For My Mom

with eternal love and gratitude

The Duke & Duchess of Windsor, 1938

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This small book is not a definitive biography of either the Duke or Duchess of Windsor, nor is it an analysis of the mid-twentieth century abdication crisis in Great Britain. Instead, it is the story of a love affair that, for a shocking moment in 1936, captured the attention of the world. All the dialogue included in this book are the words of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor as quoted in their memoirs and in published letters released after the duchess’s death in 1986. The use of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor’s memoirs and letters as primary sources was intentional. The King and Mrs. Simpson, though researched extensively, is the story as the Duke and Duchess of Windsor wanted it to be told. The objective is to present a work of creative nonfiction that eliminates the extraneous material often found in traditional biographies. The King and Mrs. Simpson provides a snapshot of a poignant moment in the past, and hopefully an introduction to a romance that continues to fascinate readers today.

PROLOGUE

On December 10, 1936, King Edward VIII of Great Britain renounced his throne and his kingdom because he wanted to marry a woman considered unfit to be queen. She was an upper-middle class American divorcee named Wallis Warfield Spencer Simpson. The king’s abdication, for which apparently the sole reason was love, shocked the world and ultimately sent him into exile for the rest of his life. For his subjects, hovering as they were on the eve of another unimaginable war, the name Mrs. Simpson stood for everything that was lost with the downfall of their beloved and charismatic king.

The ex-king married Wallis Simpson on June 3, 1937, and they were thereafter titled the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. The Duke of Windsor’s brother, the quiet and conservative Prince Albert, father of Queen Elizabeth II, inherited the throne in his place and became known as King George VI.

Even nearly a century later, terrible anecdotes are still written about Mrs. Simpson. Had she been classically beautiful, her pedigree aristocratic, her glamour less exotic, her vivaciousness less threatening, it is possible the king’s passion for her would have been understood. Instead, their love affair has been chronicled as one of oddness. Mystery has surrounded their romance and the worst of their detractors have hinted at the presence of raw political ambition, androgyne, and Nazi sympathies. The Duchess of Windsor is most often associated with vulgar wealth, drowned by an existence that revolved around fashion, jewelry, and parties. In modern films, she is portrayed on a spectrum from glamorous and outspoken (W.E.) to imperious and overbearing (The King’s Speech).

Yet, the Duchess of Windsor had a deeper character than what appeared. She possessed remarkable gifts of survival and reinvention, and an ability to keep moving forward despite enormous odds. From the start, she faced hardship. Her father died when she was six months old, and she was raised in an environment of relative poverty, relying on charity from her wealthy family. As a young lady, she married a U.S. Navy officer expecting an adventurous life of travel, but she was devastated almost immediately by marital problems stemming from her husband’s mental cruelty and physical abuse. After their divorce, which horrified her family, she tried looking for a job to support herself in an era when most women did not work, only to find the job market limited for someone with no practical skills. She then settled for a stable, and possibly passionless, marriage to her second husband, Ernest Simpson, and moved with him to London. Shortly after her second marriage, her mother died of a stroke leaving Wallis, who had no siblings, rather alone in the world with the exception of her Aunt Bessie Merryman with whom she remained close.

Homesick and sad in London, she tried to bolster her spirits and surroundings by refining her expertise in homemaking and entertaining. It was her unrelenting quest for a vibrant social life to fill her days and ease her loneliness that led her to cross paths with Edward, Prince of Wales, the heir to the British throne. A friendship began, and Wallis soon became his closest companion and greatest confidant. The romance could have continued indefinitely in a private manner even after he became king had he not decided marrying her was essential to his very existence. His gallant insistence that she be his wife instead of mistress ended up causing a crisis of the utmost magnitude for the monarchy.

They were married almost six months to the day of his abdication, on June 3, 1937. After their wedding, they were inseparable and remained so until the duke’s death thirty-five years later. Since his abdication banished him from his home and his family, the duchess tried to recreate through regal decoration and luxurious living a life for the duke reminiscent of the glorious one he had led as prince and king. From all reports, he remained deeply in love with her until the end, never blaming her for his fateful decision or all that he had lost by choosing her over the throne. Whatever was the camaraderie that existed between them, it endured for more than forty years. Perhaps only time will eliminate the lingering mystery surrounding their relationship.

