Most afternoons, Wallis climbed into their car and had Hughes drive her through the city to collect Ernest at his office. One day, the car came to a halt before St. James’s Palace, and Wallis watched as the sentries standing at the entrance stiffened and presented arms. A gate opened, and out came a sleek black motorcar; she caught a slight glimpse of a boyish-looking figure inside. When she asked the chauffeur, she was told that it had been the Prince of Wales.
20
Ernest was not wealthy, but Wallis was comfortable. Each week, he gave her an allowance for food, household expenses, clothing, and personal shopping. Wallis never overspent and never complained or wanted for anything. She even managed to save money and often went to Fortnum and Mason to splurge on caviar or other exotic foods as a treat for Ernest.
21
With the money she herself was able to save, she sent her mother small but welcome checks.
22
Wallis enjoyed doing the household shopping. Several mornings each week, she would journey to nearby Paddington and stroll from the butcher to the fishmonger, the greengrocers, the bakery, and the confectioner’s. Her skills as a hostess ensured that she took particular care on these expeditions, and she often took along her battered copy of
Fannie Farmer
to show the butcher how to cut a T-bone steak or another cut of meat. She was also careful to ensure that each guest received the same-sized portion so that no one would be embarrassed at taking too much or too little.
23
The Simpsons regularly entertained, but because Ernest often had to work the next morning, he preferred to spend evenings at home either alone with his wife or with friends. Occasionally, the couple did take in the latest play or go to the cinema, followed by a late dinner at the Savoy. Most of their dinner guests were business acquaintances of Ernest; he seemed to have few real friends. Wallis noted that Ernest, like herself, was curiously out of place in London, not really American like her but not quite English, either.
24
“It was around this time, according to Barbara Cartland, that Wallis had a tubal ligation. “It was fashionable at the time,” she said. “Contraception was difficult in those days as the ‘Pill’ had not been invented, and the methods suggested by doctors were not always successful. Quite a number of women disappeared mysteriously to Paris, where it was possible to have an abortion.”
25
Barbara Cartland was a friend of Maud’s and was therefore sufficiently well placed to be included in the latest news. There is therefore no reason to doubt the accuracy of her story. Wallis was never a particularly maternalistic woman, and as Ernest already had a daughter, it seems likely that they made a decision jointly not to have any children. Then, too, Wallis, having been dependent for so long on the financial kindness of others, no doubt disliked the idea of bearing such an obligation to another. Her life had settled down to a comfortable existence, she was making friends, and their money and freedom allowed her and Ernest to entertain and enjoy the hospitality of others. With her love of pleasure, it is unlikely that Wallis would have wished to take on the burden of raising a child.
The following spring, Wallis received a cable from her aunt Bessie, summoning her home; her mother had become seriously ill. She and Ernest boarded the RMS
Mauritania
and sailed from Southampton to New York in May. Wallis was shocked at her mother’s decline: The once-vibrant Alice was now bedridden, her hair gray, her proud figure emaciated. Wallis‘s stepfather explained that she had also lost sight in one of her eyes and was suffering from thrombosis. Even so, there remained much of the old Montague spark. On seeing her daughter, Alice exclaimed: “Oh, Wallis, why did they bring you so far? Have you come to see me die?” She immediately followed this by chastising her daughter for wearing what she considered an ugly brown dress.
26
It was the first time that Alice had met Ernest. Luckily, she liked him and told Wallis how happy she was that she had finally settled down. It soon became clear that although she was ill, Alice was not about to die and that Aunt Bessie had overreacted. After a week Ernest had to return to London, but Wallis stayed on, chatting with her mother and describing her life with Ernest in London. After consulting with doctors, who informed her that Alice could remain in this condition for years, Wallis decided to return to London, saying that she could be summoned if necessary.
