Cover image for Edward Windsor, royal enigma : the true story of the seventh in line to the British throne
Title:
Edward Windsor, royal enigma : the true story of the seventh in line to the British throne
Author:
Leigh, Wendy.
Personal Author:
Publication Information:
New York : Pocket Books, [1999]

©1999
Physical Description:
xxi, 242 pages, 16 unnumbered pages of plates : illustrations ; 24 cm
Language:
English
ISBN:
9780671028251
Format :
Book

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Material Type
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Status
Central Library DA591.A45 E394 1999 Adult Non-Fiction Non-Fiction Area
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Central Library DA591.A45 E394 1999 Adult Non-Fiction Central Closed Stacks
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Summary

Summary

The biography of one of the most elusive of the British royal family, the Queen's youngest child, Prince Edward.


Author Notes

Wendy Leigh was born on September 13, 1950. She was the author of more than 15 books including Bowie, Prince Charming: The John F. Kennedy Jr. Story, and The Secret Letters of Marilyn Monroe and Jacqueline Kennedy. She was the co-author of Life with My Sister Madonna, Jeannie Out of the Bottle, and Shirley Jones. She also wrote a popular erotica series entitled Unraveled. She died on May 29, 2016 after falling from the balcony of her London apartment at the age of 65.

(Bowker Author Biography)


