The Duchess Of Windsor (29 page)

Authors: Greg King

BOOK: The Duchess Of Windsor

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When she returned to England, Wallis was forced to deal directly with her divorce. In July, her solicitor, Theodore Goddard, had lodged the case against Ernest. On Goddard’s advice, the divorce would be heard outside London and thus away from the press. He selected Ipswich, in Suffolk, as a likely spot; this required Wallis to take up temporary residence there, and she let a cottage called Beech House near Felixstowe. She had agreed to let the flat at Bryanston Court go and had to make the arrangements on her way to Ipswich.

Before taking up residence in Felixstowe, Wallis joined David at Balmoral in Scotland. Queen Mary had been delighted to hear that David was going to Balmoral, as his father had, and dared to hope that this marked at least some return to tradition; but then she discovered that Wallis was also to stay at Balmoral, a move which seemed to indicate the worst.

Herman and Katherine Rogers accompanied Wallis on the train north to Aberdeen; David met them at the station. This caused something of an incident. Previously, the lord provost of Aberdeen, on behalf of the authorities at a local hospital, had asked the King to dedicate the new Royal Infirmary buildings in the town. The King, however, had refused, saying he was still in mourning for his father, and he asked the Duke of York, who was staying at Birkhall, on the Balmoral estate, with his family, to perform the task in his place. But on the very day that the Duke was across town dedicating the hospital in his mourning brother’s place, David was seen as he greeted Wallis and her friends at the railway station and escorted them to Balmoral. On his orders, Wallis had not even gone as far as the royal station at Ballater, which would have offered more privacy than the very public railway siding in Aberdeen.

David naively thought that such an action would go unnoticed. That evening, the headline of the
Aberdeen Evening Express
read: “His Majesty in Aberdeen—Surprise Visit in Car to Meet Guests.” The article that followed was a masterpiece of understatement and made no comment on the invitation which the King had refused: “The King made an unexpected visit to Aberdeen today to welcome some of his guests who travelled from London by train.... His Majesty did not enter the station but received his guests at the entrance. Only a few people, mostly railway employees, were at the station entrance at the time but they immediately recognized His Majesty as he stepped from his car. They doffed their hats and caps, and their greeting was acknowledged by a salute from the King who was in Highland dress. He again saluted as the car drove off.”
¹⁶

When the Duke and Duchess of York learned of that afternoon’s events, they were exceptionally angry, feeling—quite rightly—that David had used them.
¹⁷More to the point, no one was fooled by the King’s actions; court mourning had come to an official end in July If the Duke of York could be expected to perform his duties, there was no reason for his brother to remain in seclusion.

Wallis spent a week at Balmoral. At the King’s request, those guests traditionally invited to the castle—the prime minister, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and cabinet ministers—were excluded. It would not be correct, however, to say that David had abandoned established society entirely, for he filled Balmoral with guests that represented the cream of the British aristocracy. Among those present were the Duke and Duchess of Kent; Lord and Lady Louis Mountbatten; the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough; the Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch; the Duke and Duchess of Sutherland; and the Earl and Countess of Rosebery.

David’s decision to eliminate what had formerly been at least a semiofficial guest list caused much distress among both his family, who felt he was ignoring tradition, and certain members of the government, who saw it as evidence of his growing disinterest in the political side of his position. But David felt differently. His time at Balmoral formed the last few weeks of his holiday, and he had no desire to fill his leisure time with official meetings. Any necessary business, he declared, could be transacted through official channels via the red-leather dispatch boxes, which continued to arrive daily or by cable or telephone.
¹⁸

He also had more personal reasons for excluding Cosmo Lang, Archbishop of Canterbury. For several months, he had been keenly aware of Lang’s disapproval over his relationship with Wallis. The Archbishop, an elderly, conservative, and narrow-minded man, made no secret of his feelings; rather than discuss the growing problem with the King himself, he preferred to confide his doubts in others in the Royal Family—particularly Queen Mary and the Yorks—as well as government officials and members of society. Not surprisingly, David had little patience for the Archbishop and no desire to spend the last week of his holiday under his inquisitive eye.
¹⁹