27
Wallis was depressed upon her return to London. To cheer her, Ernest began taking her on weekend excursions around England. They spent the summer of 1929 touring ruined castles and churches, cathedrals and country houses. Ernest enjoyed history and loved explaining the importance of these attractions as they wandered over the crumbling stones. Wallis was fascinated by these monuments to power and privilege. At night, they stopped at charming country inns in the Cotswolds or Kent.
28
In October 1929 another cable came from Aunt Bessie. Wallis rushed back to America alone, for Ernest was tied up with business concerns. Mary Raffray met her in New York and informed her that her mother had lapsed into a coma. Wallis stayed at her bedside, but Alice never regained consciousness. On November 2, 1929, she died.
29
Wallis had adored her mother, but the last decade had kept them apart, and as she matured, she grew less tolerant of Alice’s more peculiar qualities. In the end, the loss was made easier by the continued presence of Aunt Bessie, who, for many years, had functioned as a second mother.
Back in England, Wallis busied herself in searching for a new home. Eventually, they found a first-floor flat in a modern building at 5 Bryanston Court, on George Street, not far from Marble Arch. From the second-floor landing, glass-and-iron-grille doors opened onto a small entrance hall. The flat was spacious, with a drawing room, a dining room, kitchen, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, and four servants’ rooms in another portion of the building. “I had a wonderful time furnishing the flat,” Wallis recalled. “For the first time in my life I had the means and the opportunity to create the kind of setting I had always wanted, a place where good things out of the past would intermingle gracefully with good things of the present, with the accent on color and a pleasing symmetry.”
30
She consulted with Syrie Maugham, former wife of novelist Somerset Maugham and a fashionable decorator whose vogue for white, cream, and beige rooms had captivated London. Wallis had been collecting a few antiques and now put them to use. She painted the walls of the drawing room pale green to provide a contrast to the soft beige of the carpet and curtains. One wall was lined with shelves filled with Ernest‘s books and his collection of first editions and original manuscripts by Charles Dickens and A. A. Milne. Wallis added two sleek, comfortable sofas and chairs, a William and Mary chest, a Dutch secretary, and an Italian long table on which stood an old gilt Buddha from her days in Peking.
31
The surfaces of the tables were covered with photographs, jade, porcelain, and lacquer boxes she had purchased in the Orient.
The dining room was small, and Wallis could only seat ten people. She covered the walls with French toile de Jouy depicting pastoral scenes to help enliven the limited space. Syrie Maugham helped her select the sideboard and console by the Adamses, the large table, and the twelve matching chairs upholstered in white leather.
32
The corner master bedroom overlooked Upper George Street. Wallis painted the walls aquamarine and covered the bed and windows in aquamarine and pink. Ernest made an adjoining room into a dressing room for himself. Although she was never fully satisfied with the results, Wallis had found an outlet for her creative energies which she was to pursue with vigor for the rest of her life.
33
Wallis soon had a full staff working at Bryanston Court. Her cook, Mrs. Ralph, had formerly worked under Lady Curzon’s French chef. She quickly adapted herself to her new mistress’s American ways.
34
The staff also included the Scottish maid, Mary Cain, the housemaid Agnes, and Mary Burke, the part-time ladies’ maid, all having followed the Simpsons from their house on Upper Berkeley Street.
Safely ensconced in her new home, Wallis set about cultivating a social set. From the first she determined that her dinners and parties would be different; any hostess in London could entertain in the usual way, and there was no shortage of formal, staid receptions. Wallis would not bore: instead, she would invite only the most brilliant guests; feed them the most interesting dishes; serve them the latest cocktails; and pamper them with personal attentions. No one before had used the cocktail hour as a social occasion, and this new and intriguing opportunity was not lost on her. As her reputation for interesting evenings grew, she slowly expanded her guest lists, from friends and Ernest’s business acquaintances to minor politicians, writers, artists, and diplomats. In time, members of society and the aristocracy, curious, began to accept invitations as well. The Simpsons’ flat soon became known for its lively, intelligent occasions, and Wallis happily watched as her star began its ascent.
