Days later the dogged equerry called a BBC radio show to say the Prince had been studying the causes of unrest in inner cities. He said Charles had spent a night walking the dark streets of London, visiting shelters and talking to the homeless.

The polo-playing Prince saw himself as a man of the people, but his sister said he was far "too grand" for the role. She pointed out that his staff at Highgrove had to wear specially designed uniforms, including the feathers of the Prince of Wales, and bow every day when they first addressed him. When leaving the room, they usually backed out. His valet of twelve years concurred. "I was successful in knowing him well," said Stephen Barry, "but I could never forget that he was the master and I the servant."

Charles did not recognize the irony in preaching fuel conservation while driving a gas-guzzling ten-miles-to-the-gallon Bentley. He described himself as a gentleman farmer who was committed to urban renewal when not presiding over his country estate. Although one of the richest men in the world, he was pa.s.sionate about the poor. He demonstrated his concern during a two-day visit to the United States: he spent the first day touring the slums of Pittsburgh and the second day playing polo in Palm Beach. He recuperated from both stops by flying to Switzerland to ski.

In England Charles craved a role in the public policy debate. He seized his opportunity in May 1984, when he addressed the Royal Inst.i.tute of British Architects on their 150th anniversary. The architects expected to be praised, but the Prince of Wales lambasted them as elitists. He said their inhospitable designs ignored the feelings and wishes of ordinary people. He cited as an example the modern gla.s.s-and-steel annex proposed for the National Gallery of Art in London. Charles said the design was a "monstrous carbuncle on the face of a much-loved and elegant friend."

His speech made the front pages of Britain's newspapers, and he felt quite pleased, especially when the proposed plan was canceled. "I've fought hard for a role as the Prince of Wales," he told the editor of the Sunday Telegraph Sunday Telegraph during a private lunch. "I feel I should do and say things in my position that, one hopes, can be a stimulus to the country's conscience, a bit of a pinp.r.i.c.k." Some architects griped that he was less the first half and more the last half. during a private lunch. "I feel I should do and say things in my position that, one hopes, can be a stimulus to the country's conscience, a bit of a pinp.r.i.c.k." Some architects griped that he was less the first half and more the last half.

"I later felt obliged to challenge his opinion," said Gordon Graham, former president of the Royal Academy of British Architects. "I did it politely, but I did do it." Graham said he had experienced no royal repercussions after his speech, but his friends disagreed.

"Nonsense," said Ian Coulter, an international consultant who once worked for Randolph Churchill. "Gordon Graham gave up his knighthood with that speech. By directly challenging the heir apparent, he tilted at the biggest windmill of them all. If the Sun King turns his back on you, you're in his shadow. Royalty has patronage and support, and if it's withdrawn, you're a dead man."

Charles understood his power, but he did not understand criticism. He was accustomed to excessive praise, but for months now magazines and newspapers had ridiculed him, his wife, and his marriage. Vanity Fair Vanity Fair said he was "p.u.s.s.y-whipped from here to eternity." His mistress had described his wife as a mouse, but others considered her a royal rat. She had purged his staff of over forty people who had either resigned or been fired. She retired most of "the pink mafia," as she called the h.o.m.os.e.xuals on Charles's staff, because she did not want them around her young sons. She even banished her husband's old Labrador because the dog was incontinent. said he was "p.u.s.s.y-whipped from here to eternity." His mistress had described his wife as a mouse, but others considered her a royal rat. She had purged his staff of over forty people who had either resigned or been fired. She retired most of "the pink mafia," as she called the h.o.m.os.e.xuals on Charles's staff, because she did not want them around her young sons. She even banished her husband's old Labrador because the dog was incontinent.

Diana was just as miffed as Charles by the tabloid stories of her "compulsive shopping" and the "exorbitant amounts of money" she was "squandering" on "high-style fashions." One newspaper estimated that after British Vogue Vogue started advising her, she spent $1.4 million in one year-for 373 outfits, complete with hats, belts, shoes, and purses. "It's not true, it's not true," she wailed. "In the beginning, I had to buy endless new things, of course, because on a tour you change three or four times a day. I started advising her, she spent $1.4 million in one year-for 373 outfits, complete with hats, belts, shoes, and purses. "It's not true, it's not true," she wailed. "In the beginning, I had to buy endless new things, of course, because on a tour you change three or four times a day. I had had to buy new things. I couldn't go around in a leopardskin." to buy new things. I couldn't go around in a leopardskin."