Excerpts

Excerpts

Chapter One: Child Of The Modern Monarchy On June 21, 1969, exactly thirty years, less two days, before the wedding of Edward Windsor and Sophie Rhys-Jones, Richard Cawston's documentary, Royal Family, was broadcast to forty million British viewers. The 105-minute film afforded a rapt audience their first ever glimpse of the Windsors' private lives. The resultant shock waves that shot through the British public can only be compared to those experienced by Americans when first lady Jacqueline Kennedy opened the White House to television cameras. Until the release of the film, the only television coverage of herself and her family that the Queen had permitted her adoring public was the broadcast of a select few ceremonial events, such as the State Opening of Parliament. Even then, the Queen sternly decreed that any close-ups of her were categorically forbidden. The British monarchy dated back a thousand years and their private lives had always been shrouded in mystery. Rarely had the Queen been filmed without her crown or a formal hat, and never in relaxed, intimate circumstances. Nor had she ever been heard to speak, except when uttering scripted lines or elegantly crafted speeches. As far as the great British public were concerned, since time immemorial, the royal family were forever fixed in their imagination as smiling constantly, waving delicately, doing good works, and sailing through life with grace and fortitude, ever the perfect upper-class English family. Two brilliantly gifted Australians were destined to shatter that image. In 1787, the British commenced the unjust practice of transporting convicts to Australia. There, they colonized the country, in the process founding a new nation. Kowtowing to the British royal family was not the birthright of Australians. In the second half of the twentieth century, Australians (unlike the British) were unaccustomed to worshipping the royal family uncritically. Moreover, many of them felt that the royal family needed to be brought down to earth and humanized. Thus it was that two Australians finally had the last laugh on the British establishment that had exiled many of their countrymen's forebears. Their names were Rupert Murdoch and William Heseltine. Murdoch, whose own story would play itself out in the years following the release of Royal Family, owned newspapers whose blunt reporting would ultimately cause the royal family's image to crack irrevocably. But it was William Heseltine who, albeit unconscious of the long-term ramifications of his plan, unleashed the process of shattering, then re-forming the image of the Windsors. Heseltine, who in 1969 was appointed by the Queen as press secretary, had been privileged to see her privately in a more relaxed mode. He was charmed and resolved that the British public be afforded a similar view of the monarch -- one that might reassure them that the royals were not gods, but more like the average family. At the time, he said of the Queen and her family, "No one knew them as people; we needed to make them more rounded and human for the general public." His solution was Royal Family, which was also conceived to coincide with Prince Charles's investiture as Prince of Wales. Between June 8, 1968, and May 18, 1969, a film crew would spend seventy-five days filming the royal family. Forty-three hours of film of the family in almost two hundred locations would be edited down to one hour and fifty minutes. However, before Richard Cawston, head of BBC documentaries, embarked on the project, he enthusiastically informed David Attenborough, the controller of BBC 2, of his coup. Attenborough, a highly respected documentary maker, cautioned, "You're killing the monarchy, you know, with this film you're making. The whole institution depends on mystique and the tribal chief in his hut. If any member of the tribe ever sees inside the hut, then the whole system of tribal chiefdom is damaged and the tribe eventually disintegrates." Thirty years later, Attenborough elaborated, "If you show that royalty is the same as we are, the consequence is that we no longer understand why we should invest royalty with all with which we do invest them. If you want to have symbols and images and you use a human being for that, you must cast that human being in a different role and remove him from everyday life." As a child, the Queen studied The English Constitution, a classic work by Walter Bagehot, the respected Victorian economist and man of letters. Bagehot had written, "A family on the throne is an interesting idea also. It brings down the pride of sovereignty to the level of petty life. The influence of the Crown is not confined merely to political affairs. England is a domestic country. Here the home is revered and the hearth sacred. The nation is represented by a family -- the Royal Family -- and if that family is educated with a sense of responsibility and a sentiment of public duty, it is difficult to exaggerate the salutary influence they may exercise over a nation." The Queen followed Bagehot's precepts in allowing her family to be perceived as an integral component of the monarchy. She since had, however, ignored one of Bagehot's most famous conclusions: "We must not let in the daylight upon magic." It was a mistake, he believed, to dilute the royal family's mystique. In making Royal Family, the Queen and her family had submitted themselves to the spotlight in a hitherto unprecedented fashion. Following the advice of William Heseltine, the Queen and her entire family participated of their own volition in affording the general public the first-ever peek into their private lives. The Queen colluded in the shredding of the seven veils that had once cloaked her mystique, and the cataclysmic consequences would echo down the years. For Edward Windsor, specifically, those consequences would be multifaceted. "The documentary gave the public a glimpse of the royals' private lives," said Guardian newpaper media commentator Roy Greenslade. "The public