1st January 1935
A new year, a new copybook.
Last night to the Florida Club. George Lightfoot wrapped his silk scarf around his head and looked into his crystal cuff-link. His predictions: Ralph Habberley will turn up in Borneo with a lost memory, and Jane will forgive all. Whitlow and Gladys will produce another red-faced daughter. The Hohenzollerns will rediscover a princess they had mislaid in a turret room, and HRH will become engaged to her on the eve of Their Majesties Silver Jubilee. Ernest will become Baron Simpson of Bryanston.
5th January 1935
To the Drury Lane Theatre with Lightfoot, Rory, Doopie and Flora to see Dick Whittington.
An impromptu invitation from Philip Sassoon. Park Lane, for tea. I said, “I thought I’d become a persona ingrata.”
He said, “What nonsense! I want you to see my new rrrococo paneling.”
6th January 1935
I’m one up on Wally. I have been presented to HM the Queen.
She suddenly materialized at Philip Sassoon’s and asked Violet to bring me to her.
Violet said, “Just make a short curtsy. It’s only four o’clock. And wait for her to speak first.”
She was in gray shot silk, sitting on a long, blue couch. It struck me that she looked rather like one of those round-prowed barges at anchor.
I believe, she said, “They have the very best raspberries at Drumcanna,” but her voice was too quiet for me to be sure. I simply smiled and inclined my head in an attitude of compliance, and it all went off smoothly. Violet was very happy.
She said, “Isn’t she marvelous? So gracious. Twenty-five years and she’s never made a false step, Maybell. You see how fortunate this country is.”
Philip’s new paneling looked very well. It had been brought all the way from Austria, as had the chocolate cake.
9th January 1935
Gave Wally lunch. Her number-one aim this year is to make a big splash at the Silver Jubilee. We’re going to Paris on our way to Kitzbuhel so she can order gowns.
I said, “Can you afford it?”
She said, “I don’t need to afford it. I’m a favored customer, Maybell. No one here had heard of Main Bocher till I wore him. Now he’s the talk of London. Everything will be on the house.”
Emerald Cunard stopped by our table, wearing an excessive amount of rouge, I thought, considering it was only one-thirty. She’d just had a vexing morning with her telephone out of order and the Postmaster General unable to do anything about it because he’s shooting at the Perry Brownlows. She made a great fuss of Wally but practically ignored me. I did admire her hat, however. A natty little faux fur pillbox with a half-veil.
Drinks at the Prosper Friths. Much talk about brilliant speeches Tom Mosley has been making around the country. The Communists hate him, of course, and have been doing everything they can to disrupt his meetings, but he now has his own trusty band of stewards with smart black shirts, just like Mr. Mussolini’s men. According to Daphne Frith, Mosley is completely bereft by the death of Cimmie, but Baba Metcalfe is going to exceptional lengths to comfort him in his widowhood. She has moved into his bed. Well, he is very dashing. Tall and distinguished, like Fruity, with the added spice of a bad leg and a gallant war story.
But I do hope Baba isn’t creating some kind of precedent for sisters-in-law. Melhuish always had a soft spot for me, but it would be too awful if Violet went early to her reward and he expected me to warm his sheets.
12th January 1935
Randolph Putnam keeps trying to tie me down to a date for the closing, but I have no idea when we’ll be back from Kitzbuhel.
I said, “This is a royal skiing party, not a railroad company. We don’t go by timetables.”
He said, “Doesn’t Prince Wales have work to do?”
I said, “Traveling the world and being seen is a prince’s work. My lawyer will wire yours as soon as I’m available to sign the papers.”
He said, “You just better hope Junior doesn’t have me murdered while you’re gone. That wife of his keeps calling your tenants. If ever she gets her hands on a door key, you’ll never get the place back, only in a court of law and maybe not even there. Well, it’s up to you. Either I buy Sweet Air fair and square, or I walk away from it. I can’t say more.”
