The Memoirs of the Duchess of Windsor (10)

The King had either to sacrifice me to remain on the throne, or to sacrifice the throne to marry me

to the Fleet; then he shortly excused himself to pay a visit to the palace, returning to us afterward... And the moment he entered the library, I knew there was something strange in the air... He looked pale, inscrutable, and would not speak at all of what was troubling him... But he could not conceal the cause for long; he revealed his secret, the secret he had tried in vain to hide...

The cause of his distress was a letter that had reached him that day, by the hand of his private secretary, containing a warning from the British press, which declared that it would not keep silent much longer over his relationship with Mrs. Simpson, and a communication from the Prime Minister and the governing body demanding that he attend to the affairs of his kingdom, and asking him to remove me from London...

The news fell upon me like a thunderbolt. Here I was, face to face with the truth I had so long ignored; nothing remained for me but to depart. I told David so, and he forbade me to leave, and declared with all boldness: They shall not be able to stop me... even if I leave the throne. And he wished to head matters off before they occurred... And David answered him that my divorce concerned me alone, and was no business of his whatsoever... And to keep rumors from leaking abroad, he gathered the proprietors of the great press houses and asked them to publish the news of the divorce plainly, stripped of any coloring.

And for the first time in my life I felt afraid, in spite of the confidence David gave me. Aunt "Bessie" was coming to visit me in November, and with her she brought the news the American papers were passing from hand to hand... As for London, despite the silence of the press, society was buzzing over the subject of the divorce, and I could no longer go out to public places; looks of astonishment pursued me whichever way I turned.

David intended to pay a short visit to the Royal Fleet, and he invited me, with Aunt "Bessie," to accompany him. That was in the second week of November; and I still remember Friday the 13th of that month; I went with my aunt to the castle, and the King arrived in high spirits, after his visit

Meanwhile, I had rented a house on the seashore, as though set apart from mankind, and there I stayed awaiting the outcome of the divorce... And I must say that, whatever the circumstances, divorce is a hard thing; to this day I remember the night I spent pacing the floor of my room, back and forth, sleep finding no way to my eyelids; and to this day I remember the judge's look at me as he handed me the divorce paper. But I was not yet wholly free, for I had to wait six months before the divorce became effective...

I had hardly reached home that day when I received a telephone call from David — my news had reached him — and we decided to dine together that night... And the King failed to suppress his feelings; he tried his utmost to appear cheerful, but I felt that he was hiding more than cheer; he was worn out, bewildered... and afterward I understood the reason... The Prime Minister had sent asking the King to meet him, and during the interview he asked David to persuade me to change my mind in the matter of the divorce; he had reckoned what might happen after that

we would marry. And my turn came to be embarrassed... I fell to imploring him to allow me to depart, and he took my hand between his hands, then looked at me earnestly and said: Tomorrow I shall meet the counselors; I shall tell them of this intention of mine, and if they refuse to let me remain on the throne, I shall give it up with an entirely willing heart.

And I burst out weeping; the mere thought of it was madness. And I fell to upbraiding myself for my delay; I ought to have left London before then, and avoided the occurrence of these troubles. I asked myself what had prevented me, and the answer was always one: a woman's inability to resist the wish of the man she loves.

On the morning of Monday, November 16, I returned to my house downcast, and when dinnertime drew near David telephoned me and told me he had tried to consult the responsible men in our case, and so far no progress whatever had been made!...

When I met David in London my aunt was with me; and there was a new proposal concerning our marriage: that the King remain on his throne, but that the foreign wife not become queen... But the Council rejected the idea entirely; it had been legally abolished a century before...

The days that followed were among the drowsiest, dreariest moments of my life; it was as if the news had passed to people's tongues, and they took to following my steps. Eyes were posted about my house; my aunt never once looked from behind the window curtains without seeing the passers-by on the pavement stop and stare.

