March 1895, Civitavecchia, Italy
‘There is not a day that I do not think of you and long to see you and the children and I talk of you.’ – CONSUELO, DUCHESS OF MANCHESTER
Consuelo Manchester would have looked out across the sea from her position on the yacht, the Valiant. It was a clear, still day and if she continued to look out to the horizon, she might be able to forget for just one moment what lay on board. Her recollection of the events of the past few days would have grown vague, days where she had barely slept as she nursed, then kept vigil and finally was forced to let go of one of her twin girls, Mary. Now, she found herself sailing from Civitavecchia in Italy to Marseilles on board Willie K Vanderbilt’s prize possession, trying to bring the remains of her daughter back home to England.
Lady Mary Montagu was sixteen years old when she died of pneumonia at the Grand Hotel in Rome on 14 March 1895. Consuelo Manchester now doubted the decision she had made to bring her daughters to the Continent in search of a warmer climate and the chance to immerse themselves in the ancient culture. It was the kind of pilgrimage the aristocracy had been partaking in for centuries and Consuelo herself had grown used to the rhythmic quality of her year, which included a trip to Europe in the winter, London for the Season and then a retreat to the Manchesters’ country estate. There had been nothing new about this trip, yet everything had changed. Now she found herself, on this return journey, a mother of two to her eighteen-year-old son and heir to the dukedom, Little Kim, and Lady Alice Montagu, Lady Mary’s twin. She was fleeing gossip and grief and, of course, the ghost of her husband Kim.
Kim had died in 1892, nearly three years ago, yet Consuelo hadn’t stopped tormenting herself as she had throughout their marriage with thoughts about where it had gone wrong. She knew that socially she was at her peak. She enjoyed the freedom that being a widow afforded, as well as the financial independence she had long craved while married, thanks to her enterprise in ensuring a smooth passage for new-money Americans into English society. It afforded her a lifestyle that the title of duchess had not been able to provide and she had felt a brimming sense of hope as to the limitless possibilities of the venture. This year was supposed to mark a new beginning, a time when she could choose her destiny, forge a life for her children and a place for herself, and now suddenly everything was different. The warm Mediterranean breeze hinted at days past, yet she seemed so very far away from that summer in Saratoga when she had met Kim, the man who would one day become the Duke of Manchester.
Kim had first noticed Consuelo Yznaga on the veranda of the United States Hotel in Saratoga Springs, New York. He had watched as she walked slowly and skilfully up and down with her sister Natica, fully aware of the effect she was having on the young gentlemen lounging against the railings that enclosed the hotel’s gardens. She walked gracefully, purposefully, her lace parasol protecting her delicate features from the sun’s harsh rays, incessantly chatting to her companion, pausing only to throw her head backwards and laugh, before continuing on her parade. Kim could hear the remnants of her laughter float over to where he stood, rendered languid by the summer’s humidity. His fleeting fascination with Consuelo may have been just that, as it often had been before, for he found boredom quickly set in, especially when faced with numerous opportunities to observe young debutantes; however, as he regarded this young lady, she did something that piqued his interest. After a further conspiratorial whisper with her sister, she proudly took off her gloves, rolled them into a ball and proceeded with her walk. Kim observed the matrons sipping iced tea at their tables, straightening their backs and looking aghast at this young pretender. Who was she? Where did she come from? And had nobody instructed her on the etiquette of dress here? Consuelo Yznaga took note of their expressions, smiled sweetly, turned on her heel and went inside, giggling with Natica all the way.