Wallis enjoyed Balmoral and took long walks along the River Dee and through the surrounding forests. Wallis and Edwina Mountbatten accompanied the men on their shoots for grouse and pheasant, joining in the picnic lunches set up beside waterfalls and in forest clearings. Lord Louis Mountbatten’s new valet, Charles Smith, recalled: “Mrs. Simpson dressed smartly for the shoot. She changed into a warm tweed costume and boots. I found her very friendly and considerate, far from the dominating type of woman the public was led to believe she was.”
²⁰Others, however, found her presence less welcome. In the evenings, there were games of cards in the drawing room or motion pictures in the castle’s ballroom. Afterward, Wallis arranged for triple-decker toasted sandwiches to be served, an unusual meal which the guests enjoyed but which the servants, who were thoughtlessly kept up quite late working in the kitchens, found intolerable.
²¹

While Wallis entertained at Balmoral, the Duke and Duchess of York remained in disapproving isolation at nearby Birkhall. Their irritation with the King over the Royal Infirmary dedication kept them away from Balmoral except for the occasional afternoon tea. They were also busy entertaining their houseguest, the Archbishop of Canterbury. Their decision to invite the primate has always been explained away as an act of kindness intended to maintain something of the tradition which the King seemed determined to ignore.

David, however, having had his own reasons for not inviting the Archbishop to Balmoral, was greatly angered that his brother had ignored his decision and seen fit to play host to Lang. Wallis would later tell a friend that David was upset over Lang’s presence not only because the Duke of York had seemingly gone against his wishes but also because he took it as a not-so-subtle declaration of war against his authority. In effect, she explained, the Yorks had chosen to follow the traditions established by the sovereign and in doing so appeared to be setting up a rival court to that of the King.
²²

On Saturday, September 26, the King gave a fateful dinner at Balmoral. With great reluctance, the Duke and Duchess of York had agreed to attend. The rest of the dinner guests were already assembled when the Yorks arrived. What happened next has been the subject of endless controversy. Wallis stepped forward to greet the Duke and Duchess as they entered the drawing room. She smiled and extended her hand, but Elizabeth, walking ahead of her husband, refused to greet Wallis. Instead, as Michael Thornton discovered, she walked straight past Wallis and said in a loud voice, “I came to dine with the King.”
²³

The Duchess of York made no further attempt at conversation with Wallis; in fact, she pointedly ignored her all evening. After an uncomfortable dinner, the guests assembled in the ballroom to watch a screening of the movie
Swing Time
, starring Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. As soon as the movie had ended, the Duke and Duchess of York were the first to leave.
²⁴

Elizabeth’s defenders have claimed that her reaction had been entirely justified. David had placed Wallis, a very nonroyal interloper at Balmoral, in the difficult position of appearing to receive a member of the Royal Family in a house in which Elizabeth herself had often lived. Elizabeth was horrified at this and was no longer willing to continue the polite charade. She and her husband both believed that David, by ignoring tradition and inviting his mistress to preside in Queen Victoria’s favorite house, had irreparably damaged the prestige of the monarchy.
²⁵

But what had Wallis done, exactly, to provoke such a response? There is no indication that she behaved in a presumptuous manner at Balmoral or that she was anything less than friendly toward the Duchess. The Yorks had taken her simple gesture of greeting for something which it almost certainly was not: an unpardonable breach of royal etiquette and good manners. Wallis had indeed been in a tricky situation: David had asked her to act as hostess, and her duty, as such, was to greet the arriving guests. If anyone was to blame for the incident, it was certainly the King.

