Lady Strathnaver won the cake.
18th December 1933
To Hamley’s with Rory. Flora was obliged to go to a birthday party for one of the Belchester children, but Rory picked out a hand puppet he believes she’ll like: a pig. He didn’t know what to suggest for Ulick, so I bought him a banjo. He has no interest in music, so it may be the very instrument for him.
Something from the Cusson’s range for Doopie and for Padmore. They’re both fond of scented bath salts and dusting powder, but there’s no sense in going overboard. No one ever smells them. I noted which model battleship Rory most admired and sent Kettle back to purchase it while we went to the Star Grill for sausages and creamed potatoes.
He said, “I wish you were coming to our house at Christmas, like last year.”
I said, “Well there’ll be other Christmases. I’m going to the Tyrolean mountains with my friend Wally.”
He said, “I know. Mummy said The Wally is a climber.”
He got a good report card, except for geometry and gymnastics. I told him, math can be a puzzle to the best of brains, especially geometry, which is of no use to anyone, and gymnastics don’t matter, either. They’re an optional extra, like playing the violin or speaking French.
He said, “Oh, but I’ll need geometry when I go into the Navy, so I can navigate. And I have to be able to climb up a rope. Uncle Salty told me.”
Such nonsense. They have people to do the navigating for you, and I’ve been on many a boat and never seen any rope-climbing. There are staircases.
To the Cocoanut Grove. Came: Wally, Ernest, and the Prince, Zita and Bernie, Hattie and Judson.
19th December 1933
Drinks and Christmas caroling at the American compound. Benny Thaw says the news from Connie and Thelma about their sister Gloria isn’t encouraging. Reggie Vanderbilt having drunk himself into an early grave and Gloria being so busy in Europe, it seemed like a sensible arrangement for Gloria Junior to stay with Reggie’s sister Ger for a while. She has a garden and space for a pony, and nothing much to occupy her time. But Ger Whitney was only ever meant to be borrowing the child. Now she refuses to give her back, and they’re worried her lawyers have something up their sleeves. As Benny says, it’s all too easy for a misconstruction to be placed on a person living in Paris. He says the Prince of Wales is pining for Thelma. Well, he seemed cheerful enough last night.
Dinner at the Crosbies. Came: Anne and Billy Belchester, Benny and Connie Thaw, and young Lord Birkenhead. Everyone is agreed that Mr. Hitler is quite a phenomenon. He’s pulled Germany out of its depression, and now has the whole nation behind him.
Freddie said, “What Hitler needs now is a nice English wife, to remind him who his friends are. Or an American. How about you, Maybell? Shall we send you on a special mission to woo Mr. H?”
I don’t think so. Politics can be such a dangerous business, and anyway, they say he’s very keen on women having babies.
Tomorrow to Paris, Thursday to Lily’s.
23rd December 1933, Schloss Pfaffenhof, Bavaria
Lily’s schloss is a real miniature castle, and much better arranged than Drumcanna. At Lily’s, the help sleep in the turrets and the guests sleep in proper suites. Snow but blue skies. Dear Prince Louis Ferdinand is here with his mother, Crown Princess Cecilie. Ernest bows to her every time he sees her, but I’m sure it isn’t necessary. Strictly speaking, she’s in the same category as Ena Spain: dispensed with as a royalty and dispensed with as a wife.
Arriving tonight, a couple from Milwaukee, the Gunters, and Baron and Baroness Rothschild.
24th December 1933
Christmas shopping in Innsbruck with Kitty Rothschild and Wally. Wally was drooling over the displays of crystal, but I bought scarves for all the girls and pocket silks for all the boys. Afterwards, to Café Katzung, where we sat in a snug little booth and thawed out with hot chocolate and whipped cream.