cast off their postwar deference and decided they had to know more about the royal family." The palace had opened Pandora's box. The tabloids and the paparazzi would become insatiable in their hunger for royal scoops. Edward's life, and that of his siblings, would henceforth be dogged by a pitiless and relentless media. At the time of the documentary, the palace, heartened by what it initially perceived as the success of Royal Family, started fancying itself to be grand masters of public relations. With Royal Family, Buckingham Palace began its love affair with the press. Until then, public relations executives were not considered acceptable by the British aristocracy. In the years that followed Royal Family, public relations gradually grew to become a respected profession. This shift in perception ultimately made it possible for Edward Windsor to select a public relations executive, Sophie Rhys-Jones, as his bride, without her profession being seen as a drawback or igniting society's scorn. Royal Family was the genesis of everything Edward Windsor, embryonic actor turned television producer-presenter, would become. The documentary shows the strands that would one day weave Edward's nature and influence his destiny. He was four years old in July 1968, when filming began, was winsome and cuddlesome, with long eyelashes more befitting a princess than a prince. Although in the future many would cast aspersions on his masculinity, in Royal Family, Edward is "all boy." The documentary first depicts Edward with his mother in a shop in the village of Ballater, seven miles away from the royal castle, Balmoral, in Craithie, Scotland. The shop, George Strachan Ltd., bears the legend, "General Merchants by Appointment to Her Majesty the Queen." The Queen, dressed in a Scottish kilt, smiles radiantly as Edward says, "Mummy?" He clearly knows the routine and waits. After a pause, the Queen asks him what he wants, "Can I have an ice cream?" he replies. He does not add, "please," a word that most British children of his age, even today, are drilled to say as a matter of course. The lady shopkeeper smiles benevolently. "He always goes straight for the ice cream," she says, with well-placed deference. The Queen bends down and reminds her son, "The last time you were here, it was raining too." He takes the ice cream and says nothing, neither thanking the shopkeeper nor his mother, the Queen. The next scene features the royal family having a barbecue by the shores of Loch Muick, an idyllic, if perhaps contrived scene. When the documentary was aired, television critic Milton Shulman commented, "just as it was untrue that the royal family sat down to breakfast wearing coronets as they munched their cornflakes, so it is untrue that they now behave in their private moments like a middle-class family." In the barbecue scene in particular, the royal family tries to convey that they are merely a nice middle-class family like any other. That they are "Just plain folk." Surrounded by what appears to be every kind of dog ever bred, they prepare lunch in a cooperative fashion. Philip mans the barbecue, Charles makes the salad dressing, and the Queen oversees the entire operation, while Anne forecasts, "You realize this is going to be a failure." It is Edward, however, who shines, projecting star quality in every frame. He is impish and charming, a royal precursor of the young Macaulay Culkin. While the rest of the family is preoccupied with the cooking, he clambers up on top of the Range Rover and yells gleefully, "I'm up on the roof!" Everyone ignores him. Unabashed, he shouts, "I'm on the roof, Papa! I'm waiting for my lunch!" Charles is kind and gentle in dealing with him. Edward watches as he stirs the salad dressing. A dog edges towards them. Edward pushes him away. "What's that stuff?" he asks Charles. Told it is cream, he inquires, "Do you put cream on it?" Then he marches towards his father, who is by the barbecue. "What's this for?" Edward demands. Philip ignores him, but Edward isn't deterred. "What's this for?" he persists. "For turning things over," Philip replies. Edward treats his father with extreme politeness, which may well indicate that he has respect for Prince Philip and that he is not afraid of him. "May I turn them over for you?" he asks. Then, overcome with curiosity, "What's this spoon for?" Prince Philip ignores him. "What's this spoon for?" he asks again. "There is not much use for anything here," Prince Philip explains gently. But Edward persists. "What's the spoon for?" he asks again. The four-year-old Edward Windsor in the Balmoral barbecue scene is a child uncowed by his father, his mother, or his siblings. He is extremely strong-willed and determined -- characteristics he would continue to display throughout his life. "Edward is the youngest child," observed Viennese-born New York psychoanalyst Dr. Erika Padan Freeman, who studied with Theodore Reik. "Most youngest children are pampered, cosseted, and adored. They are not accustomed to the word 'No.'" Although he would later be dubbed by the acrimonious press as "The Weeping Wimp of Windsor," the child Edward was unequivocally self-confident, self-possessed, and not in the least bit wimpish. In August 1982, the royal family was spending their annual vacation in Balmoral. They had always cherished Balmoral as their personal haven. Built over the seven years between 1852 and 1859, Balmoral Castle was originally commissioned by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. Prince Albert, in particular, had become enamored of the serene Dee Valley, in Scotland, because it reminded him of his native Thuringia, in Germany. Above all, they relished their vacations there during the grouse shooting season, when the family would join forces and go shooting together. Three photographers (whom some would label paparazzi) staked out the royals at Balmoral that summer of 1982. Mauro Carraro, Jim Bennett, and French photographer George DeKerle stealthily tracked the royals through the moors