The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters

Much love from Nance

Darling Nardy

Both Alexander & Max are extra well. Apparently Alexander was heard calling this last night when he was meant to be going to sleep ‘Trade, Trude, dogs, dogs, dogs!’ & as far as he could he was copying my voice. Isn’t it extra tüm [sweet]? I do wish you could have them, I always feel so awful when I can see as much as I like of them & you are unable to do so. I may seem not to understand how awful it is for you when I am actually talking to you but that is only because we have to get through so much in such a horribly short space of time. I must tell you that I spend hours at night sometimes worrying about it & I always feel so gloomy when the visit is over & there is still so much we have not been able to discuss. I only pray it may now only be for a short while longer.

I saw Nancy yesterday. She is going to leave Rutland Gate & hopes to get a little house at Wimbledon so as to be with Peter. Derek is still in Scotland but I much hope will be down here again in about two weeks’ time. Muv & Bobo arrive to stay today & I will tell them news of you.

Much love & to Kit from Woman

Darling Honks

It is so exciting because Andrew & I are going to be married, such a tease on Bridget [Airlie] who always said we never would. His parents have been so wonderful about it, I didn’t know people could be so nice, they really seem pleased. It would be awful getting married if everyone hated it, but as it is it’s perfect. It was only arranged between us for two days before the papers started telephoning, they really are like magic. We went to get a ring, it was such fun & I was terrified someone we knew would come in & see us at it because no-one was meant to know till it was in The Times. The awful thing is that when a soldier gets married he has to tell his Colonel & of course Andrew hadn’t when it was in the paper so I hope lividry hasn’t set in.

I expect we shall be terrifically poor but think how nice it will be to have as many dear dogs & things as one likes without anyone to say they must get off the furniture. I do so wish you weren’t in prison, it will be sad not having you to go shopping with, only we’re so poor I shan’t have much of a trousseau on account of everything being so expensive.

Poor Andrew is hating every moment of it & keeps saying how embarrassing it all is & how he wishes he could go away. He’s at Elstree for this week, learning something, which is a great tease because we wanted to go out the night it’s announced but as it seems to be in all the papers already it doesn’t seem much point.

I am so excited for it. We haven’t decided on a church, all the nice ones have been bombed. Anyhow it isn’t for nearly two months so there isn’t any hurry. Your nanny was killing & said ‘You’ll be wanting all our baby clothes’. I can’t get over how wonderful the Devonshires were, they never said anything against, not even how young he is, because he’s only just had his twenty-first birthday, I do think it was nice of them.

I don’t know where we shall live or anything, it all depends on where he is sent, I should think some boarding house or something.

Much love, Debo

Darling Honks

Thank you so much for your heavenly letter, it was bliss of you to write. You can’t think how exciting it all is. The only tease is you not being out, you are the only person who is taking proper interest. I keep on at Muv about the dress etc. & she only looks at the ceiling and says, ‘Ohrrr, I think we want some new paint’. I will show you my ring which everyone except me & Mrs Bunce1 thinks very mivvy [stingy]. Nancy was rather teasy about it & said, ‘You can’t go to Cartier, it’s well known to be hopeless’, when we’d already been. However I like it & I hope you will.

Nancy is going to ask Cecil Beaton where to have my dress made by a theatrical person because it wouldn’t be so expensive as a proper shop. It’s going to be masses & masses & masses of white tulle, tight bodice & sleeves, a skirt such as has never been seen before for size. I don’t mind if that is the fashion or not, it’s what suits me. And the train will come out of the skirt & be enormous with great ruches of tulle all down, otherwise the skirt will be quite plain. What to wear on my head I don’t know & I know Miss Stevens will wreck my hair but I couldn’t go to anyone else. Then if the actual wedding dress doesn’t cost too much we could go a bit of a bust on the going away one, have it from Worth or Molyneux or somewhere. Oh Honks, it is so exciting. I’m going to begin on my underclothes next week. Lady Dashwood said I could choose something at Lydia Moss & put it down to her account, so that will be heaven. If you are really going to give me something, I would adore a little jewel – I’m sure I won’t get any. Only you’re not to spend too much because it is the war & all.

Andrew is away on a course this week so I haven’t seen him for ages but shall on Sunday & I expect we’ll fix when to get married then. It will be about the middle or end of next month I expect. The thing is, which church? Some say St Maggots [Margaret’s], some say the Smithfield one & I rather think St Martin’s-in-the-Fields but I must go & study-dear this week. If only one knew how many people would come, I do hope masses. As for the reception, the Wid has kindly offered Tite St but I’m secretly hoping the Salisburys will say Arlington St, but Muv says I’m not to say that in case they don’t. I had twenty-four letters & telegrams yesterday, wasn’t it wonderful. On top of all this, Nina is going to have puppies next week, isn’t it a worry.

