end, we persuaded her to move in with us, inside the Legation compound.”
I can see Kath taking someone under her wing like that. There’s something motherly about her, and she quite towers over Wally. I find her rather jolly.
She and Herman didn’t know about Ernest. They haven’t heard from Wally since she went back to the States.
Kath said, “I’m so glad she met someone. I hope he’s nice. She was a mess when we knew her. Please tell her all the best from us.”
Hattie said, “What I want to know is, did she really learn ‘secret Chinese arts’?”
Pips said, “Yes, she did. The secret art of never picking up the check.”
27th August 1933
The Rogerses left this morning. They have a house near Cannes, which Herman says “makes up with charm what it lacks in amenities,” and they hope to see me there someday. I offered Kath Wally’s London number, but she said she wasn’t sure she wanted to get involved again. Apparently, after Wally moved in with them, she developed a crush on Herman. Well, he is a very attractive man. Yale, Phi Beta Kappa, but with muscles and a wicked smile.
Kath said, “I always felt with Wally it wasn’t that she particularly wanted Herman or any of the other men she went after. She just seemed to want to prove she could get them.”
I said, “Did she go after lots of men?”
“Several,” she said. “I shouldn’t gossip like this. Please don’t tell her. She was young. She made a few mistakes.”
I said, “One of our English friends has got it into her head that Wally’s really a man. Can you imagine?”
Kath laughed. She said, “I don’t think so. I remember at least two Italians she was involved with. I don’t think they’d settle for a fake, do you?”
I can’t wait to tell Gladys.
4th September 1933, Wilton Place
Flora was to have started at St. Audrey’s this week, but has the chicken pox. Tomorrow to Fuller’s with Rory. A boy needs a cream meringue to set him up for a new school year.
5th September 1933
I have all the Drumcanna news from Rory. Prince George came to tea and, more importantly for Rory, so did the head gillie’s daughter, little Ellen MacNab.
Their Majesties were disappointed the Prince of Wales spent so little time at Balmoral. Flora caught her first fish. And Ailsa Anstruther-Brodie had a mishap and discharged her gun into George Lightfoot’s shooting butt. No wonder I haven’t heard from George. Apparently, Ulick has announced that when the moor belongs to him, he won’t allow girls to shoot.
But the great scandale centers on Penelope Blythe, though Rory told it with such innocence.
He said, “Lord Habberley got confused in the dark and went into Mrs. Blythe’s bedroom by mistake and kicked her potty and broke it. Mummy was furious because of the mess, but the maids thought it was jolly funny. I suggested to Lord Habberley that he could have my old night-light and then he wouldn’t get confused anymore.”
Penelope Blythe and Ralph Habberley! Well! I can’t say I’m surprised about Ralph. I remember how stimulated he was by our tango sessions last August, and, of course, Jane Habberley has no allure. But for him to choose Penelope! Well, in my absence, she was the best of a dreary crowd, I guess.
6th September 1933
George Lightfoot says Ailsa Anstruther-Brodie didn’t make a very good effort at killing him, but would only laugh when I asked him about Ralph Habberley and Penelope Blythe. He said, “When I go to bed, I go to sleep, Maybell. I don’t lie awake waiting for the sound of breaking potties.”
I think I’d better have lunch with Penelope.
He says Tommy Minskip has lost a few more spots off his dice.
We both received, in this morning’s post, invitations from Ida Coote to a lecture on Reincarnation, and from Sir Philip to a charity ball at Park Lane, both on September 20th. Lightfoot says this affords us the opportunity to go from the ridiculous to the sublime all in one evening, though how he expects me to attend a lecture and have time to dress for a ball I can’t imagine.
8th September 1933
Wally is back and filling up her schedule like a demon. She was in the chair next to mine at Monsieur Jules.
She said, “I need you to get Philip Sassoon to invite us to his ball.”
I said, “He doesn’t know you.”
She said, “What rot. It’s a charity ball. Does he want to raise money for this pet hospital of his or not?”
Well, I’m not asking. Philip is my friend. How would she feel if I elbowed my way into Fort Belvedere? Besides, what use can she be to a raiser of funds? She doesn’t have a nickel.
I said, “I met some old friends of yours. Herman and Kath Rogers? They asked to be remembered to you.”
“Oh yes?” she said. “Are they still together? I wonder he didn’t tire of her long ago.”