After this first encounter, Kim ensured that he discovered everything there was to know about Consuelo and her family. He was pleasantly surprised to hear that her father owned a cotton plantation, Ravenswood, in Louisiana, which spanned three thousand acres and had three hundred slaves working the land. Consuelo’s mother, Ellen Yznaga, who had inherited the property from her father, Captain Samuel Clement, was tasked with managing the plantation while her husband, Antonio, who was of Cuban descent and was the Spanish Consul in New Orleans, split his time between that city and New York, where he had a business importing Cuban produce. Kim paid no heed to the stories that the Yznagas’ fortunes were unpredictable and that the family seemed to be poorly regarded in polite society. There were rumours they were free spirits, with Ellen often to be found smoking, reclined on a chaise longue in her smart hotel room, while her three daughters enjoyed the freedom their indulgent parents afforded them. For Kim and Consuelo that meant unchaperoned walks together in the Saratoga deer park and long drives in a rented phaeton to the lake before sauntering home. Consuelo’s evident beauty and soft Southern drawl was intoxicating to the twenty-three-year-old Kim, who found her a delightful contrast to the rather solemn and stuffy marital prospects that awaited him back in England. Consuelo Yznaga was said to attract ‘rich and poor alike, solely through her fascinating personality’.1
However, her unique temperament did not suit everyone’s tastes, as a letter from Consuelo’s friend and fellow American heiress, Jennie Jerome, to her future husband Lord Randolph Churchill in 1874 illuminates: ‘I am sorry I quarrelled with you about Consuelo as entre nous – I am changing my opinion of her – but then poor girl – one must make allowances for her wretched education. I really think she would have been a very nice girl if it had not been for her bad bringing up.’2
As the summer went on, the temperature and humidity increased, and reflected the inseparability of Kim and Consuelo, who luxuriated in each other’s company and the first flush of love. Saratoga Springs was well known as a destination for ambitious mothers keen to marry off their daughters. Granted, it did not attract the calibre of beau of Newport in Rhode Island but, for those families still trying to penetrate the elite social circles, Saratoga Springs was an acceptable alternative where they could polish their skills and plan their next move. Some would never be accepted into the ultra-exclusive Newport set, where New York’s Four Hundred retreated to spend their summers. Others would simply need to bide their time, while they established themselves in society. The Yznagas may well have resigned themselves to being in the former group, had it not been for the evident success of Consuelo. While Ellen Yznaga appears to have been industrious in her efforts on behalf of her daughters, she never attempted the all-out assault on society that Marietta Stevens committed to on behalf of Minnie or that Alva was embarking on for her daughter Consuelo Vanderbilt. Along with Jennie Churchill’s family, the Jeromes, and Alva Vanderbilt’s family, the Smiths, Ellen often retreated abroad when the Yznaga fortune was floundering and the pressure of trying to assimilate herself into New York society became too much. By her nature, she was indulgent when it came to her children and much more comfortable singing while Consuelo played the piano and Emily played the banjo at their simple plantation home than in the stuffy drawing rooms of a New York brownstone.
It was Ellen’s beautiful mezzo-soprano voice that became the Yznagas’ passport to Empress Eugénie’s court in Paris when the family visited in 1866. Here, the Yznagas’ exuberant and seductive personalities were celebrated by the vivacious Empress and Ellen’s singing impressed Eugénie so much that the family were invited to participate in court functions. Along with other Americans, who were virtual outcasts in their own society, like the Stevenses and the Smiths, the Yznagas found a home in France and acceptance. Consuelo was a young girl during their time in Paris and was still only twelve years old when they headed back to Ravenswood in 1870. However, her experiences of the excesses and gaiety of the French court would have a profound effect on her. Her observations of the beautiful and frivolous Eugénie, who insisted nobody at court wore the same dress twice, and the way that Princess Pauline Metternich, the wife of the Austrian Ambassador, delighted visitors to her salon with witty repartee, would all affect the way that Consuelo herself would evolve into an enticing young woman. Like Minnie and Alva, her friends and conspirators, Consuelo Yznaga’s sojourn in Paris and her experiences of European nobility would define her social path for the rest of her life.
The United States Hotel in Saratoga Springs was well known for its weekly dances, where pretty debutantes and dapper young gentlemen would congregate to indulge in harmless flirtations under the watchful eyes of their chaperones. The hotel’s ballroom was one hundred feet long with a parquet floor and sparkling chandeliers. An orchestra would play while champagne flowed with ice cream and blancmange also served to the clammy participants. It was on one such occasion in the summer of 1875 that Kim took his chance to advance his attachment to Consuelo. High on champagne and a winning streak at the gaming tables of Saratoga’s Club House, he was even more confident in his position as an eminently eligible member of the British aristocracy. He was all too aware of the effect that having a viscount in their midst had on American society and how the Saratoga matrons had been clamouring for his attention since his arrival. Of course that had been his purpose all along, to find and secure an American heiress as a wife and then bring her millions home to shore up the coffers of the Manchester estate. After all, the law decreed that all of his wife’s money should pass to him. In many ways he considered himself a trailblazer and congratulated himself on being one of the first English gentlemen to identify this prime marriage market. Finding a bride with beauty, charm and wealth would see him return to the good graces of his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Manchester, as relations had been somewhat strained in recent years. Kim’s penchant for gambling, drinking and pretty women had meant that he was heavily in debt and his lax morality was being questioned in aristocratic circles. The gossips had said that his family had banished him to America to ensure an end to his relationship with an Italian countess, but whatever the reason, he found himself in Saratoga Springs, conversely enjoying the very same intoxicating combination of vices that he had been charged with avoiding. With a spring in his step and his well-known ‘winning friendliness’3, Kim asked the seventeen-year-old Consuelo to dance, and as they spun around the ballroom, he held her very tightly indeed.