Randolph always did fuss. He lived too long with his mother.
18th January 1935
HRH is on his way to Austria with Oxer Bettenbrooke. Tomorrow to Paris. The Cavetts are already at Lily Drax-Pfaffenhof’s and will meet up with us in Kitzbuhel.
21st January 1935, Meurice Hotel, Paris
Hattie spent the entire journey from London doom-mongering about Wally’s prospects of going to a State Ball.
Wally refused to get riled.
She just said, “Hattie, better to have a gown and no invitation than an invitation and no gown.”
24th January 1935
Wally has chosen full-skirted silk chiffon, one in silver and one in gold. There were a couple of accounts outstanding, for lingerie and shoes. I’ve made her a small loan to tide her over.
HRH has telephoned twice, urging us to set off before more avalanches prevent the trains from getting through, but Elsie Mendl has invited us to dinner at Trianon, and Wally has run into an old Washington friend, Kenny Opdyke, who has a warehouse full of rugs and clocks and other lovely things, all for sale at advantageous prices, so Wednesday really seems to be the soonest we can leave.
27th January 1935
HRH is so fretful without Wally. He telephones constantly to see whether we’re on our way, although he knows perfectly well when to expect us.
I said, “How will he manage when they marry him off?” She laughed. She said, “He’ll probably keep me behind some secret door in a bookcase. No. I’ll have been dropped by then. I won’t be missed.”
I said, “Is he going to drop you? He seems more ardent than ever.”
She said, “That’s just absence working its old magic. But of course he’ll drop me. He drops everyone eventually. All I need is one more year. Give me another year, and I reckon I’ll have secured my future.”
After Kitzbuhel, HRH is going on to Vienna for a few days. Wally says we should go with him. She’s heard the shops there are exquisite.
2nd February 1935, Kitzbuhel
We are installed at the Lindenhof and have the use of a commodious lodge with veranda views of the slopes. Lily is here with the Cavetts, the Eugene Rothschilds, and the Milwaukee Gunters, and the British Embassy in Vienna has sent HRH a junior attaché to do a little equerrying, as Bettenbrooke speaks no German. Our man from Vienna is Dudley Forwood, and Wally has already taken quite a shine to him. She says he plays a very good game of backgammon.
Hattie says she’d have liked a little more ice on the slopes, but that the snow is powdery and ideal for those who lack her expertise. I’ll take her word for it. Wally, Zita, and I sunned ourselves on the veranda all morning, and HRH floundered past every so often, flanked by Forwood and a detective, waving his ski poles and shouting, “Are you watching me, darling? Aren’t I doing splendidly!”
3rd February 1935
We quite took over the Klammer Stube last evening. Hattie, in drink, offered the opinion that skiing isn’t the Prince’s forte. Wally fairly froze the cherry brandy in her glass. The last thing she wants is for HRH to grow discouraged and start hanging around our veranda all day.
As nice as he is, I don’t know why Forwood was sent for. The Prince gabbles away in German to the serving girls as though it were his mother tongue.
Kitty Rothschild says it is his mother tongue. I don’t think she understands that this is the Prince of Wales we’re talking about.
5th February 1935
Blizzards, but Hattie, Oxer, and HRH refuse to be defeated. They’ve gone out for a sleigh ride while we hug the fire. Dudley Forwood has been explaining the Austrian situation to us. The Austrians need Hitler’s friendship, because they’re in a bad way financially, but Hitler isn’t interes
ted in being just a friendly neighbor. Being an Austrian by birth himself, he sees Austria as family and wants Germany to adopt it. Then there’s Mr. Mussolini. It’s all so complicated, especially after a glass of glühwein. Wally was taking notes.
6th February 1935
HRH came in yesterday so enchanted by his sleigh ride Wally has agreed to give it a try. I believe she’s slightly uneasy about the amount of time he’s been spending in Hattie’s company, though I don’t know why. I don’t think Hattie’s apple-cheeked heartiness can hold any attraction for him.
