Memoirs of the Duchess of Windsor — Installment Five

On the way back home, thoughts raced through my head... Everything had passed so quickly that I had lived through it all without thinking of what was happening; but now, as the train carried us along, I began to review everything that had taken place during the weekend... I decided that the Prince was one of those rare and attractive personalities; he had a gift for creating an atmosphere of friendship, warmth, and intimacy, while possessing an uncommon quickness of wit that brought him close to the hearts of his companions, until it drove from their minds the atmosphere of royalty and the formality and coldness that surround it.

I remembered how he and his brother had tried to draw Ernest and me into their circle and make us share in the varied conversations; and I noticed that they had been taught this in their upbringing, since they know that others may not feel entirely at ease with them. They were, besides, fond of friends, yet I felt there was a barrier standing between them and their hunting companions.

And in the depths of my mind there remained an impression I had formed of the Prince of Wales... I had been charmed by the touch of melancholy that overspread his features — so that his winning smile often failed to drive it away.

I suddenly found myself looking at "Benny" and showering her with a stream of questions: "Do you think he is truly happy?" She answered me that he enjoys himself on holidays like these, and that he loves riding; but when you consider how much of his life must be acting — the daily political duties, and the cares of the Empire — it becomes hard to say for certain that he is very happy.

I asked her again whether he was thinking of marriage, for it is truly a pity that there should not be at his side an understanding lady to share his cares and his joys, and to lighten for him the weight of the things we call duties... There was no doubt that he lived a life of harsh loneliness... And so I came out of that battle of thought with a conclusion that convinced me he had a charming personality, and that his life was utterly different from the life of ordinary people; but I dismissed from my head any idea of meeting him again.

And so it was, for I did not see the Prince after that until the spring of 1931 — that is, six months later. He had left London on a long journey to South America, and it was natural that I should follow the news of that journey in the papers, and gaze at the photographs taken of the Prince at parties and official receptions; and inwardly I kept thinking that there was another person behind this mask which the Prince wore whenever he went out before the public — a lonely soul, withdrawn, perplexed... And I heard other things from Ernest's friends: I learned that he was independent, contrary to the ways of kings, and that he had cut from the program of his journey many of the appointments and foolish functions which he felt were nothing but a waste of time... The English blamed him for this conduct, while I admired the step, and I remained convinced that this mysterious personality would never change.

When the Prince returned from his journey, "Thelma Furness" gave a splendid reception at "Grosvenor Square" and invited him to it. When I entered the hall with Ernest, I greeted Thelma, then we walked on to one of the rooms, where we met some friends. A few moments later, Thelma came in with the Prince, and we all stood at his entrance. He was shaking hands with those he knew, and it happened that his eye fell on me; he whispered in Thelma's ear as though asking her: "Have I not met this woman before?" Then he walked over to where I stood with Ernest and said: "How glad I am to see you again... I still remember our meeting at Melton!" He seemed tired after that journey, but this gesture of his was truly splendid...

In June of that year, Maud Kerr-Smiley suggested that I be presented at Court; but she herself could not present me, for she had presented her daughter that same year, and Court tradition requires that one present no one else before three years have passed. And so "Mildred Anderson" was my sponsor. Still, I hesitated before taking the step, for I would have had to procure clothes especially for the purpose; but I could not refuse under the insistence of friends, and so "Connie" lent me the gown in which she had been presented, and "Thelma" supplied me with the feathers and the fan which her sister had used for the same occasion.

The occasion was magnificent, and my eyes were dazzled by the grandeur surrounding the King and Queen, seated upon two thrones of gold; behind them stood the Prince of Wales, one of his brothers, and their uncle, the Duke of "Connaught"... all in official dress. When our names were announced, I bowed with "Mildred" to the ground, and we made our curtsy first to His Majesty, then to the Queen...

Then we withdrew from sight... to stand in a line and watch from afar the departure of the royal family; and it happened that I was with Ernest in the front row. As the King and Queen and the rest of the family passed us, I heard Wales whisper in the ear of the Duke of Connaught: "The lighting of this hall must be altered, so that the women's faces do not look so pale"...

Thelma then invited us to stop by her house, where there were a few friends; I also met her husband, Viscount Furness, for the first time — one of the prominent figures of the city, and son of the founder of the steamship line that bears his name... He was older than Thelma, and remote from her in his working life. A little later the Prince arrived; he kept gazing at me, then praised the beauty of my gown as he sipped a glass of champagne... I answered him at once: "But you, Sir, thought our faces looked pale..."

He smiled as he answered me: I did not imagine that my voice had reached your ears...