Perhaps it was just a love story after all.

DEPARTURE

December 3, 1936

On the edge of Windsor Great Park in England, a castle from a fairy tale is hidden by trees that keep its secrets mythic and clandestine. It is a childlike palace, a Gothic dwelling reminiscent of ancient wars, a fortress with beveled turrets, and a high tower that once flew the flag of a king.

The king was Edward VIII of Great Britain, Ireland, and the British Dominions beyond the Seas, Emperor of India, the former Prince of Wales, and at the time, the most exciting monarch ever to reign over the grandest empire in the world. His family and friends called him David. His castle was known as Fort Belvedere, but for him it was always just “the Fort.”

On the evening of December 3, 1936, a light rain was falling as a car carrying Lord Brownlow, friend and equerry to King Edward, turned from the main road onto the Fort’s unlit gravel drive, its headlights piercing the heavy winter mist and fog. The chauffeur parked the car on the circular drive in front of the fountain by the main door. The Fort was illuminated, but the warmth of the lights in the windows belied the heartbreak that was taking place inside. Recent events had caused turmoil for the monarchy, and the future of the king was in peril, not because of the usual demons of war or tyranny, but because of a woman.

Inside the Fort, a flurry of activity was taking place in the octagon-shaped drawing room, a room where great weekend parties used to be held, where guests once danced to music from a gramophone on the black and white marble floor. Now a melancholy sense of doom lingered in the air. All those present could not help but wonder if an enchanted time was slipping away.

The king had spent the day working on a speech he wanted to broadcast over the radio to the people of his empire. He knew radio was a powerful medium and one of the forces behind President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s surging popularity in the United States. The king was convinced if his subjects could hear his side of the story, in his own voice, then they would understand his unyielding desire to marry the woman he realized years before he could not live without.

The king, born at the end of the 19th century, who had traveled the world and seen first-hand the horrors of war, who had witnessed the end of the Victorian era and the Edwardian era, considered himself a monarch of modernity, and one who should be able to marry for love rather than royal convenience. He was of course aware that his avant-garde ways sometimes caused controversy, but he also knew they were one of the reasons for his immense popularity. As long as he could remember, his subjects and the general public had adored him. Throngs of people across the world flocked to catch a glimpse of him every time he appeared in public, and women everywhere swooned over his good looks. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and a face that could rival any film star, although on this night, anguish and exhaustion had taken their toll. In the drawing room, he was chain-smoking and unable to sit still.

Also in the room, seated on the Chippendale furniture, was a striking American woman named Wallis Simpson. Her hair was short and glossy black, and she wore it in the latest style, parted in the middle with pin curls around her face. Her dark eyebrows framed large blue eyes set on a fine-boned, angular face. She had never been called beautiful, but her reed-thin figure and exquisite manner of dress projected a skeletal elegance. Amongst her friends, she was known for her vivaciousness and her spirited manner, but on this night her usual joie de vivre was gone. Even the presence of her Aunt Bessie, who had traveled from the States to support her, was unable to provide her with consolation.

Her world was collapsing around her, and she was utterly powerless to stop the forces beyond her control. The British press, who had long honored a gentlemen’s agreement with the king promising they would not report on his private affairs, had launched the story of their affair. Her impending divorce made world news and threats in the form of angry letters were flooding her mailbox while protests took place in the streets. Fearing for her safety, she and the king decided it was best if she left the United Kingdom temporarily. Her housekeeper had returned to London earlier in the day to pack her clothes and the precious collection of jewelry the king had given to her over the years. In a state of panic, while the king worked on his radio speech, she drafted a will on the Fort’s stationery.

Lord Brownlow’s arrival prompted the servants to bring in a light dinner on trays, though no one at the Fort had an appetite, least of all Wallis or the king. Her planned departure time was fast approaching, and her escape was so fraught with danger it was forefront on everyone’s mind.

Wallis, accompanied by Lord Brownlow, his chauffeur, and an Inspector from Scotland Yard were to be driven from the Fort to the port of Newhaven on the English Channel coast where they were booked on the ten o’clock evening ferry bound for Dieppe, France. Once in France, they would drive south to Cannes where Wallis’s longtime friends, Herman and Katherine Rogers, had a villa. In an attempt to confuse the press corps who were camped outside the Fort, a chauffeur named Ladbrook had already left in Wallis’s Buick and headed toward London. Once he was sure he was no longer being followed, he was to turn the car around and head for the ferry to meet the rest of the party.

