Gone With the Windsors

by Laurie Graham

  2nd March 1934

  I have decided on a vine as my weekend gift to HRH. I know he’s an avid gardener. The Crosbies are going to drive down with me on Friday afternoon. Boss and Ethel Croker are going to take Sunninghills again for Ascot week.

  6th March 1934

  Saw Benny Thaw at the Belchesters’ cocktail party. The court case has been heard, and Ger Whitney has been granted custody of Gloria’s child. He said it was a lost cause once they called the child’s nurse to the stand, because she embroidered all kinds of exaggerations about Gloria’s way of life. Drink, men, women. All very hard cheese for Gloria, because she’ll now have to adjust to a lowered income. The good news is that Thelma and Connie will soon be on their way home. This weekend’s party may turn out to be the last one Wally’s asked to organize.

  9th March 1934, Fort Belvedere

  The Fort is a sweet little turreted house, convenient for Windsor town. A sort of miniature castle in the suburbs. Not at all grim and brooding like Drumcanna. It looked enchanting as we approached, lights streaming from the windows, liveried footmen waiting like statues on the gravel, and then HRH himself came out to the car to greet us. I am in bedroom No. 3, with a view of the swimming pool. Pink sheets, pink drapes, even pink soap, in a wonderful American bathroom with a wonderful American shower. There’s every sign that when he becomes king, the Prince will do much to improve this country.

  Also here: Fruity and Baba Metcalfe, Lord Templemore, and the Humphrey Butlers. He occasionally equerries for Prince George.

  HRH is delighted with his vine. He asked me whether I cared for gardening.

  I said “Sir, I adore gardening. At Sweet Air, I employed ten men.”

  He said, “Maybell, you must call me David.”

  I wonder whether Violet’s ears caught that up at Royal Lodge.

  Wore my beaded celadon to dinner. Pips was in biscuit satin, Poots Butler in lilac, Wally in black taffeta and diamonds borrowed from Pips. Excessive, I thought. The Fort isn’t grand, and we were very informal. HRH himself carved the roast lamb and then, after the savory, he entertained us on the bagpipes. No withdrawing. Just lots of jolly chatter around the table and then dancing to gramophone records in the Octagon Room.

  10th March 1934

  By the time I came down this morning, HRH had organized a working party, and the men were all hacking at old shrubs, clearing an area he visualizes as a new rock garden. It was most amusing to see Freddie Crosbie armed with a machete. David and Fruity in ancient tweeds, having the greatest fun with billhooks. Ernest in a brand-new sweater, pecking at undergrowth as though it might peck back. He’s not an outdoors person.

  Wally and Poots Butler went to the kitchen and made club sandwiches for lunch. Baba Metcalfe says the chef and the majordomo were beside themselves, but HRH does love Wally’s club sandwiches, so they daren’t complain.

  Tonight, I wore my peacock shantung. Wally was in forest green, with Hattie Erlanger’s amethysts. Baba Metcalfe wears practically no jewels at all. Prince George joined us for dinner, and afterwards we played Assassin, spoiled for me by Ernest, who accused me of extraneous winking. As I explained, I have a slight chill in my tear gland. “Then you should disqualify yourself from playing,” he said. “The rules of the game are clear.”

  He can be a puffed-up little know-all for a man who allows his wife to wear borrowed jewels.

  HRH received a telephone call just before midnight. Thelma, from New York. She sails on Monday. Pips said, “There’ll be rejoicing below stairs. No more club sandwiches. No more corn being popped at all hours. And as soon as the Bremen docks, Wally’ll be back in the chorus line.”

  11th March 1934

  There has been a turn of affairs. Wally and HRH were missing for nearly two hours this afternoon. Heavy rain was falling, so we knew they couldn’t be inspecting the gardens. Ernest was asleep in an armchair, making annoying little whiffling noises, so he couldn’t be questioned. Then Fruity found out that they’d taken a car and gone up to the Castle. Baba said, “I hope they haven’t dropped in at Royal Lodge. The Yorks would have a fit.”