Elizabeth’s reaction would cause an immense gulf between the royal brothers at a time when neither could afford to alienate the other. Inevitably, most writers have squarely placed the blame for this deterioration on the shoulders of the King. Sarah Bradford, for example, writes that after this, David “excluded the Yorks entirely.”
²⁶This represents only half the story. The Yorks also chose not to involve themselves in David’s life after this episode. Whether their actions were justified or not is irrelevant in assessing blame, for they surely must bear, along with the King himself, an equal share in the breakdown of the brothers’ relationship. Previously, Elizabeth had managed to behave in a friendly fashion with Thelma Furness, so she cannot have had any great objection on moral grounds to David’s having a mistress.

It must also be said that David was greatly angered over what had transpired during his time at Balmoral. His brother and sister-in-law had deliberately chosen to ignore his wishes and invited one of his most bitter and vocal critics to spend the holiday with them, a move that he cannot have looked upon with favor. Above all, however, David could not forget how rudely his sister-in-law had treated the woman he loved. The break—long in coming—would never be healed. These two strong, dominant women—Wallis Simpson and Elizabeth of York—would remain bitter and powerful enemies for the rest of their lives.

The Divorce

O
N OCTOBER 1, THE KING’S MOTHER
, Queen Mary, vacated her apartments at Buckingham Palace and moved down the Mall to Marlborough House. Four days later, Edward VIII formally took up residence at Buckingham Palace. He refused, however, to occupy the private apartments on the first floor where the sovereign normally lived; instead, he selected the ground-floor Belgian Suite, a series of rooms overlooking the terrace and gardens beyond. He managed to engage, after much negotiation by the British ambassador, Sir George Clerk, the principal chef from Maxim’s in Paris, M. Legros. David’s only other additions to the palace were a squash court and a modern innovation much more in character: television.
¹

When Wallis returned to London, she supervised the moving of her furniture and possessions into a four-story house she had let at 16 Cumberland Terrace, on Outer Circle Drive in Regent’s Park. The house formed a portion of what has been called “the grandest and most spectacular building in Regent’s Park.”
²A long white building dominated by a massive central portico whose Ionic columns supported a pediment filled with Wedgewood-style motifs and crowned with classical statuary, Cumberland Terrace had been designed in the early nineteenth century by architect John Nash. Ironically, the property was owned by the Crown, and Wallis sublet it. When crowds of curious people would stop and stare at its black windows, policemen would say, “This is Crown property, move along, move along ... ordinary people don’t live here, y’know.”
³

Public interest in Wallis was fanned by the incessant attention given her every move in the American press. Although her name did not appear in British papers and American publications were censored in England to remove all references to her existence, inevitably word of mouth and smuggled copies of forbidden journals aroused great excitement. In the United States, newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst had single-handedly engaged in an effort to promote Wallis as a suitable bride for the King. Hearst himself had, for many years, lived openly with his actress-mistress at his magnificent castle above the Pacific Ocean.

Wallis was a good story, and Hearst wanted to nurture it along. In March 1936 he had telephoned one of his top reporters in New York, Adela Rogers St. John, and told her that she was to leave for England immediately to work on the story. He said he wanted the truth about Mrs. Simpson. “Let us see if we can make her Queen of England.”
⁴

St. John spent a considerable amount of time interviewing Wallis’s friends and poking around London, but in the end she reported back to Hearst that there was no real story and that the King was not going to marry Mrs. Simpson. Hearst, however, was not satisfied by this, and wanted Wallis presented in the most enticing and favorable light. He felt that if a war came, it would be important for Britain to have an American queen. At his insistence, the articles eventually appeared, but they did little to promote the truth behind the story.

Clearly, the intense coverage of her every move was beginning to get to Wallis. She had arranged to sit for society photographer Cecil Beaton. When she entered his studio, he greeted her warmly, but she cut him off with a laugh: “I don’t want you to call me by that name of Mrs. Simpson, which the American yellow press has made me loathe.”
⁵

London Observer
fashion editor Alison Settle happened to be at Beaton’s studio as well. The photographer had asked to borrow marble busts of the young Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort, which Settle had brought with her. As she helped place the busts on their pedestals, Settle noted a woman waiting for her portrait. “Now let me think, where have I seen her? she wondered. I know she has her nails done next to me at Elizabeth Arden. But she did notice that the woman’s makeup was all wrong for a black-and-white photograph.