I said, “They seem devoted. I liked them both very much. And he’s so good-looking.”
“Is he?” she said. “That’s not my recollection.”
I guess he turned her down. How humiliating.
I said, “And while we’re on the subject of China, what’s this I hear about secret bedroom arts?”
The girls who were doing us were all ears.
She said, “We weren’t on the subject of China. And there’s only o
ne bedroom art a woman needs. The art of keeping her husband otherwise occupied.”
Of course, Ernest always brings home business papers.
11th September 1933
Lunch with Penelope Blythe. She says Ralph Habberley was just one of those things. More questions about Wally and her “secret power over men.” Hattie Erlanger and Gladys Trilling have evidently been gossiping. It’s too ridiculous.
I said, “If Wally acquired secret powers and the best she could do with them was seduce Ernest Simpson, she’d better go back and take the class again.”
She said, “Oh, I don’t know. I think Ernest is rather a darling.”
Well, Penelope has already established her want of discrimination by allowing Ralph Habberley to enter her room and kick her potty.
13th September 1933
Wally called to thank me for getting her an invitation to the Sassoon ball.
I said, “I didn’t. I haven’t spoken to him since I got back from Italy.”
“Oh Maybell!” she said. “Well, thank you anyway, for fixing it by telepathy!”
Lightfoot. It has to be.
14th September 1933
Lightfoot it was. He asked Sybil Chumley, unaccountably spelled Cholmondeley, if it was possible the Simpsons invitation had gone astray in the mails. I do wish he hadn’t.
I said, “If Philip’s invalids in Clacton-on-Sea have to rely on the benefaction of Ernest and Wally, they’ll be in a poor way.”
He said, “Oh, what does it matter? Wally’s happy, and I’m sure Philip Sassoon couldn’t care less. Syb says Wales and Prince George may look in.”
So that’s what it’s about.
To Shriner’s for evening pumps. A pair of peep-toes in gold pleated leather and a pair in silver satin with a rhinestone button on the ankle strap. Gorgeous.
15th September 1933
Lunch with Ida, who has learned that she was formerly a princess in 18th Dynasty Egypt. With the Friths to a reception at the Austrian Legation, then on to dinner at the Belchesters. Also came: the Dickie Mountbattens, the Perry Brownlows, and Anne Belchester’s brother, Seb.
Game soup, boiled capon, mushroom savory. I was longing to leave, and the men sat for far too long. I feel a chill coming on.
17th September 1933
All day in bed and still feverish.
18th September 1933
No improvement. Canceled Wally. Canceled Monsieur Jules. All these days without eating, my ball gown is going to look even more divine.
19th September 1933
Chicken pox.
29th September 1933
Back from the grave’s edge. I’m as weak as a kitten and must be at least ten pounds lighter. Padmore has been an angel. Darling Philip sent grapes from Lympne and a Jasmin de Coree pillow spray. Lightfoot says neither of the Princes put in an appearance at the ball. Violet brought an egg custard and books, which I made her take away again. I’m too frail to turn a page. Doopie has shingles.
30th September 1933
When Wally visits a sickbed, she certainly doesn’t outstay her welcome. She stayed only long enough to tell me what a fabulous ball I missed. Dancing to a band from the Pig Ankle Club, shepherd’s pie served by flunkeys in powdered wigs, and raffle prizes from Cartier—Ernest won gold sock-suspenders. Thank you so much for sparing me no details, Wally. Also, that Philip Sassoon is going to invite her to Trent to show her his collection of porringers. And she promised that in the next few days I may learn something to my advantage.
She said, “Now do buck up, Maybell. It’s time we shopped for gloves.”
2nd October 1933
Wally has produced the promised rabbit from the hat. I’m invited to Thelma Furness’s for the weekend of the 13th. She said, “I can’t guarantee that His Royal Highness will be there, but there’s a very good chance.”
Well anyway, I do like Thelma.
3rd October 1933
Monsieur Jules couldn’t do a thing with my hair. He says it’s the fever. I may go to The Cedars to recuperate.
8th October 1933
Violet said, “If you’re going to a convalescent home, you might think of taking Doopie with you. She’s still far from well.”
I said, “It’s not a convalescent home. It’s a rest cure, with beauty treatments. There’s nothing for Doopie there.”
She said, “Why not? She enjoys a little lip rouge.”
I said, “Okay, let her come. But I’m going with Wally and Lady Furness and her sister.”