I roared about the ‘cris de joie’, when I cook there is nothing but groans. Poor Andrew doesn’t know what he’s in for. I wish I knew how much dough we shall have, not much I suppose on account of the war. The Wid was wonderful & wants to be a bridesmaid draped in black. She said, ‘Tell me dear, will you be IMMENSELY rich?’

I’m coming to London in my £14 car tomorrow, it does go so well, you can’t imagine. I’m only having £200 for my trousseau, but I suppose it will buy the essential though certainly not linen. Everything is so terribly expensive but I hope I shall be able to get something nice.

Well Honks I do long to see you & tell you all though Muv says it’s terribly dull for other people, isn’t it vile of her. All Farve said when I told him was something about the insurance of my car. He is hopeless.

All love, Debo

Darling Nard

Well, Nard, about the Wedding!!!! Well, it was quite heaven. Debo’s dress was quite too lovely, and she looked MARVELLOUS. The only person who looked ghastly was dear old Farve; he looked so sad. He was wearing his Home Guard Uniform (‘Rompers’) which was also rather depressing as it wasn’t even long enough. Horrors!!

12 May Well, Nard, I am continuing this letter, I didn’t finish it before because of my poor paralysed hand. Nard, I want to tell you something important. Nard, I am not allowed to visit you. You know, I am sure, how much I would love to come & see poor you. But it’s not possible.

I see the Germans have bombed the House of Commons – how awful.

Nard, I must tell you about my sorrow. Five of my very best English friends, and one foreign one, have died in the last year. How can I bear it?

The Fem sends you her love.

V best love, Nard, from Bobo

Mary Ormsby-Gore, Unity and Pamela at Deborah’s wedding. London, 19 April 1941.

Darling Boud

I am so sorry, Boud, not have written about the Babe,1 but the fact is, I write so slowly still. Never mind, I write faster now than I did earlier. You know, I think, why I was ill; so I can explain it to you. You know I got shot in the head. Well, that paralysed my right arm & right leg. Understand?

Well, Boud, I was so thrilled by your cablegram – or, was it really yours? – I telephoned the Fem immediately, and, do you know, Boud, I heard her crying with complete joy!!!! As for darling Blorwell – well. Boud, what are you going to call her? Do write & say.

Boud, I must tell you something fearfully sad. Dolly Wilde has died. Oh, Boud, I know you will be unhappy. I was, fearfully unhappy.

Peter Rodd is going off to Africa. Poor, poor Nancy.

Well, Boud, I will stop, as I can’t write Fast!!

Give your baby a kiss from Aunt Me!!

V. Best Love, Boud

Darling Decca

I wonder how you & your baby are getting on now, also Esmond. I hear you have been in Canada to see him. Do you think he will come over here soon or is he to remain in Canada? I do wish we could see you all again, it seems such ages since we were in New York for the World Fair.

Derek is now operational flying & has been for about eight weeks. He has just been home for six days leave which he badly needed as going up most nights is very exhausting. The Air Force blue suits him so well & I expect it suits Esmond also with his blue eyes. What is your baby like & what are you naming her? Do send me a photograph of her if you have one. Diana’s two children are here still, it will be a year at the end of this month since they arrived. Nanny is kept very busy looking after them both, we cannot get a nursery maid to help, they have all gone into munitions. Also it is impossible to get housemaids & parlour maids so we now only have a cook & a little girl who seems to do everything. We are now rationed for clothes as I expect you have seen. A mackintosh takes fourteen coupons! The total number of coupons is sixty-six a year. Luckily for me I still have plenty of summer clothes from last year & so will not have to use any coupons just yet.

We see quite a lot of Bobo. She & Muv often come over & stay here for a few nights. Also darling Blor often comes here, she showed me a photograph of you & your baby.

On account of the difficulty of getting food for cattle I am having to give up my herd of Aberdeen Angus. It is very sad because I had bred some really beautiful ones. However they will make good beef. The Bull, Black Hussar, has already been sent to the butcher. Poor Black Hussar!

Please give Esmond my love when you next see him.

Much love from Woman

1

Dear Cheer

Well dear, I’ve smacked my ovary and taken it to Madame Bovary and the result is I’m in pig, I shan’t be like my old Hen and not tell anyone because although it’s not going to be born for nigh on a year I have to tell people on account of being sick and feeling so awful.

Well dear, do write an account of exactly what you felt like and exactly how embarrassed you were when you went to see the dr because I really nearly died when he pulled at the budding bust and said I must get a point on it whatever that may mean. I am glad to see in the papers that pregnant ladies are going to have some more clothes coupons otherwise think how awful it would be with everything splitting when one got huge. Think of a name for it there’s a good old Hen, I do hope it’s a girl. It ought to be exactly a year younger than your one, it’s supposed to be born on the 10th of Feb.

