The Duchess Of Windsor (44 page)

BOOK: The Duchess Of Windsor
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It was against this divisive background that Wallis and David prepared for their marriage.
27
 
The Wedding
 
T
he arrival of George VI’s unwelcome letter cast a grim shadow over the wedding. The Duke immediately appealed to his brother, protesting that his decision was illegal and asking that he reconsider. The day before the wedding, word came from Buckingham Palace that the King refused to alter his decision. Monckton, who received the call, was reluctant to pass this devastating piece of news along. “Duddles,” he said to Dudley Forwood, “I’ve got the unpleasant task of telling His Royal Highness that the Duchess won’t be Her Royal Highness.”
“Oh, Walter,” Forwood replied, “you’ll never do it.”
“You’re right,” Monckton admitted, “I won’t. Why don’t you?” Thus, Forwood shouldered the thankless task of informing the Duke. He pulled David aside and said, “Word has come, Sir, from Buckingham Palace about the Duchess’s title. I am afraid, Sir, that she is not to be a Royal Highness.”
The Duke, overwhelmed, burst into tears and buried his head in Forwood’s shoulder. When he recovered his composure, he asked, “Dudley, will you promise me that you will treat the Duchess as a Royal Highness?”
”Sir,” Forwood replied, “she will always be Her Royal Highness to me.”
1
Wallis was determined to ignore the snub, and spent her days preparing for the wedding. Cecil Beaton had come from London and spent an afternoon before the wedding taking photographs of the couple in the park at Candé. Guests continued to arrive; in addition to Wallis’s aunt Bessie, the wedding party included Fruity Metcalfe, who was to serve as the Duke’s supporter; Fruity’s wife, Lady Alexandra Metcalfe; George Allen; Walter Monckton; Randolph Churchill; Baron Eugene de Rothschild and his wife, Kitty; Hugh Lloyd Thomas, first secretary to the British embassy; Lady Walford Selby; Dudley Forwood; and the British consul at Nantes, W. C. Graham and his wife. As expected, no member of the British Royal Family attended.
The day before the wedding was filled with a flurry of activity. Wallis decided that she would like the ceremony conducted in the château’s music room, a large room paneled in cream-colored
boiserie
. There was no altar in the château, so a fifteenth-century chest from one of the hallways was determined to be the best substitute. It was placed in a small alcove at one end of the music room; the chest, however, was carved with nude figures, and a mad search took place for some suitable covering. Eventually, Wallis rummaged through her trunks and found an embroidered, cream-colored silk tea cloth and draped it over the offending nudes. Charles Bedaux could only find crucifixes in the château; when Jardine insisted on a Protestant cross, Bedaux dutifully trooped down to the local village and managed to borrow one, which he triumphantly placed at the center of the altar upon his return. George Allen, himself scavenging the château for wedding accessories, set two candlesticks he had taken from the dining room on the altar, only to be spotted by Wallis, who shouted, “Hey, you can’t put those up! We want them for the dinner table tonight!”
2
Somehow, through all of the frenzy and disappointment, Wallis managed to keep her head and her sense of humor. Seeing the intense work going on all over the château, one of the maids declared that it was all too much and that she would never get married. “Oh, it isn’t always as bad as this,” Wallis replied with a laugh; “only if you’re marrying the ex-King of England.”
3
That night, Wallis presided over a celebratory dinner in the château’s dining room. The Duke seemed jovial enough, but during the recital which followed, he quickly became bored. He somehow managed to pull Jardine off to one side of the room and spent the next hour questioning the minister at great length as to housing conditions and the welfare of the poor in his district back in England.
