GREAT BRITAIN: The Reunion

Seldom in the history of journalism has so much been written by so many who knew so little. For more than two years, the press of much of the English-speaking world has spun out the tale of British Princess Margaret’s romance with R.A.F. Group Captain Peter Townsend in cotton-candy clouds of circumstance, tidbit, speculation, opinion and surmise. Last week Margaret and Captain Townsend converged on London from opposite directions, and the tale spun dizzily on. To all intents and purposes, the climactic chapter of the world’s most romantic cliff-hanger was about to be unfolded.

Tense Hands & Phone Call. Airman Townsend, slim, wavy-haired fighter-pilot hero of the Battle of Britain, was the first to get to London. Looking fit and 41, he arrived with his Nile green Renault sedan on a Bristol cargo plane at Lydd airport, packed his gear and his gentleman-jockey’s tack into the back seat, and drove straight to the Lowndes Square home of Marquess Abergavenny, a close friend of the royal family. That same evening the press learned that Princess Margaret was due in from Scotland next morning. A battery of reporters stood at Euston Station to note the Princess’ tensely clenched hands and nervous glances as she stepped off the train. Something was in the air.

That afternoon Peter Townsend went shopping with Mrs. John Wills, the Princess’ first cousin, best friend, and the mother of Margaret’s first goddaughter. Back at Lowndes Square, Peter got a phone call from Clarence House. An hour later he arrived at the mansion where Margaret and her mother live, and was instantly admitted—to meet Margaret for the first time since the summer of 1954, when he paid her a secret visit under the incognito, “Mr. Carter.” Two hours later Townsend emerged, smiling but tactfully closemouthed. “Are you happy?” asked one reporter. “Yes.” answered the captain.

Amendment & Assent. Next day Clarence House officially announced that “no announcement concerning Princess Margaret’s future is at present contemplated.” and urged the press “to extend to Her Royal Highness their customary courtesy in respecting her privacy.” But hot on the heels of this announcement, the Princess and the Commoner sped off for a weekend in the country, traveling separately but meeting at the Wills’s vast, parklike estate in Berkshire. Hordes of newsmen and photographers collected outside its wrought-iron gates. Desperate for news, they moved in hungrily on the only source at hand, seven-year-old Marilyn Wills, when she strolled down to the gates. What is going on? they asked.

“There was a big dinner,” reported Marilyn solemnly. “Champagne.”

And Princess Margaret? “She has been sitting in front of the fire,” said Marilyn, sucking an orange contemplatively. “Sometimes she wushes upstairs and she hasn’t gone outdoors at all, but she looks happy all the same.”

The extended reunion and the cordiality of the setting contributed mightily to the notion that love had triumphed over pomp, circumstance, and the Church of England’s stoutly maintained objection to the Princess’ marriage with a man who had divorced the mother of his two children. The stage was set for the crucial scenes. What form would they take?

This week Queen Elizabeth returns to London from Scotland. Her first official business and that of her Prime Minister, Sir Anthony Eden, may be the formal consideration of Margaret’s problem. In all likelihood, the Cabinet will then prepare a statement of abdication on Margaret’s behalf to lay before Parliament when it reconvenes on Oct. 25. With the Princess agreeing to renounce all rights of succession to the throne, Parliament will then either amend or repeal the archaic Royal Marriage Act, which is now the only legal barrier standing in her way. The Princess will be free at last to marry her Commoner.