Their fearlessness, too, because Bowles was illegitimate in an unforgiving era. They must have inherited their insatiable curiosity from their journalist grandfather, Thomas Bowles, the publisher of the magazine The Lady, which survives today. Deborah, Jessica - even Nanny - were puzzled by the bidet and hurried out to buy some goldfish to fill it. Unfazed, the children wasted no time making it a home. While a new house was being built, Farve stashed the family in a cheap Paris hotel. Deborah, who’s as fed up with the age of Mark Zuckerberg as most everyone over 25, recalls tartly that “Money was not spoken about as it is now, when it is often the sole subject of conversation, with a bit of illness thrown in.” The children didn’t know their father had squandered his inheritance, just that they kept moving. Lucky she was battle-hardened by the Redesdale school of hard knocks.įirst, the enchanted early years of being a Mitford. The Devonshires were magnates like the Duke of Omnium in Trollope’s The Palliser series - owners of vast estates, including Chatsworth, a glittering Baroque gem with 297 rooms, set in the rolling hills of Derbyshire, surrounded by 11 miles of parkland, and stuffed with incomparable art treasures. Subsequently, Debo pulled herself together and married an English duke. In 1936, when Debo visited her lovesick sister Unity in Munich, the dictator invited them to tea in his flat. And remember, she’s the one who had tea with Hitler.

Her parents nicknamed her Stubby because she had such short fat legs: She trailed her sisters crying, “Wait for me!” She’s funny, of course - not brilliant, like Nancy, or spontaneous, like Jessica who intoned “Nature nature, how I hateyer” on a nature walk - but deadpan. Debo, the youngest and surviving sister to tell her story. This advertisement has not loaded yet, but your article continues below. Manage Print Subscription / Tax Receipt.

Wait for Me! by Deborah Mitford