Читать книгу Gone With the Windsors - Laurie Graham - Страница 154

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.