Nor was that all: letters began reaching me from various quarters, some bearing stinging criticism, others bearing threats and menaces; this was the first trial of its kind I had passed through in my life, and I do not deny that it was a very cruel trial. I began to feel that I was a hunted animal, and what added to the tightness in my breast was my thinking of the fate to which David would come; I did not wish to burden him further, so I kept silent, grudgingly... But he learned of a rumor to the effect that a band of conspirators intended to blow up my house.

And on Friday morning, the Council being in session, David sent me a letter in his own hand, warning me, and inviting me, with Aunt Bessie, to leave London at once; and he advised me to take refuge in the castle, where no one would dare approach; and he added that he would pass by that afternoon and carry us off in his car, provided the servants knew nothing of it.

And at six that evening David came as he had promised, and as I let my gaze wander over the lights of London behind us, I did not know that I would not see them again for three years.

Even the atmosphere of the castle was no longer the one I had known for years: the servants' faces were sullen, and silence hung over every corner... and David was summoned every other moment to answer telephone calls... He could no longer hide from me how critical the political situation had become; and on the Sunday afternoon of that week, he took me into the library and set about repeating in my hearing the opinions of the counselors and the men of the court; there was no hope whatever for our marriage... And I felt my resolve about to give way. My spirit was shattered before the struggle of this giant who was attempting the impossible for my sake... And his thinking led him toward doing anything to win public opinion throughout the whole Empire; he thought of broadcasting the story of our love, to win by it the sympathy of the people... but he had to obtain the Council's consent before venturing upon that.

Throughout all this I was staying at the castle with Aunt "Bessie"... And on January 2, David returned from London to take dinner at the castle, and I had no need to ask him what had happened, for the marks of pain and anger drawn upon his face told me. He mentioned nothing in front of my aunt, but he told everything when we were alone in the castle garden... He told me that all the efforts had gone for nothing, and that only one of two roads remained before him: either to sacrifice me and remain on the throne, or to sacrifice the throne to marry me; and he was not prepared to give me up at any price... But I could never consent to his abdication. His place was upon the throne, and at the head of his people... And he did not hear my words; he was far away from me; and I resolved to take the reins of the matter into my own hands, so far as I could.

And after a moment's silence I said to him firmly: I must go, David; I must go out of your life. I should have done this long ago, but there is still time, and no power shall keep me from carrying out my decision... And fortunately he did not argue with me; rather it seemed to me as though his burden had lightened, and he finished by saying: It is hard for me to let you go, but your staying is hard as well... especially as the press today has broken its promise of silence, and tomorrow our story will be on the tongues of high and low... So I think it better that you should leave...

And when I entered the castle I told my aunt what I had decided, and the news did not astonish her; it was as though she had known by instinct what had happened... And I awaited

the thunderbolt campaign in the morning; the morning papers poured down a sweeping flood of huge headlines, all of them criticizing the King and attacking me... And when I entered the library, David tried to hide some of the papers, thinking that I had not seen them... Then he came near me, murmuring: What is done is done, and there is no helping it; but we have work now to do... Then he told me that my leaving London must be carried out quietly, because the press had begun to hound me and track my footsteps... And after reflection, we arrived at a single solution: that I should go to "Villa Lou Viei," the home of Herman and Carmen Rogers, in Cannes, with the lord who attends upon the King to accompany me. And we took every measure calculated to blind the newspapermen's eyes to me and quiet their curiosity; so I left the castle by night, guarded by several detectives, with Lord Peregrine Brownlow and his wife; and although I was absorbed in preparing the necessities of the journey, David spent that afternoon bent over his speech, revising it and adding to it the final touches.

Everything was moving swiftly, and I felt in the depths of my soul that these were the last hours of that sweet, enchanting life... and who knew whether I should ever see it again... And just as it was hard for me to bid David farewell, taking leave of Aunt "Bessie" was every bit as hard, and I felt my heart wrung with pain when I thought of leaving her amid the remains of the scattered wreckage... among the fragments of my adventure.

And when David bade me farewell at seven that evening, he whispered in my ear, saying: I do not know how things will go, nor do I know when we shall meet again... but no matter — wait for me... for I shall never give you up...