The Mitfords

by Charlotte Mosley

  It was heaven of you to write your precious letter and all. You can’t think how much better I feel now, really quite alright.1 The comfort of this place is unbelievable and blissful nurses. It is so odd I’d never even had a bedpan before. Oh Honks, never Gilliat again, I have completely lost confidence in him. He never turned up till ages after he was wanted and when I was lying there with everything over he came in and all the nurses said ‘Here’s a friend to see you’ and if I’d had the strength I really would have kicked him or at least asked him where he had been all the afternoon.2 What was rather awful was that I’d had a temperature of 103 for four days beforehand so I really wasn’t feeling like an effort. However all one can say is that it can’t have been one quarter so bad for me as it was for Decca because I never knew the baby though it was so alive when it was born that I felt a sort of glimmer of hope though I knew it wasn’t any good. Muv was quite wonderful and Andrew stayed with me till it was nearly born, it was so wonderful to have him. He finishes his leave tomorrow which is terribly sad because he has been here such a lot this week. My duch3 and everyone have been absolutely wonderful.

  Lady Carnarvon4 embraced Muv wasn’t it wonderful.

  Poor Nancy sounds rather bad with her appendix and ovary.5 I wish she could come here. I think when you first get out of prison you ought to come here for ages, the difference would be so wonderful.

  (Everything seems to be wonderful in this letter though it isn’t really.)

  Anyhow it was heaven of you to write, I do so long to see you, it is such a tease.

  I’m afraid they won’t let me get up for two more weeks which will seem rather long but perhaps be the best in the end.

  Much love from Debo

  [passed by prison censor 28/11/41]

  Darling Diana

  Thank you so much for the wonderful grapes, you are really an angel & grapes are so good for me. I have had a horrible time, so depressing because they had to take out both my tubes & therefore I can never now have a child. I can’t say I suffered great agony but quite enough discomfort – but darling when I think of you & the 18 stitches in your face1 it is absolutely nothing.

  The Rodds have been wonderfully true to form – my mother in law was told by the surgeon I shld be in danger for 3 days, & not one of them even rang up to enquire let alone sending a bloom or anything. I long to know if they bothered to look under R in the deaths column, very much doubt it however.

  I never hear from Peter or he from me it is too depressing like the grave. Also he never gets his pay.

  Muv was wonderful, she swam in a haze of bewilderment between me & Debo. When my symptoms were explained to her she said ‘ovaries – I thought one had 700 like caviar’. Then I said how I couldn’t bear the idea of a great scar on my tum to which she replied ‘But darling who’s ever going to see it?’

  Poor Debo it must be wretched, the worst thing in the world I should think – except losing a manuscript of a book which I always think must be the worst.

  Have you read Mémoires d’outre tombe2 it is so wonderful. I’ve had a heavenly time reading my books in peace, such a change from rushing off to the office at 8.30.

  I’ve left my address book at home so must send this to Muv.

  Nigel [Birch] has just been to see me rather optimistic in mood which is entirely new for him, I nearly fell out of bed.

  I spent the week end before I got ill (in considerable pain most of the time) with Roy & Billa [Harrod]. They have an ideal child called Hen[ry] – I think the prettiest, most amusing little boy I ever saw.

  Oxford society is very pleasant I think, everybody so amiable & nice, most unlike what one would imagine such a small highly cultivated world to be. Gerald [Berners] has taken up his residence there. Apparently he has a mania for tea-shop life & Billa says it is a kind of task, undertaken in turns, to face Gerald across rather grubby check tablecloths at mealtimes.

  Much love darling

  & many more thanks for the grapes, Nancy

  Darling Nard

  Well, Nard About the 1st December. I could come then, again. May I come? Do say yes, do. Because, Nard, I do love visiting you, I do, really. And, you know now I am well again, I can’t bear life. I mean, this war!

  You see, when I first came back, I thought all this was a play, and I was looking on. Now, I know I have a part to play, & I can’t bear acting it!

