Previously: Mercenary Leon fails on his first mission because of David, better known as Edward the Prince of Wales. Also in the spy world is socialite Wallis Spencer, who dumps first husband Winfield, kills Uncle Sol, has an affair with German Joachin Von Ribbentrop and marries Ernest. David and Wallis saves Prince George from scandal in Paris and introduces him to his future wife.
A couple of months into the burgeoning courtship, David invited George, Marina, brother Bertie and his wife Elizabeth to Fort Belvedere for a weekend of skating on the frozen pond. Wallis and Ernest joined in just for laughs. And for a hint of self-styled respectability, Thelma Furness served as hostess for the gang. The most fun part of the activities was when they actually put on skates and ventured out on the ice. It was at that moment most of them realized they didn’t realize they didn’t know how to skate. The best they could do was fall on their asses with great aplomb. Wallis described the scene as “a scream” and Ernest couldn’t keep from giggling.
After a while, David and Wallis escorted Marina up to the terrace where the servants had hot chocolate. From there they could observe the activities on the ice. David and Wallis had previously outlined how to enlighten the Greek princess about her suitor. David thought best to let Wallis do all the talking.
“The main thing is that you are having fun.” Wallis pressed her thin lips into a smile that surprisingly passed as sincere. “You are having fun, aren’t you, Marina, darling?”
Marina removed her woolen cap and shook out her long, black hair. “Of course, I’m having fun. I’m with George, aren’t I?”
They looked out at the pond where the young prince seemed to be the only one able to stay on his feet for any amount of time.
“He looks bilious, don’t you think?” Marina asked.
“I suppose,” Wallis replied in vague agreement.
“It’s his sea-sickness. He probably can’t get over the fact he’s on water, even though most of it’s frozen solid,” Marina said.
“So you know about that already?” David felt secure in throwing out his question.
“Oh yes. There’s very little I don’t know about George by now.”
“Hmm. I see.” Wallis paused and narrowed her eyes. “You may have heard certain rumors about George. How would you react if I told you most of them are true?”
Marina loosened her scarf. “Mrs. Simpson, you must remember I am Greek. For centuries the topic of some of those rumors was called Greek love. Hardly anything startles me. I was there when my grandfather the king was murdered. Matters of alcoholism, drug abuse, sexuality pale in comparison to what I have lived through.” She reached over to pat Wallis’s arm. “I know what I am getting into, and I’m confident I will save George from himself.” Lifting an eyebrow, Marina added, “Any other questions?”
Wallis pursed her lips. “If I don’t watch it, I think I could fall in love with you myself.”
David, pleased with the outcome of the discussion, looked out at the pond. “I see Bertie and Elizabeth have finally given up and are coming for hot chocolate.”
Wallis turned to the princess. “The next question is do you think you can abide the duchess’s high whimpering voice?” She took on a quivering falsetto. “Don’t you think Lillibet and Meg are adorable?”
What she didn’t realize was that the couple were closer than she thought, and they heard the imitation.
“Lillibet and Meg are adorable,” Elizabeth announced. “Now where is the chocolate? I’m chilled to the bone.”
Marina quickly busied herself adjusting her scarf over her mouth.
Despite Wallis’s inappropriate behavior, the romance between George and Marina grew through the spring and summer. David was pleased to share with Wallis over tea at Bryanston Court in late August—when Ernest was on a business trip to New York, of course—that George officially proposed to Marina when they went to Yugoslavia on holiday with her sister Olga and her husband Prince Paul. The wedding was set for November 1934. MI6 congratulated David and Wallis on a job well done.
David actually manipulated his parents into inviting the Simpsons not only to the Westminster wedding but also to the palace ball preceding the nuptials. He insisted it would be bad for relations with the United States to rebuff such a prominent American businessman as Ernest Simpson and his wife. On the night of the gala, David went to Bryanston Court to escort the couple to Buckingham. Before they left, he pulled out a box from Cartier.
“You don’t mind if I give your wife a trinket to commemorate the occasion, do you?” He smiled in Peter Pan innocence.
“Of course not,” Ernest replied as he beamed. A shadow crossed his face. “Um, who’s paying for the insurance?”
“Oh, Ernest, don’t be dreary.” Wallis opened the box to find a multi-diamond faceted charm bracelet adorned by a single cross embedded with emeralds. “How lovely. Would it be gauche to wear it both to the ball and the wedding?”
“My dear, when did it ever bother you to be gauche?” Ernest laughed, took the bracelet from the box and placed it on her wrist.
The ball was charming. David found himself dancing with Wallis too much during the evening even though Ernest didn’t seem to mind. He even stared at her during the ceremony at Westminster Abby. He had deliberately ordered a prominent seating for the Simpsons in the front of the church. By the way Wallis shifted in her pew David knew she was bored. He didn’t know why that amused him so much. When she began to fidget with her new charm bracelet, David cocked his head. She must find the secret compartment with the note soon. She did. Wallis opened the tiny note and squinted.
“Dec. 30. Anne Hathaway’s cottage.”
He wondered how she would react to the instructions from MI6. She wadded the note and stuck it in her mouth. A moment later he saw her large Adam’s apple bob. Wallis leaned into Ernest to whisper something witty. True to his fashion, he giggled loud enough to echo through the vaulted ceiling of the ancient church. Fortunately the choir was singing at the moment, and no one else seemed to notice.
A little more than a month later, David, wearing a dark toupee and a fake beard, meandered through the home of William Shakespeare, not bothering to listen to the drone of the tour guide’s lecture. He looked down when he felt a hand in his coat pocket. Glancing around he saw nobody who might have been the perpetrator. He reached in to retrieve a note, and read it:
“Stratford Tea House. 1 p.m.”
When he arrived at the appointed hour, David spied Wallis sitting at a back table tapping her fashionable high heeled shoe. She was bored again. He joined her and ordered a cup of tea. Soon General Trotter slipped in the backdoor and joined them.
“Hitler is on the move,” he whispered.
“As Anne Hathaway often said,” Wallis quipped, “no shit Shakespeare.”
David smiled. “I think the proper dirty joke is no—“
“Please, we’re talking national security here,” Trotter interrupted. “We have it on the best authority that Joachim von Ribbentrop is leaving on New Year’s Eve for Germany.”
“So?” David sounded insolent.
“Please.” Wallis was equally impudent. “Joachim would never leave town on one of the most important social evenings of the year.”
“Exactly.” Trotter lit his pipe. “He’s already booked lodgings in Berchtesgaden. We also have sources in Berlin that Hitler has informed his staff that he will extend his Christmas holiday and not return until late January.”
“Do we know what Hitler is planning?” David asked.
“The Treaty of Versailles included several prohibitions on German military, any one of which Hitler is intent on breaking,” Trotter explained.
“Of course,” David agreed.
“Where is Joachim staying? I may get another white carnation,” Wallis asked in a business tone.
David felt himself becoming irritated. “You’ve mentioned those damned white carnations before. What the hell does that mean?”
“None of your damn business.” Wallis lit a cigarette.
Trotter looked out the tea house window and smiled.