There’s to be a Tyrolean ball on Friday, and Lily has persuaded us all to buy jacquard evening dirndls. Not my idea of a flattering garment, but no one can accuse me of not entering into the spirit of an occasion. Wally says I suit the look because I’m zaftig, which I certainly am not. Indeed, it’s a rather juvenile fashion best suited to someone with no bosom, Wally being a perfect example.
The Gunters are tedious. They travel with photographs of their dogs and pass them around at every opportunity. The Rothschilds are nice, easygoing. Eugene kisses one’s hand, just like Philip Sassoon. I suppose it’s because they both have French blood mingled with the Oriental. Kitty is sporty-looking and plain-spoken in that refreshing American way. I don’t think Wally likes her.
26th December 1933
Slipped on freezing snow on Christmas morning and am bruised black-and-blue.
Lily’s doctor says there’s nothing to do but rest. Of course, couch-bound one is easy prey for bores. Mrs. Gunter taxed me for a full hour with her own medical history.
27th December 1933
Everyone has gone to the casino in Garmisch, except for Cecilie Hohenzollern, who went to bed early, and Ernest, who has insisted on keeping me company. I think the truth is he prefers not to see Wally gambling. Ernest isn’t a risk-taker, while according to Ethel Croker, when Wally sits at a table, she becomes a demon.
He roasted chestnuts and grew sentimental on pear schnapps.
He said, “I like nothing better than a cozy fireside. I’m afraid I hold Wally back sometimes. She has so much energy.”
The only respect in which he holds Wally back is money but, of course, I couldn’t say so.
I said, “Yes, she was always a live wire.”
He said, “I have no complaints, you understand. Wally’s drawn us into illustrious circles, and I’m very grateful to her. We don’t broadcast it, but His Royal Highness has become quite one of the family. It’s more than I could ever have dreamed of.”
I got him talking about his people. English grandparents on his father’s side, American on his mother’s. He and his sister grew up in New York. They’re not close. The business he’s in now was started by his father, ship brokerage.
His first wife suffered from nerves. He said, “Our splitting up was nothing to do with Wally, you know. Dorie and I were on the brink of divorce anyway.”
She took the child and went back to her family in Massachusetts.
He said, “I have a daughter, nearly ten. I hope someday to be a father to her again. Have her to visit. She’d like London.”
I bet Wally hasn’t been asked about that. I can’t see her trailing around the zoological gardens with a child.
30th December 1933
Too sore to dance, but I made the effort and attended the Tyrolean ball. Actually, not so much a ball as a raucous evening of peasant-like simplicity. Enormous steins of beer, heaped platters of sausage, and an oompah band. But fun.
Lily, Wally, and Kitty polkaed all the men under the table.
The Gunters have moved on to another party, in Salzburg. As they were leaving, she said, “If ever you find yourself in Wisconsin, Maybell.”
I hardly think so.
1st January 1934
Last evening we listened to Dr. Goebbels on the wireless. Lily translated. It was a very uplifting speech about how much has changed in Germany in one year. Despair and civil unrest have been replaced by optimism and stability, and the Bolshevik specter has been laid to rest. We all drank to that. My own private little wish is for a quiet year to come. Too much busyness is bad for the nerves.
8th January 1934, Wilton Place
To the Victoria Palace Theatre with Rory, Flora, Lightfoot, and Doopie, to see a children’s show called Goody Two Shoes. We all joined in the singing and shouting and had great fun. Doopie’s eyes never left the stage. I don’t suppose she made much sense of what was going on, but she enjoyed herself in her own little way. Her life is so sadly narrow.
Wally is talking about going to Paris to order gowns. Ernest doesn’t have that kind of money.
I
said, “Can you really afford to?”
She said, “The question is, Maybell, how can I afford not to? This is going to be our year. David’s promised to get us presented to the King and Queen, and I’m not going to do that wearing something from Derry and Toms.”
I said, “But what about your divorces?”
She said, “David says they’re irrelevant because they were in America. They only count if they happen here.”
I must tell Violet.