  Next week am going to stay with Woman, which will be fun, I shall see Max! Oh, Nard, I love, adore Max!

  V Best Love, Nard, from Bobo

  1

  Darling Honks

  I thought I would just write and say how completely better I am although you couldn’t possibly be interested. I came up here in the most glorious luxury with a nurse and I was wheeled in a chair across St Pancras to the train! I am still in bed but getting up tomorrow, I can’t face getting up today as I should be alone with that awful old Eddie M[arsh].

  I was terrified that Gilliat would say I wasn’t to start another pig for two years but thank goodness he said six months rather grudgingly and even that depending on my kidney. I write long letters to Muv about my medicines and things but I’m sure she says ‘Orrhhn’ and doesn’t read them.

  I do hope what I saw about Sir O in the paper is true, I was so excited for you, it will make a difference.2

  It is so absolutely dreadful about Esmond isn’t it,3 I don’t know what to say to poor Squalor, I don’t even know how to begin the letter because I can’t start Dearest Cheerless like I usually do. Thank goodness she has got her pig anyhow. It is so much worse for her because of her being so queer one feels she would mind even more than most people.

  I do die to see you again. I’m home till the beginning of January when we move into a new house at Stanmore. At least that’s what we mean to do but it all depends on getting a maid which seems literally impossible.

  Andrew can’t get away for Xmas which is sad but he is coming up for one day next week. He was so wonderful when I was actually having the baby and stayed with me till the last moment.

  Much love, Debo

  Dearest Hen

  I am so appalled by the news I heard from Muv that I simply don’t know what to say or even how to begin. It must be so absolutely dreadful for you waiting for news. I have sometimes tried to imagine what it would be like if anything happened to Andrew and I can almost guess what you must be going through. I am so hopeless at writing, but I have been thinking the whole time of you, and I do so long to see you, it seems such ages that I’ve almost forgotten what you look like and I do long to see Constancia.

  This is a hopeless letter but I can’t make it any better because of being so hopeless at explaining what I mean.

  Much love, Hen

  Darling Nardy

  Oh! How much I wish you could be with us here for Christmas. These two hankies are instead of a Christmas card – the boys each wanted to buy one for Bobo & actually four went to the coupon so I had these for you. I believe you actually have Kit with you now, how marvellous that it has happened in time for Christmas; it will at least make all the difference to you both. I am in a terrible haze because we will be a huge party with almost nothing to eat, at least that is how it seems now. I suppose it will be OK in the end. We will be eight in the dining room, Muv, Tom, Bobo, Captain & Mrs Fox, the boys & myself. The usual four in the nursery & three in the kitchen. I hope the one turkey will go round & leave something for Friday!!! Poor Derek had to go back yesterday. I can’t even go down & have Christmas lunch with him tomorrow because he will be ‘on’ today & tomorrow.

  There is no more news but I will write again soon.

  Much love & best wishes from Pam to you & Kit

  Darling Diana

  I’ve just seen your charming babies. I think Max is a peach. Alexander didn’t like me much I think. I was very disappointed but I suppose it would be all right if he got used to one. Max has terrific poise hasn’t he. It was heaven to see Nanny.

  Henry Yorke would love to visit you. He said
I was to ask, & not tell him if you would rather not. It would have to be this month as he is on leave from his fire fighting.

  Bobo is being very reasonable. She was too naughty when she was with me. I took her out to luncheon in a place where by bad luck I happened to know two other people lunching & she put on a completely mad act, announcing to the room at large ‘I’m going to have my feet off, Nancy’ & really being too naughty. She did much the same with poor Gladys who nearly died of it! Here however she is much more normal, though inclined to be rather bad tempered.

  Goodness the prettiness of the country after months of London also it is bliss to be out of that pitch-dark shop,1 much as I like the work.

