The Peoples King (30 page)

The first few days of December were harrowing for Wallis. She was
horrified when the story broke in the press and had no idea of the level
of popular support for the King or for herself. Indeed, she would have
had far less sense of what the population felt than did Edward, who
had met so many of the ordinary people on his numerous visits to the
provincial and industrial areas of Britain since 1919. Some of them
seemed to realize how isolated she must feel. A woman in Middlesex
who was desperate to help the King wrote, if only I could go to your
lady and tell her just how we feel about it and give her a word of
sympathy from the people, and let her know that our hearts are full
of sorrow and wishing only for the best for you both.'
⁸¹
Many regarded
Wallis as a force for good who would share Edward's democratic
ideals. A letter that arrived later in the week advocated that he reserve
the right to marry until after the coronation - to anyone he liked. In
the meantime, it suggested, 'Mrs Simpson might well become known
to the public as Your Majesty's friend. On unofficial occasions, such
as visiting distressed areas, housing estates, etc., she could be in the
party; and she might find ways of coming into touch with people
herself through art, music, or child welfare . . .'
⁸²

By 2 December, Wallis was close to a nervous breakdown. Edward
realized with dismay that the situation was becoming intolerable for
her and agreed that she should leave the country, quickly. Wallis had
only a day to make preparations and had no chance to return to her
house at Cumberland Terrace to make arrangements with the servants
and organize her affairs. All she could do was send her maid, Mary
Burke, to London to pick up a few clothes. Meanwhile, Edward
arranged for her to travel with Perry Brownlow, his Lord-in-Waiting,
as well as Inspector Evans of Scotland Yard. Educated at Eton and
Sandhurst, and a Lieutenant in the Grenadier Guards, Lord Brownlow
had succeeded his father as sixth Baron Brownlow in 1927. Now
thirty-seven, he was dignified 'to a degree', remarked an item in the
press, 'that a stranger might mistake for pomposity ... a man of the
highest integrity.'
⁸³
He and wife Kitty had named their son, born in
March 1936, after Edward, who was his godfather. So loyal was
Perry's friendship that Edward knew he could trust him completely to
look after the woman he loved.

Wallis decided to go to the south of France to the home of Katherine
and Herman Rogers, the American friends she had stayed with in
Peking. They had insisted that she turn to them for help at any time.
'You are still my one living example of a perfectly wise and complete
person', wrote Herman Rogers in October. 'We are with you always
. . . Come to us if and when you can . . .'
⁸⁴
Although he and his wife
had lived for many years in New York, they had a second home in
Cannes. This was a villa called Lou Viei - a twelfth-century monastery
above the city, on a ledge below a hill, making it an ideal refuge.
Accommodation was arranged for Wallis and Lord Brownlow on a
Channel steamer, which had been booked in the name of Mr and Mrs
Harris. It was not possible for Mrs Merryman to come too, because
the journey would be difficult and unpredictable. Wallis also had to
leave behind Slipper, her cairn terrier, a gift from Edward, in the
bitter days that followed,' wrote Edward in his memoirs, 'I was to be
grateful for his companionship. He followed me around The Fort; he
slept by my bed; he was the mute witness of my meetings with the
Prime Minister.'
⁸⁵

On the evening of 3 December, Brownlow arrived at the Fort to
collect Wallis for the journey. He found the King looking 'rather
pathetic, tired, overwrought, and evidently dreading Wallis's depar­ture, almost like a small boy being left behind at school for the first
time.'
⁸⁶
His parting words to Wallis were, 'I don't know how it's all
going to end. It will be some time before we can be together again.
You must wait for me no matter how long it takes. I shall never give
you up.'
⁸⁷
As they departed, the King leant across to Wallis, said
Brownlow, 'to get one last touch of her hand - there were tears in his
eyes and on his cheeks, and his voice was shaking - "Wherever you
reach tonight, no matter what time, telephone me. Bless you, my
darling." '
⁸⁸
They left at 6.00 p.m. and then, Edward later recalled, 'A
sense of acute loneliness filled me.'
⁸⁹
Yet he had every confidence that
he would be with her again and that all would turn out well. Wallis,
though, was in complete despair, believing that she would never see
Edward again.
⁹⁰

