The Duchess Of Windsor Read Free

talents, but those which she mastered—the decoration of her homes, her fashion sense, her entertainments, and her care of the Dukes—ensured her a place in the public eye for most of her life. And while she famously created brilliant houses and presided over grand parties, perhaps her most unsung and important accomplishments were those she made during the Second World War, when she transformed the struggling relief agencies in the Bahamas into efficient care centers and funded and opened canteens for the thousands of soldiers who never failed to succumb to her charm.
    In a life which has largely been condemned as shallow and frivolous, Wallis achieved a rare balance: forced to live in the glare of an unceasing spotlight of publicity, she remained, against all odds, very much the same woman with whom the Duke had fallen in love. It is arguable that, with her proven abilities in the Bahamas and natural ease, she would have made an admirable addition to the British Royal Family had they welcomed her after her marriage. But, condemned for her past and blamed for the feelings of the man who loved her, Wallis was doomed to remain forever anathema in the eyes of her husband’s family. Her contributions, therefore, must be measured against the circumstances which were imposed upon her and the times in which she lived; in this, Wallis rarely failed.
    “Mine is a simple story—or so I like to think,” the Duchess of Windsor wrote in her memoirs. “It is the story of an ordinary life that became extraordinary.” 2 That story—of the aristocratic but poor girl from Baltimore who inadvertently found herself at the center of the century’s greatest romance—is indeed one which needs a fresh telling.

Prologue
     
    P ARIS SWELTERED in the hot afternoon sun as the car pulled to a stop before the tall iron gates at 4, route du Champ d’Entrainement. Within a few seconds, they parted, and the automobile swept along the drive, beneath the shade of the old chestnut and oak trees, and came to a stop before the portico of the Windsor villa. The glass-and-wrought-iron doors of the house were opened by Martin Gregory, the tall, distinguished-looking man who for many years had worked as assistant butler to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor and who now looked after the property for its current resident, Egyptian-born millionaire Mohammed al Fayed. Al Fayed’s forty-one-year-old son, Dodi, escorted Diana, Princess of Wales, up the steps and into the welcome cool of the villa’s entrance hall.
    This was thirty-six-year-old Diana’s second visit to the former home of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Five weeks earlier, on July 25, she and Dodi Fayed had spent an afternoon wandering through its magnificent rooms, restored at great cost by his father to their former glory. Now, on this last Saturday in August 1997, the villa stood empty, its chambers stripped of furniture, carpets, curtains, and paintings. In three weeks, Sotheby’s, at the request of Mohammed al Fayed, would auction off the contents of the house in New York City.
    Sunlight spilled through the three tall windows of the drawing room, washing the honey-colored parquet floor with a brilliant sheen, as Diana and Dodi entered. Here the world’s most famous royal outcast, Wallis Simpson, Duchess of Windsor, had entertained, presiding over sparkling parties attended by the elite of European aristocracy, writers, actors, artists, and authors. Now the only sound came from Diana’s low-heeled shoes as they clicked across the bare floor.
    Like the Duchess of Windsor, Diana, Princess of Wales, stood beyond the bounds of royal convention, having been cast adrift following her divorce from Prince Charles almost exactly a year earlier. She had lost the style of Her Royal Highness; her name as the spouse of the Prince of Wales had been removed from the regular prayers for members of the Royal Family; her foreign tours were downgraded at the request of Buckingham Palace; and, perhaps most