up onto Delnadamph, 7,600 acres of good quality hill land and grouse moors situated on Upper Donside on the picturesque Cock Bridge to Tom Intoul Road, some sixteen miles north of Balmoral. The male royals normally leave for grouse shooting at around nine-fifteen in the morning. At around eleven-thirty, they are usually joined by the female royals, who spend an hour and a half with the men on the moors. All of them lunch in a forest lodge, and after lunch, the women sometimes do one more drive. The men usually continue shooting until five-thirty or six, then return to the castle. On that particular day, the three photographers were resting in a hollow on the grouse moors. They had been staking out the royal party in the hope of capturing a shot of Prince Andrew with his latest romance. Up till then, they hadn't been fortunate enough to succeed. The temperature that day was in the eighties, a surprisingly hot day for Scotland, and the photographers were starting to dehydrate. They were in the midst of debating whether to stay on the moors in the hope of snatching a shot of the royals or to give up and leave, when they saw a convoy of three vehicles. Through their binoculars, they were able to identify the Queen's Land Rover, with its distinctive sparkling silver Labrador mascot on the front. Now only about half a mile away from the photographers, the Queen climbed out of her Land Rover and trained her binoculars on them. Then she handed the binoculars to her detective. As the photographers had hidden their equipment in the hollow, the detective jumped to the conclusion they were simply three innocent ramblers who had lost their way. The Queen dispatched an aide in her vehicle up the hillside and instructed him to tell the "ramblers" that a shoot was in progress and their lives might be in danger. When the hapless aide discovered that the "ramblers," were, in actual fact, photographers, he went deathly white and exclaimed, "F -- hell," in a distinctly upper-class accent. He radioed down to the Queen's detective for guidance. After some consultation, the detective radioed back to the aide, instructing him to escort the photographers off the moors. The three photographers obediently climbed into the Queen's Land Rover, feeling almost relieved to escape the heat. The aide drove them down to the gates of the moors, while a backup vehicle driven by a Special Branch detective followed. The aide left the photographers at the gate. From there, they walked about three quarters of a mile. Unexpectedly, on the righthand side of the grouse moors, they caught sight of the royal shooting party, which included Diana and Charles, both clad in kilts. Delighted by this unexpected bonus, the photographers immediately began snapping away. All of a sudden, Edward detached himself from the shooting party. Two of his Labradors followed him. Bristling with self-confidence and a touch of arrogance, the nineteen-year-old prince marched towards the three photographers. Without any preamble, he demanded, "What the f -- hell are you lot doing here? Get off our land!" His language was shocking for a prince of the realm. George DeKerle, the French photographer, who clearly felt neither deference nor reverence for the British royals, turned on Edward and accused him of being very rude. While Edward's father, Prince Philip, whose combative style of dealing with the media Edward was clearly attempting to emulate, might have sworn at the photographers and stormed off, Edward began debating with the French photographer as to who was ruder: the photographers for having trespassed on royal lands or Edward for swearing at them. It was a scene worthy of a Monty Python skit -- replete with "you did that," and "you said this." The debate continued for a time, but neither the persistent prince nor the opinionated French photographer made much headway against the other. Finally, it was Edward who turned the tables by engaging the photographers with questions about their work and how they operated. Finally, they left. Edward has always been unafraid of the media, instead doing his utmost to study them. "He asked a lot of questions," says Jim Bennett, one of the three photographers who were there that day. "We tried to explain the press 'rota' to him. In the end, he calmed down. We weren't that interested in him, but he was interested in us." And, striking the note that all who know Edward sound, "I've always found Edward pretty arrogant, but he isn't a wimp." He may not be a wimp, but Edward was and is beguiled by limelight. His nascent exhibitionism, which would be demonstrated in later years during his acting performances, his television interviews, and when he presented programs, was already evident when he was four and being filmed for Royal Family. In the documentary, he is adorable, even in moments of distress. Charles lovingly shows him how to tighten the string on his cello. There is a mishap when the string snaps against Edward's cheek. Charles had always treated him kindly, and the accident clearly shocked Edward. In a trembling voice, he asks Charles, "Why did you have to?" Later, his equilibrium is restored in the classroom, when he reads out loud to his teacher. Painstakingly, he follows each word with a pencil. His teacher rewards him with, "Good boy!" Little Edward turns to the camera and smiles contentedly. Throughout the documentary, Edward looks into the camera lens flirtatiously -- perhaps far more flirtatiously than might the average four-year-old caught on camera. Critics remarked on Edward's talent "to steal the show." Whatever its eventual repercussions, Royal Family was essentially a performance, heralding the royal family's unwitting show business debut. All of the royal family, even the media-shy Anne, spend much of Cawston's documentary with their faces wreathed in smiles-happy members of what appears to be the world's happiest of families. The possibility that this family might conceivably ever be touched by divorce, tarnished by scandal, or torn