SEPTEMBER 1825
Entering the room where Catherine’s body was laid out, Dora and Emma clung together and wept for their sister, so cruelly taken in the prime of her life. Dora held Catherine’s hand, while Emma stroked her hair, whispering, ‘I cannot believe that our sweet angel is dead.’1 Catherine’s cheek felt cold as Emma lovingly traced the fine blue lines showing though the pale translucency of her skin. All the tension of the past months had drained from her face; her forehead was not furrowed and her mouth not set in a grim line. She looked peaceful and serene, but the essence of her was gone forever. Overcome with grief, it was Emma who cried out again, ‘Oh God! Why did you break a heart like this?’2 Pragmatic as ever, Dora comforted her younger sister. Drawing on religion for consolation, she told Emma that Catherine was finally at peace, saying that she was such an angel she would surely already be in heaven.
Dora and Emma were not the only people to be devastated by the tragic death. Catherine’s generous heart had inspired love in many people. Lord and Lady Maryborough were distraught, while Pitman was inconsolable. The tutor wrote immediately to the good doctor to break the bad news:
My Dear Bulkeley, how shall I communicate to you the heart-rending misfortune, which has befallen us? Our beloved and amiable friend, Mrs Long Wellesley is no more! She died this morning after an illness of eight days. Her complaint was in the bowels, which reduced her to a state of extreme debility; this produced a violent nervous excitation, which terminated in delirium and death. I cannot give you all the details, my heart is too full. Her poor sisters, children, and myself, are in a most deplorable state.3
Deeply distressed on hearing the news, Bouverie was quick to blame William for the tragedy, remonstrating, ‘Oh! What remorse must that wretch feel, or rather ought to feel when he learns about what his perfidy and cruelty have effected! Alas! I fear, his heart is so hardened, and his mind so completely depraved as to be alive only to a very different impression.’4
Harsh as this sounded, it proved to be a fair appraisal. William had returned to France but when he heard the news of Catherine’s death he tried to take charge of the situation, firing off instructions in every direction. To his agent Charles Yerbury he wrote, ‘I will have no ostentation at the funeral, no unnecessary pomp and show.’5 William also sent demands to Pitman, ordering, ‘My poor children must be sent to me immediately – I shall be at Boulogne to meet them.’6 On referring the matter to solicitors, Pitman was relieved to discover that he was not obliged to comply with this request because the children were finally in the process of being made Wards of Chancery.
The Miss Longs did not have time to mourn for their sister; William’s threats forced them to spring into action. Up until now the spinster sisters had avoided confrontation with their brother-in-law, as they endeavoured to keep the peace for Catherine’s sake. But this was not a sign of weakness and they would prove to be formidable opponents against William. Their main concern was to comply with Catherine’s deathbed wish to protect her children, and they had the necessary authorization to act on her behalf as next of kin. Within days Hutchinson had managed to persuade the Lord Chancellor to sanction Catherine’s petition to make her children Wards of Chancery. Her solicitor had police testimony of William’s violent behaviour at Clarges Street and so was able to make a strong case. Now the children could not be removed from the custody of their aunts without the permission of the Lord Chancellor.
Another priority for Dora was to protect the Long family’s ancestral home and other assets in Wiltshire. Bouverie reassured them that under the terms of past wills, Catherine’s eldest son would inherit all her property. In theory, Mr Long Wellesley was not entitled to even one penny of her estate but everyone knew that William would terrorize the child, demanding money exactly as he had done with Catherine.