  People were just going up to dress when they reappeared, all jollity and dripping umbrellas. They’d been to a church service. Evensong in St. George’s Chapel. Well! I can understand that the Prince feels an obligation to do these things. Someday he’ll be king, and so must set an example to the lower classes. But Wally? She was enthusing about the spiritual uplift of the music, which was all embarrassing enough, but then she completely overstepped the mark.

  She said, “Oh, look how muddy my shoes are. David, take them off for me, would you?” and HRH got down on his knees and undid her laces.

  Fruity and Ernest both studied the floor, and the majordomo turned quite white.

  Pips came along to my room the minute she was dressed.

  She said, “There goes Wally’s career as royal apple-polisher. Enjoy the evening, Maybell. I don’t think any of us will be coming back in a hurry.”

  But HRH was all lightness and gaiety at dinner, and so was Wally.

  Poots Butler says she may be forgiven a first offense, but someone should have a word with her before she goofs again. Well, it’s not going to be me.

  Anyway, perhaps princes get sick of people bowing and scraping.

  14th March 1934, Wilton Place

  Calls from Anne Belchester and Daphne Frith, who had it from Hattie that there’d been an incident at the Fort, with Wally screaming at the Prince of Wales to lick her boots. Hattie says she’s only repeating what she heard at the hairdresser’s.

  15th March 1934

  To the Dorch with Penelope Blythe. She says it’s common knowledge in Cadogan Square that Wally was wrongly accused of trampling mud onto a priceless rug and Ernest, incensed, had demanded an apology from the Prince of Wales. How Wally must be enjoying all this.

  16th March 1934

  Treated Wally to Claridge’s. She says Thelma has a rude shock awaiting her when she returns to London. While crossing the Atlantic, she’s been accepting bouquets and playing shuffleboard with a certain Prince Aly Khan, and that word has reached the HRH.

  I said, “How do you know? They must still be at sea.”

  “I’m not at liberty to say” was all I could get out of her.

  19th March 1934

  Penelope Blythe says Aly Khan is a swarthy-skinned prince whom women find irresistible. She says Wally must have the information from HRH himself. She says he probably has spies watching Thelma’s every move. Pips thinks he probably does, but she doesn’t believe Wally can be party to such sensitive secrets. Also, according to the Times, he’s in Ayrshire at a Boy Scout Jamboree, so even if his snoops are keeping him au courant with events in the middle of the Atlantic, Wally has no way of hearing about it. I think she’s just making the whole thing up.

  20th March 1934

  Dinner at Carlton Gardens. The Boddie-Fultons and the Salty Lairds. I happened to have bumped into Fiona Boddie-Fulton only this morning, when I was in Cramphorne Doggit with Wally, looking at silver epergnes. She said, “Did you find something to your liking?”

  I said, “It wasn’t for me. It was for my friend.”

  Violet said, “Not Minnehaha? An epergne?”

  Hoots of laughter from Elspeth Laird. She said, “How very ostentatious! Violet, didn’t you tell me that this person lives in Paddington?”

  I hold no brief to defend Wally Simpson, but it seems to me any home would be improved by an epergne.

  23rd March 1934

  Drama at Bryanston Court. Wally and I had just started tea when Thelma Furness was announced and came in looking most distressed. She said she’d seen the Prince three times since her return from America, and he’d been noticeably cool toward her and now he won’t even say what he’s doing for the weekend.

  Wally said, “He’s going to Oliver Templemore’s.”

  Thelma said, “Then why didn’t he say? Has something happened while I’ve been gone? Has he found someone new?”
<
br />   If it had been left to me, I’d have told her about those shipboard stories that have reached the Prince’s ears, but Wally gave me one of her looks and cut right across me.

  She said, “I’m sure you’re imagining things. David’s been lost without you. He’s been throwing himself more into his work. He’s looking into the question of Glaswegian slums at present. I expect he’s just distracted.”

  Thelma said, “Slums never distracted him before.”

  I heard the telephone ring. Wally chatted on, about the Westminsters’ ball and our Christmas in the Tyrol. No one touched the shortcake triangles. It was as if we were all waiting for some next thing to happen.