Since then her closets had expanded to six suites in Kensington Palace. One room was reserved solely for shoes: "Three hundred and twenty pairs," she gleefully told her friend Sarah Ferguson, "and that's not counting my trainers." Diana soon learned to send her bills to the British Foreign Office for the designer clothes she wore on royal tours. For a sixteen-day trip of Oman, Qatar, Bahrain, and Saudi Arabia, her clothing bill was $122,000.

She was distressed by the stories of how she had changed from a dewy-eyed virgin into a self-obsessed harridan. She felt inaccurately blamed for turning her husband into a muzzy mystic, whom she no longer allowed to hunt and shoot.

Charles fretted continually about his media coverage. He did not read the tabloids, which he called "the cheap and impertinent gutter press." But he complained that the quality papers he did read were not adequately reporting his worthy endeavors. Over a private lunch he grumbled to Sunday Telegraph Sunday Telegraph editor Peregrine Worsthorne, "I sometimes wonder why I don't pack it in and spend my time playing polo." editor Peregrine Worsthorne, "I sometimes wonder why I don't pack it in and spend my time playing polo."

Like politicians, who live and die by polls, Charles and Diana scrambled to find spin doctors. They asked everyone around them for advice, calling upon Tory Members of Parliament, discreet editors, and worshipful courtiers. They sought counsel from lawyers and media consultants, inviting them all to Kensington Palace to pick their brains.

"It was in November 1984 that I lunched with them," John Junor, former editor of the Sunday Express, Sunday Express, wrote in his memoirs. "The Prince remarked that he hoped Princess Diana would begin to give interviews. But he added, 'Perhaps not just yet. It might be wise to wait until she has more experience.' " wrote in his memoirs. "The Prince remarked that he hoped Princess Diana would begin to give interviews. But he added, 'Perhaps not just yet. It might be wise to wait until she has more experience.' "

The Princess agreed. "I just hate the sound of my own voice," she said. "I can't bear it. When I launched that new liner last week, I just couldn't believe it when I heard myself afterward. It just didn't sound like me."

The Prince laughed. "I felt exactly the same way. I just couldn't believe that yakkety-yak voice was mine. So upper-cla.s.s."

Charles asked Junor for advice on how to handle public relations and combat "the idiotic stories" that appeared in the press. The Prince spoke at length about his concerns-the disadvantaged youth of the country, the inadequacy of the Church of England-and the editor listened. So did Diana, until Junor turned to include her in the conversation.

"Darling, I'm so sorry," said Charles. "I've done all the talking. Did you have something you wanted to say?"

The Princess nodded. Then she poured out to Junor her resentment about the way in which she had been attacked for influencing her husband and turning him against shooting and hunting.

The Prince broke in. "I'm angry about that, too. Because my wife is doing nothing of the kind. My wife actually likes hunting and shooting. It is I who have turned against it."

"It's all his own decision," Diana told another journalist. "I was brought up in the country and like shooting. I shot a deer at Balmoral on our honeymoon. I just think Charles has gone a bit potty."

Charmed by the Princess, John Junor had reservations about the Prince. "Charles was a serious, perhaps too serious, young man, obsessed with the idea of serving the nation, in some danger of overwhelming his wife, and in even greater danger of boring her."

After weeks of consultations with their advisers, including an astrologer, the Prince and Princess decided to go on television. They said they wanted to be interviewed ("by a respectful interviewer, of course," Charles stipulated) so they could present themselves to people without the subjectivity of newspapers. "Let people see us as we really are," said Diana. In exchange for the privilege of this interview, Independent Television gave them editorial control and a.s.sured them of soft lighting. "I wouldn't want my [bald] patch to blind viewers," Charles joked.

They called Sir Richard Attenborough, the film director, to coach them. Under his guidance they became world-cla.s.s illusionists. Charles played the romantic lead; Diana was the pretty ingenue. The two little Princes, Wills and Harry, were the extras pounding the piano in the background. As the future King, Charles was to appear strong, resolute, and worthy of trust. As his consort, Diana was to sit by his side, sweetly and supportively. By October 1985 they knew their parts to perfection.

"People expect a great deal of us," Charles began earnestly, "and I'm always conscious-I'm sure you are, too, darling-of not wanting to let people down, not wanting to let this country down." Diana looked up at him demurely and nodded.