“I’m awfully afraid you’ll have to have your face washed and redone,” Settle matter-of-factly told Wallis. “The make-up girl will be here in a minute or two.” Settle quickly turned around and examined the setting; she noted several other royal busts, including one of Queen Alexandra. “My, we have gone royal today, haven’t we?” she said loudly. Wallis said nothing, but her disapproval was clear. Only when she had returned to her own office did Settle realize the identity of Beaton’s sitter.
⁶

Beaton suggested using draped ermine as a background for the portraits, but Wallis immediately objected. “Don’t do anything connected with the Coronation with me,” she warned. “I want none of that now.” Beaton noted, “Whatever fantastic changes have taken place in Mrs. Simpson’s life, she has obviously suffered. There is a sad look to be seen in her eyes.”
⁷

When the proofs were ready, Beaton took them to Cumberland Terrace. “This day,” he recalled, “Mrs. Simpson looked immaculate, soignée and fresh as a young girl. Her skin was as bright and smooth as the inside of a shell, her hair so sleek she might have been Chinese. ... She spoke amusingly, in staccato sentences punctuated by explosive bursts of laughter that lit up her face with great gaiety and made her eyebrows look attractively surprised.”
⁸

The Simpson divorce was scheduled to be heard in the Ipswich assizes on October 27. Hoping to escape the press, Wallis rented a small cottage in the Suffolk town of Felixstowe. A week after arriving back in London, Wallis—accompanied by George and Kitty Hunter—took up residence at Felixstowe. The King had also dispatched Chief Inspector David Storrier from Scotland Yard to watch over her and guard against any unwelcome intrusion.

The night they arrived at the cottage, the Hunters told Wallis they wished to speak with her. Until four in the morning, they warned her against going through with her divorce, saying that it could only end in disaster. The King was becoming increasingly unpopular, they said, due to his relationship with her. Wallis was clearly not prepared for their vehemence. The following morning, plagued with doubt, she wrote to David: “Really David darling if I hurt you to this extent isn’t it best for me to steal quietly away.... I can’t help but feel you will have trouble in the House of Commons etc. and may be forced to go. I can’t put you in that position.... Do please say what you think best for all concerned when you call me after reading this. Together I suppose we are strong enough to face this mean world.... Hold me tight please David.”
⁹

But David, as always, was full of reassurances, and by now Wallis had begun to believe them. She knew nothing at all about British politics, next to nothing of the constitutional position of the monarchy, and very little of public opinion. And yet the King, who would, of course, have known the intricate details, never failed to tell her that everything would somehow work itself out. To the end, she saw no reason to doubt him.

There was a fair amount of wishful thinking at work here; Wallis, after all, could not have failed to be entranced at the idea that she could somehow rise above all the obstacles and become Queen of England. David’s overwhelming, obsessive need for her, at times frustrating in its totality, was also undoubtedly flattering. Here was one of the richest and most powerful men in the world, who could transport her to exotic places and shower her with extravagant gifts, and yet only she had it in her power to give him the one thing he most desired: herself.

As entrenched as David’s need for her appeared to be, there was another consideration: Wallis loved him. Her feelings had grown stronger, more assured. Her traumatic relationships with Win and Felipe Espil had taught her to guard her heart, and her emotions remained largely private. Wallis was far too cautious to simply fall in love with David; her practical, pragmatic approach was deliberately unhindered by sentiment. Hers was a love founded on his need for her, on the friendship they shared, on his tender care and concern for her welfare. “She loves him, though I feel she is not
in
love with him,” Cecil Beaton summed up accurately.
¹⁰

It was this love—this desire to remain in David’s life—which blinded Wallis to the realities of her situation. She would have been content to continue as the King’s mistress; her practical side told her that anything else would be impossible. Undeniably, she allowed herself to envision another resolution, one which ended with their marriage and coronation. In this context, Wallis truly believed that she and David would form a thoroughly modern partnership, in keeping with his desire to reshape the monarchy, together forming a visible break with the past, “an impossibly chic king and queen, a royal version of William Powell and Myrna Loy in
The Thin Man
films,” as one writer noted.
¹¹These conflicting visions of her future were to torment Wallis throughout the abdication.