  The new maid came in, and Wally tore her off such a strip. She said “I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed.”

  She said, “I know that’s what you said, madam, but it’s the Prince of Wales again and he’s most insistent.”

  Wally didn’t say a word. She just got up, left the room, and closed the door behind her. Thelma was leaning back in the chair with her eyes closed.

  She said, “You knew. Wally’s stolen him.”

  I said, “That’s nonsense. Now tell me honestly, did you have a little adventure on the voyage home?”

  She never did answer that. All she kept saying was, “I trusted her and she’s stolen him.”

  I said, “On the contrary. There are some who think Wally may have worn out her welcome. She’s been quite impertinent at times, and she’s upset the kitchen staff at the Fort, scrambling eggs for David at all hours.”

  She said, “I didn’t know he liked scrambled eggs.”

  It was a difficult moment.

  I said, “How was New York?”

  “Cold,” she said, “and full of traitors. Just like here.”

  She’s no great conversationalist. We sat in silence, waiting for Wally to reappear. I was about to ring for more hot water when the maid came in.

  She said, “Madam makes her apologies. She’s had to go out directly.”

  I said, “Where to?”

  “Oh, to York House, madam,” she said. “The Prince sent a car for her and she doesn’t expect to be back for dinner. Will I fetch your coats?”

  By the time I returned from powdering my nose, poor Thelma was gone. I went straight to the Crosbies, but Pips had already left for the constituency, and Hattie Erlanger was on her way to a sister in Gloucestershire. Friday afternoon is the worst possible time for sharing a bombshell. I had no choice but to take it to Violet, and all she said was, “Maybell! Pas devant les enfants!”

  Flora dancing around the drawing room, singing, “I know what that means. I know what that means.”

  24th March 1934

  I’ve gone over and over yesterday’s events and can make no sense of them. Called Bryanston Court at nine and was told that Mr. and Mrs. Simpson had left for Lincolnshire and will be gone till Monday.

  25th March 1933

  Benny Thaw called me. Connie has taken Thelma, most distraught, up to Leicestershire. Did I know anything? I told him what I’d heard about Mr. Aly Khan and the daily deliveries of roses to Thelma’s stateroom. He said he didn’t believe a word of it. All I can say is, before a girl starts playing shuffleboard with playboys, she had better think of the consequences.

  He said, “Look, Maybell, I have to ask you. Have Wales and Wally become lovers?”

  Benny can be such a dope. Thelma getting dropped in favor of scraggy old Wally! I said, “The idea’s too crazy for words. How can you even suggest it?”

  He said, “Because I remember how Wally operates. I know she’s no beauty, but she acts sassy and takes the lead, and I have a feeling Wales is just the type to fall for it.”

  He’s wrong, I’m sure, and Lightfoot agrees with me, though I thought he went on unnecessarily about Thelma’s perfect skin and the dark smolder of her eyes.

  I said, “If you’re so taken with her, why don’t you hie yourself up to Leicestershire. She may be back on the open market.”

  “Oh, Maybell!” he said. “Really!”

  26th March 1934

  Finally got through to Wally. She said, “We were at the Perry Brownlows. I know I told you we were going.”

  I said, “Well?”

  “Well what?” she said.

  I said, “Don’t play games with me, Wally. Suddenly you’re at the Prince’s beck and call, suddenly you have cars being sent for you.”

  She said, “We’re all at his beck and call, Maybell. That’s what makes him a prince. He just wanted to talk about public housing.”

  Public housing! I said, “Thelma thinks you’ve betrayed her.”

  She said, “Well, Thelma has to realize men can tire of even the prettiest of faces. There are times when they prefer the company of a woman with a well-formed mind.”

  She and Ernest are invited to Fort Belvedere again for the weekend, so that’s one in the eye for Baba Metcalfe. After the shoe incident, she was predicting years of ice-cold exclusion.

  Lunched with Pips. She said, “Well, well! So now the question is, how long has David Wales been playing in Ernest’s toy box?”

  I said, “But Ernest always goes with her to the Fort.”