10th January 1934
An emergency at Carlton Gardens. Flora climbed out of the nursery window onto a little roof rather than be sent back to St. Audrey’s. She had on her topcoat and mittens, and took a bottle of milk and Pigster puppet, so it was all planned. The hook-and-ladder men were called out, but it was Lightfoot who persuaded her to climb back through the window. He promised he’d help find her another school, where she’d be happy, and she promised to do her lessons at home every day and try a new school when they find somewhere suitable.
All very well, but in the meanwhile, she’s falling further and further behind with her math. Lightfoot said, “Mathematics doesn’t concern me. She’ll catch up. She’s perfectly bright. Doesn’t miss a trick. But she doesn’t have any friends. That’s what school’s about. And, of course, she didn’t make any friends at St. Audrey’s, because she was only there for six weeks, which isn’t long enough for anybody to take to an odd little soul like Flora. I don’t know. It was too awful. Doopie was crying, Violet was shouting at Melhuish, Melhuish was screaming at the firemen, as though they were on a parade ground. She could have fallen and been killed.”
I said, “I’ll go and visit.”
He said, “I wouldn’t. Not yet. She’s both in disgrace and being treasured like Lazarus back from the dead. It’s a very strange atmosphere. I’d wait if I were you, till Violet returns to her committees and the normal chaos prevails.”
11th January 1934
Benny Thaw was right: Connie and Thelma’s sister does indeed have a battle on her hands. Gloria has been accused of washing her feet in champagne. Well, there’s a hanging offense! Gertrude Whitney’s argument is that the child is better off on Long Island with a nurse and regular hours than she is in Paris with a lively, popular mother, and, of course, the judge is sure to see things her way. The unnatural Nada Milford Haven’s name has been whispered, which can never help anyone’s cause. I shall never forget how her eyes lingered over my décolleté at Bryanston Court. Anyway, the whole business about the little girl is a terrible worry to them, and Wally says Gloria stands to lose thousands per month in child support. Meanwhile, HRH is deprived of Thelma’s company and doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. I suppose courtiers direct him in every particular of his official life, but when it comes to a spare hour or two, he has no idea how to fill it. That’s why he allows Wally to monopolize him so.
12th January 1934
Called at Carlton Gardens. Flora has a chill, caught sitting out on rooftops in January. She said, “I wore my muvvler, Aunt Bayba, and so did Pigster. We were higher than the trees. It isn’t hard. I can show you one day.”
Doopie said, “You will nod. You gibben me nidemares.”
Trotman says a man is coming to fit bars tomorrow.
16th January 1934
A bad start to the week. Ernest has put his foot down over Paris gowns, even though he and Wally are invited to the Duchess of Westminster’s ball. For some unaccountable reason, I am not.
He said, “Women of much greater means manage to dress without spending that kind of money. Look at Maybell.”
Wally said, “I aim higher than Maybell.”
I agree with Ernest. Elegance is wasted here, and Paris gowns are not the way to endear yourself to London.
18th January 1934
Wally has asked to borrow Pips’s sapphire bracelet.
Pips said, “It was such a sob story. Ernest’s imposed such a cruel budget it sounds as though she’ll be going to the Westminsters in rags.”
Of course, Pips was never as close to Wally as I was. She didn’t see how she struggled to have any kind of Season. Her uncle kept her on pins till the very last moment, about whether he’d loan her a car and a driver. She could never take anything for granted, as we could.
I said, “She just wants to shine.”
Pips said, “And she will, in my sapphires. But honestly, what a fuss. I’ll bet old Ernest had no idea he was marrying such a princess.”
20th January 1934
Wally is getting a “Paris gown” without going to Paris. Ida Coote’s little woman in South Kensington is making her a copy of a Vionnet gown. Sepia silk velvet with a halter neck, which saves her borrowing a necklace and will look very well with Connie Thaw’s pageant tiara. If my shoulders were as beefy as Wally’s, I believe I’d keep them covered, but she’s satisfied, and Ernest is satisfied, so who am I to interfere.
