Winston Churchill understood Edward's wish to marry the woman he loved. Thinking about Edward's life as Prince of Wales and then King, he ventured that 'A life of flittering public pomp without a home and some human comfort in the background would not be endurable to the vast majority of men. One must have something real somewhere. Otherwise far better die.'63 Edward wanted 'something real' like the marriage enjoyed by his younger brother George, the Duke of Kent, and his wife Marina. In the autumn of 1934, the thirty-two-year-old Prince George had married Princess Marina of Greece and Denmark, to his family's immense relief. 'How much in love Princess Marina is with Prince George', oozed Jean, Lady Hamilton. It was the romance of the year. 'She is the one woman with whom I could be happy to spend the rest of my life', wrote the Duke of Kent. 'We laugh at the same sort of thing. She beats me at most games and doesn't give a damn how fast I drive when I take her out in the car.'64
Although George was eight and a half years his junior, wrote Edward in his memoirs, they were more than brothers - they were close friends, too, with similar characters and a shared sense of humour.65 The Duke of Kent was the most cultured and artistic of all the children of George V: he played the piano and knew a great deal about music and antiques. He had also been very kind to John, the youngest child of the family, who was mentally handicapped and epileptic. John was kept away from the rest of the family and from the world in a cottage in Sandringham, until his early death in 1919. George had visited him every day when he was at Sandringham; when he was not, he regularly sent him postcards.
Despite her royal connections, Marina had had to struggle: at one time she had posed for publicity photographs to promote Pond's Cold Cream, and in Paris she had even travelled by public transport. But nobody seemed to mind - or perhaps they simply didn't know, it all sounded so young, gay and fairy tale-ish', enthused Lady Hamilton, from the moment that Marina and her two sisters 'alighted in their pretty light garments at our dull foggy Victoria Station and lit up the platform where stood Queen Mary and Princess Mary in their dowdy clothes.'66 Of this same meeting at Victoria Station, shortly before the wedding, George reported to Prince Paul of Yugoslavia, his future brother-in-law, that
Everyone is so delighted with her - the crowd especially - because when she arrived at Victoria Station they expected a dowdy princess - such as unfortunately my family are - but when they saw this lovely chic creature - they could hardly believe it and even the men were interested and shouted, 'Don't change - don't let them change you!' Of course she won't be changed
- not if I have anything to do with it.67
Lady Hamilton suspected that Elizabeth, the Duchess of York, might not like this enthusiasm for Marina. She had heard that Elizabeth's hairdresser 'reports the Duchess as being in a "tres mauvais bumeur". I wonder! She always looks very sweet.'68 Certainly the sheer beauty of Marina, Duchess of Kent - like the elegance of the pin-thin Wallis
- contrasted with the more fussy and pretty appearance of Elizabeth. By 1931, comments her biographer, Penelope Mortimer, the Duchess of York had 'put on a good deal of weight; her face was rounded, her eyes smaller; she was no longer a wistful waif, a Barrie heroine, but a pneumatic mother of two with a roguish twinkle.'69
While Wallis was becoming more and more involved with Edward, her marriage to Ernest Simpson was crumbling. This was not helped by
Edward's manifest intoxication, which made Wallis feel sandwiched between him and Ernest. 'I had a long quiet talk with E[rnest] last night,' she wrote to Edward, 'and I felt very eanum at the end. Everything he said was so true.' She appealed to the King:
The evening was difficult as you did stay much too late. Doesn't your love for me reach to the heights of wanting to make things a little easier for me. The lovely things you say to me aren't of much value unless they are backed up by equal actions. I should have come back Sat and I didn't. Then last night you should have left by 8. Then you telephone the second time - which just did finish the evening and made a row.70