Thursday, June 3, 1937, dawned bright and warm at Candé. The sky was cloudless and the sun brilliant, its heat relieved by a gentle breeze sweeping across the park from the surrounding forests. Wallis had been up since dawn, carefully preparing, in her enormous bedroom overlooking the gardens, for what she knew would become one of history’s most publicized weddings. As Aunt Bessie assisted, Wallis dressed in the outfit Mainbocher had designed in his Paris studios. Wallis’s dress was a simple sheath of blue silk crepe, with a long skirt and a matching long-sleeved, fitted jacket. The color was a pale sapphire; “I named it ’Wallis Blue,’ “ Mainbocher explained, “a blue of which there was never a sample available to anyone.”
4
The bodice of the jacket draped into a heart shape at the bustline and fell in a series of pleats to the waist. With the jacket, Wallis wore a pair of wrist-length blue-crepe gloves; the left-hand ring finger opened up to allow the placement of the wedding band. Her shoes, by Georgette of Paris, were in a matching blue suede. In place of a veil, Wallis elected to wear a small hat, designed as a halo of pink and blue feathers atop a straw base by Caroline Reboux.
5
To accommodate superstition, Wallis wore a piece of antique lace stitched into her lingerie as something old; a gold coin minted for the coronation of Edward VIII and worn in the heel of her shoe provided something new; Aunt Bessie lent a lace handkerchief as something borrowed; and, of course, her wedding dress itself provided Wallis with the requirement for something blue.
At half-past eleven, escorted by Herman Rogers, Wallis descended the château’s grand staircase and made her way to the salon, where the civil ceremony would be held prior to the religious celebration. The salon, a long, dark room dominated by a massive stone fireplace, had been filled with flowers arranged by Constance Spry. Large vases of white and pink peonies stood on either side of the wooden table where the civil documents would be signed; peonies decorated the mantelpiece, and before the open windows were bouquets of white, yellow, and red peonies and lilies. As a tribute to Wallis, someone had also decorated the room with strings of little paper American flags which fluttered crisply in the breeze.
David stood waiting for his bride, smartly attired in a morning suit of striped trousers, gray waistcoat, and black cutaway. Fruity Metcalfe stood to his right, also wearing a morning suit. Herman escorted Wallis to the Duke’s side, and the four principals took their seats before the marriage table. The other wedding guests crowded in at the rear of the room, looking on as the mayor of Monts, Charles Mercier—attired in formal dress draped with a red, white, and blue sash edged with gold tassels—began the ceremony.
The civil ceremony was conducted in French; Mercier had been sufficiently worried lest the bride or groom misunderstand him, so he had run them through their paces in several rehearsals. He began: “Conforming to the requirements of the law I will read you Chapter Six of the Civil Code on the respective rights and duties of a married couple.” Mercier proceeded to lecture them on their expected behavior, delivering such charges as: “The wife must live with her husband and must follow him to whatever place he deems proper as a residence. The husband must receive her and furnish her with the necessities of life according to his facilities and position.”
6
Mercier carefully led Wallis and David through their vows. With a simple, emphatic
“Oui,
” Wallis became the Duchess of Windsor at 11:47 A.M. Mercier was not one to let such a historic opportunity pass him by; as soon as he concluded the ceremony, he launched into a flowery address in rapid-fire French that was largely lost on both Wallis and David: “By one of those whims of destiny, it is under the blue sky and among the flowers of the garden of France, in the laughing valley of the Indre, that the most moving of all idylls has just unfolded itself. The illustrious wedding which innumerable hearts will celebrate. . . .”
7
As the clock struck noon, Wallis and David left the salon for the walk through the château to the music room, where the religious ceremony would take place. The altar blazed with light: Tall candelabra stood on either side of the carved chest, reflecting in the gilded mirror the scene above the cross. Wallis and David entered the room separately. The Duke came first, Fruity Metcalfe at his side, as Marcel Dupree, the organist from Notre Dame in Paris, played Handel’s “Wedding March” from
Judas Maccabaeus
. Wallis, escorted once again by Herman Rogers, walked down the aisle to the sound of Dupree’s own “Wedding March.” Reverend Jardine waited at the altar, standing over two white-satin pillows on low stools upon which the bridal couple knelt for the opening prayer.
