The Duchess Of Windsor (41 page)

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Authors: Greg King

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Wallis was aware of such animosity. Within a week of the abdication, certain gossips happily occupied themselves by spreading rumors that the Duke and his mistress had gone their separate ways. To counter this, she allowed Herman Rogers to answer some press questions. “There has been no disagreement between Mrs. Simpson and His Royal Highness of any kind,” he declared. “Mrs. Simpson is not in a position to make any plans, and did not expect to see His Royal Highness within the next few weeks, and would not express an opinion on the unfairness of the recent comments on the Duke in England by the Church.”
20
In the middle of March, Lord Louis Mountbatten arrived at Schloss Enzesfeld to offer himself to his cousin as supporter, or best man, at the forthcoming wedding; David had been his best man when he had married Edwina Ashley in 1922. But David declined the offer, assuming that his brothers, the Dukes of Kent and Gloucester, would themselves attend his wedding and act as supporters.
21
Wallis spent most of the spring making plans for her life with David. On March 2, she attended her first fashion show in more than a year, to view the new collection of Capt. Edward Molyneux. Thinking ahead to her trousseau, she bought thirteen dresses and outfits. The wedding was very much on the minds of her and David. Both had decided that they would be married in France, and Wallis had discovered a lovely white villa called La Croë at Cap d’Antibes, some five miles from Cannes. Owned by a retired English newspaper executive named Sir Pomeroy Burton, its colonnades and terraces overlooked long green lawns and the Mediterranean beyond.
22
It was Herman Rogers who eventually proposed an alternative. He was acquainted with a French industrialist named Charles Bedaux, who owned a magnificent old château called Candé, near Tours. It had the advantage of being surrounded by a large, wooded park, a consideration which would guarantee a measure of privacy from the press. Wallis discussed the idea with David, and Herman wrote to Bedaux, advising that they were interested. He bluntly asked if Bedaux had any skeletons in his closet, as the press would certainly turn them up and David and Wallis could not afford to be embarrassed.
23
Charles Bedaux was a charming French-born American who had made millions all over the world with his time-and-motion studies for improving labor systems. When Hitler came to power in Germany, the Nazi government had closed Bedaux’s business office in the country; Bedaux, quite naturally, was greatly anxious to have both the chateau and office reopened. His best friend and most powerful contact in Germany was Dr. Robert Ley, the leader of the Nazi National Labor Front. Bedaux, contrary to decades of sensational and inaccurate press, was not a Nazi; in fact, he advocated a rather peculiar mixture of communism, fascism, and an idealistic approach to the rights of workers.
Once Bedaux had assured them that he had nothing to hide, David consulted his brother, King George VI, who himself recommended the Château de Candé, preferring the idea of the French castle over a villa in the south of France for his brother’s wedding. Bedaux’s biographer wrote: “There is no way to know what inquiries were made, cursory or otherwise, since British files on the matter are closed until the next century. But it is preposterous to think that the British government did not check out Bedaux. Therefore, they either found something ’on’ him or they did not. If the government determined that Bedaux was undesirable and permitted the marriage to take place at Candé, then it must be concluded that they were setting up the unfortunate Duke.”
24
Bedaux was duly informed of the royal decision, and he and his wife began preparations to receive David and Wallis. In Cannes, meanwhile, Wallis was increasingly restless. Although the press had disappeared for a time, with the approaching divorce decree, they were beginning to return, camping out at the gates of the Villa Lou Viei. To avoid them, Wallis decided to move on to Candé. On March 9, accompanied by the Rogerses and twenty-seven pieces of luggage, she left Cannes for Tours.
25
25
 