As soon as they had left, Brownlow urged a change of plan - instead
of going to France, he should take Wallis to Belton House, his estate
in Lincolnshire. This plot had been secretly hatched by Brownlow
with Churchill and Beaverbrook: they thought that at Belton, Wallis
would be safely out of the crisis but still close enough to exert an
influence and, hopefully, to persuade the King against giving up his
throne. If necessary, she would be able to go to London to see him in
person. There was also a worry that if Wallis went to France, Edward
might miss her so terribly that he would rush after her - which would
precipitate him into abdication. Going to Belton would have been a
much easier journey for Wallis, and staying with the Brownlows would
have given her a period of calm respite, which she sorely needed. Belton
is a gracious seventeenth-century house in peaceful surroundings:
elegant gardens and acres of parkland, with avenues of oak and ash
trees and fields of sheep. Wallis knew Belton House well, because
she had stayed there with Edward several times, as the guest of the
Brownlow family. But on this occasion she was not willing to go.
It would break her agreement with Edward and risk weakening the
bond of trust that united them. Belton was firmly refused, and she
and Brownlow started their journey to France, driven by the King's
chauffeur, Ladbrook.

As they travelled south, Wallis and Brownlow talked almost incess­antly, but they had different perspectives on the problem. Brownlow's
hopes and instructions were based primarily on
no
marriage; while
Wallis was still talking vaguely about the morganatic plan. 'We crossed
the Channel, Wallis and I,' Brownlow reported to Diana Vreeland,
'and our first night was in Rouen, where we found rooms in a hotel,
just like ordinary tourists on the road.' Here Brownlow telephoned
the King, who had been lying awake all night, worrying, to tell him
they were safe.
⁹¹
Wallis was completely overcome by fear and anxiety,
recalled Brownlow later:

'Perry,' Wallis said to me through the door, after we'd been in our separate
rooms for what seemed like an eternity, 'will you please leave the door open
between your room and mine? I'm so frightened. I'm so nervous.' I did. Then
she called to me: 'Perry, will you please sleep in the bed next to me? I cannot
be alone.'

He went into her room, fully dressed, and pulled the blanket over
himself. But then she started to cry. 'Sounds came out of her',
Brownlow told Diana Vreeland, 'that were absolutely without top,
bottom . . . that were
primeval.
There was nothing I could do but lie
down beside her, hold her hand, and make her feel that she was not
alone.'
⁹²
The next morning, they set off on the rest of the two-day
drive through France. It was a nightmare journey. Their identity had
been discovered, and the registration number of their Buick appeared
in the French press. They were pursued by journalists, and Wallis was
repeatedly forced to crouch on the floor of the car, concealed by a rug.

After two days and numerous detours to escape the press, they
finally arrived at Lou Viei, at two o'clock on the morning of Sunday
6
December. Before they could drive through the gates to be welcomed
by Herman and Katherine Rogers, they had to negotiate a crowd
of several hundred reporters hovering outside the villa. They were
completely exhausted, and Wallis felt utterly hopeless. She was separ­ated by the English Channel and nearly a thousand miles from the
man she loved, whom she now believed she would never see again.
Her beloved Aunt Bessie was far away, and so was her loyal maid,
Mary Burke. She was trapped behind the gates of Lou Viei; any attempt
to leave would have been disastrous and possibly dangerous. How
different was her predicament from the one imagined by Helen Hard­inge, who telephoned her mother, Lady Milner, with the news that,
'Lord Brownlow had been the luckless companion of the flight of Mrs
Simpson across France. All done for the cinema! An offer has already
come from Hollywood.'
⁹³