But Edward could not bear- to leave her alone with her husband, wondering if Ernest was seeking any kind of intimacy, physical or emotional. 'I do hate and loathe the present situation', he told Wallis, '. . . and am just going mad at the mere thought (let alone knowing) that you are alone there with Ernest.' He felt keenly possessive of her and willed her to give herself to him: 'God bless WE for ever my Wallis. You know your David will love you and look after you so long as he has breath in this eanum body."1
Ernest, in any case, was in love with another woman - an old school friend of Wallis's from Baltimore, Mary Raffray. His infidelity had come to light through what Wallis would later describe as 'one of those coincidences that are stranger than fiction - a letter meant for Ernest that was inadvertently addressed to me."2 Mary and Ernest had spent time together in New York in 1935 and discovered they had serious feelings for each other. In the spring of 1936, Mary came to stay at Bryanston Court, and Wallis became painfully aware that it was not herself that Mary had come to see. Mary and Ernest left London for three days in a hired motor, reported Wallis to her aunt, and 'I then had them followed and of course got the expected report etc. He now says he is in love with her and she has a service flat here. Isn't it all ridiculous? Anyway, we will work it all out beautifully I hope.'73 Wallis could not resist a few sour remarks about her old friend - 'Mary's clothes are rather naked for here ... I still haven't found out how long Mary will stay. We are absolutely jammed for clothes room as she has an extensive line of undress.'74
Ernest and Wallis had been drifting apart for a while. Their kitchen maid thought they couldn't have been happy, because 'they were never living together, only at short intervals. Mr Simpson went away on business to Paris and to other places, and when he returned home Mrs Simpson went away for a time.' She said that the Prince of Wales was the most frequent visitor at Bryanston Court, coming round several evenings each week, and on many occasions not leaving until after midnight - usually when Ernest was away on business. A parlour maid also noted that 'Mr Simpson was often away, sometimes abroad'.75
On 4 May 1936, Wallis wrote to her aunt with the news that she was planning to live apart from Ernest - not to seek a divorce, but simply to take a house in the autumn and live alone for a while. She would then be able to spend her time more freely with Edward. She was aware of the risks involved. 'Should HM fall in love with someone else,' she said,
I would cease to be as powerful or have all I have today. Perhaps I have made a few new friends and kept some old ones . . . but I expect nothing. I should be comfortably off and have had a most interesting experience, one that does not fall to everyone's lot and the times are exciting now and countries and politics madly thrilling. I have always had the courage for the new things that life sometimes offers.
She was worried, though, about Edward's plan for them to marry. 'The K on the other hand', she told her aunt, 'has another thing only in his mind. Whether I would allow such a drastic action depends on many things and events and I should never allow him if possible . . . to do anything that would hurt the country and help the socialists.' In any case, she added, 'there is a new life before me whereas I can't go back to the old - nor can I continue as I am.' She was 'quite prepared', she insisted, 'to pay for a mistake."6
Despite this initial show of confidence, Wallis started to feel less secure as the prospect of a divorce from Ernest became more real. On 16 September she wrote to Edward from Paris, where she was confined to bed with a heavy cold, to break off their relationship. She thought it would be a good idea, she said, if she were to return to live with her husband. 'I am sure', she explained, that 'you and I would only create disaster together. I shall always read all about you - believing only half! - and you will know that I want you to be happy.'7 However, Edward appears to have taken little account of these anxieties, pushing forward instead with his plans for their future together. Wallis, in her turn, made no further mention of any thoughts of returning to Ernest. She finally gave way to the King's pressure an
d prepared to divorce her husband.