Kitty Rothschild says HRH is like a twelve-year-old in an old man’s skin.
7th February 1935
Wally has decided to make sleigh rides her winter sport. She said, “Ermine rugs, Maybell. Once you’ve snuggled beneath ermine rugs, nothing else will do. And they lit our path with flares. Such a wonderful, racy look. I’m going to see about copying that.”
Not along George Street, I hope.
Tonight dancing to a Schrammel band. The Rothschilds are leaving in the morning, for their Austrian estate. HRH has proposed us for dinner with them while we’re in Vienna.
8th February 1935
Three vigorous polkas with HRH last evening. He was in such a good mood.
9th February 1935
The Rothschilds left early. There’s nothing like the promise of a royal visit to quicken the heartbeat. Forwood has also gone to make sure everything is in order for our arrival in Vienna. HRH and I were the only two down to wave them off. We shared a pot of chocolate and a plate of ham for breakfast.
He seemed rather flat after last night’s high spirits. Only one more week, then he has to steel himself for a year of more-than-usually-hectic prince-ing. The Silver Jubilee celebrations, State luncheons, levees, tours around the country. It seems no boondock will be left un-princed.
He said, “What an enviable life Rothschild has. A schloss in Austria, a place in Paris, and a spread on Long Island. A little shooting, a little shopping, a little golf. I’d settle very happily for that.”
10th February 1935, Hotel Bristol, Vienna
My suite has a view of the Ringstrasse, but there’s no noise. Enormous snowflakes drifting down. I’ve ordered extra comforters. We sat for hours with the train moving forward in fits and starts as the drifts were cleared, and arrived hours late, but the British envoy was there with Forwood at his side, and there were warm cars waiting for us. I think I’m going to like Vienna.
11th February 1935
HRH was on the road early, looking at worker housing, but word has circulated that he’s in residence. By the time Wally and I had finished breakfast and made hair appointments, quite a crowd had gathered outside. There are Socialists down there, who seem to be for him, because he’s interested in the lot of the working man, but there’s another group, Reds, who are against Germany and so are chanting slogans, because HRH has a lot of German cousins. Well, no one can help their cousins. One of the Woodhams on Mother’s side was fond of naked swimming in public places, and Father always said there was a Patterson who was hanged in Dundee, Scotland, but in neither case did it cause us any inconvenience.
Wally is nervous about the rabble at the front door, so the hairdresser will now come to us.
12th February 1935
All ended well yesterday. HRH braved the crowd outside and engaged them in German chitchat. He charmed them into silence. Most of them, at any rate. Forwood says they’d been standing in the snow long enough for the fire to have gone out of their bellies. By the time we went out to the Wunder-Bar, only a few stragglers remained, and when they noticed we were wearing red corsages, they gave us a hearty cheer. A little tact and imagination goes such a long way. I think diplomacy is a field where I would have excelled, and perhaps still may.
Today shopping, then drinks with George Messersmith, our man in Vienna.
13th February 1935
At Ambassador Messersmith’s insistence, Wally and I went to see a horse-riding circus. It was quite interesting, but horses smell like horses however well trained they are.
Also bought woolen suiting, winter silks, and embroidered cushions. HRH had a meeting with the Chancellor, but we’re not supposed to talk about it, because it wouldn’t be approved of in London. Not that it’s any of London’s business. They should be grateful to have a prince who takes an interest in international affairs.
HRH feels the Austrians have all the right instincts, remaining firm with Germany and at the same time friendly toward Italy. They told him there’s even the possibility of bringing back Archduke Otto. Never a bad thing, as he says, for a country to temper the rough-and-tumble of politics with the nobler spirit of royalty.
To the Rascal Club. Men dressed as women, women dressed as men. What a very long way we’ve come from Baltimore.