In the spring of 1876, Kim visited the Yznagas’ plantation, Ravenswood, in Louisiana. The double-storey wooden house that stood at the heart of the property was painted canary yellow instead of the more traditional white typical of the region, a nod to the Yznagas’ unconventional tendencies. There were ten rooms, simply furnished with mahogany beds and wardrobes and an obligatory rocking chair. A large veranda encircled the entire house, perfect for lazy afternoons watching the chickens and turkeys running through the wild undergrowth that surrounded the house and stretched out to the cotton fields beyond. For Kim, Ravenswood was like stepping into a completely different world, far away from the cold, imposing Manchester seats of Kimbolton Castle in Cambridgeshire and Tandragee Castle in Ireland. He continued his courtship of Consuelo, but just as the couple were reacquainting themselves, Kim contracted typhoid and was immediately bedridden. This potentially dangerous turn of events – typhoid was often deadly at that time – was actually fortuitous for Consuelo, who now nursed the young viscount through his illness. As he slowly began to recover, she entertained him with playful anecdotes and her musical talents, slowly re-establishing the intimacy they had enjoyed in Saratoga.
Now confident of the blossoming relationship between the viscount and his daughter, Antonio Yznaga took his opportunity to visit Kim’s bedside and assured him that a dowry of £200,000 would accompany Consuelo when she was married. Soon afterwards, Kim proposed, and the now eighteen-year-old Consuelo was ecstatic, knowing that one day she would become a duchess. Although it is clear that Consuelo and Kim both had practical reasons for their marriage, it is also evident that they had genuinely fallen in love. Mrs Carter H Harrison, a neighbour and friend of the Yznagas, remembered Kim’s undeniable contentment in her memoirs, Strange to Say: ‘He sat beneath the flowering magnolias, breathing in the delicious perfume of the cape jasmine hedges and listening to the mockingbirds, and declared himself radiantly happy with his bride.’4
Kim and Consuelo were married at New York’s fashionable Grace Church at 3.30pm on 22 May 1876. Kim had delayed informing his family of the engagement for fear they would not approve of the bride’s family connections but news had reached the 7th Duke of Manchester in England anyway. During March 1876 he briefly referred to the engagement several times in his diary with increasing frustration:
Monday, 13 March
Louise [his wife] heard from Augusta I.W. of Kim’s intended marriage to Miss Yznaga.
Saturday, 18 March
At dinner telegram from Dufferin [then Governor-General of Canada, resident in Ottawa]. Kim to be married on 8 April.
Answer: ‘Try to prevent it.’
Sunday, 19 March
Wrote Mrs Yznaga. Kim extravagant and weak.
Monday, 27 March
Telegram from Kim. ‘Mind made up. Telegraph consent.’
Tuesday 28 March
Letter from Kim affectionate and dutiful. Louise wrote and telegraphed him. Self wrote to Mrs Yznaga.
Tuesday, 4 April
Telegram from Mrs Yznaga. No answer.5
The New York Times reported that at the wedding, ‘The crowd was so dense that it was impossible to get near the rail, and a person was accounted fortunate who was able to catch a glimpse of the bridal party as they came up the centre aisle of the church.’6 The five bridesmaids were dressed in white tulle with satin sashes and carried posies of white lilac. They included Consuelo’s two sisters, Emily and Natica, Miss Mary Bright, Miss Kate Kernochan and of course, Miss Minnie Stevens, whose mother Marietta was also in attendance, along with the newly married Alva Vanderbilt and Jennie Churchill’s father, Leonard Jerome.
