Laurie Graham - Gone With the Windsors

His Royal Highness has very blue eyes and a rather high-pitched voice.

“Brumby?” he said. “A big name in Baltimore, I seem to remember. Iron, was it?”

Iron, coal, nickel, cobalt, silver, bauxite. Wherever it was in the world, Danforth Brumby would find it and have it grubbed out of the ground and turned into dollars.

I said, “Yes sir, Brumby Steel and Chemical, founded by my late husband. And you may have heard of my late father, too. John Patterson was a legend for his worker housing.”

“Is that so?” he said. “Well, you must tell me about it someday. I’m awfully keen on worker housing.”

Wally didn’t like that. She thinks she’s the only one who knows how to draw people out. She thinks I’m just a pretty face.

The Prince made us all scotches and soda, very much at home. He’d obviously done it before. Wally’s a sly one. He told us about his week. He’d been in the North, cheering up paupers. Wally was plying him with questions, but he really wanted to know about me, what brought me to London.

I said, “Well, funnily enough, sir, you did. I came last year, after my bereavement, to visit my sister Violet. And if it weren’t for you, I very much doubt my sister would be here. If you hadn’t gone to Sulphur Springs with Donald Melhuish all those years ago, Violet wouldn’t have met him and married him and moved to London. So, in a roundabout way, you’re entirely responsible.”

He has a funny little laugh.

“Melhuish!” he said. “Of course! When was that?”

It was 1919.

He said, “And you’re Violet Melhuish’s sister? Remarkable! You look nothing like her. A fine soldier, Melhuish. We were together at Verdun, you know?”

When Ernest came home, he didn’t seem particularly surprised to find the Prince of Wales sitting on his couch, so I wonder how long this has been going on? Great shows of affability, but I believe I noticed Ernest relax when the Prince said he couldn’t stay to dinner.

He said, “No, Ernest. As comfortable as I am, I can’t stay, not even for Wally’s goulash. I have to dine with Their Majesties.”

He kissed Wally on the cheek as he left.

She said, “Oh Maybell, your face when the Prince walked in! I wish I could have snapped it.”

I said, “You might have warned me. You were obviously expecting him.”

She said, “Not really. He’s dropped by a few times but he never calls ahead.”

I said, “But you didn’t even tell me he’d been here. Why the big secret? You were shouting it from the rooftops when he invited you to Fort Belvedere.”

Ernest said, “We certainly did not. We’ve always been discreet about our friendship, and so must you be. Please don’t go telling all and sundry about this evening. His Royal Highness feels at home here, thanks to Wally. She has the right touch. Clever girl.”

So that’s why she’s been shopping with such abandon. Ernest’s paid her a good dividend for hauling in the Prince of Wales. Well, their secret is safe with me. Apart from Pips and Violet, I won’t tell a soul.

I made a point of speaking to Melhuish on the telephone this morning. He said, “You’ve missed Violet. She had a meeting at nine and then she’s going directly to the Habberleys. We’re there for the weekend.”

I said, “It was you I wanted. I was with the Prince of Wales last evening and he most particularly asked to be remembered to you.”

Stopped him in his tracks. “Wales?” he said. “Really? Were you at the Belchesters?”

I said, “No, at the Ernest Simpsons.”

“Simpson, Simpson?” he said. “Know the name, but can’t place him.”

I said, “You met him at my soiree. He was in the Guards, and his wife is called Wally. She talked to you about salmon flies. She was a school friend, but these days Violet disapproves of her.”

He said, “Does she? Well, Vee’s a good judge of people. As for Wales, these days I’m not entirely sure how sound he is. There was a time. We had a good war together, but he doesn’t appear to have done much since. From what I hear, all he does nowadays is plague his tailor and run his valets ragged. He’s a bloody clotheshorse, Maybell. If you ask me, we’re going to get a dandy for a king.”

It says it all. The Prince is so modern and unstuffy, and Melhuish is so set in his ways. How left behind he must feel.

Stood Wally lunch at the Dorch. Penelope Blythe came to our table and said, “Oh Wally, I hear His Royal Highness is back from Northumberland. How is he?” I could have killed her. I’d sworn Pips and Hattie to absolute secrecy.

Wally doesn’t seem as anxious about things as Ernest, though.

She said, “Well, of course, nothing the Prince of Wales does goes unnoticed. And why shouldn’t he call in on friends at the cocktail hour?”

I said, “I suppose what’s remarkable is that he comes to an address like Bryanston Court.”

“Not at all,” she said. “That’s the kind of prince he is.”

The Erlangers want me to dinner. The Trillings are begging me. Pips absolutely insists on having me. Wally’s schedule may suddenly be full, but they know they can get the story from me, and without earnest Ernest sucking on his pipe and pontificating about discretion.

To the Crosbies. The Prosper Friths were there, also the Erlangers and the Belchesters. Billy Belchester said it didn’t surprise him to hear that the Prince of Wales had taken up with people in the suburbs. He said, “It’ll be his latest fad. That’s Wales all over. Picks things up and then drops them. I hope your Simpson friends are prepared for that.”

Freddie said, “Still, I think it was very astute of Maybell to get him onto worker housing. He’s not the easiest of conversationalists, but that is a subject dear to his heart. Golf, too.”

Prosper Frith said it was all very well for Wales to be keen on worker housing when he didn’t have to find the money for it. He said, “Ask me, he should attend to his own affairs. Cut ribbons. Settle down and produce an heir. Leave politicking to those who understand it.”

Daphne Frith said, “Well, I’d hate to have Royalties suddenly proposing themselves for cockers. It’d be such a strain, always being prepared.”

Not for Wally, of course. Being prepared is what she does best. I do wonder about Violet and Melhuish though. The Prince is so agreeable, I can’t think why they allowed the friendship to wither. Tea parties with the Bertie Yorks are all very well, but Wales is the one who’ll be king someday.

Freddie says His Royal Highness is a big campaigner for pit head baths.

Harrold’s Lending Library had nothing on pit head baths. Ida says they are facilities to allow coal miners to perform their toilette before going home to dine. All at the mine owner’s expense, you can be sure.

Lunched with Wally. The Prince of Wales has asked after me!

She and Ernest had dinner with him last evening at the Benny Thaws.

She said, “He loves Americans, you know. He finds us much more in tune with his thinking than those English stuffed shirts. And he’s often at a loose end in the evening, especially when Thelma’s in the country. Really, if we want him, he’s ours for the taking.”

She’s talking about offering him a dinner. Not a potluck with just her and Ernest, but a proper dinner, where he can meet lively Americans. With only a cook and two maids, it sounds overambitious to me. Wilton Place would be far more suitable, but she didn’t like my saying so.

She said, “I can manage perfectly well at Bryanston Court, thank you, and the Prince feels at home there. Obviously, I’ll get in extra help. But don’t be disappointed, Maybell, if you’re not invited. The guest list will be out of my hands. That’s the protocol, you see? David will have to approve everything.”