Author’s Note

Kingscote, one of the oldest homes on Bellevue Avenue, is also one of its smallest, yet loveliest, gems. Having toured the house, I’d already developed a fondness for its remarkable blend of architecture and interior design styles, but writing this book has greatly increased my appreciation of the house and its history, along with that of the family who owned it. Having made his fortune in the China export business, William Henry King purchased Kingscote from its original owner, George Noble Jones, a Southerner who left Newport for good at the start of the Civil War. Soon after, William King retired and set about enjoying his wealth.

As I have it in the story, his relatives became so alarmed at his excessive lifestyle and penchant for globe-trotting that they had him declared insane. He was committed, first at the McLean Asylum in Massachusetts, and then the Butler Hospital in Providence, Rhode Island, where he eventually died. Meanwhile, Kingscote was taken over by William’s nephew, David King Jr., and his wife, Ella Rives King. Had William King taken leave of his senses? Was his fate the result of genuine familial concern, or greed? Unfortunately, those are questions I cannot answer. However, I do believe Mrs. King and her children were blameless in these events.

Nor can I fully explain what drove Eugenia Webster Ross—a real-life figure—in her pursuit of William King and his fortune. Newspaper articles from the time document her relentless campaign to prove herself his heir. Did she misguidedly believe her assertions, or was she merely a con artist hoping for an easy buck? If the latter, she was to be disappointed, as there was nothing easy about her quest to gain the inheritance. She labored through the legal system for many years and in the end received nothing. The final court hearing was the one mentioned in this story, which took place in September of 1899. The judge dismissed the case, and I could find no further information about Mrs. Ross.

Mrs. Ella King, widowed in 1894, did eventually buy all shares of Kingscote from William’s heirs and settled there happily for the rest of her life. As in the story, she loved Newport, loved horseback riding (a case of her medals hangs in the carriage house) and outdoor activities, and enjoyed an active social life with her family and a relatively small circle of close friends, preferring this to the ostentatious lifestyles of other members of the Four Hundred. She was active in community affairs and a committed philanthropist. Her daughter, likewise, was athletic and involved with her community, and adopted the more modern style of dress that emerged in the early twentieth century as women in general took on more expanded roles in society. She married Edward Maitland Armstrong, whose father, David Maitland Armstrong, was a member of the Hudson River School of artists. A number of his paintings hang in Kingscote today. Gwendolen was widowed in 1916 and spent most of the rest of her life at Kingscote.

Philip King, on the other hand, failed to rise to the level of hard work and entrepreneurship that brought such wealth to his father and uncles, and periodically indulged in drink. Mrs. King would despair of him as the years progressed. He married but had no children, and died in 1923 at the age of forty-four.

The servants in the story are all fictional, with the exception of Louise Peake, who served as Mrs. King’s housekeeper and traveling companion. The other longtime employee was the coachman, but for the purposes of my plot, I switched his role with that of the groom. Both names I used for them are fictional.

The year 1899 did mark the first ever automobile parade in Newport, and it was much as I have described it, including the floral decorations and the obstacle course. Although I place it in July, it actually occurred in September. Mrs. Hermann Oelrichs, formally Theresa Fair, did win a sterling silver box of bonbons for coming in first place in the “best decorated vehicle” category.

Cars at this time were little more than horseless carriages. Most were steered with tillers, like in a boat, rather than steering wheels, and were powered in a variety of ways, including gasoline, electricity, kerosene, and steam power. There were no windows or doors, and if there was a roof, typically it was the folding kind made of canvas or leather, as often seen on smaller carriages. By the early years of the twentieth century, automobile races became a favorite pastime of the Four Hundred. Reckless driving became a problem on Aquidneck Island, with both pedestrians and livestock in danger of being hit.

Harry Ainsley is a fictional character. However, the sport of boxing had only recently progressed from bare fists to the use of boxing gloves. As mentioned, gloves made it harder to judge the force of blows while making it possible to hit much harder, and it soon became apparent that the rules needed to be changed to protect participants from dangerous head injuries.

The European beech tree in the story does stand beside Kingscote’s driveway. Many of Bellevue Avenue’s properties play host to these beautiful trees. In 1899 they would have been considerably smaller than the one described in the story, but it was my intention to make the tree recognizable to visitors today, to pay a kind of tribute to what has become a beloved part of Newport’s greenery. What visitor, young or old, doesn’t delight in walking through the curtain of trailing branches into the cool darkness inside, and feel a childlike sense of magic beneath those soaring, cathedral-like ceilings? Now over a hundred years old, many of the old European—or weeping—beeches have reached or are nearing the end of their lifespan, making it necessary to take them down. Each loss is a reason to grieve. It’s hard to imagine Newport without them.

Once again, I’ve brought the Manuel Brothers Moving Company into the story. Although I’ve taken liberties with the timeline, the company existed, having been founded by my husband’s great grandfather, Edwin, and his brother, Arthur. Besides transporting personal property, they also moved sets and costumes in and out of the Newport Opera House, as depicted in Murder at Kingscote. In the 1920s, as fortunes dwindled and the mansions began to be torn down, the Manuel Brothers diversified into demolition and reclamation, taking the mansions down and reclaiming woodwork and other materials that they then used in the construction of new homes, some of which can be seen today on the Point, just to the north of the Newport Bridge.