There was a moment of concern when Kim and his best man, Colonel William Jay, a fashionable and rakish New York lawyer who enjoyed similar pursuits to the viscount, failed to arrive on time, as was noted by Town Topics. They wrote that guests began to speculate on whether Kim had jilted Consuelo, until a flustered-looking Kim finally appeared, apparently having been delayed by a broken-down carriage. If Consuelo was worried that Kim had changed his mind, she didn’t show it. She enchanted her guests in a dress of white satin damask trimmed with lace and wore sparkling diamond stars in her hair and a dramatic white point lace veil. She played the part of a society bride to perfection while the New York matrons that represented the more exclusive parts of Old New York gritted their teeth and congratulated the Southern arriviste who had managed to acquire a title. The bridal party and their guests made their way through the crowds to the Yznagas’ New York house on Third Avenue to admire Consuelo’s bevy of beautiful presents, including priceless point lace from Alva and Minnie, a diamond and ruby bracelet, a diamond solitaire ring and a silver tea set, which the bride had excitedly been unwrapping for the past few days and Ellen Yznaga had gladly put on show for all of society to see.
After an indulgent wedding breakfast, the new Viscount and Lady Mandeville spent the next two months enjoying the conviviality their marriage had afforded them among New York’s high society and luxuriated in the generous hospitality of their friends, including Marietta Stevens, who gave a decadent afternoon tea in their honour. There were rumours that Kim had left his hotel with his bride for England after only paying half of his outstanding bill, but such rumours were swept aside amid the romance of a titled marriage. Like Jennie Jerome before her, another American heiress was on her way to England. This one would eventually become a duchess, a title that was only exceeded by a princess and so eclipsed Jennie and most of the aristocratic ladies that Consuelo would be associating with over the coming months. The American press were delighted to see one of their own invested with one of the highest positions available in the English aristocracy and showed none of the cynicism and hostility that would characterise their reports of later titled marriages. By 1905, when Marie Corelli wrote Free Opinions Freely Expressed, the optimism over such marriages had disappeared: ‘There is always a British title going a-begging, always some decayed or degenerate or semi-drunken peer, whose fortunes are on the verge of black ruin, ready and willing to devour, monster-like, the holocaust of an American virgin, provided bags of bullion are flung with her into his capacious maw.’7
The young couple arrived in England on 22 July 1876 and headed straight for the mansion that the Duke and Duchess of Manchester occupied in Great Stanhope Street in London. Consuelo had been forewarned by Kim that she faced a herculean task to win his parents’ affections. Kim’s mother, Duchess Lottie, was known for being a formidable character who loved gambling and was engaged in a long-term affair with Lord Hartington. An affair that would eventually see her become the Duchess of Devonshire when she married Hartington after her husband the Duke of Manchester’s death. Forever after she would be known as the ‘Double Duchess’, following the rare feat of acquiring two dukes in matrimony. Her reputation as a leading member of the ‘fast set’ ensured that Queen Victoria refused to invite the Duchess to the Prince of Wales’s wedding in 1863, surmising that Lottie had ‘done more harm to Society from her tone, her love of admiration and “fast” style than almost anyone.’8
The Duke of Manchester owed much of his son’s behaviour to the example he had set. A sprendthrift, with a wandering eye, Kim’s father was a perfect role model for an aristocratic rake. Nevertheless, the Duke, entrenched in the Manchesters’ perceived position as stalwarts of the aristocracy, expected and demanded more from his son and was not impressed with Kim’s choice of bride, despite the promise of money she brought with her. He icily wrote in his diary, without further comment, on 22 July 1876, the day of their arrival, ‘Kim and wife arrived from USA.’9
However, if Consuelo Manchester faced a battle for the approval of her in-laws, it would be a battle that she would relish and would ultimately provide a useful training ground for the rest of British society, which had yet to be convinced of the merits of transatlantic marriages. Indeed, Jennie Churchill had faced extreme prejudice when she had married into that family two years previously, and Consuelo Manchester knew she would have to prove herself worthy of the aristocracy to ensure her place as an acceptable society hostess. She immediately set to work and, following the advice of her friend Minnie, who had already become popular among the Marlborough House Set, attempted to beguile the Prince of Wales with her unique brand of Southern charm and amiability. Typically, she was an immediate success among the nobility, even though Jennie Churchill remained unconvinced of her particular combination of refined social graces and risqué storytelling. In a letter to her sister Leonie, Jennie described a dinner party at which Consuelo Manchester shocked her guests with her bohemian tendencies: ‘Consuelo proposed herself to dinner the other night. We had old Chancellor Ball and Lord Portarlington and she being envirée [inebriated] insisted on telling “roguey poguey” stories, which I think astonished them, they did me; quite between ourselves I think it du plus mauvais goût [in the worst taste] to talk like that before men.’10