apart by death and deceit, seems unthinkable. It is impossible not to feel nostalgia now for those far-off days when the royal family personified the ideal family: Charles, in his early twenties, kind, beloved by the public, the perfect son, is Prince Charming awaiting only his Princess. The Queen sparkles with warmth and confidence, forty-three and in her prime, glittering with allure. Prince Philip is by her side, handsome, with a sexual charisma somewhat enhanced by whispers of his manifold infidelities, whispered of but not yet published. For in those halcyon days, British journalists would sooner have filed their copy in Esperanto than cast aspersions on a member of the British royal family. In the 1969 Cawston film, there is no Diana, no Fergie, no hint of scandal, no suspicion that the whole regal, yet now seemingly ordinary, facade, would one day virtually crumble. On the surface, the entire royal family gleams with promise, and despite his age and lowly position in the line of succession, Edward's promise shines more brightly than that of the rest. He is telegenic, strong willed, and lovable, a charming child with every chance of growing up to lead an exquisitely charmed life. Edward was born at 8:20 P.M. on March 10, 1964, in the bath room of the Belgian Suite on the ground floor of Buckingham Palace. The Queen was attended by her family doctor, Dr. Ronald Boldey Scott, Sir John Weir, Dr. Vernon Hall, John Brudenell, as well as two midwives, Sister Helen Rowe and Sister Annette Wilson. The duke was with her as she gave birth. At the time of Edward's birth, the Queen was thirty-seven, and the birth was rendered less painful by the relaxation techniques of Betty Parsons, who advised women on childbirth. The Queen did not rely solely on natural childbirth, but also on gas, oxygen, and a painkiller. As soon as she was able to gaze at her delicate (5 lb. 7 oz.) son, one of the first things that struck her was the extraordinary length of his eyelashes. Two months after Edward's birth, the celebrated photographer Cecil Beaton came to the palace to take the baby prince's official photographs, and the Queen reiterated her amazement at her youngest son's eyelashes. "It's most unfortunate that all my sons have such long eyelashes while my daughter hasn't any at all," she said. Sixteen years separated the birth of Charles and the birth of Edward. In a later speech, Prince Philip said candidly, "People want their first child very much when they marry. They want the second child almost as much. If a third comes along, they accept it as natural -- but they haven't gone out of their way to get it. When the fourth child comes along, in most cases it's unintentional." The birth of Edward, the monarch's fourth child, delighted the British public. When Charles was born in 1948, England was austere and grim, still in the throes of rationing -- with the average baby subsisting on powdered milk because the real thing was unavailable. Now, however, it was the swinging sixties, and with the advent of Twiggy, Mary Quant, and the Beatles, Britain appeared to have emerged from the postwar doldrums with its glory burnished anew. Edward, gurgling, quiet, and cherubic, seemed to symbolize some of that glory. Cities throughout the Commonwealth heralded the news of his birth with twenty-one-gun salutes. The Archbishop of Canterbury greeted Edward's birth with joy, using it as an illustration of the perfect family: "There was around the throne a Christian family united," he said. "Happy and setting to all an example of what the words 'home and family' most truly meant." Prince Charles was elated at Edward's birth. Soon after, he wrote to the Queen's lady-in-waiting, Lady Susan Hussey, "It's so wonderful having babies in the house again, isn't it? The only trouble is they grow up so quickly." A few weeks after he first saw the new baby, Charles went back to Gordonstoun, where he was at school. From there, he wrote in his diary, "It will be wonderful to see everyone and to see Edward again. Mummy says he's great fun and laughs and turns over." Charles was scheduled to go to Australia. He wrote wistfully in his diary of how much he would miss Edward and his nanny, Mabel Anderson, "I shall hate leaving everyone for so long, especially Edward and Mabel. I hope he isn't too big when I get back." The royal baby's first unofficial outing took place on April 4, 1964, when the Queen drove him and Princess Anne to Windsor Castle. Although the sky was stormy and grim, the Queen and Anne were both in sunny moods, waving and smiling at the crowds. Beside them in the car, Edward slept peacefully. On May 2, 1964, in Windsor Castle's private chapel, the dean of Windsor, Robert Woods, christened him Edward Antony Richard Louis. His lace christening robes dated back to 1841, when they had been fashioned for Queen Victoria's daughter Princess Victoria. Looking at her youngest son, beatific in his christening robes, the Queen was content. When Edward was three months old, she swept onto the balcony of Buckingham Palace and proudly displayed him to the crowds below. They cheered enthusiastically. The palace staff, too, warmed to the new royal child. His nanny found him undemanding and happy, despite the fact that his serenity was often disturbed by his mischievous elder brother Andrew's boisterousness. During his childhood, little Edward led an ordered life in the nursery. Situated on the second floor of the palace, the nursery (which Edward shared with Andrew) looked out on the forecourt, affording him a prime view of the daily Changing of the Guard ceremony. With two bedrooms, a sitting room, a bathroom, and a kitchen, the children spent their days in the sitting room with green walls, a fireplace, and a chintz-covered couch. Two large cupboards with glass doors held Charles and Anne's old books and toys. The Queen's old rocking horse was in one corner. Edward's day began each morning at eight. At eight-fifteen, he ate the classic British breakfast of eggs, bacon, and sausage. At