1825
In May 1825, Catherine moved to No. 41 Clarges Street in Piccadilly so that she could consult more easily with her solicitor. William had insisted that the children remain at Draycot at all times, but Catherine disobeyed his orders and took Victoria with her. She did not dare move the boys, as William wrote to them every week and expected a reply by return. It was his way of checking up on them.
One of the hardest tasks Catherine faced was breaking the news to William’s parents. Lord and Lady Maryborough continued to be tremendously supportive and Catherine had already acknowledged, ‘had I been your own daughter, I could not have received greater kindness and affection from you. My heart is too full to allow me to express even half the gratitude I feel.’1
Equitable as ever, Lady Maryborough had replied, ‘What painful reflections I have when I consider . . . that something belonging to me should be the cause of all your woe – I wonder you don’t hate us all!!!’2
In view of her close relationship with William’s parents, Catherine did not wish to instigate legal proceedings behind their backs. Almost one year had passed since her first appeal to them and the situation had grown worse. Outlining her public and private motivations, Catherine’s resolve was apparent when she wrote, ‘My Dear Lord Maryborough . . . in justice to my character, my honour, my happiness, and above all, the interests of my dear children I am irrevocably determined . . . to separate myself forever from Mr Long Wellesley.’3 Apologizing profusely for the anguish her news would inflict, she continued:
I think this painful communication . . . will sufficiently explain my motives for declining from your most kind invitation to Ascot & Fern Hill . . . I could not help feeling dread of appearing to act with duplicity . . . I need not say how highly I should prize your friendship . . . but the feelings of Nature may perhaps forbid you to continue those affectionate attentions, which you have hitherto shown me.4
Catherine need not have worried about becoming estranged from her in-laws. Lady Maryborough’s note arrived the following day affirming,
I will not conceal that your letter has given me the bitterest pangs . . . But, I value you too highly and love you too sincerely . . . and will not alienate you from us . . . I can say no more at present, I really am too much overcome.5
Also replying by return, Lord Maryborough’s response was more guarded and measured. While assuring Catherine of his continued affection and regard, he made it clear that he would never testify against William in court. He declared, ‘I could not be party to any steps taken against my son.’6 Maryborough was aware that he could be called as a key witness because of everything he had observed in Paris. Aside from this, he was in possession of letters that would incriminate his son if they were produced in court. In consequence, he told Catherine that he would ‘withdraw altogether’ from the affair and not take sides.7
Catherine would need as many allies as possible if she was going to take on her husband and challenge the law. She was well aware that William would go on a rampage as soon his alimony stopped, but as he was terrorizing her, she had no choice but to continue.
William was constantly in touch with his advisors in England and, early in June 1825, his solicitor Mr Griffith travelled to Passy, near Paris, to offer legal advice and to break the bad news in person. Shocked to discover that his wife was filing for a divorce, William was overcome with self-pity. He wrote to Merrick Shawe: ‘Mrs Wellesley is determined to separate herself from me. God knows this is a bitter sorrow to me. My great anxiety is beyond all that I can express.’8 Adopting a dejected tone, William sent a pleading missive, which Shawe delivered to Catherine. William told his wife that he had always cared for her, complaining, ‘I do not merit this blow from you . . . I recall having acted towards you in the kindest and most affectionate manner and I have always treated you with respect and consideration.’9
In the past, Catherine may have relented, but too much had happened and William’s shallow entreaties had no effect. In fact, she had grown so cold towards him that she told Shawe, ‘I had intended not to take any notice of the letter.’10 Although Catherine did not bother replying to William, she felt the need to refute some of his claims, especially with the divorce case pending. She wrote to Shawe:
There have been some few times when [Mr Long Wellesley] has acted with a considerable degree of kindness and an appearance of affection towards me . . . But I can with truth declare that this was not the general tenor of his conduct to me, and I must deny that he treated me either in public or private with that respect which a man ought to show his wife . . . I am unalterably determined never to live with him again.11
Deeply perplexed that his feeble attempts at reconciliation were not having the desired effect, William asked Shawe to continue mediation on his behalf, but his faithful old friend refused. His allegiance now lay firmly with Catherine.
William was even more stunned when his quarterly alimony payment was not forthcoming. Rudely awakened, he realized that if Catherine was successful in her suit, she would take back possession of her estates and income, leaving him without a penny. Determined to stop the proceedings at all costs, William made one final attempt to abandon his mistress in France, but Helena was once again with child. Although she had successfully induced one termination, two years earlier, she was now heavily pregnant with another baby and she refused to stay behind.
