The Viceroy's Daughters (35 page)

Walter Monckton was telling the duke that he would arrive the following morning at ten in a plane to escort them home. The duke asked him petulantly why he, Walter, was coming since (as Monckton's notes record) “he would take up space that could be occupied by the duchess's luggage.” When the duke was told that he would be staying with the Metcalfes he said he would only come if his brother and his wife were prepared to have them at one of their houses; informed that this was impossible, he refused to leave. Fruity's letter describes what happened next:

Well anyhow they came in to me after about half an hour and said “We are
not
going—the plane is coming for you and Miss Arnold [secretary] tomorrow.” I looked at them as if they really
were
mad—then they started off—“I refuse to go unless we are invited to stay at Windsor Castle and the invitation etc and plane, are sent personally by my brother etc.” I just sat still, held my head and listened for about 20 minutes and then I started. I said: “First of all, I'll say that whatever I say is said speaking as your best friend. I speak
only
for your good and Wallis's—
understand that
. After what I've said you can ask me to leave if you like but you're going to listen now.

“You have just behaved like two spoilt children. You
only
think of yourselves. You don't realise that there is at this moment a war going on, that women and children are being bombed and killed while
you
talk of your PRIDE. God, it makes me sick. You forget everything in only thinking of yourselves, your property, your money and your stupid pride. What you've now said to Walter has just bitched up everything. You talk of one of H.M. Government's planes being sent out for Miss Arnold and for me!! You are just “nuts”! Do you really think for one instant they would send a plane over for me and Miss Arnold? It's too absurd even to discuss.”

I said a lot more in the same strain. They never uttered. After this I said: “Now if this plane
is
sent out to fetch you, which I doubt very much, then get into it and be b——y grateful.” I went to bed then, it was 3:15
a.m
. Well at 7:15 I was wakened by
her
maid telling me to get up! To arrange for a car to go to the flying field etc. Then at 8:00 “he” came into my room fully dressed and said: “We've decided to go on the plane.” I said: “Okay—
if
it comes—and now I'll have a bath!” Of course there never was any plane as I knew they'd never send it— of course Walter would have repeated all the rot talked on the phone to the Head Boss in England.
*

The Lady (?) here is in a panic, the worst fear I've ever seen or heard of, all on account of the aeroplane journey. Talks of jumping out etc. Every half hour it's “I won't go by plane! We will motor to Paris! Or Boulogne etc.” I point out the impossibility of doing this—roads blocked with troops, no hotels, etc. Today there is talk of a destroyer being sent out. Oh God, it's such a madhouse. Now Winston is head of the Admiralty he will I think send a destroyer if the little man asks for it. It seems
she
would rather go by boat. We've got no servants here except Marcel and Robert and a pantry boy and two French maids. You should see “him” packing—it really is funny.

I am to go with the boss here,
wherever
he will go in this war, so
please do this for me
. Get in touch with Scotland Yard and let Major Whittle or Whattle (the awful thing is his correct name has gone clean out of my head) know that I am going to do this for the war and therefore
cannot
do Special Constable. I hope he will understand—speak to him yourself.

 

Fruity had made his choice. Fortuitously he had cut the cords that knotted him and Baba in such an unhappy tangle of emotions. By casting in his lot with the person who was, in one sense, his first love, he had released the two of them from the miseries and jealousies of their life together. Above all, while remaining married to the woman he adored, without either scandal or humiliation he had made it possible for each to lead their own life.

29

Britain at War

Britain's war began with the dropping of three million leaflets over the Ruhr, Germany's with the sinking of the passenger liner
Athenia
by a U-boat, in direct contravention of the rules of submarine warfare. If nothing else, it showed the direction the war would take.

At Wootton, Irene had listened with horror to Chamberlain's broadcast announcement of war. That night she sang “Onward Christian Soldiers” with Micky when she put him to bed. After the ten-thirty news she and Nick walked in the moonlight that streaked the long avenue and lay in a broad band across the lawn. She dreaded the idea of Diana's arrival, with her devotion to fascism and Hitler.

Irene spent the first few days of the war searching out blackout material for Wootton's huge windows. She eventually managed to find fifty-six yards of black cloth, which she took back to Wootton in triumph. Then, helped by Nanny and Grimwood, the Wootton chef, she began the laborious process of taking down all the curtains, stitching the black material in as a lining and rehanging them, often wobbling perilously at the top of a shaky ladder as she fixed pelmets near the high ceilings. When the material ran out she used black paint to cover the windows. She had the bumpers and running boards of her car painted white and its headlights filtered to give only a dim glow. She wrote to Campbell Steward, chairman of the Bureau of Information, and Harold Holt, organizer of concerts all over England, to ask if they might have a job for her. In London she offered a room in her house as a rest room for Voluntary Aid Detachments and reduced her own living space to a dining-sitting room to save light, fuel and work.

On September 11 Diana sent a wire—to Vivien, not Irene—to say she was arriving that evening with her two boys, Desmond and Jonathan. After dinner they all listened to the news. “I felt Diana hated it and it made me uneasy,” Irene wrote that night. “So I listened to the Lord Mayor's appeal for the Red Cross nervously, much more so Anthony Eden's 20-minute address on the enormities of Hitler and his regime, which drew a protest from Diana. She talks blandly of Tom carrying on the Movement during the war. I felt very strongly I could not be with her for long because of that attitude.” Irene left the following day.