In order to qualify for a divorce hearing at Ipswich, Wallis had to establish her residence there by living within the area of the court's jurisdiction for a month. In October 1936 she went to stay at Beach House in the nearby seaside resort of Felixstowe with her friends George and Kitty Hunter, and a housekeeper. Her chauffeur and a detective checked into a hotel that was next door but one. The detective slept at the hotel during the day and was on guard duty during the night at Beach House. The hotel was besieged by American reporters.'78
Wallis felt very much alone, and doubts rushed into her head, I can't help but feel you will have trouble in the House of Commons etc and may be forced to go', she wrote to Edward. 'I can't put you in that position. Also I'm terrified that this judge here will lose his nerve - and then what? I am sorry to bother you my darling - but I feel like an animal in a trap.' She asked him to think things over and decide what best to do: 'Together I suppose we are strong enough to face this mean world - but separated I feel eanum and scared for you, your safety etc. Also the Hunters say I might easily have a brick thrown at my car. Hold me tight please David.'79 Edward swept her anxieties aside. 'I know it sounds easy to say dont [sic] worry,' he replied, 'but dont too much please Wallis. I'm doing half the worrying and looking after things this end. Oh! how I long for you here and everybody and everything at The Fort misses you too dreadfully . . . God bless WE my beloved sweetheart.'80 The King secretly visited Wallis at Beach House, staying overnight. Two valets came too, and were put up for that night at the hotel; they carefully avoided signing the visitors' register.81
The night before the divorce hearing, wrote Wallis in her memoirs, she spent in sleepless worry, pacing the floor. She was terrified that what she was about to do would harm the King and ruin any possibility of their spending the rest of their lives together. And she was unable to make any plans of her own for her future. For a woman as independent as Wallis, this must have been a terrifying situation.
The case of Simpson v. Simpson was heard at Ipswich Assizes on 27 October. Preparations for the hearing had been made at Fort Belvedere, where Edward and Wallis consulted their legal advisors - Walter Monckton, who had been appointed Attorney-General to the Duchy of Cornwall in 1932; George Allen, the King's solicitor; and a brilliant barrister, Norman Birkett, who had been instructed to appear for the petitioner.82 The hearing itself was no different from any other divorce hearing, apart from the presence of a large number of American journalists. Evidence was furnished of Mr Simpson's misconduct by employees of the Hotel de Paris, at Bray, in Berkshire, who said they had found him in bed with a woman named in the petition as Buttercup Kennedy. (This was probably Mary Raffray, who was known in London by the nickname 'Buttercup' because of some headgear she liked to wear.) The suit was undefended, and the decree nisi was duly awarded; once it was made absolute, in April 1937, Mrs Simpson would be free to marry again. Straight after the hearing, Wallis returned to London. She went to her new home - 16 Cumberland Terrace, a furnished Regency house off Regent's Park - for which she had arranged the lease before the Nahlin trip.
The news of Mrs Simpson's divorce was greeted with headlines in America. 'King To Marry Wally', announced the New York Daily Mirror on its front page. William Randolph Hearst's New York Journal promised in banner headlines an inch and a half deep: 'KING WILL WED WALLY'. The Boston Record went five inches deep with headlines announcing, 'KING SETS JUNE FOR WEDDING TO MRS SIMPSON'.
But there was barely any coverage in the British press. According to Deedes, The Times carried twelve lines, the Morning Post a ten-point paragraph and the Daily Telegraph twenty-two lines - 'but on an away page, sandwiched between "Colonel accused in private" and "Boy with a mania for silk stockings".'83 This restraint was the result of special arrangements made by Lord 'Max' Beaverbrook, the owner of the Daily Express and the Evening Standard. On 16 October, at Edward's request, he had gone to Buckingham Palace (despite the fact that he was 'cursed with toothache and heavily engaged with his dentist'), where he was asked to suppress advance news of the Simpson divorce and to limit publicity after the event. The reasons Edward gave for this wish were that
Mrs Simpson was ill, unhappy, and distressed by the thought of notoriety. Notoriety would attach to her only because she had been his guest on the Nahlin and at Balmoral. As the publicity would be due to her association with himself, he felt it his duty to protect her.
Beaverbrook was satisfied with the request and, with the support of Esmond Harmsworth, who was the heir to Lord Rothermere's Daily Mail press empire and the Chairman of the Newspaper Proprietors' Association, he came to a gentleman's agreement with the rest of the British newspapers. It was understood that they would report the divorce case without any sensationalism and with no reference to the King.84
This discretion was not apparent in the drawing rooms of the handful of people who knew about the royal crisis. 'Everyone in this circle is convinced that the King will marry her', commented Bruce Lockhart after an evening of gossip. The only doubt, he said, was whether the wedding would be before the coronation or afterwards.85 Diana Cooper, said Chips Channon, was convinced that Wallis and the King would marry in secret, immediately after the coronation. 'I half hope so,' he wrote in his diary, 'half believe it is fated.'86 If he married her, argued his wife, Honor, 'he would have to abdicate immediately for if he did not, we would have unrest, a Socialist agitation and a "Yorkist" party.'87 By a 'Yorkist' party, he meant a party of those wanting Albert, Duke of York, to be king, instead of Edward.
