trouble & strife

The Princess of Wales made it easy for women to say 'I want out'. She also made it easy for them to claim 'I don't want in'

Besieged by adoring female fans it may appear to young Prince William that finding a wife will be the least of the problems he will have to contend with. But the life and death of the Princess of Wales are both a warning sign to women who might fantasise about marrying the most high-profile heir in the world, and a disturbing legacy of insecurity to her sons.

Of course, what Prince William really needs is a legitimate son and heir. Until genetic engineering advances, acquiring a wife must be a necessary step on the dynastic ladder. But wives who are happy in a role as a stepladder, even if they believe themselves loved, are increasingly difficult to find and, once found, have proven equally difficult to keep. Prince William's father was 33 years old when he finally found a wife - and the marriage was not a success.

Divorce may be a nasty and expensive business, but much more damage can be done to a bloodline by an heir who cannot find a wife at all, regardless of whether, after producing the heir apparent, she is not disposed to wait around to inherit. Many women may want to marry Prince William, but the qualities needed by his wife are unlikely to be found among the hordes of willing, screaming teenagers. Unfortunately for him, the sort of woman he needs is just the sort of woman likely to be unable to accept his proposal.

As marriage becomes less popular, marrying an heir, however charming he is, is unlikely to appeal to the type of strong, feisty woman most likely to make a success of the position. Successful, modern women do not need husbands to give them status. Glamorous girls like Stella McCartney go it alone. The Spice Girls are unlikely to do a Grace Kelly and give up everything they have to be someone else's adjunct.

To compound the problem, the top private girls' schools, where a wife for Prince William is most probably being educated at this very moment, no longer groom girls to be satisfied with just being good wives and mothers. Leaving with a science qualification is more likely to lead to reading medicine, physics or computing at university than cooking and ironing. No longer are aristocratic girls encouraged to think they have made it when they have captured a husband. And these ''top drawer girls'' will not easily forget the scorn poured on Diana's lack of academic success.

Further, marriage to an heir, by definition, involves waiting until your real role materialises. This often involves moving into ''the big house'' and leaving the cosy house in which you have raised your children - not a move many contemplate with enthusiasm. But once this move has been made, your role is at least better defined. If the Princess of Wales had become queen, it is legitimate to wonder if she would have felt able to divorce. In all probability Prince William will face the same wait as his father, and any wife must take this on board. As many have found, this is easier in theory than in practice.

And William is not alone. Aristocratic men with an inheritance waiting in the wings are finding it increasingly difficult to get hitched. Forty-year-old Prince Albert of Monaco, heir to the 700-year Grimaldi dynasty, is probably the most prominent European to be in want of a wife. Back in Britain a new arrival on the wife-hunting scene is Lord Edward Spencer Churchill whose brother, Jamie Blandford, has recently been disinherited. Remaining married was equally difficult for Diana's brother, Earl Spencer, and for Jamie Blandford. Modern woman does not like waiting. She seeks immediate power, not so much over men as over herself, just as Mary

Wollstonecraft hoped she would. She looks at marriage not with gratitude and acceptance at the loss of her own identity, but through practical eyes, wondering whether she can fit her own plans round the house and title. Sarah Ferguson's plans and very particular identity could not be

metamorphosed into a credible Duchess of York.

Sometimes metamorphosis is successful. The Duchess of Devonshire has become Chatsworth to many people. But she is from another generation. Nowadays there are more Sarah Fergusons than Deborah Devonshires, and even a modern Deborah Devonshire might be reluctant to take on an heir of Prince William's significance.

One spectacular example of wifely success is Viscountess Stormont, married to the future Earl of Mansfield and heir to the Perthshire estate of Scone. Sophy Stormont is comfortable in her role. ''The Princess of Wales made it easier to shout and mean 'I want out','' she says. ''But after what happened to her, can one be surprised that many suitably-bred women now say they don't want to be married at all, especially not to an heir?''

Great houses, social position and public duties are taken to be a barrier to personal fulfilment, rather than an opportunity for it. ''After a period when people seemed to let their social positions and houses go, the pressure is on again to keep these great estates up,'' continues Sophy, ''and they require a great deal of attention. Women like me marry for love, but live with our husbands in waiting. Our lives, to some extent, are taken out of our hands.''

It is an issue in which I have a personal interest. My

35-year-old brother, Peregrine Towneley, is heir to a small estate in Lancashire which has been in the family for more than 600 years. Peregrine has extra difficulties to contend with, not the least of which is that he is the only boy among six girls. When he brought over his Texan girlfriend to show her his inheritance with a view to making it hers, she visibly blanched and said ''no way'' in her beautiful Texan drawl. She was not going to be saddled with a large, ugly, inconvenient house halfway up a hill in the middle of nowhere, and where the water runs through the house but seldom comes out of the taps. We have not seen her again.

''It is very difficult for heirs,'' says Peregrine, ''but if I am serious about someone I have to put my cards on the table, especially if they come from abroad. There are some things which are non-negotiable, like where we are going to live.'' Most women Peregrine meets have professions or jobs which they are reluctant to give up. Most live in London. ''Anyone who contemplates marrying me,'' he continues, ''knows that at some point London will become a place to visit and not to live.'' He sees his position as having some advantages. ''The sense of continuity and family that I can offer is quite unusual,'' he says. ''But London is a long way off.''

It seems that inheriting a small estate in a remote part of Britain can be quite a burden. ''Having it does make life more complicated,'' Peregrine admits. ''But it is enabling as well as restricting. It gives me something very definite to work for and the sense of carrying something forward is a source of deep satisfaction. You cannot buy that.'' Yet this sense of duty, which Peregrine sees as a plus, is the very thing many modern women find difficult to cope with.

Houses aside, there are also deeper reasons as to why heirs find it difficult to find suitable wives. Women no longer wish to accept that marriage to an heir makes them public property, if only for the village gossips shaking their heads when a pregnancy is not immediately announced. Women no longer shrug such gossip off as part of the deal. It makes them feel threatened and insecure to an extent they cannot ignore.

Personal insecurity, of which the Princess of Wales

was a paradigm, is nowadays the greatest single barrier

to happiness and fulfilment. Women know that marriage to an heir exacerbates rather than diminishes this destructive emotion. The life and death of the Princess of Wales showed what can happen when this emotion runs its full course.

Her life, played out in glorious Technicolor, provides absolute proof, if proof were needed, that financial, social and physical security does not seem to offer the fresh smell of opportunity, but threatens the spouse or girlfriend with the morbid stench of personal stagnation.

Times have certainly changed since Jane Austin opened Pride and Prejudice with: ''It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'' Today's feisty Elizabeth Bennets feel uneasy about becoming the wives of heirs, even ones as attractive as Mr Darcy, tied to great houses waiting for others to die.

The pleasure of fulfilling your duty is no longer a substitute for the pleasure of fulfilling your self. After all, why dispense calves' foot jelly when you could run ICI?

Peregrine Towneley finally adopted the novel approach of proposing after three weeks and getting his future bride to accept before he showed her what she was in for. Sarah is still to meet her prospective parents-in-law and six prospective sisters-in-law and confront the ancient peculiarities of the house in which she must eventually live.