 

After the duke of Windsor had refused the offer of a royal aircraft, Walter Monckton had flown to Antibes in a dilapidated Leopard Moth on September 7, partly to persuade the Windsors to leave France and partly to discuss what the duke was going to do during the war. Monckton had spent much time in England lobbying on behalf of a suitable and fitting job for him.

The king had first thought of a civilian post under the regional commissioner for Wales, then of an attachment to the British Military Mission, which was shortly to leave for Paris. The king's advisers did not want to give the duke too central a role: Queen Elizabeth feared lest her brother-in-law, with his well-known charm and glamour, would overshadow her husband at this most difficult time. Everyone felt that if the Windsors returned to the Fort they would be a good deal too close for comfort and possibly the focus of a rival court.

It did not take the duke long to decide that he would prefer the Military Mission, although it meant—temporarily at any rate—giving up his rank of field marshal. He now asked for a destroyer to transport them instead of a plane, and the long-suffering Monckton flew back to arrange this. A message was sent to the British embassy in Paris informing them: “The Duke of Windsor should be ready to embark at 1700 at Cherbourg on Tuesday 11 September.” When Baba had heard from Fruity that no accommodation had been offered the Windsors by anyone, anywhere—least of all by the royal family—she invited them to the Metcalfe house in Ashdown Forest. As all the arrangements had to be made from Downing Street and as Monckton could not speak French, she was called on constantly to help.

The Windsor party left Antibes in three cars, spending two nights en route. One temporary chauffeur drove the Windsors and Fruity, with the dogs, in the duke's car, another drove the duchess's car, with the lady's maid and another servant, a third drove a Ford station wagon piled with luggage. In Paris, the duchess's invaluable secretary, Mrs. Bedford, had bought extra suitcases, packed the clothes they wanted to take, dispatched what she could through the British embassy and even managed to get the duchess's precious furs out of storage. Then they set off for Cherbourg, where they were met by Randolph Churchill, in the uniform of the 4th Hussars, representing his father, and the duke's cousin and old friend Lord Louis Mountbatten, commanding the newly built destroyer HMS
Kelly.
First the luggage and the duke's car were loaded on board, and finally the party, the duke carrying one dog, the duchess another and the lady's maid the third, walked up the gangplank.

On September 12 Baba drove Walter Monckton down to Portsmouth in her Buick, followed by her chauffeur with a van (no car, either, had been made available to the Windsors). They arrived about half past six in the evening and went to the Queen's Hotel where they booked for the whole party—it would be a dreadful first night back in England, thought Baba. Fortunately, Admiral James, commander in chief at Portsmouth, had offered to put the Windsors up.

At eight-thirty a message came to say the
Kelly
would arrive in about an hour. The party went down to the dock, in inky darkness except for a faint blue light, and stood on the same jetty from which the duke had so hurriedly and secretly left England almost three years earlier. With relief they saw that one gesture at least had been made to his former status: a red carpet flanked by a guard of honor of a hundred men with tin hats and gas masks—a tribute from Churchill to his friend and former monarch.

At last, out of the velvety blackness ahead appeared a tiny yellow-and-green light. It slowly approached until the
Kelly
slid into view alongside the dock. Baba and Walter Monckton were first up the gangway, followed by the admiral. They were greeted by Mountbatten, who took them down to his cabin for a glass of champagne with the Windsors.

Once ashore and after the reviewing of the guard, the Windsors were taken to Admiralty House in Portsmouth while Fruity and Randolph Churchill accompanied Baba and Monckton to the Queen's Hotel. The next morning they collected the Windsors and, with Baba driving them in her Buick—the chauffeur had gone to fetch the duke's car—and Fruity driving the luggage van, they set off at a steady fifty miles per hour behind a police car.

They arrived at South Hartfield House, Forest Row, at one-thirty, to find the press already at the gates. There was a brief photo shoot in front of the Metcalfes' house and after a short statement from the Windsors the reporters and photographers left.

“The Duke never
once
gave the impression of feeling and sensing the sadness of his return with the dramaticness of departure,” records Baba's diary. “Like with everything in his life, the blind has been drawn down and the past has been forgotten with its many memories. The visit has gone easily and well on the whole. There have been moments when the ice has seemed dangerously thin and ominous cracks have been heard but the night has brought a thickening up and we have skated on the next day okay.”

The Windsors went to London most days, using the Metcalfes' town house, 16 Wilton Place, which had been closed for the war and its furniture dustcovered. The duke worked in a small sitting room, his papers on a single table; the duchess had her hair done in Baba's empty bedroom with its shrouded furniture. “Clerks, secretaries, War Office officials, bootmakers, tailors and hairdressers stream in and out,” Baba's diary continues. “We have sandwiches and tea from a Thermos.”