nine-thirty, the nanny carried him to the elevator, which took them down to the Queen and Prince Philip's private apartments. The baby would be left there to play with his parents for half an hour; then the nanny took him upstairs again. Sometimes, Edward wouldn't see his parents until four in the afternoon, when they had tea together in the nursery. "A child wants a mother to be emotional, hugged, kissed -- and that's not what the Queen's good at. She's tough, totally unsentimental," a confidential source told biographer Ben Pimlott, author of The Queen. "She was a less natural mother with Charles and Anne, whereas she was much more the besotted parent with Andrew and Edward," a member of the royal staff confided to Pimlott. On a few special occasions, Edward was permitted to visit the Queen in her study, where she would invariably be working on her state papers. He was alert and curious, but not noisy or destructive, so that sometimes the Queen would relinquish protocol and relax as he crawled around the floor. The Queen did her part in educating her youngest son. When he was two, she had a blackboard erected in her sitting room. She taught Edward the alphabet, numbers, and how to read the time, demonstrating with a clock. Eventually, she taught him to ride horses and gave him a pony of his own, named Flame. From the first, Edward's father was an important presence in his life. Contrary to his often negatively slanted press coverage, Prince Philip was and is a consistently loving father to Edward. In her book, nanny Mabel Anderson praised Prince Philip for his nurturing qualities as a father. She wrote that Philip would "always set aside time to read to them or help them put together his little model toys." The prince also taught Edward to swim and, when he was old enough, to drive. While Philip's relationship with Charles gradually disintegrated through the years to the point where the duke and his heir rarely communicated on any level, Philip and Edward were always close. Prince Philip never called Charles "Chuck" or "Charlie," but early on he took to calling Edward by the affectionate nickname "Ed." The palace staff, however, did not treat Edward with informality, nor did they dare to call him "Ed." The Queen ruled that until Edward reached the age of eighteen, the staff should address him as "sir." She decreed that upon Edward's eighteenth birthday the staff address him by his title, "Your Royal Highness." In September 1968, when he was four and a half years old, Edward began the first stage of his formal education. For two months, he was taught by Miss Adelaide Grigg, who had been recommended by the Queen's lady-in-waiting, Lady Susan Hussey. Adelaide was governess to Lady Susan's four-year-old daughter, Katharine. Classes were held at Lady Susan's house in Chelsea. After Christmas, Edward's permanent governess, Miss Lavinia Keppel, took up her post at Buckingham Palace. Miss Keppel was a distant relative of Alice Keppel, Edward VII's mistress, and she also was related to Camilla Shand, who eventually became Camilla Parker Bowles and Charles's mistress. At forty, Lavinia Keppel was an experienced teacher who had taught for fifteen years at the Lady Eden School in Kensington. The schoolroom, which overlooked the sweeping Mall thoroughfare, along which the ceremonial coaches travel to the palace, was bright, airy, and sufficiently big to accommodate Edward and his aristocratic schoolmates: Sarah Armstrong-Jones, Princess Margaret's daughter; James Ogilvy, son of Princess Alexandra and her husband, Angus Ogilvy; and Princess Tanya of Hanover, the granddaughter of Prince Philip's sister. They all took classes in the palace schoolroom together. The day generally began with a Bible story, followed by simple geography, arithmetic, reading, and writing lessons. At around eleven, the children were served milk and biscuits. In the afternoon, they either played games or went on field trips to art galleries. A great deal of history was taught in the palace schoolroom, so much so that at four, Edward already knew who Queen Victoria was. He was also privileged by birth and consequently able to experience history at firsthand. When he was five, he was witness to one of the most glittering royal ceremonies ever held in Great Britain and which evoked the past more vividly than did any number of history books: Prince Charles's investiture as Prince of Wales took place at Caernarvon Castle, which dated back over seven hundred years. Captured in 1282 by the English, the castle was the location at which King Edward I declared his English son to be the Prince of Wales. Now Charles would be accorded that same title. Edward traveled to Wales with the family on the royal train, The spectacular investiture ceremony cost f500,000 ($815,000). Although it overshadowed all the rest of the pageantry Edward would see during his childhood, there would be many other events that emphasized to him the majesty of his status and that of his family. He had already seen his mother, resplendent on her horse, during the traditional Trooping the Color ceremony. By the age of six, he would cruise to Norway on the Royal yacht Britannia. There, the royal party was joined by King Olav of Norway on his own yacht The Norge. There had also been a visit to the Braemar Highland Games, for which Edward appropriately wore a kilt. Edward would be no stranger to cheering crowds. Even in the palace he was rarely alone. His brother Andrew was always a rival and at times a bully. Sometimes Edward would be blamed for his brother's misdemeanors. Andrew enjoyed nothing better than to disturb Edward's reading by initiating a prank or by teasing or taunting him. As he grew older, he would face the taunting of others, in particular the media. He would have to call on all his early training to remain cool, poised, and in control. Sometimes he would succeed, and sometimes he would fail and be humiliated. Copyright © 1999 by Wendy Leigh

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