35
Still, Wallis did not win everyone over so easily. Cecil Beaton, who happened to be a distant relation of Ernest Simpson through marriage, recalled his first meeting with her in unfavorable terms: “Mrs. Simpson seemed somewhat brawny and raw-boned in her sapphire-blue velvet. Her voice had a high nasal twang.”
36
In time the Simpsons became friends with the second Marquess and Marchioness of Milford Haven. George Milford Haven, brother of Lord Louis Mountbatten, was closely related to the Royal Family: His mother, Victoria, had been a granddaughter of Queen Victoria’s, and one of his aunts, Alexandra, was married to the last Emperor of Russia, Nicholas II. In 1916, George had married Nada, Countess Torby, the daughter of Grand Duke Michael Michailovich of Russia and his morganatic wife, Sophie Merenberg. The Milford Havens were a curious pair. Nada was a lively, dark beauty whose sense of fun and adventure endeared her to Wallis. George, on the other hand, was a rather quiet, reserved man whose great interest in life was amassing a large collection of pornography.
37
Wallis and Ernest often visited the Milford Havens at their country estate, Lynden Manor, near Maidenhead. Another frequent visitor was George’s young nephew, Prince Philip of Greece, who would marry the future Queen Elizabeth II in 1947. “It is nice for us to meet all these swell people,” Wallis wrote to Aunt Bessie, “even if we can’t keep up their pace!”
38
Another friend was Benjamin Thaw, the first secretary of the U.S. embassy in London. The Thaws were one of America’s most socially prominent families. During her period in New York, Wallis had spent several long weekends with Benjamin’s wealthy, elderly cousin, Mary Copley Thaw, in her decaying Gothic mansion. This experience was made even more surreal for Wallis by the presence of Mrs. Thaw’s son, Harry. In 1906, Harry K. Thaw, a decadent and insane man, had shot and killed Stanford White in a quarrel over the architect’s affair with his wife, Evelyn Nesbit. During Wallis’s visits to the Thaw mansion, Harry would thunder through his mother’s house, bellowing at the top of his lungs, breaking china, and then disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared. Not surprisingly, such experiences unnerved Wallis greatly, and after one such evening she quickly packed her bags and never returned.
39
In 1923, Benjamin Thaw had married the former Consuelo Morgan. She was one of three famous Morgan sisters: Consuelo, eldest by two years, and twins Gloria and Thelma. They were daughters of Harry Hays Morgan, an American diplomat, and their exotic Latin American mother, Laura Kilpatrick. Their father had been consul at Lucerne, and their grandfather, Gen. Judson Kilpatrick, had been an American minister in Chile. Laura Morgan, who fancied herself a descendant of the grandees of Spain, was absolutely determined to make the most brilliant marriages for her daughters. She first arranged a union between Consuelo and the French count Jean Marie Emmanuel de Maupas du Juglart during her husband’s tenure as consul general in Brussels. This marriage lasted but two years, until the nineteen-year-old Consuelo was charged with adultery and divorced by her husband.
Consuelo’s sisters were celebrated society beauties. Gloria made a grand match with Reginald Vanderbilt, while her sister Thelma, after a failed marriage to James Vale Converse, eventually married Viscount Furness. This relationship proved a rather curious arrangement, with both Lord and Lady Furness freely indulging in various affairs, Marmaduke with a series of beautiful French women and Thelma with Edward, Prince of Wales.
Thelma later described Wallis as she recalled her at their first meeting: “At that time she did not have the chic she has since cultivated. She was not beautiful; in fact, she was not even pretty. But she has a distinct charm and a sharp sense of humour. Her dark hair was parted in the middle. Her eyes, alert and eloquent, were her best feature. She was not as thin then as in later years—not that she could be called fat even then; she was merely less angular. Her hands were large; they did not move gracefully, and I thought she used them too much when she attempted to emphasize a point.”
40