But despite committing the odd social faux pas, Consuelo Manchester quickly became very popular. She used the same lively, candid and witty repartee that had so charmed Kim to ingratiate herself with the hedonistic circle that surrounded the Prince of Wales. They were captivated by the wide-eyed young American novelty who was always ready with an amusing tale, inventive practical joke or entertaining musical interlude. Lillie Langtry, who was at that time occupying the demanding role of Bertie’s mistress, described Consuelo in her autobiography: ‘Lady Mandeville [Consuelo Manchester], fair and ethereal, was of so merry and witty a disposition that she was a general favourite and always welcome at Marlborough House.’11
By 1878, it was clear that Consuelo had conquered the aristocracy, with one British newspaper commenting:
‘Lady Mandeville [Consuelo Manchester] presents a Southern type of beauty, embellished as it were with Northern accents. She has a very refined face, with small features, a fine transparent complexion, deep brown eyes, and a wealth of light hair, in which her face is set like a jewel. Both at Cowes and in London she has necessarily become very popular, and there are few of the better kind of entertainments of which she does not form a principal ornament.’12
Even Queen Victoria wrote in her diary of Consuelo Manchester: ‘Ly Mandeville [Consuelo Manchester] is very attractive, fine features, a lovely creamy complexion, & quantities of fair hair.’13
It should have been a source of great pride to Kim that his American bride had triumphed so spectacularly, against such odds, but he was barely around to accompany Consuelo to her many social engagements, never mind bask in her social success. As soon as the Mandevilles had arrived in England, the honeymoon was abruptly over. Kim returned to the typical behaviour of a young aristocratic gentleman. Barely modifying his activities from his bachelor days, he indulged in drinking heavily at his club, frequenting London’s night-houses in search of prostitutes and courtesans to satiate his sexual appetite and gambling away large amounts of Consuelo’s dowry at the card tables. Her fantasy born out of a dream-like Saratoga summer of a fairytale marriage as part of the English nobility, were quickly dashed and at only eighteen she quickly had to adapt to her new life, alone in a foreign country. The 7th Duke of Manchester, who had hoped marriage to Consuelo would curb his son’s debauchery and enable him to grow into the responsibilities presented by his position as the future duke, grew tired of Kim’s high jinks in London and decided to banish the newlyweds for a year to the rundown Manchester family seat in Ireland, Tandragee Castle. Isolated and alone with a husband more interested in shooting game on the estate and partaking in protracted drinking sessions with his select circle of like-minded friends, Baron de Clifford, Derry Westenra, the 5th Earl of Rossmore and Lord Newry, the now pregnant Consuelo Manchester felt very far away from the idyllic peace of her plantation home.
The following year, in 1877, after giving birth to the requisite male heir, William Angus Drogo, forever to be known as Little Kim, Consuelo found herself again at Tandagree, but this time she invited her friend, Minnie Stevens, herself still on the hunt for a titled husband, for company. Little Kim had been born on 3 March 1877, one day after Alva Vanderbilt had given birth to her daughter Consuelo, named after her friend in England. The two friends decided that Willie K Vanderbilt would act as Little Kim’s godfather and Consuelo Manchester would be her namesake’s godmother, ensuring the ties between the families remained for years to come.
Cornelia Adair, another American heiress, who had married English landowner John Adair, accompanied Minnie on her visit to Tandragee and wrote to her friend Lady Waldegrave about their stay:
‘We have just been staying up at Tandragree with Lord and Lady Mandeville – poor little thing, she is so delicate – so utterly helpless – and most charming. She cannot endure a country life and is quite miserable at Tandragee, although she has Miss Stevens with her who is the brightest, cheeriest companion. The more I see of her the more I like her. I hope she will marry an Englishman; she is suited to life in this country which poor little Consuelo Mandeville is not.’14
Increasingly, Consuelo Manchester was finding it difficult to keep track of her husband. Consuelo wrote to Lady Waldegrave in 1878 in reply to an invitation, informing her that Kim was ‘yachting with the Gosfords and his movements are so erratic that I think I had better say he won’t come with me on Sunday. He so often disappoints me that I generally make up my mind to go without him.’15
It appears that Kim returned to the family home long enough for Consuelo to become pregnant and give birth to twin girls, Lady Mary Alva Montagu and Lady Alice Eleanor Montagu in 1879, but his visits were a rarity, leaving Consuelo alone and adrift, unsure of how to deal with her errant husband. Still young, still beautiful, she decided to consolidate her position as one of Bertie’s favourites, even though financial problems began to dominate her daily existence.