The date for the Simpson divorce had been carefully calculated by the King. After a decree
nisi
was granted, English law required a wait of six months before the divorce was made final. The delay was originally provided in the event that a child was born in the interval, in which case the divorce might be rescinded. This six-month lapse meant that Wallis would first be free to marry on April 27, 1937. The coronation ceremony had been announced for May 12; this gave David adequate time, if he intended, to marry Wallis and then have her crowned at his side as queen.

The night before her divorce was to be heard, Wallis was so nervous that she could not sleep. She spent the long hours pacing the floor, wondering if she was doing the right thing.
¹²

The international press had assembled in force at Ipswich, but only a few British journalists were there. This was due more to a peculiarity of British law than respect for the King. In 1926, Parliament had passed an act restricting reports of divorce cases; in truth, there was little they could say about the Simpson case. Special arrangements within the courtroom had also been made. Access to the public seats had been restricted; those that faced the witness box were left vacant. Only thirty tickets had been issued to the press, and their seats were placed so that they could only see the backs of the witnesses’s heads.

Theodore Goddard and his partner collected Wallis at Felixstowe and accompanied her to the Ipswich court. Wallis, dressed in a navy blue double-breasted coat with matching skirt and a navy blue felt hat with veil, kept her head lowered as Goddard ran her through the crowd of journalists that lined the sidewalk from the street to the assizes door. Once inside, she was quickly led to the courtroom. She sat in the barrister’s well, with a man on either side of her, surrounded by seven police, four plainclothes detectives, facing the spectators. One reporter described Wallis’s behavior as “queenly.” However, another mentioned her nervous “spasms of coughing.”
¹³

A guardsman, dressed in a scarlet tunic, entered the room and heralded the arrival of the judge with a blast on his silver trumpet. His lordship, Mr. Justice Sir John Hawke, entered the room, coughing and repeatedly blowing his nose. He was a short, elderly man, almost completely hidden behind his crimson-and-ermine robes and long white wig. He took his place beneath the red-velvet canopy and glanced about his courtroom. He seemed clearly perturbed at the unusual circumstances, and Wallis later recalled that he appeared to spend most of the proceedings staring directly at her. Uncomfortable, she herself kept her head bowed during most of the hearings.

Wallis’s case was presented by Norman Birkett, K. C. Birkett was accompanied by his assistant, Walter Frampton, who sat to one side of Wallis. Ernest was not present; he was instead represented by his lawyer, North Lewis. Hawke did not hesitate to express his irritation with the entire business. He continued to look Wallis up and down, noting the empty courtroom, and asked, “How did the case come here?” After some whispering from the clerk of assize, he muttered to himself, “Yes, yes, I see.”

Wallis took the stand, removing her right glove to raise her hand and take the oath. Justice Hawke questioned Wallis at length, coughing and sneezing and blowing his nose throughout, often mumbling to himself, then shouting his questions at her. A chair had been placed for her in which to sit, although it was customary that a witness stand. She told of her happy marriage to Ernest, insisting that all had been well until the autumn of 1934, when he had begun to disappear on long weekends.

Birkett asked, “Did you live happily with the respondent until the autumn of 1934?”

“Yes.”

“Was it at that time the respondent’s manner changed toward you?”

“Yes.”

“What was the change?”

“He was indifferent and often went away for weekends alone.”

“Did you complain about this?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did he continue to do what you complain of—going away alone and staying away weekends?”

“Yes.”

“On Christmas Day, 1934, did you find a note lying on your dressing table?”

“Yes.”