At War With the Royal Family
 
W
ALLIS ARRIVED AT CANDÉ
during a terrible storm; as she watched from her car, the turrets and gray-stone walls appeared through the pouring rain.
1
Fern Bedaux met her at the massive wooden door. Wallis recalled her as kind and beautiful; she was an American, having grown up in Grand Rapids, and had managed to combine her family money with a vogue for French style and fashion at Candé. She led them into the château, offering tea as she went.
Charles Bedaux had purchased the property in 1927, paying the small sum of $36,500. The château, which had belonged to the Duke del Castillo, stood near the village of Monts in the department of Indre-et-Loire. The original château, dedicated to St. Mattin, was constructed in the 1400s and had been rebuilt with additional wings in 1508. There were large stables; a track, jumps, and bridle paths; a tennis court; swimming pool; and a golf course hidden among the trees.
2
As Fern Bedaux bid her inside the château, Wallis entered a long hallway lined with nearly two dozen members of the staff; the English butler, V. J. Hale, stood erect and bowed his head slightly as Wallis passed. The footmen wore blue-and-gold jackets and black trousers; everything spoke of the royal world Wallis had fled in England. When tea was finished, Fern Bedaux took Wallis on a tour, leading her through the drawing room, with its oak paneling, high ceiling, and pipe organ at one end; the salon, a smaller, more formal room, with paneled walls and Louis Seize furnishings; the dining room, with a massive beamed ceiling and long refectory table; and by a small guest suite adjoining the main house, where she suggested that the Duke stay upon his arrival; then on to her own bedroom, with cream-colored boiserie and tall windows overlooking the grounds. Herman Rogers, who had slept next door to Wallis every night since her arrival in Cannes with a gun beneath his pillow to guard her against possible attack, took a daybed in an adjoining sitting room, while his wife Katherine was lodged upstairs.
3
Wallis spent her days wandering through the park and making arrangements for the forthcoming wedding. Under French law, there would be a civil as well as religious service. If Wallis’s second marriage had seemed less than regal, this third union was rapidly becoming something altogether different. There was a momentary hitch when a clerk questioned the legality of Wallis’s divorce from Ernest; a formal hearing on the matter was held on March 19 in response to the complaint lodged by Francis Stephenson. But the board found no collusion, and Wallis was free to await her decree absolute.
Wallis tried to make the best of the situation; at Candé, she busied herself with preparations for the wedding and planning her trousseau. She could not go to Paris and shop for fear of being hounded by the press; instead, various designers, including Main-bocher, Chanel, and Schiaparelli, submitted original designs to her at Candé. She eventually selected Mainbocher to design the wedding dress; his competitors supplied the trousseau. A total of sixty-six dresses eventually made their way to Candé that spring. Having lived in isolation for nearly six months, Wallis was looking forward to a future which clearly called for a public wardrobe. Among her trousseau was an exotic Schiaparelli waltz dress of white organdy with two red lobsters hand-painted on its skirt; a crepe romain navy blue dinner dress with a polka-dotted silk waist girdle and a matching bolero jacket; a printed crepe dress of violet over a petticoat massed with blue taffeta frills; a white-lace sheath dress with short sleeves and a bateau neck, with red lace roses scattered across the gown; navy blue wool suits with white blouses and gray flannel suits with blue blouses; a black sheath dinner dress embroidered with colored glass flowers; two fitted suits and jackets of light blue tweed; an afternoon ensemble of blue tweed with dolphin buttons and a butterfly on the lapel; blue-fox furs; and a silver-fox knee-length coat from Molyneux.
4
To keep Wallis company at Candé, David sent the cairn terrier Slipper, or Mr. Loo, which she had left with him at the Fort when she fled England and which he had taken with him to Austria. Wallis was delighted to have her beloved dog back with her, but her happiness at the reunion was short-lived. On the day after the dog arrived at Candé, it was attacked by a snake and died. Wallis was inconsolable.
5
In late April, Wallis learned that her childhood house at 212 East Biddle Street in Baltimore had been opened as the Mrs. Simpson Museum. Tourists paid to poke their faces around corners and into doors, examining the rooms and climbing the staircases; but none of the original furnishings remained, and the setting was not quite as realistic as people were led to believe. Mrs. W. W. Mathews, who served as guide at the house, explained to journalists that people were clambering into the bathtub for good luck. “Nine out of ten of them get into it, men, women and children. Then they get me to take their pictures. One bride and groom got in, hugged and handed me the camera.”
6
The tourists who flocked to see her childhood home in Baltimore were just one outward sign of the increasing public interest in Wallis’s life. Dozens of news reporters camped out day and night before the gates at Candé, hoping to catch a glimpse of the world’s most famous woman. One welcome arrival that spring was Cecil Beaton, who had come from London to photograph Wallis. At dinner that evening, he noted: “Wallis sported a new jewel in the form of two huge quills, one set with diamonds, the other with rubies. Her dress shows to advantage an incredibly narrow figure, narrower since the abdication.” After Herman and Katherine Rogers went to bed, Beaton and Wallis spoke until dawn. “I was struck by the clarity and vitality of her mind,” he said. “When at last I went to bed, I realized she not only had individuality and personality, but was a very strong force as well. She may have limitations, she may be politically ignorant and aesthetically untutored; but she knows a great deal about life.”
7
The main subject of their talk was the abdication, and her feelings for the Duke. Wallis explained that she had been convinced things would have worked themselves out had the King not taken such a drastic step; that when it did occur, it came as a complete surprise and shock. “She obviously has great admiration for his character and vitality and loves him, though I feel she is not
in
love with him. In any case, she has a great responsibility in looking after someone who is temperamentally polar to her, yet relies utterly on her.”
8