‘I remember how she used to laugh over incidents in her early married life when she was excessively hard-up,’ Frederick Martin remembered in his memoirs. ‘Consuelo told me that on one occasion when the late King dined with her, the dinner was practically provided by her friends, who contributed plats [dishes] for the occasion. HRH expressed himself as delighted with the dinner. “And what is more,” he added, with a smile, “I know exactly where all the dishes came from, for each lady has sent the one I always like served when I dine at her house.”’16
Years later, when Consuelo had discovered her own means of earning money, she could poke fun at this period, but in truth she was desperately unhappy and continually implored Kim to return to her. She often knew so little about his whereabouts that she was forced to send her letters to his friends or to his club. In an undated letter to Kim, which Consuelo sent to the short-lived Pelican Club, known for its wild antics and bare-knuckle boxing fights arranged for its members’ amusement, she indicates his slide into increasingly volatile behaviour and her desperation to bring her husband back from the brink of financial and social ruin.
Dear Kim
Although I feel it is quite useless to write to you and effect an answer yet I cannot bear to let month after month go by without hearing anything of you. There is not a day that I do not think of you and long to see you and the children and I talk of you. I want them to love you and remember you though they can see so little of you. I will [two words missing] in the hope that when you get tired of your present life you will come back to those who love you sincerely.… If you would like me to send the children to see you at any time I can do so if you don’t wish to come here.
Your loving wife
Consuelo17
Consuelo’s love for her husband appears undiminished through her correspondence, although his callous treatment of her must have caused her to re-evaluate her feelings. Still, one Christmas Day during this period, Kim was again upmost in her thoughts.
Darling Kim,
This is Xmas day and I cannot let it go by without writing you a few words of love. I hope you are happy… please give me one little thought.
Your loving wife18
Consuelo’s pleas did not sway Kim into reconsidering his behaviour. Instead, he continued his decadent lifestyle unabated, becoming less and less discreet as the years went on. The Manchester family motto had long been Disponendo me non mutant me, which meant ‘By disposing of me, not by changing me’ and Kim wore it like a badge of honour. Consuelo, along with the Duke and Duchess, had tried to encourage him to reduce his drinking and gambling and forgo the courtesans and rakish crowd that had become his constant companions, but Kim had steadfastly refused and had instead disappeared from the Manchester family altogether into a maze of London streets, only appearing occasionally when he needed money. Consuelo was devastated when Kim’s relationship with the music-hall singer Bessie Bellwood became public knowledge. Bellwood had hit a hansom-cab driver on the nose when he tried to collect a debt from Kim, and Kim was called to court as a witness. When the 7th Duke of Manchester died of peritonitis and dysentery in Naples on 21 March 1890, the Cincinnati Enquirer reported that Kim’s eyes had ‘lit up’19 for a moment when he heard of his father’s death while drinking champagne and gambling with Bessie Bellwood.
Taking matters into her own hands, Consuelo, now the Duchess of Manchester, wrote to Bellwood requesting that she give Kim up, promising to pay his debts and give him an allowance of twenty pounds a week. The reply from Bellwood read: ‘Miss Bessie Bellwood presents her compliments to the Duchess of Manchester, and begs to state that she is now working The Pavilion, The Met and The South London at £20 a turn so she can allow the Duke £30 a week and he is better off as he is.’20
Despite this acerbic refusal to end her relationship with Kim, it appears that the Duke severed all relations with Bellwood in 1890 and attempted a reconciliation with Consuelo. Bellwood in turn sued Kim for money she had lent him, but the legal proceedings came to nothing and, apart from the obvious embarrassment, the Manchesters appeared to ride out the storm.