14th February 1935
David has given Wally a Valentine pin, a pink beryl heart set in white gold. Tonight we drive up to Schloss Enzesfeld to have dinner with the Eugene Rothschilds. I wonder whether our path will be cleared of ice and lit by burning torches!
Tomorrow HRH flies back to his duties, and we begin our long trek home by train. I do wish Wally would take a pill so we could fly, too.
15th February 1935
Wally and HRH chucked the Rothschilds at the last minute so they could dine alone in their suite. I went with just Dudley Forwood and Oxer Bettenbrooke. Kitty R. was very gracious about it. She said, “Never mind. Perhaps we’ll have a nicer time. I’ve always suspected royalties might be bad for the digestion.”
Forwood very wickedly agreed.
Kitty gave us her analysis of the Prince’s personality. She said, “He reminds me of a dog. He sees a lamppost and becomes completely obsessed with it, until someone sticks another one under his nose. Then he completely forgets the first one.”
Eugene said, “Darling, you’re embarrassing our guests.”
She said, “Nonsense. They know it’s all said most affectionately. Now the puzzle is Wally. She’s very bright, but does she really understand how he ticks? I’ve noticed how sharp she is with him when he hangs around, getting in her way, but that’s not the way to deal with him. It seems to me the crosser she gets with him the more eagerly he wags his tail.”
Well, he certainly wasn’t wagging his tail this morning when he had to leave for the airfield. He just hates being separated from her.
19th February 1935, Wilton Place
Sweet Air, where Danforth Brumby took me as his bride, now belongs to Randolph Putnam, and my bank account is in glowingly good health. I put a call through to him immediately after I’d signed the papers.
I said, “Well, you finally got what you wanted.”
“No, Maybell,” he said. “I got part of what I want. The other part is sitting stiff-necked in the office of a London lawyer, if I’m not mistaken. Tell me, how’s your Prince of Wales?”
I said, “In love. With Minnehaha Warfield. You’ll be reading about it in the Globe before long, I’m sure.”
He said, “Isn’t that something! You mean we could have Queen Wally visiting with us at Sweet Air someday?”
That wasn’t what I meant at all.
21st February 1935
Took Violet’s Tyrolean tray cloth to Carlton Gardens, and a cuckoo clock for the nursery. Doopie was out, visiting Ena Spain at Kensington Palace.
Violet says Their Majesties are greatly invigorated from their Sandringham break and eager to begin their celebration year. I braced myself, but neither of the W words came up.
A brief note from Junior and his wife. May I rot in hell.
22nd February 1935
Aching and feverish. Perhaps Junior has had a curse put on me.
23rd February 1935
Canceled lunch with Pips and Ida. Padmore says I have influenza.
24th February 1935
A visit from Ida Coote who brought honey and canned spinach. She says we are what we eat. Well, I have eaten nothing since Monday.
Wally’s peste
ring me to go look at a house on Eaton Square. HRH to foot the bill.
I said, “Will this be for you alone or for you and Ernest?”
She said, “That’s up to Ernest, but it makes perfect sense to keep things the way they are.”
I said, “Well, count me out. I’m as weak as a kitten.”
6th March 1935
I feel like a new woman! Lunch with George Lightfoot who jestingly steered me away from all drain covers lest I slip through in my new svelte condition.
He was in a strange mood. He said, “Tell me your thoughts on marriage, Maybell. Do you recommend it?”
I said, “If you marry that Belinda, I’ll be heartbroken. She has no warmth.”
He said, “No, I’m not talking about Belinda, though she’s much nicer than you say. I’m just asking about marriage in general. I’m thirty-six. A decent age to start thinking about it, don’t you think?”
It is, indeed.
7th March 1935
Hattie has been looking at houses with Wally. Chesham Place, Lowndes Street. It’s all supposed to be very hush-hush, but let Hattie Erlanger in on a secret and it will appear in tomorrow’s Times.
Gone With the Windsors Page 22