She was asked about her role. "To support my husband," she said, "and always be behind him and encouraging. And also a more important thing, being a wife and mother."

For forty-five minutes they performed flawlessly. She said she never dieted; he didn't even know what a Ouija board looked like. She denied being a shopaholic; he did not practice homeopathy. She professed the greatest respect for Princess Anne. He kept an open mind about architecture.

When the interviewer delicately approached the rumors about Diana's being a domineering wife and dictating her husband's taste, she looked surprised. "I might pick the odd tie now and then," she said, "but that's it." Later, she said Charles chuckled about that response, remembering her frenzied efforts to overhaul his appearance. She had spent days rummaging through his closets, discarding his solid blue shirts-"so boring"-and subst.i.tuting Turnbull & a.s.ser's stripes, tossing out single-b.u.t.ton jackets in favor of double-breasted blazers, throwing away lace-up cordovans-"too fuddy-duddy"-and bringing in ta.s.seled loafers. She even sent him to her hairdresser with instructions for blow-drying: "Cover up the patch." Because of his big ears, she told Charles not to wear hats. "You'll look like a Volkswagen with both doors wide open."

On television the royal couple shared an easy camaraderie and playfulness that dispelled rumors about their marriage. They bantered briefly, smiled frequently, and enchanted viewers. The interview was later shown on American television to coincide with their 1985 trip to Washington, D.C. This was to be Diana's first visit to the United States, so the Queen sent her Palace press secretary to the States to handle the media. Michael Shea briefed American reporters on how they were expected to behave, admonishing them to question only the Prince and not the Princess. "She will not answer," he said, "so don't even try."

Throughout the two-day tour Diana said nothing publicly. As they were leaving, she was asked how she liked Washington.

"Very good," she said softly, "I-"

Charles interrupted. "Speaking as her spokesman," he said in a booming voice, "she thinks it's wonderful."

Shea shot a reproving look at the reporter who had dared to address his question to the Princess instead of the Prince. The reporter rolled his eyes.

"Well then, sir," said the reporter, looking at Charles, "did the Princess enjoy the White House dinner?"

"I think you enjoyed it, didn't you, darling?" said Charles. "She would be an idiot if she did not enjoy dancing with John Travolta, wouldn't she?"

Days before the Reagans' dinner dance for the royal couple, the President's wife had instructed the Marine Band to rehea.r.s.e the music from Sat.u.r.day Night Fever Sat.u.r.day Night Fever so that its star, John Travolta, could twirl the Princess around the Grand Foyer of the White House. Knowing that Diana once dreamed of becoming a ballerina, Mrs. Reagan had seated her next to Mikhail Baryshnikov, director of the American Ballet Theater. The First Lady also invited Diana's favorite stars: Neil Diamond, Tom Selleck, and Clint Eastwood. Much as the Republican First Lady loved Prince Charles, she did not invite his favorite movie star-Barbra Streisand-because Streisand was a liberal Democrat. By happy coincidence, all of Diana's favorite stars were conservative male Republicans who had supported Ronald Reagan. so that its star, John Travolta, could twirl the Princess around the Grand Foyer of the White House. Knowing that Diana once dreamed of becoming a ballerina, Mrs. Reagan had seated her next to Mikhail Baryshnikov, director of the American Ballet Theater. The First Lady also invited Diana's favorite stars: Neil Diamond, Tom Selleck, and Clint Eastwood. Much as the Republican First Lady loved Prince Charles, she did not invite his favorite movie star-Barbra Streisand-because Streisand was a liberal Democrat. By happy coincidence, all of Diana's favorite stars were conservative male Republicans who had supported Ronald Reagan.

Still, the Princess was not impressed by the President and the First Lady. Diana privately referred to Reagan as "Horlicks," her slang for a boring old person, and she told Andrew Neil (editor of the London Sunday Times London Sunday Times) that she considered Nancy Reagan a vulgar American. She said the only reason the First Lady had come to London the year before was to get her picture taken with the royal couple and Prince William.

At the White House the President claimed the first dance of the evening with the Princess, who had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when he flubbed her name during his after-dinner remarks. Standing up to welcome the couple, Reagan offered a toast to Prince Charles and "his lovely lady, Princess David." He quickly corrected himself and called her "Princess Diane."

"What did he say?" whispered ballerina Suzanne Farrell. "Did he call her Princess David?"

"Don't worry," replied actor Peter Ustinov. "He's just thinking of next weekend at Camp Diana."