If Consuelo was pleased to finally get her husband back, her happiness would not last for long. She had for some time been concerned about his influence on Little Kim and, despite her desire for Kim to visit the children at Kimbolton or Tandragee, there had been incidents when his particular style of parenting had bordered on cruelty. When Little Kim was only four, his father had chosen to teach the little boy to ride. His method was to simply put him on an unsaddled pony and slap it hard to make it gallop. Of course, Little Kim kept falling off and his father kept repeating the practice, until the boy learnt to cling on with all his might. Similarly, he had tried to teach Little Kim to swim by throwing him in a lake until he managed to splutter to safety. Kim’s possible masochistic tendencies are implied by a story that Little Kim remembered in his memoirs. He recalls an incident when, having run to catch a train to Tandragee from Portadown, his father’s finger had been accidentally trapped in the door by the porter in the frantic commotion. Little Kim was too small to pull the emergency cord, yet Kim chose not to ask his son to alert another passenger or the guard. ‘My father made no fuss whatever, but sat down and told me to open his newspaper. Then, holding it with one hand, he read aloud calmly until the train reached Tandragee, but his forefinger was crushed for the rest of his life.’21
In 1891, Consuelo was visiting Paris with Marietta Stevens, while Kim appears to have opted for an extended trip to Australia, but by August 1892 they were both back at Tandragee, Kim lying prostrate, dying, with Consuelo the ever-dutiful wife by his side. He died on 18 August 1892, at only thirty-nine years old, his years of debauchery and excess finally having caught up with him. Kim’s death brought a new freedom for Consuelo Manchester. Although she was still plagued by debts and determined to preserve the Manchester estates for the benefit of her son, she could embark on a new phase of her life, one of independence, free from the constant worry of what trouble her husband would plunge the Manchesters into next. Now she could forge her own way as a dowager duchess within the English aristocracy, and she was still young and beautiful enough to even find love. ‘There are many… that read with surprise that Mrs Yznaga, the mother of the Duchess of Manchester, had asked Mr “Willie K” Vanderbilt to have the Valiant transport the remains of the dead Lady Alva from Civitavecchia to Marseilles, and that not only Mrs Yznaga, but Miss Emily and Mr Fernando Yznaga accompanied the Duchess and her surviving daughter on the sad journey,’22 reported Town Topics to its readers on 21 March 1895. Although the scandal sheet could not always be relied upon for its accuracy (here referring to Lady Mary Alva as Lady Alva), its report hinted at another rumour that was being increasingly repeated in the most exclusive social circles. The report alluded to gossip that Consuelo Manchester and Alva Vanderbilt, lifelong friends since childhood, had quarrelled, referring to ‘those happy days when the mothers were friends and before they had parted and ceased to remain on even speaking terms’.23
For those who followed such stories, there was great public interest in what could have caused the rift. Why would the two friends who had masterminded Alva’s social coup over Mrs Astor just over a decade ago suddenly cease contact, while the Duchess’s apparent friendship with Willie K blossomed? For months during 1894, US newspapers and gossip columnists had been faithfully reporting Willie K’s appearances with the demi-mondaine Nellie Neustretter around Europe, but now people began to question whether this relationship had ever really existed or whether it was a decoy to distract attention from an affair between Consuelo Manchester and Willie K. On 7 March 1895, the New York World had printed a story about the affair, calling into question the conduct of Consuelo Manchester, who was in Rome with her daughters, regarding her old friend’s husband. Town Topics eventually asserted that ‘Mr Vanderbilt would have become the husband of the Duchess of Manchester had it not been for her bereavement….’24
The mystery surrounding the disintegration of Consuelo Manchester and Alva’s friendship was never openly discussed by either party and continued to baffle journalists and society commentators alike. The previous summer, in July 1894, Town Topics was happily reporting: ‘London has received Mr and Mrs “Willie K” thanks to the good offices of the Duchess of Manchester, with a cordiality that the wealthy couple could hardly have anticipated.’25 However, after 1894 Consuelo Manchester seems to have disappeared from Alva’s life altogether, while her friendship with Willie K continued, with him even being named a trustee in her will. For a pair of Southern girls who had risen to the top and conquered society side by side to suddenly turn their backs on each other, many surmised that only the ultimate betrayal could be at the heart of it. Alva told her biographer, Sara Bard Field, many years later, that Willie K ‘had brought his mistresses right into the home’26, including ‘poor women of the nobility of England’.27 Whether one of those mistresses was Consuelo Manchester, society could only speculate.
For Consuelo, who now faced the task of burying her beloved daughter in the family vault at Kimbolton, tales of affairs and intrigue were a world away. She was surely grateful for Willie K’s help and for his foresight in not personally accompanying the yacht. That would have attracted far too much attention. After almost twenty years managing the expectations of society while creating a veil of secrecy over her own complex personal affairs, she couldn’t allow herself to be embroiled in the messy entanglements of the Vanderbilts’ divorce. Consuelo Manchester needed to summon all her courage to bring Mary on her final journey behind a familiar mask of dignity and grace. She knew it was time to go home to England.