That was the end of that.
She said, “I do wish you wouldn’t. Associating with those people may cost you the friendship of others, who are more worthy.”
I said, “Surely, what’s good enough for the Prince of Wales is good enough for Violet Melhuish?”
“Don’t test me, Maybell,” she said. “The Prince of Wales may think he can afford scandal, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us should follow him like a herd of swine.”
Poor Violet. She just doesn’t know Thelma and the Prince as I do.
Two years today since Brumby passed over. May he rest in peace.
9th October 1933, The Cedars, Hertfordshire
Connie Thaw and I have been wrapped in steaming hay all afternoon and I certainly feel the better for it. Connie told me that Thelma didn’t at all set out to seduce the Prince. It was he who pursued her, and he was seeing Freda Dudley Ward at the time, so it was all rather awkward. When it was clear how smitten the Prince was, Mrs. Dudley Ward offered to retire gracefully, but her children were terribly upset, because they’d grown very fond of the Prince and regarded him as a special kind of uncle.
Connie said, “There’s only one reason David still keeps in touch with Freda Dudley Ward. Thelma insisted on it, for the sake of the children. She never monopolizes him, you know. You must have noticed. Thelma has a big heart.”
She does. I think she’d make a very good Queen.
11th October 1933
Wally says Thelma has the very latest cartoon movies at Borough Court.
She said, “But I hope you’re preparing conversational topics, Maybell. You don’t always pull your weight, I’ve noticed.”
The ginger of it!
I said, “And what kind of conversational topics do you recommend for Leicestershire?”
“Range widely,” she said. “Be unexpected. Gertrude Stein, perhaps. Or Ulysses. Those are lively topics.”
The names meant nothing to me or to Pips. I shall make World Affairs my subject.
Connie and Benny Thaw will be there, also Poots and Humphrey Butlers and the Perry Brownlows.
13th October 1933, Melton Mowbray, Leicestershire
Wet leaves blown against the window panes, but Burrough Court is warm and has every modern convenience. The Prince is staying nearby, at Craven Lodge, but motored over for dinner with an equerry called Oxer Bettenbrooke. Wore my oyster silk. Much talk about Germany leaving the League of Nations. I made a knowledgeable showing, though I do say so myself. Humphrey Butler agrees with me that the Germans simply feel they’ve been punished quite enough. The war has been over for fifteen years and all they’re doing is standing up for themselves a little.
Brownlow said, “Well, I wonder whether Mr. Hitler’s motives are quite as peaceable as he promises.”
But as HRH reminded us, sometimes you have to prepare for war in order to keep the peace.
He said, “If there’s another showdown, it’ll be against the Communists, and if it comes to it, we’d better align ourselves with the Germans, because no one else seems willing to take on the Red Menace. Except possibly Mussolini.”
Poots Butler said, “I don’t know. Mr. Hitler. Mr. Mussolini. Mr. Stalin. Dictators seem to be all the rage.”
Ernest, who has another carbuncle, which is making him feverish and disagreeable, said, “Yes, who knows, maybe we’ll get one in England before long.”
There was a deathly silence until Thelma picked up the gayer subject of Mediterranean cruises. Wally gave Erne
st a look to chill the blood.
We adjourned to watch Mickey Mouse cartoons, but Wally went straight up to bed. Not really comme il faut when royalties are present, but she pleaded a headache, brought on I’m sure by Ernest’s gaffe. As Oxer Bettenbrooke pointed out, it was tantamount to treason. Ernest hurried away to the billiard room with Benny Thaw.
14th October 1933
The Perry Brownlows, Humphrey Butler, the Prince, and Oxer B are out, engaged in something called cubbing. It’s to get the hunting dogs fit for the season and give the fox cubs foretaste of the need to run. I drove with Thelma and her little boy to watch the hunt meet at Kneilthorpe House. Hounds milling everywhere and horses rearing and frisking. Lady Merrick, who looks like a washerwoman, was shouting orders, and her sister, just as ruddy-cheeked, was thundering around with trays of something made from brandy and lemons and hot sugar water. A stirrup cup, delicious even for those of us not in the saddle. Thelma says there’s an interesting American sister-in-law, one of the mustard Minkels, but all we saw of her was her dog, trotting up and down the terrace with a little Hermès scarf around his neck.
Gone With the Windsors Page 13