Jardine began with the customary address to the bridal couple: “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it. For be ye well assured that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s word doth allow are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful.”
The only French press representative allowed to witness the ceremony, Maurice Schumann, recalled “the slight tremor which ran through the small groups of guests” when Jardine delivered this warning.
8
Jardine then turned to the Duke: “Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David, Wilt Thou have this Woman to Thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s Ordinance in the Holy Estate of Matrimony? Wilt Thou love Her, comfort Her, honour and keep Her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep Thee only unto Her, so long as Ye both shall live?”
“I will,” David answered.
Turning to Wallis, Jardine asked: “Wallis, Wilt Thou have this Man to Thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s Ordinance in the Holy Estate of Matrimony? Wilt Thou obey Him, and serve Him, love, honour and keep Him, in sickness and in health; and forsaking all others, keep Thee only unto Him, so long as Ye both shall live?”
“I will,” Wallis replied clearly.
“Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?” Jardine inquired.
Herman Rogers stepped forward slightly, bowed his head, and returned to his place. Jardine then directed the Duke to take Wallis’s right hand in his, and David repeated after the reverend, “I, Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David, take Thee, Bessie Wallis, to My Wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forth, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do Us part, and thereto, I plight Thee My troth.”
Wallis repeated her own vows after Jardine’s instructions, the same one that the Duke had pledged, with the exception that she also promised to obey. Jardine then brought forth the wedding ring, blessed it, and handed the Duke the band intended for his wife. He repeated after Jardine: “With this ring, I Thee wed, with My Body, I Thee worship, and with all My worldly goods I Thee endow, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Wallis and David then knelt before Jardine as the reverend intoned the blessing: “Let us pray. O eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all Mankind, giver of all spiritual grace, the author of everlasting life; send Thy blessing upon these Thy servants, Edward, Duke of Windsor, and Wallis, Duchess of Windsor, that as Isaac and Rebecca lived faithfully together, so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, whereof this ring given and received is a token and pledge, and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together and live according to Thy laws, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.” As the couple rose, Jardine declared loudly, “Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder. Forasmuch as Edward, Duke of Windsor and Wallis Warfield have consented together in Holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by the giving and receiving of a ring and by joining of hands, I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
Lady Alexandra Metcalfe, watching the ceremony from the middle of the music room, later wrote: “It could be nothing but pitiable & tragic to see a King of England of only 6 months ago, an idolized King, married under those circumstances, & yet pathetic as it was, his manner was so simple and dignified & he was so sure of himself in his happiness that it gave something to the sad little service which it is hard to describe. He had tears running down his face. . . . She also could not have done it better.”
9
After the wedding, the new Duke and Duchess of Windsor received their guests in the salon. “If she occasionally showed a glimmer of softness,” wrote Lady Alexandra, “took his arm, looked at him as though she loved him one would warm towards her, but her attitude is so correct. The effect is of a woman unmoved by the infatuated love of a younger man. Let’s hope that she lets up in private with him otherwise it must be grim.”
10
The wedding luncheon followed in the dining room. The Duke and Duchess and their guests sat down to a rather simple meal of lobster, salad, chicken à la King, and strawberries and cream, washed down with 1921 Lawson champagne. At the end of the meal, Fruity Metcalfe stood and made his formal toast: “Long life and happiness to His Royal Highness, the Duke of Windsor, and his Lady.” The sixtier wedding cake, some three feet high, stood on a nearby table. Wallis herself cut the cake, the first piece of which she gave to Aunt Bessie. “Unlike most brides who simply cut through the cake and leave it to others,” said Jardine, “the Duchess continued for all of a quarter of an hour cutting pieces for her guests and absent friends. My portion was a fairly large one because the Duchess wished me to take a piece home to my wife and family.”
11
These individual pieces of the wedding cake were placed in cardboard boxes covered with white silk and later sent to those friends and family who had been unable to attend, signed on the top by both the Duke and Duchess and tied with white silk ribbons.
12

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