On May 3, Wallis was granted her decree absolute and became officially divorced from Ernest. This meant that David could now join her. She immediately rang David, who had by this time left Schloss Enzesfeld and was now staying at a pension in the Austrian village of St. Wolfgang, and told him, “Hurry up!”
9
The next morning, the Duke arrived with Dudley Forwood, who was serving as his equerry. David looked thin and nervous but was dearly delighted to rejoin Wallis; he stepped out of his car and ran up the château steps to take her in his arms.
10
A week later, on May 11, the former King formally announced his engagement to Wallis, who, a few days prior, had resumed her maiden name and filled out the applications for her marriage license. The timing of the announcement, on the eve of the new King’s coronation, was considered inopportune by many, as it diverted attention from London to Candé.
The following day, everyone gathered in the drawing room of the château to listen to the new King’s coronation ceremony, which was broadcast for the first time on radio around the world. The former King never said a word, but Wallis could scarcely contain her thoughts. “All the while the mental image of what might have been and should have been kept forming, disintegrating, and re-forming in my mind.”
11
On May 16, Wallis and David signed their marriage contract, agreeing that their property would be separate and that neither would make any claim on the other’s personal possessions in the event of a divorce. When news of this agreement reached London, it took a great many members of the Royal Family and the court by surprise; they had fully expected that Wallis was out to extort everything possible—money, jewels, a title—that she could from the hapless former King. But attitudes were too deeply ingrained for any reasonable analysis, and most continued to assume the worst of Wallis.
With the coronation behind them, David continued to hope that at least some of his family would change their minds and agree to attend his wedding, which was set for June 3, the birthday of his late father, King George V. He reasoned that it was the least he could expect: He was the oldest brother, and this, after all, was his first marriage. Most of all, he wanted George, his favorite brother, to come as his supporter. In one last effort to win this concession, he called Forwood aside one day and said, “You’d better go see Bertie and have a talk with him about Georgie.” Forwood duly approached George VI, but the King refused to alter his decision. “I can’t have my younger brother there encouraging my older brother to perform an illegal act,” he told Forwood.
12
This feeling—that David’s marriage was somehow an “illegal act”—was to color the Royal Family’s feeling toward Wallis for the rest of her life.
The vast majority of the Royal Family, led by Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth, continued to believe, even in the face of evidence to the contrary, that Wallis was simply an adventuress. They failed to see that she had tried with all her power to avert the abdication, that she had pleaded and begged and threatened the King, all to no avail. After the abdication, had she not cared about David or possessed a character which impelled her to act nobly, it would have been easy for Wallis to simply abandon him. Had she only wished to be queen, after all, there was nothing left in the game for her. She had not initially wanted a marriage; but now that it was upon her, now that the King had abdicated, she did the honorable thing and determined to spend the rest of her life making happy the man who had given up his entire world to be with her.
Wallis found this humiliation especially difficult. Her sense of shame was increased when she realized that it was she, in the eyes of his family, who had caused the former King’s downfall and made him an outcast. It would be inaccurate to say that she did not care for herself, but more important, she knew how much such treatment hurt David. He continued to long for a return to England and, in his simplistic view, could not understand how his family could continue to punish both him and Wallis.
Previously, David had turned down the offer by his cousin Lord Louis Mountbatten to serve as his supporter when he married Wallis. Nevertheless, he fully expected Mountbatten to attend the ceremony. On May 5, however, Mountbatten wrote to David, declining an invitation to the wedding and explaining that those in power had stepped in to prevent the Duke’s friends from coming.
13
At first, it seemed impossible that whatever feelings the Royal Family might continue to harbor against David and Wallis, they would actively step in and block the attendance of the Duke’s friends at the wedding. But the desire to punish ran deep. When Sir Ulick Alexander, Edward VIII’s keeper of the privy purse, declared that he intended to attend the wedding, he was bluntly informed that if he did so he would lose his post.
14
Other friends, including Lord Brownlow, were threatened with loss of office or position by officials should they attend.
15
Such threats could only have come from the King himself.
There were exceptional difficulties in procuring a minister willing to perform the wedding service. “The Duke,” recalled Dudley Forwood, “desperately wanted his marriage to be a highly religious one, and blessed by the Church.... You have no idea of the tremendous idealism and dedication with which the Duke approached his marriage. In his mind, it was to be the wedding of all weddings. He felt extraordinarily deeply about the sanctity of marriage.”
16
Finally, the Reverend Robert Anderson Jardine, vicar of St. Paul’s, Darlington, an industrial parish near Durham in the northwest of England, wrote a letter to Herman Rogers, offering to marry the couple. He had read an article stating that there would be no religious ceremony for the Duke and was greatly moved at the thought. “I went into the garden,” Jardine later explained, “and entered my old army tent in which I used to do much of my preparation work for Sunday. I knelt in prayer of deep earnestness, and rose with the clear conviction that here is a man who needs something; and I must give it to him.”
17
Jardine’s offer was indeed courageous. The Church of England still prohibited marriage between divorced persons if a spouse was still living. When they learned of his intention, Jardine’s immediate superiors, the Bishop of Durham and the Archbishop of York, simply forbade him to conduct the service. When Jardine refused to acquiesce, the Archbishop of Canterbury threatened him with loss of his religious office.
But Jardine was determined and soon arrived at Candé, where he was warmly welcomed by the Duke. After thanking the minister, David asked, “Why don’t they give us a religious ceremony? We are both Christians.”

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