Memoirs of the Duchess of Windsor (Nineteenth and Final Installment)

The quarrel melted away with the arrival of a letter from the Prime Minister saying that the King had appointed David Governor of the "Bahamas"... And I saw him come into my room in elation to bring me the glad news. They had found him a post at last...

It was a territory we had never reached in our travels, and far removed from the war and its clamor...

The Prime Minister attached to his letter a word of apology, since this was all that lay in his power... And so we set about preparing for the journey, waiting for the first steamer to carry us to our new post.

We left Lisbon at the beginning of August 1940... I gazed with a certain regret at the continent of Europe receding from our sight little by little... and I felt as though I were drawing away from the center of things, or from the ground on which I had begun to trace the plans of our new life.

The responsibility on David's shoulders was great, and it fell to me, as his wife, to carry a share of that burden.

On the morning of August 17 we arrived at "Nassau," and here were the furnishings of the Governor's house — our furnishings, that is... As we stood on the ship's deck, David pointed to a house on the shoulder of a green hill and said: There is our residence, my dear. To my eyes it looked splendid, ringed by a wall of green palm trees... But the heat that began to scorch our faces and bodies was more than could be borne... The citizens did their best to make our reception official and engaging, and the wives of the officials took pains over the decoration of the house, scattering flowers in every room; but that did not hide how badly the walls

within needed fresh paint.

The winter of 1940–1941 was a period of settling down and tranquility after the war; and by virtue of my husband's post I had become the hub of social activity: I found myself president of the Red Cross, and honorary president of the local branch of the "Daughters of the British Empire"... Before long I realized that I must strengthen my friendships with the wives of the country's political leaders, for the sake of David's position.

In May of that year we went to Miami, then on to Washington on a working trip, and we spent a few days as guests of the British Embassy, which gave a dinner in our honor... But it happened that a message reached David during the dinner asking him to return to "Nassau," because the workmen who had been building "Windsor Field" had rioted in a way that might lead to an uprising; yet at the very same moment a message arrived from President Roosevelt inviting David to visit him... We had lunched with the President and his wife that same day, so I began to wonder what could be the motive behind this sudden invitation... We soon learned the reason: the President wished to place under David's charge the military aviation secretariat at "Nassau"...

The next day David flew to "Nassau" and found the crowds massed at the bay; he resolved to use whatever force was needed to quell the agitation, and called in the police force, which set matters to rights again without the shedding of blood...

In 1942 David suffered many things besides his arduous duties: his uncle the Duke of "Connaught" died in January, and in August he received a telegram announcing the death of his brother George, Duke of "Kent," killed in a flying accident. I wished those tragedies might draw the members of the royal family closer together, but even in grief nothing changed.

My life was crowded with work: I would

spend the morning at the Red Cross center, and pass the afternoon at the "canteen" which I headed, where we prepared food and amusements for the air forces. Before long David conceived the idea of founding a clinic for expectant mothers and children; and it pleases me to mention that the clinics we founded are still there to this hour.

With the year 1944 the last breaths of the war faded away, and David's task became an empty one; by this time he had become certain that his family preferred to keep him at a distance so long as it was able to.

I had expected as much, but I began to think of the sorrow that stirred within him, and the feeling of disappointment that came over him; and I thought of one last attempt to bring him and his mother, at least, closer together. The occasion came when the Bishop of Nassau, the Reverend "John Dauglish," decided to return to England. I knew of his close ties to David's father and to the family, and since he was a devoted friend of ours as well, I decided to send with him a letter to present to Queen Mary when he called on her... I still keep a copy of that letter, which read:

Madam:
I beg you to forgive my intrusion upon your time, and my boldness in approaching Your Majesty... The reason is very simple. It has been a source of pain and regret to me to be the barrier that stands between a mother and her son, and I cannot believe that no moments pass in which you remember David. If you should wish to know how he fares, ask the Reverend Dauglish about him, and about our life on this remote island, and all we have endured of suffering and privation... among them the war, and the separation from family and homeland, for which we wish every prosperity and progress.

And I beg to remain Your Majesty's obedient servant.

Wallis Windsor

A letter came to me from the Reverend telling me of his visit to the Queen, and of her questions about David; but when he told her of the work I had been doing on the island, she seemed like a rock of stone...

One day David came into the house beaming, to read me a letter from his mother which said at its close, "I have sent a kind message to your wife." He kept wondering in astonishment what had happened to his mother to change her mind; naturally I did not answer him, and he did not know until he read this chapter.

In 1945 David decided to hand in his resignation; and so it was.

We could not return to Paris until September of that year, owing to the difficulty of travel... It was our great good fortune to find our house just as we had left it; so we moved our furniture and went to the "Ritz"... The south of France was still under the rule of the American forces, and we did not obtain a permit to enter "La Croë" before December... I had always been looking for a dwelling on the outskirts of Paris, and at last we found the "Moulin de la Tuilerie," whose construction dates back to the seventeenth century. One of our artist friends, "Étienne Drian," was living in it, and after some effort we succeeded in persuading him to sell the place, together with the gardens surrounding it...

When I watch David from the terrace, coming and going among the rose plantings, I know how right we were in choosing that place; but for a person raised to love service, and the helping of his country, it was hard to be content with this empty life. And so David went on shuttling between France and England, to remind the Palace of his existence whenever the need arose; but these visits of his met with no encouragement.

We carried on our life within this frame, which compelled me to learn new qualities and give up old habits... I still hold fast to Lord Byron's saying: love is a part of man's life, but it is the whole of woman's existence... For any woman who has loved as I have loved, and to whom a man has been devoted as the one who loved me, has known life with all that lies behind it... Nor must I forget to mention that I was never for a day a mother, and never knew that feeling of creation which mothers pass through... And yet I have lived more than one life, and have known the greatest happiness in existence...

(The End)