It was from Wilton Place, on September 14, that the duke went to see his brother the king at Buckingham Palace—the first time the two men had met since the abdication. The king reported to their younger brother, the duke of Kent, that “the meeting went off all right but it was very unbrotherly.” However they did discuss the duke's future employment and agreed that the duke would join the Military Mission in Paris.

He saw the King, a stag party, and nothing personal crossed the lips of either [Baba's diary recalls]. P.M., Winston, Belisha and Edward [Halifax] have all been visited with uneventful success. His job has materialised and Fruity is on his personal staff. This was done as usual not with tremendous grace. Fruity flew over to France to make adequate arrangements. The first few days 200–300 letters arrived a day and there were only six bad ones. Fruity and I got only a few bad ones and many charming ones. One IRA saying they would blow up the house and another incredible one to me from a sex maniac. Walter has had to be with his son so we have had everything à quatre. It's been difficult on more than one occasion not to shout “Stop! Stop! Stop! You've got everything all wrong.” But considering all, they have been very grateful and sweet and completely simple. If the Duke goes to say goodbye to his mother, it will be at my door for good or bad the plan can be laid, as during one of our lengthy talks I put it over strong to Wallis.

I do think the family might have done something. He might not even exist but for the one short visit to the King. Wallis said they realised there was no place ever for him in this country, and she saw no reason for him ever to return. I didn't deny it or do any pressing.

They are incapable of truly trusting anybody, therefore one feels one's loyalty is misplaced. One has no real affection for either of them, as his selfishness and self-concentration is terrifying. I don't know why one goes on “playing.” It must be for what he was, as what he is today, as a personality and friend, is not worth the candle. What I am finding difficult to put into words is the reason for his only having us as real friends instead of legions. He is so dreadfully disappointing.

 

From the Windsors' point of view, the visit had been a success. The duchess wrote Baba a charming letter of thanks (“This is a small effort from the Duke, three dogs and myself to try and thank you for all your hospitality to us and being able to remain calm in the face of such an avalanche of guests”) with an amusing description of their arrival back on French soil after a horrible crossing.

“The Channel turned itself inside out for us and the Express lay flat on it first on one side and then on the other. We arrived looking green and drawn to be met by quite an ovation from the British troops on the quay. I wanted to cry and be sick at the same time and regretted my sallow appearance, realizing that several hundred men and a goodly smattering of nurses were wondering ‘How could he have done it?' ”

In London Irene, worried that she had left Viv in what she saw as a hotbed of Nazism, was greatly relieved to hear from her niece that she wanted to go and work in Norfolk. She gained the agreement of Tom, who wanted her to contribute one thousand pounds per year to the upkeep of Wootton—“according to him, the two children want Wootton to be kept going more than Denham”—but the rest of his conversation left her even more deeply alarmed.

He predicted the likelihood of Germany and Russia winning; it was by no means so sure we would. Hence his mission to get a peace while the Empire was still intact . . . I asked him his views on Hitler etc and he said he was only out for Britain and a safe peace for her, but I think he sees in himself a potential smasher-up of all our capitalist systems when the disruption of communism creeps over Europe and toward us, and with anti-Semitism as his pillar of hate he will arise from the ashes of conservatism and profitmaking. We talked earnestly on the curious thing that great fanatical faith has to have hate to work on.

Next day, during lunch with his mother and Irene, Tom expressed his views more strongly. “They were venomous and alarming and vitriolic,” wrote Irene. “He cursed this Government for the betrayal of our nation and said he would work on the people to get them out.

If Tom had his way and he was in power he would at once make peace with Hitler, letting him have his huge bloc to the Mediterranean if Hitler leaves us and our empire alone, but if he touches it we fight. Ma said in vain: “But do you want to see such a regime all over Europe and all-powerful?” but I fear he does not mind the Poles, Rumanians, etc being sacrificed. He argues he could make England so strong Hitler would never dare touch her, how could he when she holds a colossal part of the globe and so forth.

He raged on about the audacity of Chamberlain saying Hitlerism must be wiped out—cannot 80 million Germans choose their Government and would we stomach Hitler butting in here and condemning our Government and telling them he would fight to exterminate them?

 

Irene found listening to this tirade so horrendous that she was even thankful when Diana arrived with her eldest son, Jonathan. She also decided that she would prefer to do her duty vis-à-vis the children by looking after Denham rather than Wootton—she did not see why Diana should gain financially at her expense—and wrote to Tom to tell him so—“tho' I fear he will not like this.”

She was right. When he received her letter there was another of the furious rows that everyone around him dreaded. Of lunch the next day with Tom and his mother she wrote:

It was one of those awful interviews with Tom when he was so wild with rage he tore up and down the room in a filthy blasphemous state, with dear Ma trying to calm him. I gave out some pretty stiff heated rejoinders and that simpering ass Diana never uttered. The situation was so bad when D. rang for lunch I begged to leave but Ma winked that I should stay and we both wasted a lunch we could not swallow.

Throughout lunch Tom threatened that owing to Irene's intransigence the children would have to live like workmen, Wootton would have to go, Nicky leave Eton and Micky be put in the care of Baba and then in the spring to school. Irene repeated her offer to pay for Denham; Tom would have none of it.