The White House dinner in honor of the royal couple was touted as the most glittering party of the year. But the British press corps was unimpressed. They sniped at the Reagans and their tireless efforts to mingle with royalty and criticized the White House press corps as lazy. "They don't even know how to doorstep," said James Whitaker of the Daily Mirror. Daily Mirror. Whitaker and his colleagues prided themselves on d.o.g.g.i.ng reluctant targets to their doorstep. Mrs. Reagan had barred press coverage of the dinner dance, so the British reporters followed the movie stars to their hotels. "We ambushed them to find out what went on," Whitaker said proudly. "The American reporters didn't care. They went home to bed. They were indescribably indolent." For their part, the American reporters said the British might sound cultivated but behaved like animals. Whitaker and his colleagues prided themselves on d.o.g.g.i.ng reluctant targets to their doorstep. Mrs. Reagan had barred press coverage of the dinner dance, so the British reporters followed the movie stars to their hotels. "We ambushed them to find out what went on," Whitaker said proudly. "The American reporters didn't care. They went home to bed. They were indescribably indolent." For their part, the American reporters said the British might sound cultivated but behaved like animals.

The BBC correspondent had set the scornful tone of British media coverage when he reported the royal couple's arrival at the White House: "President Reagan greeted the Prince and Princess wearing a plaid jacket that was remarkably similar to the carpet at Balmoral Castle."

That evening, after the royals and the Reagans had danced the first dance, the First Lady approached Travolta. "It's time now, John," she said. The movie star walked over to the Princess's table and asked her to dance. "I was thrilled," Diana said. Everyone stopped talking to watch them and completely ignored the Prince of Wales, who was dancing with the ballerina Suzanne Farrell.

"The Princess got wind that it was a special moment," recalled Travolta, "and she really seemed to take off. She had great rhythm. We did spins and turns. We did a kind of modern fox-trot, and she followed me very well. She's a good little mover."

The guests applauded wildly when the music stopped and Travolta escorted Diana back to her seat. The willowy Princess, flushed with excitement, wanted to dance again. She whispered to Clint Eastwood how much she would enjoy dancing with a man taller than she was. She confided to him that at five feet ten inches, she had been told to wear low heels so she would not tower over her husband.

"But you're over six feet tall," she said to the craggy-faced actor.

"I'd ask you to dance," Eastwood said, deadpan, "but you're too old for me."

"I'm only twenty-four," Diana said flirtatiously.

"Oh, all right," said the fifty-five-year-old movie star. "I'll make an exception."

Eastwood described his dance with Diana by paraphrasing a line he had made famous in his Dirty Harry Dirty Harry movies: "She made my day." movies: "She made my day."*

As dazzled as the celebrities were to meet Diana, she in turn was just as excited to meet them, including explorer Jacques Cousteau, skater Dorothy Hamill, artist David Hockney, Olympic gymnast Mary Lou Retton, and actress Brooke Shields. She told Baryshnikov that she had gotten his autograph years before when he'd appeared at Covent Garden.

"I was one of those girls who was waiting for you for hours and hours after your performance," she said.

She asked Dorothy Hamill if there were gossip magazines and society magazines in America as there were in England. "They can be so nice," Diana said. "They ask you three lovely questions, and then they throw in a zinger question." She also inquired about television talk shows and wanted to know about Johnny Carson and the Tonight Tonight show. show.

"Of course, Joan Rivers's name came up," recalled Dorothy Hamill, who sat at Diana's table, "and Baryshnikov chimed in, 'No, don't do that! Don't go on Joan Rivers's show.' "

At a luncheon the next day in Upperville, Virginia, at philanthropist Paul Mellon's estate, the British royal couple were introduced to Caroline Kennedy and John F. Kennedy Jr. A few days later in Palm Beach at a charity ball, the Prince and Princess met Bob Hope, Gregory Peck, and Joan Collins, who had recently married a man sixteen years younger than she. Diana was fascinated by the fifty-three-year-old television star of Dynasty Dynasty and cornered a reporter from the and cornered a reporter from the Daily Mail Daily Mail to pump him about Collins's latest wedding. "She's amazing," said Diana. "At her age. Husband number four." to pump him about Collins's latest wedding. "She's amazing," said Diana. "At her age. Husband number four."