  She said, “So what? Ernest’s a ten-o’clock man. He’ll be too far gone in sleep to hear the boing of royal bedsprings.”

  It’s unthinkable.

  27th March 1934

  George Lightfoot spoke with Perry Brownlow, who definitely has the impression Wally has moved into a position of special importance to the Prince. As Lightfoot put it, “She’s promoted Queen Bee, and Thelma Furness is reduced to the ranks.”

  He buys Wally’s line about the appeal of a lively mind. He said, “She’s unusual. Not particularly original perhaps, but Brownlow says she remembers useful things and recycles them very cleverly. Wales is always impressed by that kind of thing, having absolutely nothing going on inside his own head.”

  Hattie Erlanger says there’s nothing unusual about a married woman being asked to act as chatelaine for a public figure who has no consort. She said, “Thelma was too retiring. I always thought so. But I don’t understand why HRH had to choose another colonial. It’s just too galling.”

  Gladys Trilling is suddenly very warm toward Wally. She’s thinking of asking her to be godmother to the unborn child. Judson says we’d all better start being especially nice to Wally. I think I’ve always been especially nice to Wally.

  29th March 1934

  Took Rory and Flora to Fortman’s Soda Fountain for ice cream sundaes. As we walked in, Wally was just leaving with an overrouged little woman in a fox stole. “Can’t stop,” she said. “Emerald’s taking me to meet a new dressmaker.”

  Lady Cunard. Flora was open-mouthed. She kept asking, “But how did she get her hair so jellow?” With the help of a color-blind hairdresser, one can only suppose.

  Rory was more interested in The Wally, as he calls her, having heard her mocked and slandered in his mother’s drawing room. He said, “Mummy says she’s a dangerous person we don’t want to know. She doesn’t look very dangerous.”

  I said, “She’s not. I just don’t think Mummy ever liked Wally very much, even when we were girls, and now she’s cross because the Prince of Wales goes to Wally’s house and he doesn’t come to yours.”

  He said, “Oh, but we don’t want him, too. Ulick says he’s jolly unsound.”

  31st March 1934, Hoxney Court, Kent

  Apart from the Crosbies, a dull group at the Prosper Friths, but I’m not sorry to get away from all that silly London jabbering about Wally. Daphne Frith hasn’t even mentioned the subject. Lord and Lady Halifax are here, and Alex and Nellie Hardinge, so we’re all seriousness and propriety. Pips says Hoxney Court is a place where men sleep with their wives and all’s well with the world, but that may change tonight, when Penelope Blythe arrives.

  2nd April 1934

  Now even here the talk is of Wally. Penelope Blythe was the one to break the silence, and then Mrs. Hardinge couldn’t wait
to tell us that Ambassador von Hoesch has been placed in an impossible position by this new friendship. HRH had asked the Ambassador to put on a little dinner for him at the German Embassy, and now he’s demanding that Wally be added to the invitation list, which, according to Nellie Hardinge, who is a walking encyclopedia of protocol, is absolutely not done.

  She said, “Royal Highnesses do not parade other men’s wives at official dinners.”

  I don’t see the problem myself. Wally’s good value at anyone’s table.

  Lady Halifax said she’d leave the room if there was any more talk about Wales and his dreadful friends. Daphne Frith covered with embarrassment. She said, “I’m sure Dorothy didn’t mean you.” I don’t care if she did. Dorothy Halifax is one of those Englishwomen who say “dreadful” rather than utter the word “American.”

  Edward Halifax has only one hand. I suppose that eliminates golf.

  3rd April 1934, Wilton Place

  The Crokers have arrived for their season. Pips and I are having lunch with Ethel tomorrow. Pips has chosen a brand-new eatery in Beauchamp Place. Ethel hadn’t heard the gossip about Wally and HRH. She said, “Are you kidding me? The Prince of Wales? Holy smoke! I mean, she always knew how to get men. But the actual actual Prince of Wales. Wait till Boss hears about this! And poor Ernest. It’s not just his wife he’s lost. What about those royal weekends he’s so proud of?”