The idea of Andrew being a dad is so killing that I think of nought else. I hardly ever see him because he is always in some remote place and country hotels are so full now that you usually can’t get a room. He is going to be near Biddesden soon so I shall ask myself there. I have been here for three weeks and it’s been lovely and hot and there are masses of strawberries but even they taste disgusting, did things used to taste disgusting with you?

Cheer yourself along and write to yr old Hen if you can be bothered. I do long to hear what you’re up to.

Birdie hates me so dreadfully, I really can’t think why, it makes it almost impossible to go to Swinbrook. You can’t think how awful it is to see her now because although one is quite used to it because she’s been like that for nearly two years now it’s simply awful when one suddenly remembers what she used to be like. I don’t believe she will ever get quite normal again, it really is a nightmare when one thinks of her future. She has got a terrific religious thing on now and if you say even ‘damn’ she gets quite furious and says it [is] wicked to swear.

I was among the girls being called up to work at some horrid job for 48 hours a week but now I’m in pig I don’t have to do it and you know how I hate work so it’s very lucky.

Well dear do cheer and write to me. Swinbrook is the best address.

Love from Yr Hen

Darling Honks

It is awful of me not to have written to you before for your birthday, anyhow I do hope you had a nice one, I hear your pigs went up to see you. I saw in the paper that you had arrived in the Isle of Man with 50 suitcases and you had to carry them all yourself!1 I did so roar. I went to see Mr Gilliat2 on account of being in pig and I’ve never been so embarrassed as I was by the things he did, it really was torture, how did you manage it? And how did you manage to have four pigs, were you very sick with all of them because it really does poison life, I go about with my hand over my mouth.

It’s heaven here in many ways, people are allowed to bathe in the sea at one place and I’ve been several times as the doc seems to think it O.K.

The trouble about married life is never seeing one’s husband. He is going on a course for all July to Netheravon. How I wish you were still at Biddesden. I’ve written to Woman to ask if she thinks one could possibly ask oneself there for a weekend or two because she used to go when Derek was near them. Otherwise I shan’t see him for weeks and weeks and it was such a waste having the Regent’s Park house done up because so far I’ve spent exactly one night in it! Eddie Marsh3 lives here now, he is such a silly old man and eats a terrible lot. His best friend is Ivor Novello4 who is acting in Brighton and has just been over here for the day. The children5 got giggles at lunch when he said something was ‘divine’ for the 10th time, it was awful. I’m going to Swinbrook for July, I do hope Bird won’t kill me, she does hate me so!

My good goat is giving ten pints of milk a day and Muv has been making cheeses, you must say it’s good. That wonderful ring you gave me is the admiration of everybody, it makes my engagement ring look perfectly stupid.

Did I tell you about when Jonathan and Desmond came over to lunch about a month ago and I said ‘Do go & see Pam Timms’6 & Desmond went bright red & said he didn’t want to and Jonathan said ‘she’s like an old toy you’ve no more use for and have thrown away’. Tom was there, I never saw anyone roar so much.

Much love from Debo

Darling Sue

Many thanks for a long & most interesting letter dated 20 May. Oh dear I do wish I could see you & (such a charming name) Constancia she sounds such heaven.

Boud. Well I promise that I am quite confident about her now. When I first saw her I had to go away & cry for hours because I felt sure she would be mad, but now, although quite dotty as she always was, she is heaven to be with & a happy person again. Muv has been too wonderful with her & absolutely given up her whole life – Farve simply beastly, hardly goes near her & has never been there to relieve Muv & give her a change to have a little holiday. Poor TP, one keeps off the war with her but she is, I fear, very unsound at heart. But she never mentions it.

About sending things, one mayn’t ask, you know, but really we have everything so don’t bother. Food is plentiful although rather dull. I have yet to feel in the least hungry or to have a craving for anything special.

Rodd has gone, I can’t say where, which is very dull for me & goodness knows when one will see him again.

I have a simply splendid maid called Gladys,1 she has been with me now a year. She really enjoys the raids & is awfully funny about everything, she is the greatest comfort in my life.

I go to work now all day, a paid job thank goodness. I find country holidays for A[ir] R[aid] P[recautions] workers – it is jolly nice as they come back saying how the wife & I couldn’t have been better treated if we had been the King & Queen. They are such heaven.

The other people in the office seem to think I’m a sort of joke (Susan how queer) & when there’s a quiet moment do imitations of me on the telephone.

Robert [Byron] has been drowned I am very miserable about it.