In Washington and Palm Beach large crowds had lined the streets to welcome the royal couple. Young girls jumped up and down and screamed with excitement when they saw Diana. The Princess of Wales had become an international icon, who inspired the same kind of ear-splitting ruckus as a rock star. When she accompanied her husband to religious services in Washington's National Cathedral, more than twelve thousand people turned out. "I think it's her flying saucer hat," said Prince Charles. He gestured to the large discus on top of his wife's head.

In a lighthearted farewell toast in Washington, D.C., he said: "A gentleman of the press asked me, rather tactlessly, I thought, why there was a bigger crowd outside the cathedral than when I was last here on my own. The answer, of course, is that they all turned out to see my new clothes."

The audience responded appreciatively and laughed again when he referred to his wedding as a production of sanctified show business. "My wife and myself have been completely overwhelmed by the extraordinary, enthusiastic, and friendly welcome that we've received here," Charles said. "Perhaps it's the fact that we got married four years ago in a rather well-known ecclesiastical bull ring in London and it wasn't actually filmed in Hollywood."

Although most of the attention was focused on Diana with her youth and beauty, Charles, not surprisingly, charmed several older women. "I must admit I found him the more interesting of the two," wrote U.S. Chief of Protocol Selwa Roosevelt in her memoirs. "He was well read, spoke beautifully, had his father's charm and a great sense of humor." But President Reagan's daughter, Maureen, was more candid. "We all loved Charles," she said, "but Diana was stupid. Someone should tell her that it doesn't play well-that dopey looking-up-through-the-eyelashes bit of hers."

By the time she returned to London, the Princess of Wales had become a walking monument. British opinion polls said she was the country's greatest tourist attraction-a bigger draw than Trafalgar Square and the Houses of Parliament combined. One national survey calculated that from 1983 through 1985 she had generated $66.6 million in revenue from magazines, books, and tourists. She was hailed as the only member of the royal family to shake hands without gloves, to sign autographs, to kiss heads of state, and to embrace AIDS patients. She brought charm to the stolid House of Windsor, and on the evening of December 23, 1985, she also bestowed s.e.x appeal.

She had accompanied Prince Charles to a benefit at Covent Garden for London's Royal Opera House. During the intermission, she excused herself. Leaving him alone in the royal box, she quietly slipped backstage to prepare a surprise.

When the curtain went up, a reed slim blonde twirled from the wings to center stage in a slinky white satin slip with spaghetti straps. People gasped audibly when they recognized the dancer, who was swaying to the pop music of Billy Joel's "Uptown Girl": Uptown girl, Uptown girl,She's been living in her white bread worldFor as long as anyone with hot blood canAnd now she's looking for a downtown man.

In her white satin heels, the Princess of Wales (five feet ten) towered over her partner (five feet two), Wayne Sleep. The royal ballet dancer, who was in the Guinness Book of Records Guinness Book of Records for making more scissor-legged leaps than Nijinsky, was hardly noticed. All eyes were riveted on Diana. for making more scissor-legged leaps than Nijinsky, was hardly noticed. All eyes were riveted on Diana.

She had secretly rehea.r.s.ed the routine in Kensington Palace as a Christmas present for her husband. She presented it to him in front of 2,600 people who had never seen royalty slink seductively across a stage.

"The Prince nearly fell out of his chair," recalled Sleep, "especially when she did the kicks over my head.... That kick routine brought the house down.... I could not believe how good she was. She was so confident and so sure of herself that she even curtsied to the royal box." Sleep gathered her up in his arms and carried her off stage. "I was the one who was nervous," he said, "knowing that I was holding the future Queen of England."

Roaring approval, the audience gave the pop Princess a standing ovation. Then they gave her eight curtain calls, and she took her bows, looked directly at her husband, and smiled. And she wanted to do an encore. "I said no," said Sleep, "because they would start nitpicking. She's a good dancer, but she isn't a professional. She started to do it again, and I had to drag her off. She loved it."

Diana returned to the stage months later to make a video of herself dancing to the theme song of Phantom of the Opera. Phantom of the Opera. After seeing the Andrew Lloyd Webber show six times, she told the manager of Her Majesty's Theatre in London that she wanted to be filmed dancing to the love song "All I Ask of You." She said it was to be a gift for her husband's birthday. Because it was a request from the Princess of Wales for the Prince, the theater manager agreed to make the stage and orchestra available to her. She admitted later that the video was never intended for Charles but, rather, for her own private use. After seeing the Andrew Lloyd Webber show six times, she told the manager of Her Majesty's Theatre in London that she wanted to be filmed dancing to the love song "All I Ask of You." She said it was to be a gift for her husband's birthday. Because it was a request from the Princess of Wales for the Prince, the theater manager agreed to make the stage and orchestra available to her. She admitted later that the video was never intended for Charles but, rather, for her own private use.

