Abdication A Novel - By Juliet Nicolson Page 0,134

he emerged looking ever more anxious. The story of “the king’s matter” finally reached the daily newspapers on Thursday 3 December, triggered by a public remark from a voluble cleric.

The Bishop of Bradford had put a question to the diocesan conference about whether the king had a comprehensive understanding of the full spiritual significance of the upcoming coronation. The British press, silent for so long over the king’s relationship with Mrs. Simpson, allowed themselves to interpret the Bishop’s doubts as their long-awaited licence to reveal the whole story.

Each morning for a week Sir Philip had sat in the front seat of the car either on the way to the House of Commons or to Fort Belvedere, reading The Times aloud as May drove him through the streets of London and the lanes of Berkshire. Under a headline entitled “King and Monarchy,” The Times revealed how parts of the foreign press were “predicting a marriage incompatible with the throne.” The prime minister had not yet commented publicly although the surprisingly modest prime ministerial car was often parked in the Fort driveway during those few frenetic days. On Friday 4 December, under another headline, “A King’s Marriage,” The Times reported that Mr. Baldwin had assured the House that “no constitutional difficulty exists at present” and a couple of days later two lines at last gave some information concerning the woman at the centre of the whole drama.

“Mrs. Simpson left England on Thursday night. It is believed her destination is Cannes.”

On Sunday May was again given the day off and went to the pictures with Rachel. Both women joined the cinema audience as they jumped to their feet and sung the national anthem louder than ever followed by a rousing round of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”

Mrs. Simpson had released a personal statement to the press.

“Mrs. Simpson is willing to withdraw forthwith from a situation that has been rendered both unhappy and untenable,” it read.

“Well I never. The cheek of it!” Rachel fumed. “She might have thought of that before, Simon, don’t you think? What must his mother be feeling now? It’s Queen Mary who I feel sorry for. Queen or no queen, she’s a mother, and must be as worried as any of us would be.”

On each successive day of the following week members of parliament packed the chamber in anticipation of a statement from Stanley Baldwin. Each day they returned home no wiser about the king’s final decision. Sir Philip and Mr. Monckton were only two of the advisors who hurried through the doors of the Fort, Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament and 10 Downing Street. Chauffeurs in the employ of the archbishop of Canterbury; the prime minister; Mr. Neville Chamberlain, the chancellor; Mr. Anthony Eden, the foreign secretary; and Mr. John Simon, the home secretary, gathered in servants’ halls and in car parks and in the street with the drivers working for Mr. Winston Churchill, Mr. Duff Cooper and Sir Oswald Mosley.

May was well known to most of these drivers. During the preceding eleven months she had spent long hours in their company, waiting for Sir Philip and their employers to conclude meetings on which major national decisions depended. If at first these hard-talking, tobacco-inhaling chauffeurs had shown surprise at a woman’s inclusion among their number, they, like the taxi drivers, had quickly come to respect her for her professionalism and secretly to admire her for her comeliness. Indeed, there was more curiosity in Sir Oswald’s driver than in May. Over packets of Woodbines and cups of tea the man who had driven the leader of the British fascists to the march at Cable Street and once to Cuckmere Park was asked to justify his presence within this distinguished group.

“From what I hear on my side of the glass screen,” he explained, “Mr. Baldwin thinks Sir Oswald could help in making the king see sense about his fancy woman. And he’s not all bad, Sir Oswald, you know. He has ideas that some people find appealing. Take my missus for example. She says Mosley wants to give women a good deal, what with offering them the same party member rights as a man. Her women friends agree with her that Sir Oswald talks sense. Can’t see it myself,” he added. “But a job’s a job, isn’t it?”

The other drivers muttered their support for Mosley’s inclusion in the king’s team of advisors. All the chauffeurs were united in their fear that the monarchy was on the verge of collapse