Ingrid Seward - The Queen & Di: The Untold Story

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

Diana: Portrait of a Princess

By Royal Invitation

Royalty Revealed

Sarah: HRH the Duchess of York

Royal Children of the Twentieth Century

Prince Edward: A Biography

The Last Great Edwardian Lady:
The Life and Style of Elizabeth, the Queen Mother

Copyright 2000, 2011 by Ingrid Seward

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Arcade Publishing, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

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First published in 2000 by HarperCollins Publishers, U.K.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

ISBN: 978-1-61145-534-2

BLACK AND WHITE

The Queen wearing Queen Marys tiara. Authors collection

Engagement of Princess Elizabeth and Philip Mountbatten in 1947. Alpha

Honeymoon of Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh. Alpha

Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip with Charles and Anne. Alpha

The Queen in Australia, 1954. CameraPress

The Queen wearing a dress by Hartneil. Camera Press/Dorothy Wilding

The Queen at 27 in 1953, photographed by Baron. Camera Press/Baron

COLOUR

Diana wearing Queen Marys tiara. Tim Graham

The Queen with Prince Charles in the 1940s. Camera Press/Marcus Adams

Diana with Prince William in the 1980s. Tim Graham

Engagement of Diana and Prince Charles in 1981. Alpha

Charles and Diana on the banks of the River Dee. Tim Graham

Diana and Charles on the Britannia. Alpha

Diana in Australia. Camera Press/Lionel Cherruault

Diana in her black debut gown. Camera Press

Diana at Christies in 1997. Tim Graham

The Queen at Buckingham Palace in 1998 with Julie Thompson. P. A. Photos Diana kneeling with young girl. Alpha

The Queen receiving a bouquet at a Royal Variety Performance. Alpha

The Queen and Queen Mother at the Derby in 1988. Alpha

Diana and Mrs Frances Shand Kydd in 1989. Tim Graham

The Queen in Peking. Tim Graham

Diana and the Queen at Victoria Station in 1986. Photographers International

Diana at 30 in 1991, photographed by Lord Snowdon. Camera Press/Snowdon

Prince William in 1999. Alpha

Diana in 1989. Alpha

Prince Charles, Prince William and Prince Harry at Klosters in 2000. Alpha

Over the course of seventeen years as editor of Majesty magazine and almost as many writing books and articles, I have interviewed many members of the royal family and spoken to their friends, courtiers and members of the staff and household. I was privileged to be invited to Kensington Palace by the late Diana, Princess of Wales shortly before her tragic death, and without her views and opinions my task in writing this book would have been impossible. I would like to thank all those who have helped me and I am grateful for their continued friendship and assistance.

In particular, my thanks go to my husband Ross Benson, my picture researcher Christine Cornick, with whom I worked for many years on Majesty magazine, Mike Shaw of Curtis Brown, and Richard Johnson and Marian Reid of HarperCollins.

I have listed separately in the bibliography those books which I have found most useful in my research for The Queen andDi.

Ingrid Seward
London, May 2000

Diana told me that 1996, the year of her divorce, was the worst in my life.

She knew that she had finally lost the support of the Queen, the one member of the royal family who had consistently sympathized with, excused and defended her. She believed she was being followed, that her telephone was being tapped, and that her enemies were out to get her. She also felt she was being watched and this scared her so much that there were times when she was afraid for her life.

I didnt even feel safe in my car, she said. She was convinced at the time that someone had been tampering with the brakes. A few weeks after our conversation, the Queen would wonder if someone had.

Dianas fears were in recession, however, that summer morning when we met. There was no guard at the heavy, black front door at Numbers 8 and 9, Kensington Palace. It stood half-ajar. All I had to do was push it open and walk straight into her private apartments. I called out, Is anyone there? No one answered. I walked down the beige carpeted corridor and on into the sparsely furnished staff sitting room on the right. Still no one.

But enter Buckingham Palace - where, if things had worked out as they were supposed to have, Diana would one day have reigned as Queen - and you have to pass through a cordon of soldiers, policemen, footmen and pages before you get anywhere near the Presence, as the staff call the Sovereign. Diana was not going to be Queen. She had turned her back on that lustrous destiny. She was divorced and had shed much of royaltys cosseting paraphernalia.

There were no flunkeys, no liveried pages, no army of maids to attend her, no princely husband, no disapproving courtiers, only her butler and confidant, Paul Burrell, whom I found arranging flowers in his pantry across the passageway. This, she would tell me, was how she wanted it. I feel free, she declared.

Burrell, apologizing for not meeting me at the door, showed me to the downstairs bathroom and loo, which had a cartoon on the wall showing a large turd on a pavement and bearing the caption, Has anyone seen James Hewitt? He then escorted me up the wide wooden staircase to the drawing room.

A few moments later, at precisely 11 oclock, the Princess strode in on a waft of perfume, her hand outstretched in greeting. She sat down on the sofa and asked me to sit beside her. A catalogue from her sale of dresses in New York still lay open on the coffee table. Dozens of her frocks and gowns had come under the hammer at Christies but the Princess, despite echoing the complaint of rich women the world over that she had nothing to wear, was not exactly down to her last pair of jeans. She was wearing a bright-blue Versace cocktail dress - dear Versace, hes so wonderful - which came to just above her bare knees and was worn tight but without a trace of a panty line. Her shoes were beige and by Chanel. She wore a gold Cartier watch on one wrist and a slim diamond bracelet on the other, and her earrings were sapphires with a small diamond drop. Her skin was honey-coloured, without a blemish or even a hint of a freckle, and she had kept her make-up to a minimum; just a small amount of blue-black mascara around her eyes, and a touch of gloss on the lips of a mouth which was unexpectedly small and stingy. Her hair was immaculate, and looked as though she had just blow-dried the fringe. She was groomed for an evening reception. Did the Princess always dress this way for morning coffee? I wondered. But of course Diana had discovered the power of imagery long ago.