She did not object when the official photographer for the Opera House sold his pictures of her daring dance with Wayne Sleep for thousands of dollars. "It was the s.e.xiest performance I'd ever seen at Covent Garden," said the photographer.

Unfortunately, the Prince, who had stood up to applaud his wife publicly, berated her in private for flaunting herself in an undignified manner. He rejected her gift of dance as a narcissistic exhibition and said it was just another one of her ploys to upstage him. He took no pride in her talent. Instead he felt humiliated and consoled himself in the comforting arms of his mistress.

FIFTEEN.

Sarah Ferguson was one patient we never wanted to lay eyes on again. She was obnoxious-rude, demanding, and coa.r.s.e," said Stephen Maitin, a London pract.i.tioner of homeopathy. "A few months before her wedding, she came to our Victoria Street clinic to be treated for obesity. She was brought in by her wedding dress designer, who was frantic to get her in shape.

"The designer, Lindka Cierach, was going through h.e.l.l getting Sarah slimmed down-and calmed down. We treated her at the clinic with needles and prescriptions, and my partner also treated her at Buckingham Palace, where she was living. But, after a few sessions, we washed our hands of her. She expected us to be on call for her around the clock: if she was bingeing, we were supposed to drop everything and treat her. If she was overwrought, we were supposed to tranquilize her. If she was hung over, we were supposed to give her ma.s.sages. Whether it was food, s.e.x, or alcohol, her appet.i.tes were out of control; she did everything to excess-everything. She abused herself with too much cocaine, too many amphetamines, too much Champagne. Food, food, food, and s.e.x all the time."

The spring of 1986 was a trying time for Sarah Margaret Ferguson, the twenty-six-year-old known as Fergie, who was engaged to marry Prince Andrew. "Sarah definitely needed help," said Lindka Cierach, "and I tried to get it for her.... I would take her through the back door of the clinic and let her pay me for the treatments so no one would know."

The announcement of her engagement to marry HRH Prince Andrew had thrilled her family. The Prince's valet, James Berry, recalled her father's reaction when the news became public. "He hopped up and down on one leg in sheer happiness, chewing his fingers on one hand, and letting out shouts of joy."

"We did get quite emotional about it," admitted Sarah's stepmother, Susan Ferguson, who months later was still awestruck. The Socialist Worker, Socialist Worker, a British newspaper, had reported the news under the headline "Parasite to Marry Scrounger." The February announcement had jolted the Queen's press secretary, who had been advising reporters for months to disregard the relationship on the a.s.sumption that the exuberant Fergie would be just one more conquest for the Queen's twenty-six-year-old son. a British newspaper, had reported the news under the headline "Parasite to Marry Scrounger." The February announcement had jolted the Queen's press secretary, who had been advising reporters for months to disregard the relationship on the a.s.sumption that the exuberant Fergie would be just one more conquest for the Queen's twenty-six-year-old son.

Andrew, who had developed a reputation as a love-'em-and-leave-'em bachelor, seemed to prefer actresses and models, and freckle-faced Fergie certainly did not fit the mold.

"I remember Michael [Shea] inviting two of us onto the royal yacht, Britannia, Britannia, for a briefing on the Andrew and Fergie romance," recalled Steve Lynas, then a reporter for for a briefing on the Andrew and Fergie romance," recalled Steve Lynas, then a reporter for Today Today newspaper. "Shea rea.s.sured us, 'There is no chance of these two becoming engaged.' We filed accordingly. But within a couple of days, the engagement was announced." newspaper. "Shea rea.s.sured us, 'There is no chance of these two becoming engaged.' We filed accordingly. But within a couple of days, the engagement was announced."

One cartoonist greeted the news by drawing the couple as Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls. They stood before a preacher. "Do you, Raunchy, take Randy Andy, to be your lawful..."