She said, “What a pity the Westminsters didn’t invite you. We could have shared a car.” If that was a hint about my Bentley, I allowed it to pass unheeded.
More snow.
24th January 1934
The Germans have executed the Bolshevik who set fire to their Parliament. Mr. Hitler is certainly showing the world he’ll stand for no nonsense. I think Brumby would have very much approved.
I’m going to give an impromptu dinner, but only for people who have topics of conversation other than balls.
3rd February 1934
If Loelia Westminster’s ball was half as successful as my little dinner, she must be a happy woman this morning. Came: Bernie and Zita Cavett, Marthe Bibesco, Benny Thaw, and Ida Coote. Marthe said I should have invited the Stanley Baldwins. She said, “To create a salon is not so hard, Maybell. All you have to do is recognize nobodies who will one day be somebodies.” She said she always wished she’d thought to cultivate Ramsay MacDonald while he was an undesirable, because since he’s been Prime Minister, no one can get him.
My gamble on Ida paid off. Everyone enjoyed her reminiscences of Ancient Egypt, and Bernie confessed that for years he’s been convinced he was formerly a Roman centurion on Hadrian’s Wall.
6th February 1934
Sir Philip hasn’t forgotten me, after all. I am invited to Trent to see the snowdrops.
He said, “Name your day, Maybell. One word from me, and they’ll pop up their heads.”
8th February 1934
A “little talk” from Violet. Why don’t I find myself some useful work instead of lunching with drones every day? She can put me in touch with many worthy organizations. I defended myself. I’m sure I make more decisions over one lunch than her committees do after hours of discussion. And none of my friends drones. Well, Ida does, a bit.
12th February 1934
Philip’s snowdrops had indeed popped up their heads. He manages to have his gardens worth touring when everyone else’s are nothing but wet leaves and frozen earth. I thought he looked fatigued, but he dashed around, showing me his latest acquisitions. A scarlet-and-silver japanned mirror, an antique pole lantern from Venice, and a new pair of king penguins for the lake. He said he’s been feeling too cross for parties.
I asked him what he thinks of Mr. Hitler. “Rrrraving,” he said.
14th February 1934
Valentine flowers from a secret admirer. They are cellophane-wrapped, so must not be from Philip Sassoon. I fear I detect the clumsy hand of Randolph Putnam.
18th February 1934
The King of the Belgians is dead. We didn’t know him.
19th February 1934
At last! I am invited to Fort Belvedere. The Prince of Wales bids me for weekend of March 9th. Pips and Freddie are also invited, but that in no way diminishes the thrill. In fact, it will be fun to have someone to confer with about gowns.
Wally says she arranged it, but she can only arrange what she knows to be the Prince’s wishes.
Violet tried to make light of my invitation. All she said was, “The ninth? Oh, we’ll be at Royal Lodge
with Bertie and Elizabeth the very same weekend.”
I sense there must have been a big falling-out between Melhuish and the Prince. As young men, they went everywhere together, but now they never see one another.
Lunch with George Lightfoot. He says with Melhuish and the Prince, it’s been more a drifting apart than a rupture. He said, “Wales still loves to do new things and meet new people, especially Americans, whereas Melhuish has become rather set in his ways. But Melhuish is loyalty itself, you know? If Wales asked for him, he’d be there like a shot.”
23rd February 1934
To the Ham Bone Club with Wally, Ernest, HRH, and the Erlangers. A rather knowing little pansy sang at the piano. Wally and the Prince laughed loudly, but I can’t say I found him so amusing. Gladys Trilling is expecting again. Poor Whitlow.
26th February 1934
Wally recommends knitted sweater suits for daywear at the Fort. I just nodded politely. They may flatter a mannish figure like hers, but they do nothing for us real women. I happen to know she’s asked to borrow Hattie Erlanger’s amethysts.
Gone With the Windsors Page 15