I must go to sleep – will write again soon.

Much love, Susan

Darling Nard –

Well, I can hardly tell you my news! I am being allowed to go & see – you! you! I’m SO happy & wonderfully contented! Oh, Nard! Oh, Nard!

With love from Bobo

Darling Soo

Did you get my letter thanking for the parcel, it was wonderful & now I know it took such hours I really feel grateful. Kind little miss.

I haven’t seen Boud for months, you see I WORK Susan also Sat mornings & then one is asked not to travel but if one does do so one has the drunken & licentious soldiery pressed to one’s bosom the whole way except for very occasional weekends.

I never note Rodd’s graph1 at all & it is 5 months since he left & there is no leave & most people think the war will last another 5 years. So – you see. Also my dear old mother in law has stopped my allowance in order to build a ballroom in memory of my pa in law. I keep saying how I wish she were religious, a nice marble X would cost far less (tho less practical of course).

Well Soo write soon your last was very short.

Love from NR

Darling Honks

It was heaven of you to write your precious letter and all. You can’t think how much better I feel now, really quite alright.1 The comfort of this place is unbelievable and blissful nurses. It is so odd I’d never even had a bedpan before. Oh Honks, never Gilliat again, I have completely lost confidence in him. He never turned up till ages after he was wanted and when I was lying there with everything over he came in and all the nurses said ‘Here’s a friend to see you’ and if I’d had the strength I really would have kicked him or at least asked him where he had been all the afternoon.2 What was rather awful was that I’d had a temperature of 103 for four days beforehand so I really wasn’t feeling like an effort. However all one can say is that it can’t have been one quarter so bad for me as it was for Decca because I never knew the baby though it was so alive when it was born that I felt a sort of glimmer of hope though I knew it wasn’t any good. Muv was quite wonderful and Andrew stayed with me till it was nearly born, it was so wonderful to have him. He finishes his leave tomorrow which is terribly sad because he has been here such a lot this week. My duch3 and everyone have been absolutely wonderful.

Lady Carnarvon4 embraced Muv wasn’t it wonderful.

Poor Nancy sounds rather bad with her appendix and ovary.5 I wish she could come here. I think when you first get out of prison you ought to come here for ages, the difference would be so wonderful.

(Everything seems to be wonderful in this letter though it isn’t really.)

Anyhow it was heaven of you to write, I do so long to see you, it is such a tease.

I’m afraid they won’t let me get up for two more weeks which will seem rather long but perhaps be the best in the end.

Much love from Debo

[passed by prison censor 28/11/41]

Darling Diana

Thank you so much for the wonderful grapes, you are really an angel & grapes are so good for me. I have had a horrible time, so depressing because they had to take out both my tubes & therefore I can never now have a child. I can’t say I suffered great agony but quite enough discomfort – but darling when I think of you & the 18 stitches in your face1 it is absolutely nothing.

The Rodds have been wonderfully true to form – my mother in law was told by the surgeon I shld be in danger for 3 days, & not one of them even rang up to enquire let alone sending a bloom or anything. I long to know if they bothered to look under R in the deaths column, very much doubt it however.

I never hear from Peter or he from me it is too depressing like the grave. Also he never gets his pay.

Muv was wonderful, she swam in a haze of bewilderment between me & Debo. When my symptoms were explained to her she said ‘ovaries – I thought one had 700 like caviar’. Then I said how I couldn’t bear the idea of a great scar on my tum to which she replied ‘But darling who’s ever going to see it?’

Poor Debo it must be wretched, the worst thing in the world I should think – except losing a manuscript of a book which I always think must be the worst.

Have you read Mémoires d’outre tombe2 it is so wonderful. I’ve had a heavenly time reading my books in peace, such a change from rushing off to the office at 8.30.

I’ve left my address book at home so must send this to Muv.

Nigel [Birch] has just been to see me rather optimistic in mood which is entirely new for him, I nearly fell out of bed.

I spent the week end before I got ill (in considerable pain most of the time) with Roy & Billa [Harrod]. They have an ideal child called Hen[ry] – I think the prettiest, most amusing little boy I ever saw.

Oxford society is very pleasant I think, everybody so amiable & nice, most unlike what one would imagine such a small highly cultivated world to be. Gerald [Berners] has taken up his residence there. Apparently he has a mania for tea-shop life & Billa says it is a kind of task, undertaken in turns, to face Gerald across rather grubby check tablecloths at mealtimes.

Much love darling

& many more thanks for the grapes, Nancy

Darling Nard

Well, Nard About the 1st December. I could come then, again. May I come? Do say yes, do. Because, Nard, I do love visiting you, I do, really. And, you know now I am well again, I can’t bear life. I mean, this war!