Burke's Peerage, the bible of the aristocracy, was aghast that Prince Andrew, fourth in line to the throne, would choose a woman like Sarah Ferguson, "whose private life has, by the traditions of the royal family, been not only unorthodox, but well doc.u.mented in the national press... six previous romances in six years... far more than Victorian in nature." the bible of the aristocracy, was aghast that Prince Andrew, fourth in line to the throne, would choose a woman like Sarah Ferguson, "whose private life has, by the traditions of the royal family, been not only unorthodox, but well doc.u.mented in the national press... six previous romances in six years... far more than Victorian in nature."

Sarah's father, Ronald Ferguson, a former army major, snorted with derision. "If she didn't have a past at twenty-six," he said, "people would be saying there was something wrong with her."

Precisely because of her background, some thought Fergie was ideal for Andrew, who defined making love as "horizontal jogging" and whose idea of playfulness was to jam a live lobster down the front of his date's bathing suit. His boisterous style puzzled his friends. "I asked him about this once," said Ferdie Macdonald, who knew the Prince as a young bachelor. " 'Why are you always squirting girls with water, sir, and throwing things at them?' I said. He seemed baffled. 'They like it, don't they?' he said. 'When I squirt them with water they squeal. Doesn't that mean they like it?' "

Fergie, too, liked to play hard and play around. She made no apologies for her raffish love life. "I am a modern woman," she said. She swore easily, smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, and swapped dirty jokes with the boys. In one of her first television interviews, she used the word "p.r.i.c.k." Wisecracking and raucous, she acted like the only dame dealt into the poker game. She said "yah" instead of "yes." When a BBC reporter asked what she had had for breakfast, she quipped, "Sausages and a migraine."

She said she suffered severe migraine headaches because of the frequent falls from her ponies when she was a child. A daredevil athlete, she won championship ribbons for skiing, swimming, and horseback riding. After competing in a steeplechase at midnight, she was awarded honorary membership in the Dangerous Sports Club, enabling her to wear the DSC badge of golden crutches. She was the only woman in the race. She never outgrew being the roughhousing tomboy who climbed trees and played pranks. She walked like a cowhand, with bowed legs and big strides, and she talked out of the side of her mouth.

Her cla.s.smates at Hurst Lodge, a boarding school in Sunningdale, Berkshire, remember her for her hearty appet.i.te. They called her "Seconds" because she lined up twice for every meal. Expansive and enthusiastic, she was also generous, sometimes embarra.s.sing her friends by sending them huge bouquets and expensive presents. To support herself, she worked odd jobs-sales clerk, messenger for travel agents, waitress, driver, and tour guide. To pay for ski trips to Switzerland, she worked as a chalet girl and cleaned hotel rooms.

Barely educated beyond high school, she took a course at Queen's Secretarial College in London. "She does not show the influence of too many schools," noted one of her teachers. When she finished at the bottom of her cla.s.s, she bragged that she'd barely learned how to type. Shrugging happily, she said, "I'd rather ride than read."

Her father also preferred horses to books. When Major Ron, as he liked to be called, was accused of using his daughter's engagement to better himself, he insisted he did not need social advancement, especially through the royal family. "My mother was born Marian Louisa Montagu Douglas Scott, daughter of Lord Herbert Montagu Douglas Scott, the fifth son of the sixth Duke of Buccleugh," he said. "To my amus.e.m.e.nt, Mother's family have always regarded their Buccleugh lineage as being socially superior to that of the Windsors!" Ferguson made sure the press knew that his family tree included four dukes and such ancestors as King Charles II and his mistress Lucy Walters. The Major was also a cousin of Robert Fellowes, the Queen's private secretary.

The Times Times wrote that Sarah Ferguson descended from landed gentry, landowners rather than aristocracy, with generations of service in the cavalry: "Every generation, down to her father, has held a commission in the Life Guards," the newspaper noted. "It is a family of old money, but not much." wrote that Sarah Ferguson descended from landed gentry, landowners rather than aristocracy, with generations of service in the cavalry: "Every generation, down to her father, has held a commission in the Life Guards," the newspaper noted. "It is a family of old money, but not much."

The pursuit of money became a necessity in 1970, when Major Ron accepted the unpaid position of polo manager to Prince Charles. Having flunked the examination to become a colonel in the Life Guards, which ended his advancement in the military, the Major resigned from the army. He opened an office in the Guards Polo Club in Windsor, where he tacked a pinup calendar on the wall. Even as a civilian he insisted on his military rank. "Most people address me as Major," he told a writer who had called him Mr. Ferguson. He ent.i.tled his memoir The Galloping Major. The Galloping Major.