As the minutes ticked by, the mood remained solemn in the drawing room and most of the food the servants brought in was left untouched. The king finally rose and thanked Lord Brownlow for his service and his promise to look after Wallis on the long journey south. Lord Brownlow tried to appear calm, but he was secretly brimming with trepidation. Unbeknownst to everyone at the Fort, he and several of the king’s friends, had concocted an alternative plan for Wallis, and it was one they were convinced could save the monarchy. Fearing the king’s objection, Lord Brownlow was biding his time until he was alone with Wallis to explain their idea.

When the time finally came to leave, the king, depressed and anxious, led Wallis to the front door. Outside in the driveway, his servants were loading the last of her luggage into the waiting car. Lord Brownlow and Inspector Evans discreetly stepped aside to give the king and Wallis privacy and busied themselves with their own preparations.

After bidding farewell to Aunt Bessie, Wallis and the king embraced and stood for a moment holding each other closely in the glow of the foyer lights. Reluctantly Wallis slid into the backseat of the car, and the king reached in and touched her hand. “Wherever you reach tonight, no matter what time, telephone me,” he said with tears in his eyes. “Bless you, my darling.”

Inspector Evans put the Rolls Royce in gear and the king watched as it moved slowly around the circular drive toward Windsor Great Park and was soon engulfed by the mist hanging low over the road. It was difficult for him not to recall all the summers he had spent in that very park, riding horses with his brothers, boating on the Upper Thames, and golfing on the grounds of Windsor Castle with his father. Now his life and his future, once promising and legendary, were in danger of descending into the wasteland of an abyss.

Aunt Bessie stood beside him silently until the car was gone. She had cared for Wallis like a second mother since Wallis was a child and had become even closer to Wallis after Wallis’s mother died. She had also long questioned the king’s intentions with her niece. From the onset, she often expressed to Wallis her fear that he would gravely hurt her. After all, standing beside her was a man who could have any woman of his choice. Wallis was from the wrong country and the wrong social class and she was already once-divorced. And perhaps most upsetting for Aunt Bessie was after years of witnessing her niece’s heartache, Wallis had finally married a good man, Ernest Simpson, who cared deeply for her. Aunt Bessie didn’t doubt that the king loved Wallis, but she was astonished by his actions. As each day passed, it was becoming increasingly apparent he would have to give up his throne in order to marry Wallis. For Aunt Bessie, the thought of the king tossing aside his throne was incomprehensible.

As if reading her mind, the king turned to face her. “I feel terribly sorry about all this. I hope you understand.”

“In spite of everything, Sir, you are really determined to marry my niece?”

“I am,” he replied without hesitation.

“Even if it means giving up the Throne?”

“Yes, even if I have to abdicate. I hope that we shall be able to marry and that I can carry on my work as king. But I am determined in any case to marry her.”

“Wallis can make you happy,” she said, “if happiness is really what you want.”

“It is a great deal, Mrs. Merryman.”

“But isn’t there perhaps something more? Your country? Are you right in putting your happiness before what your people may regard as your duty?”

“It is not a question merely of happiness. I cannot with a full heart carry out my duties in the loneliness that surrounds me.”

He assured her he had already considered the consequences. He refused to relegate Wallis to the status of a mistress. He wanted Wallis to be his wife, to be bestowed with proper royal titles, and to live alongside him as queen. Besides, he had already proposed to her. He had encouraged her, persuaded her even, to file for divorce from Ernest.

Aunt Bessie had spoken to him many times before about Wallis. As they stood outside the Fort, she reminded him again that Wallis was a wonderful person but also a woman who had struggled and persevered, who had remained warm and kind with a unique ability to see the bright side of things. A woman who had never lost her love of life. She wanted the king to take care of her as he had always promised he would.

What a pity, the king thought, that those standing in judgment upon us could not have heard what Mrs. Merryman told me about Wallis, the American stranger against whom that night nearly every hand in Britain seemed turned.

THE PRINCE