Apart from his overtures towards the children, William sent instructions on how the funeral should be conducted. In a display of immense hypocrisy, he assumed the role of bereaved widower, making it clear that he would be chief mourner at the funeral. He intended to lead the procession. Catherine was highly regarded throughout Wiltshire and feelings ran high among local people, who threatened violence if William had the audacity to show his face. Horrified by William’s intentions, Dora sought the advice of his father. Maryborough replied:
I am really too astounded, and shocked . . . Mr Long Wellesley’s determination to appear at your sister’s funeral is most embarrassing. I see at once . . . the dreadful scene caused by [his] presence amidst Mrs Long Wellesley’s peasantry, and numerous Upper Class of Gentlemen agitated by the misfortunes which have fallen upon a family so long and so highly respected in their county.7
Maintaining pressure on the spinster sisters, William sent his goons to their house in Richmond. On arrival they produced a peremptory order, demanding that the children be handed over to them for conveyance to France where their father was waiting to receive them. Dora was well prepared; she had applied to the magistrate for a Peace Officer to remain at the house at all times. In addition, guards were in place to protect the children day and night. Added to this, the law was on her side – she produced a letter proving that the children were now Wards of Chancery. Standing her ground, Dora sent the men packing.
On the Monday before the funeral, Catherine’s body was removed from the house in Richmond at nine o’clock in the morning. Her coffin was so small it might have contained a child. Catherine’s desolate boys watched tearfully from an upstairs window, as their mother’s casket was carried out and placed in a hearse drawn by six black horses. A rainbow of floral tributes had been laid at the gates of the house and their sweet scent filled the air, as a melancholy procession set off from Richmond on the long journey to the family crypt at Draycot. Four mourning coaches followed behind, containing the Miss Longs, Bicknell the butler and other close friends. Pitman stayed behind to comfort the children.
Crowds gathered along the roadside to watch the heiress’s final journey. The British public had been captivated by Catherine’s story from the very beginning. She had won the hearts of the people as they had watched the shy, awkward teenager blossom into the ultimate woman of fashion. Their outpouring of grief was genuine.
The Duke of Wellington joined the sombre procession on Tuesday at Chippenham. As the hearse neared Draycot, throngs of people poured out of the surrounding parishes and villages to line the route. Estate workers had benefited from the generosity of the Longs for generations, and they were accustomed to attending momentous family occasions. Many had toasted Catherine’s health at her coming-of-age celebrations, when she’d had the world at her feet, and they felt sorrowful to be turning out for her funeral less than fifteen years later.
Thousands of workers dressed in dark mourning clothes followed the hearse in a sombre line. When the procession arrived at Draycot, close family and friends crammed into the church, while a huge crowd stood outside praying for the soul of their dear departed. After the ceremony, Catherine’s body was placed inside the family crypt, beside her parents and brother. As the crypt was sealed shut, Emma and Dora felt comforted by the fact that Catherine was laid to rest among the people who had loved her most dearly.
In the end, William did not dare appear at the funeral, mainly because he would almost certainly have been arrested for debt before he had even reached Wiltshire.
Plunged into a state of shock, the nation mourned Catherine. The press were in uproar, enraged by the circumstances surrounding her death. Many blamed William for his relentless persecution, with one reporter declaring, ‘grief had produced an aneurism of the heart . . . the slightest fright would produce death’.8
Epitaphs appeared up and down the country, as another newspaper lamented, ‘A wife reduced in life from the loftiest pinnacle of fortune . . . to death.’9 The Age described it as ‘one of the most tragic catastrophes that ever happened in real life’.10 The Sunday Times observed that Mr Long Wellesley, ‘owed her everything; in exile, as in ruin, she still clung to him; and had he a human heart, he would have treasured her with a mother’s care’.11
One report was particularly poignant, capturing the general public mood:
Thirteen years ago this excellent lady . . . rejected the addresses of royalty . . . and bestowed her hand, her heart, and a princely fortune on a man who . . . squandered them with a prodigal’s hand away . . . A few years saw her ample possessions the prey of swarming creditors: her palatial mansion gutted of its brilliant furniture, and taken to its foundation, herself in exile in a foreign land . . . and at length deserted by the man for whom she had made such sacrifices, and who, after ruining her fortune, broke her heart . . . deserting her for a demirep.12
But this was not the end of Catherine’s story – William was in for a big shock.