The day after the divorce hearing, the Hardinges had the Yorks to dinner, to bring them up to date.88 The two families were good friends, and Elizabeth had been the maid of honour at the Hardinges' wedding in 1921. Their friendship underlined the absence of any kind of intimacy between Hardinge and Edward, since it was the King - and not the Duke of York - for whom Hardinge worked. This created a conflict of interest, which is apparent in Helen Hardinge's diary entry for 27 November 1936:
Go out to see the Duchess of York who is an angel as usual. Much cheered by those delicious children [the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret| who came in from the swimming bath with terrific accounts of their own exploits. . . Alec saw Prince Bertie [the Duke of York] this morning. HM was surprised because his brother had dined with us!89
Wallis had boldly told Aunt Bessie in May of 1936 that if her relationship with Edward proved to be a mistake, it was one she was willing to pay for. But she may not have expected to start paying for it so quickly, or so painfully, as she did. For it soon became clear that those people who had patronized her as Edward's mistress were not willing to approve of her as his wife. Edith, Lady Londonderry, the granddaughter of the Duke of Sutherland and the wife of the Conservative politician the Marquess of Londonderry, decided to intervene in the affair. As a key member of the highest echelon of Society, she felt she had an obligation to do something about the scandal surrounding the King. She knew all the great political figures of her time and regularly brought these influential people together at Londonderry House. At receptions to mark the opening of Parliament, Edith had stood at the top of the staircase, next to the Prime Minister, to welcome her guests. Now, she appointed herself as the spokeswoman for moral values. On Friday 6 November, at an evening party given by Emerald Cunard at her home on Grosvenor Square, she told Wallis that if the King had any idea of marrying her, he ought to give it up. The English people, she said, would never put up with a queen or king's consort who had been divorced twice and whose previous husbands were both still living.
How Lady Londonderry knew the minds of the English people, she did not reveal. Probably, it was a simple confidence in how things ought to be. But her warning appears to have made an impression on Wallis, who next day wrote a letter to Lady Londonderry, saying that she had thought over their conversation the night before. She was conscious, she said, that 'perhaps no one has been really frank with a certain person in telling him how the country feels about his friendship with
me ... I am going to tell him the things you told me.'90
Lady Londonderry's intervention was presented to Wallis as genuine concern for Edward and for the nation as a whole. More painful for Wallis was the growing hostility of the royal circle, led by Elizabeth, Duchess of York, who had snubbed her on a particularly miserable evening at Balmoral in the last week of September. At a dinner that was attended by the Yorks, Wallis had stepped forward to greet them, holding out her hand as a gesture of friendship. Edward had evidently asked Wallis to perform the role of hostess. The Duchess was furious. She walked straight past Wallis and said in a loud voice, 'I came to dine with the King.' Throughout the evening, she continued to ignore Wallis, and she and the Duke were the first to leave.91 But if Wallis's gesture of friendship was a breach of royal etiquette, then it was Edward who was responsible. He wanted Wallis to be treated as if she were his wife, with all the social status that was attached to that position - and it must have been this that offended Elizabeth. Her rudeness cannot be explained by moral outrage at a sexual relationship outside marriage, as she had been perfectly friendly in the past to Thelma Furness.
'Poor Wallis, the cynosure of all eyes,' Chips Channon had sighed, 'she can do no right. All her tact, sweetness and charm - are they enough?'92 Protective of Wallis, Channon was protective of Edward, too - 'not for loyalty so much as for admiration and affection for Wallis, and in indignation against those who attack her.'93
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