The Prince of Wales was twenty-one years old when he offered Major Ferguson the honorary job of arranging his polo games, and Ferguson, a pa.s.sionate polo player, accepted gratefully. He solicited corporate sponsors like Cartier and Rolex, who were eager to be a.s.sociated with the Prince of Wales, and asked them to underwrite polo tournaments and cover the Prince's expenses. This lucrative patronage also included handsome compensation for the Prince's polo manager himself.

"Ronald was delighted to get the offer from Prince Charles," recalled his first wife, Susan. "It allowed him to spend a lot of time with the Prince, and it also enabled Ronald to stay in the world which interested him most, the world of horses."

Two years later, in 1972, the Fergusons separated when Sarah and her sister, Jane, were teenagers. Ronald Ferguson intimated to friends that his wife, Susan, had had a love affair with Prince Philip when the two men played polo together during the 1960s. Susan Ferguson, with her long hair and lean legs, was so sporty and elegant that designer Ralph Lauren once considered asking her to pose for a Polo ad. "She was definitely Philip's type," said her daughter. Publicly all Major Ferguson would say about his wife and Prince Philip was that the Queen's husband "certainly found my wife Susie's company much more enticing than mine."

Susan Ferguson denied having an affair with Prince Philip during her first marriage and swore that she had been faithful to her husband. "It was Ronald who had been seeing other women," she wrote in her memoir, "even while I was pregnant.... His flirtations caused me a lot of suffering.... I cried endlessly."

But she did not write about her relationship with Prince Philip after after the end of her second marriage. Her daughter Sarah, though, frequently touched on the secret romance. She mentioned to acquaintances in New York City that her mother had been with Philip in Argentina during a World Wildlife Fund visit in November 1992. "It was the night of the Windsor Castle fire, which also happened to be the Queen's forty-fifth wedding anniversary," recalled one of Fergie's confidantes. "While Philip was with Susie in Buenos Aires, the Queen was by herself running pails at Windsor, trying to put out the fire." Ronald Ferguson was not surprised. "I always suspected that Prince Philip had an eye for Susie," he wrote in 1994. "Certainly, they remain friends to this day." the end of her second marriage. Her daughter Sarah, though, frequently touched on the secret romance. She mentioned to acquaintances in New York City that her mother had been with Philip in Argentina during a World Wildlife Fund visit in November 1992. "It was the night of the Windsor Castle fire, which also happened to be the Queen's forty-fifth wedding anniversary," recalled one of Fergie's confidantes. "While Philip was with Susie in Buenos Aires, the Queen was by herself running pails at Windsor, trying to put out the fire." Ronald Ferguson was not surprised. "I always suspected that Prince Philip had an eye for Susie," he wrote in 1994. "Certainly, they remain friends to this day."

After sixteen years of marriage, Susan Ferguson left Ron Ferguson for another man and lost custody of her children. Her two daughters remained in England with their father in the Hampshire village of Dummer, sixty miles southwest of London. Once the divorce was final, Susan Ferguson married Hector Barrantes, a dashing Argentinian, who had been Ronald Ferguson's keenest rival on the polo field. The couple moved to Buenos Aires, where Barrantes raised and trained some of the world's best polo ponies.

"Major Ron remained bitter for years," said writer Nicholas Monson. "He was still bleeding about his divorce when I interviewed him in 1986, and asked if Argentina could not play England in polo because of the Falklands War. 'h.e.l.l, no,' he said. 'Argentina can't play here because one of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds ran off with my wife.' "

Major Ferguson admitted he was traumatized by his divorce. "It was a bit of a fright, to put it mildly, for everyone," he said. "It meant that at that vulnerable age my daughters didn't have Mother, so Father took over and did his best." He never forgave his wife. "That woman, you must remember, deserted her children," he told friends. He remarried in 1976 and started another family with Susan Deptford, the daughter of a wealthy farmer. Sarah jokingly introduced her to friends as "my wicked stepmother." The second Susan Ferguson soon learned that she, too, would have to contend with humiliation by a philandering husband.

"It's very acceptable behavior for some men," said Ronald Ferguson after he was caught patronizing a ma.s.sage parlor employing prost.i.tutes. "In fact, it's what I first liked about Prince Andrew. He had acquired quite a reputation as a ladies' man, for which I was rather relieved. He was a normal young sailor who had had a string of girlfriends; it all seemed very healthy as far as I was concerned."