If William was to salvage anything, he could not be seen with Mrs Bligh. The motley couple travelled in disguise and took up residence in lodgings at No. 9 Seymour Place, under the assumed names of Monsieur and Madam Roncee. Nobody knew that William was back in England; he did not leave his lodgings for two weeks while he concocted a devious plot to overturn Catherine’s case against him. William needed to fabricate evidence to show that he was still on friendly terms with his wife, and possibly even living with her. The courts would not grant Catherine a divorce while there was still hope of reconciliation.
As soon as he had hatched a plan, William decided that he was ready to pay his wife a visit. He had various tricks up his sleeve, but ultimately he hoped to snatch Victoria. His daughter was the perfect bargaining tool – Catherine would agree to anything to get her child back.
Late in the evening on 7 July, there was an unexpected caller at Catherine’s house in Clarges Street, Piccadilly. The door knocker tapped loudly and the under-butler opened up to a surly ruffian dressed in a shabby brown stuff coat with coarse trousers. His face was in shadow, obscured by a black chip hat and bushy black beard. The red handkerchief tied round his neck completed a look designed to inspire great alarm and terror. When the thug tried to push past him, the under-butler succeeded in blocking his path, stalling him for a short time.12
Just across the hallway, Catherine sat in the drawing room with her two sisters, chatting quietly as she picked at her needlepoint. By now she was living in seclusion from all public society, constantly in fear that the man at her door would come looking for her, intent on wreaking revenge.13 Many sleepless nights had been spent imagining the worst. Most of all, Catherine was petrified that he would snatch her children and hold them to ransom. It was even possible that he would hire an armed gang to assist in the kidnap. After months of living on her nerves, there was something about the knock and tone of voice in the hallway that made the ever-vigilant Catherine uneasy. As realization dawned on her, she rose quickly from her armchair and said, ‘Hush, that knock on the door and that voice is very familiar. I am convinced that it must be [him].’14
‘That cannot be!’ remarked Dora.
Nevertheless, Catherine was sure that he had come. Retreating quickly into the back parlour, she had just left the room when the intruder burst in. ‘Where is Catherine?’ he demanded. When Dora and Emma did not answer, he smashed his fist into a side table and repeated, ‘Where is Catherine?’ His demeanour was frightening, but the sisters refused to cooperate. Rushing up the stairs, the ruffian stormed from room to room, searching for the children. Crashing about, he slammed doors and overturned furniture before realizing that he was wasting his time – the children were not there.
During the commotion, Catherine had wasted no time in gathering up Victoria, and she slipped quietly down the backstairs with her precious daughter cradled in her arms. The servants were at supper when she hurried in, begging them to help her. Terrified that her tormentor would find her child, she was in a state of great agitation and a ferocious spasm gripped her chest. Although she was bent over double with pain, she took control of the situation and had the foresight to dispatch a footman to summon officers of the police from Marlborough Street.
With all the noise and confusion above stairs, Catherine had no idea how many intruders were rampaging through her house, possibly brandishing weapons. She made a snap decision to flee. Clutching her daughter tightly, she escaped through the back door. Under the cover of darkness, she cautiously felt her way along the deserted yard until she came to the stable block. Crouching down in the shadows, shielding her child, she was overwhelmed with fear as all kinds of scenarios played out in her head. Eventually she heard the rumble of a carriage and saw that the lights were heading towards her. Catherine knew that her fate rested on a knife-edge; she could only pray that the carriage would contain her rescuer, not her pursuer.
Most of the household servants did not know the intruder, but Bicknell immediately recognized Mr Long Wellesley. William began to issue orders, reminding the butler that he was still master of the house. Bicknell’s loyalties, however, were firmly with Catherine. Taking charge of the situation, Bicknell apprehended Mr Long Wellesley, coaxed him into the drawing room and kept him talking. The butler hoped that this would give Mrs Long Wellesley time to make her escape. After a few minutes, William made another attempt to go upstairs, but was prevented from leaving the room by two stocky servants posted outside the door. ‘Do you know who I am?’ he demanded, outraged. But they continued to block his exit, staring at him impassively, without saying a word.15 William then started ringing the servant’s bell continuously, with great violence, demanding to see his wife, but everyone ignored him.
After half an hour of shouts and threats, he realized that his bullying tactics were having no effect, so he tried another approach. Breaking down into floods of tears, he fell onto the sofa and begged Bicknell to bring Victoria to him, saying he hadn’t seen his children in almost a year. Playing for time, the butler agreed and left the room. Sometime later, when there was still no sign of Victoria, it became apparent to William that he had been double-crossed. Once again he started shouting and ringing the bell, but this time the under-butler appeared. William asked for Bicknell and was informed, ‘Mr Bicknell is not here.’16
‘You are a liar!’ shouted William. ‘Do you know who I am?’
Staring at him blankly, the servant replied, ‘I do not.’