  Much love from NR

  Darling Diana

  How could you be so wonderful it brings tears to the eyes. You can’t imagine the horror of the stocking situation in a book shop where one is forever on one’s knees & I spend my weekends darning. Anne Hill1 wears black & white check wool ones but I somehow can’t –

  Bobo enjoyed my party. She brought a ghastly old dress full of moth holes so I crammed her into my only good black one which we left undone all the way down the back & she kept on a coat so all was well but it was rather an awful moment when I saw what she did propose to wear. Then she refused to make up her face but the adored Capitaine Roy2 took her upstairs & did it for her. So in the end she looked awfully pretty.

  Cecil [Beaton] came into the shop ‘such an oasis’ & roared with laughter for an hour. The shop is really very gay now, full of people all day, & I am installed in the gas fire so manage to keep fairly warm.

  Fancy favourite aunt how blissful. I can’t think why as I am completely tongue tied by children, even yours, & at a loss how to behave. I long for a niece, can’t you provide one.

  It would be fun to see you with Dig & Henry [Yorke] as I hear you suggest though slight waste not to see you alone.

  Goodness I feel old, going grey & bald & look terrible. I’ve been doing far too much & need a week in bed.

  Much love, NR

  Darling Honks

  Your blissful Blor and Pig life arrived safely yesterday, it is utter bliss having them you can’t imagine how wonderful all the Blors are together, they talk about rations and girls and the weather and they are too wonderful about ‘helping’ as we’ve only got one servant in this vast house so it’s altogether glorious but if only you were here it would just be more glorious.

  Max and Alexander are so terribly funny. The first thing they said was, ‘What is your neem?’ which was a wonderful start. They both told me not to talk at table. Max is in a permanent furious rage.

  We eat all our meals in the kitchen, it’s so much easier and the food is hot, I hope they don’t mind. Max keeps saying, ‘This is a very odd nursery’, which of course it is.

  Much love and to Sir O, Debo

  Darling Honks

  Thank you so much for your letter. I am so adoring the children, they are a roaring success wherever they go and no wonder. I hope they aren’t finding it too dull though.

  Billy1 has been on leave and came down to entertain them. They asked him to draw things for them like lions running which he found very difficult. They both drew very complicated systems of pipes with a so-called tap at the end. They are obviously going to be sanitary engineers. They went to tea at Churchdale yesterday and Max told the duke not to smoke at table. I wasn’t there as Andrew and I went to Belvoir for the weekend. I think they enjoyed it, my duch adored them and they didn’t get back till ¼ past 7. We went for a picnic to Chatsworth2 in the pony cart which was great fun. We went into the strong room to see the gold plate but the children were only interested in the bars across the window.

  All the nannies are so wonderful together and help each other to tea like mad. It’s so good for Em,3 my nanny says, to have other children, can you imagine at her age!! They are awfully good and it really is utter heaven having them, I shall never have more glorious guests.

  If only you were here it would be perfect.

  Best love to Sir O.

  All love, Debo

  Lady Redesdale’s permit to visit Diana in Holloway.

  Dearest Hen

  It is so wonderful about you getting married, do write and tell if Mr Treuhaft1 is a Hon, I’m sure he must be a tremendous one, I do die to see him or even a photograph, do try & send something, we all so die to see. Have you fully instructed him about Honnish embraces, Andrew has become quite good and will show everyone all the time.

  Oh dear I do long to see you measuring trees, do write & tell. And as for investigating I wish you’d come and investigate about the huge rent here.2

  We’ve moved in here for the war, at least I say we but it’s me & Em really as Andrew hasn’t been able to get away to see it although we’ve been in for 4 weeks. I hope he’ll get a short weekend soon but they work so hard I doubt even that. He is on the Yorkshire moors now, bitter cold poor soul. Otherwise everything goes on as usual, London is rather drear though, no one much there and everything v. expensive. We have tremendous pony cart life here as there is no petrol.

  Kick Kennedy is in London, it is lovely to have her back, did you like her, I do awfully.

  I long to see Constancia, she must be so fascinating, that photograph of you & her was heaven. Do send some more. The difficulty here is one can’t get films, perhaps it’s difficult with you too?

  Well dear if anything of note or interest occurs I’ll write again. Be an old Hen & write to yr Hen.