It is an observed tradition that the guests remain in their places until the royal party has departed; and after a while the Prince left with his aide, General Trotter, saying that he was late for an appointment he had fixed for a visit to the country. Some time later I left with Ernest, but we were astonished to see the Prince standing beside his car, talking to the General. When he caught sight of us he hastened to invite us into his car, to take us wherever we wished... And when the Prince got into the car he was in high spirits, merry, talking and smiling as I had never known him before. He told us he was going to Fort "Belvedere," which stands in the country near Windsor Great Park... The newspapers had already spread the news of his acquiring this fort, of his devotion to it, and of the care he lavished upon it...

The whispers touched on other things in his private life as well; some said the Prince might in the end settle down in his favorite corner with a bride of his own choosing — perhaps in secret... He spoke of his love for the fort as though it were a piece of his very being, saying that he had never stopped thinking of its restoration, all the time, even during his visit to South America...

I listened to his talk with eagerness and delight, and when we reached our door the Prince helped me down from his car. I asked him in my turn whether he would stay with us a while and take some refreshment before continuing his journey... But he begged off, in view of the work awaiting him; he expressed, however, his wish to visit our house if we should one day invite him, and added: perhaps such a visit would give him a new idea for restoring the fort.

Such was the beginning of five years of anxiety and perplexity; and as his car vanished from our sight, I was praying inwardly that he might forget this promise... God answered my prayer, for summer and autumn passed, and then winter came, before I saw his face again.

In the middle of January 1932 a card reached us from the Prince of Wales, inviting us to spend the weekend at Fort "Belvedere"... Ernest's pleasure was no less than my delight at this invitation, and my maid "Mary Burke" nearly flew for joy when I told her that she would be coming with us too... And I learned that this invitation had come at the suggestion of Thelma, who would also be there with "Benny."

Twenty-four years have passed since that visit, and as I sit down now to set my memories on paper, I feel a lump in my throat, for I count this place — the fort — an enchanted spot. There the first threads of our story were woven, simply, quietly; and from there I left England, five years later, and left my past, my future, and my present, as it seemed to me then... all of it on a dark and stormy evening, pierced through with the voice of despair and pain.

I do not like to claim that the fort was mine, as some women are fond of doing; it belonged to "David." It was everything to him, and nothing was dearer to his heart than it, save his honor... and his love for me... But that does not keep me from declaring that a part of me remains in the fort still, and history may one day record it after us; and when I pass from this world, I do not doubt that visitors to the Cedar Walk at the fort will see a ghost hovering above the trees and the buildings... refusing to be parted from them even for a moment...

The history of Fort Belvedere goes back to the eighteenth century, when it belonged to the Duke of "Cumberland," William, son of King George II... The fort was neglected in the reign of Queen Victoria, and it became a ruin, given over to decay; George V restored some parts of it, then lodged in it a few men of the Court — without, of course, any enthusiasm or permanence... As for the fort's architecture, it is in the "Gothic" style, and this is what astonished the English about the Prince of Wales: how could he choose so old a building in an age where everything is modern?... As for me, I longed to see every corner of the fort, remembering all the Prince had said of it...

The district of "Sunningdale" lies twenty-two miles from London, and so we gave over the reins to "Hugh," our chauffeur, and I sat with Ernest in the back, each of us thinking of the hours to come... We reached the fort at six o'clock exactly, and night had already let down its curtains. Before the car had stopped, a great door opened and a servant looked out; after him came the Prince himself, to receive his guests, to see to their comfort and the carrying of their luggage — a particular trait I discovered in him. He then led us along a narrow passage into a spacious hall, its floor paved with black and white marble, its walls covered with a layer of yellow leather... From there we passed into the sitting room, where Thelma had preceded us with her husband and General Trotter. The warmth of the atmosphere enchanted me: the yellow velvet curtains, the carved wooden walls, and the elegant furnishings drew me to rest beside the fireplace, where my eye fell upon a row of precious books.

The Prince insisted on accompanying us to the room prepared for us on the second floor, and hinted discreetly at the special care that had gone into its arrangement and furnishing. When we returned to the hall for drinks, the Prince of Wales was bent over a piece of cloth, a needle and colored thread in his right hand, embroidering the piece and ornamenting it with real ardor. When he noticed our astonishment, he apologized, saying it was one of his ugly failings — perhaps the one habit he had never been able to give up... Then he lifted the cloth in his hands and said he was making a cover for a dining table... Naturally I was dumbfounded at the Prince's embroidering, and I could not conceal my astonishment as I asked him how, and from whom, he had learned this art?... He answered that he had it from his mother, who used to seat him with his brothers and sisters around the tea table, each of them with a needle, thread, and a piece of cloth in hand... Thus she would mingle conversation over tea with embroidery upon cloth... And so the hobby has remained a secret, known only to intimates; for it might well raise a storm of public opinion across the far-flung reaches of the Empire!...

In short, the Prince's life in this fort was independent, far from tradition and formality — or rather it was the life of a bachelor, a solitary young man, who works and does not care for publicity about what he does. Here he visits the farmers and the stricken districts, acquaints himself with conditions at large, and then gives his help far from the eyes of watchers and of the press...