‘I believe my name is Long Wellesley,’ said William sarcastically. ‘Do as I say.’ As far as William was concerned, the servants were there to do his bidding. The under-butler had other ideas; he left the room without another word. William kept shouting and ringing the bell, but it was too late, his wife and child had already left the building.
While William was contained in the drawing room, Catherine had found safety. The chief of the Marlborough Street police had arrived, along with an experienced officer called Schofield.17 The chief bundled Catherine and Victoria into a carriage and escorted them to Harley Street, where Henry Windsor, Catherine’s uncle, was residing. Dora and Emma followed closely behind in another carriage, accompanied by their footmen and lady’s maid.
Although there had been chaos in the house when William arrived, Catherine had been prepared for him. She had employed a couple of burly servants for protection, and was ready to unleash her own ambush. A plan of action had been concocted with the help of her solicitor, who had warned that she should not entertain William or even stay under the same roof as him because it would prejudice her case for divorce.
Police officer Schofield stayed behind at Clarges Street to watch William’s movements. Unaware that a law enforcer was in the house, William started to pull continuously on the bell rope, demanding a bed for the night. When the servants refused to oblige, he lay down on the sofa in the drawing room and fell asleep. Just after midnight a messenger knocked on the door and tried to deliver a letter addressed to Mr Long Wellesley. The canny police officer denied all knowledge of a person by that name and refused to take the letter.
The messenger returned two hours later with a letter stamped by a solicitor called Mr Hoper. The man insisted it was of the utmost importance and needed an urgent reply. Schofield sent him packing, affirming that nobody by the name of Mr Long Wellesley lived at that address.
William finally left Clarges Street at six o’clock the following morning, thoroughly disgruntled by the fact that all his ploys had failed. He had not managed to compromise Catherine nor snatch his daughter to use as a bargaining tool. In addition, the letter from his solicitor had not been delivered, so he could not claim to be living at the same address as his wife.
William was in such a hot rage as he walked back to his lodgings, he did not notice that the police officer Schofield was following him. Feeling that everyone had turned against him, faithful Shawe suddenly became the object of his anger. William stamped along Jermyn Street, searching for Shawe’s house and shouting for the colonel to come out. Frustrated with the lack of response, he kicked furiously at people’s front doors with his heavy boots as he walked away.
Halfway down Jermyn Street, William passed his wedding venue, St James’s Church. It must surely have sparked memories of that happy day, when the bells rang and everybody smiled as the excited newlyweds raced out of the church, holding hands and laughing with joy. Thirteen years on, William was there in entirely different circumstances, dressed like a vagabond. It must have been a bitter reminder of all that was lost.
Once back at Seymour Place, William climbed the stairs wearily and sat down heavily on his bed. It was not until sometime later that he noticed the man loitering outside and recognized Schofield as one of the guards from Clarges Street. Jumping back from the window in shock, William could not believe that he had walked straight into a trap laid by his wife. He was no longer safe because Catherine and her legal team knew where he lived. If his creditors found out, he would be arrested for debt and thrown into prison.
It took William and Helena less than twenty minutes to pack up a few essentials. The officer watched them leave in a hackney carriage in a state of great confusion and alarm. Helena was so heavily pregnant, she could barely heave herself into the coach. As William trundled off, he was followed surreptitiously by a curricle containing another policeman, who watched him alight at a house in Marylebone. William had played right into Catherine’s hands. A few hours later, Schofield arrived at the house in Marylebone with a warrant. On gaining entrance to the premises, he served William with a suit for divorce issued by Catherine. William had no option but to accept the citation.
William had underestimated his wife. Catherine had thoroughly outsmarted him, serving divorce papers and driving him back into exile. The only ammunition William had left was the children. Hiring a band of brigands, he armed them with loaded pistols and sent them to Draycot to seize his sons. Yet again, Catherine was one step ahead. On the very night that William forced his way into Clarges Street, she had dispatched bodyguards to remove the boys from Draycot. By the time William’s pack of thugs arrived in Wiltshire, the boys were already safely in hiding.
Creditors would soon discover his whereabouts so William needed to get back to France as soon as possible. Gleefully, newspapers reported the siege on Clarges Street. Having followed the trials and triumphs of William’s life with great interest, they were delighted that he was back in England treating the nation to another sensational scandal. The public eagerly awaited the next instalment of the Long Wellesley saga but even the most hardened cynics were shocked and appalled by what happened next.
Served with a writ for divorce, William sent his wife a sinister letter containing a chilling prediction: ‘No divorcing woman has yet enjoyed [contentment]. If you believe you will place yourself in a position that will enable you to advance the interests of your children, you are under delusion . . . if you expect happiness, you grasp at a shadow.’18