  Will you stay in San Francisco now or will you go lumbering off to Seattle? Do you remember how poor Bird always longed to go there.

  Farve’s operation was a miracle almost, it was too dreadful to see him quite blind.

  Well dear cheery cheer, Henderson

  Darling Nancy

  Many happy returns darling. The present was mingy beyond belief, I rather wish it had got lost in the post.

  Woman is being simply too killing, we are besieged by hordes of pressmen & photographers1 & every now and then she rushes out and says, ‘I dislike you intensely’ or when photo-ed, ‘You foul man’. She doesn’t in the least realize what a wonder-working woman she is being. We ourselves just stay in the house with the curtains drawn and I would rather be us than them because it is the most frightful weather. I hope you all go to the demonstration in Trafalgar Sq this afternoon, I wish I could go.

  It is such paradise just not to be in gaol that it is indescribable. Did you see Bernard Shaw in D. Express.2

  Could you keep the Wieland3 just till I know where we are going or is it a great trial to you – being so many vols I rather dread it in our luggage.

  Desmond tells me that one master at Summer Fields says I ought to be shot. ‘Yes’ said Jonathan, ‘he is an old menace’.

  I do LONG for a chat with you but of course I shall never be able to come to London.

  Best love, D

  1

  Darling,

  A girl I know was in Trafalgar Sq that day trying to get to the tube. In order to do so she was obliged to join a queue & shout in unison ‘Put Him Back’. If you didn’t shout you were flung out of the queue & no chance of getting to the Underground! Then she had to stop twice & sign things – also in order to keep her place. After which she was very late for tea. You must say.

  Just had a wonderful weekend at Faringdon. I hear Gerald [Berners] is going to stay with you.

  Best love, NR

  Darling Honks

  I do think it’s so wonderful about Nicky getting the MC,1 Sir O must be nearly dying of excitement.

  I do disgusting work now, do feel sorry for me. It’s in the YMCA canteen and it’s v. embarrassing because they all copy my voice.

  No more news of Andrew – I do hope he comes soon.

  All love & millions of congratulations on Nicky’s wonderfulness. Debo

  Get on

  I don’t appreciate the SHORT NOTES I have received from you, my frail fingers are well able to open a VERY LONG letter so kindly wri
te one.

  Well Mornington1 is too comic for words, he is fast going bald but the nurse still tries to make a parting and the result is he looks exactly like his grandpapa Devonshire. I went dry after two days. I meant to feed him but I’m quite pleased now as I shan’t be tied. Muv looked v. disapproving when we decided to give up the unequal struggle. It was too wonderful having her here.

  Oh the fury on all sides about the baby’s names. The dowager duch has been heard to say she wouldn’t be surprised if the Duke of Wellington sued us for using his name. But surely if Mrs Cannon could call her son Morny why shouldn’t I.2 Anyhow they are Andrew’s choice so all the critics can go to hell. I am calling him Morny but I expect Andrew will call him Peregrine. I haven’t heard from him that he’s heard but hope to this week.

  William (Billy) Hartington, Deborah’s brother-in-law, and Kathleen (Kick) Kennedy were married on 6 May 1944, despite opposition from both sets of parents.

  Isn’t it a do about Billy getting off, I am so pleased & so is Andrew and I can’t get over the wonderful luck of having Kick for a sister-in-law as she is far the nicest girl ever. Poor things they must be thankful to have actually got spliced after all these years.3

  It is boiling out today. I can see it is but I suppose I shall have to stay in bed a bit longer.

  Tig & Elizabeth4 are coming up tomorrow, I shall hear all about Rodd no doubt. Elizabeth said he was fascinating but terrifying and Tig said he was fascinating about Abyssinia, we all know what that means, toll-gating5 with a vengeance. They obviously thought he was heaven. I do die to see you, perhaps I shall come down before long for the dentist and to have a change.

  I have got to page 652 in C6 & there are only 741, what shall I do when it’s finished, I really never will read any more beastly books they are only an extra complication to one’s pathetic life.