|Sunday Express, 22 July 1928, p. 11 (Click for larger image)|
Beatrice wrote about some of her new experiences...
Now, I realise that what takes my breath away is only ordinary to other people.
The other day, while I was at Windsor, one of my new friends said to me after dinner, “Mrs. Pace, will you have some coffee?” I thought, “Well, now, I’ve never tasted it,” and I said so. Everybody at table laughed and looked surprised.
I felt quite silly as they watched me drinking it smiling at me. … I thought about it afterwards and I decided to tell about it here, so that you will understand how different everything is for me now.
...her late husband's strange behaviour....
When the mood was on him he didn’t care what he did.
I have already said that all the years we were together he never once looked me straight in the eyes or called me by a soft name. I think that was one of the worst things in my life with him. To be treated like a machine, and to bear his children, and to feel all the time that he only thought about me as something that was his, and that he never cared about me in myself—that did make me feel horrible.
Often after thrashing me he would throw down his stick and start whistling and singing.
What Harry sang after beating me was always the same song: “I’m Henery the Eighth, I am,” Henery the Eighth I am, I am,” and the rest of it.
I can see it sounds funny now, and it makes me laugh, but it didn’t at the time.
...and her inability to leave him:
I am sure you will all say that if Harry was mad, I must have been madder to stay by him and put up with it, but as I said at the beginning, Harry was my man, and I had to stick to him. I had loved no other man, and he was all I had. I was not then as sad and bitter as I grew to be as time went on, and I had hope.