On the twenty-fifth of June in the year 1921, Gladys Deacon became the Duchess of Marlborough. Gladys was forty years old to the duke’s fifty-two.
In the months leading up to the nuptials, Gladys was headline news, mostly thanks to her own efforts. If she was going to retire to the marriage pasture, the duchess-to-be wanted to go out with fanfare.
And so she reveled in her waning glory days. Gladys invited sculptors and painters to her home. She arranged salon after illustrious salon and made Proust sign a blood oath promising he’d visit Blenheim no less than once per season. The First World War put an end to the Belle époque but Gladys Deacon wanted to bid proper farewell to the Gilded Age.
Finally their June wedding arrived, twenty-seven years after Gladys first started pining for the duke. For the event, Sunny donned a gray, double-breasted suit with cutaway tails, a style that heralded a new trend in menswear.
Gladys wore a dress of old lace cut from a single piece, with a wreath of myrtle and orange blossom in her hair. Later in the day, she changed into a navy blue embroidered chemise.
Guests included Princess George of Greece, Gladys’s youngest sister Dorothy (sister Edith was absent), the Maharajah of Rapurthala, Princesse de Polignac, Princesse Murat, and Edith Wharton. Proust also attended, dressed in a snakeskin gown that hung to his ankles.
Despite promises made in blood, this would be the last time Gladys saw Proust, her companion and closest friend. Shortly after the duke and duchess wed, Proust fell ill. He died in 1922, never once able to visit her as Lady Marlborough, never able to save her from Blenheim, or from herself.
—J. Casper Augustine Seton,
The Missing Duchess: A Biography
They stood in the train station, staring at the departures board. London Marylebone 10:07.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Laurel asked as she clung to the strap of her honey leather tote. “It’s only a day trip but there’s a lot you can see in a day. Or are you going to rebuff my London offer a second time?”
“I’m going to rebuff,” Annie said, feeling woozy as a result of too much wine at the previous night’s dinner. “I’m pretty tired.”
Also, she didn’t want to go to London. Not in that way. Short. Brief. A passing-through while Laurel signed the papers, disposing of the Grange forever. In twenty-four hours they’d be on a plane to Virginia. But in Banbury, backhoes and bulldozers would start rolling in.
“Tomorrow?” Annie had balked earlier that morning, as Laurel stood in the bathroom doorway wearing only a towel. “We’re leaving tomorrow? Just like that, the negotiations are done?”
Nicola had given her advance warning, but it still felt like a fresh blow.
“Yep, all parties have come to an agreement,” Laurel said. “I was the last holdout and I finally caved. I’m practically giddy to be rid of that eyesore.”
Sure, Mom, Annie thought. Eyesore. That’s all it was.
How Laurel felt about the building was as obvious as if she’d written it down, or recorded it on tape. When her mother walked into Win’s room she clasped her stomach, then immediately dropped to her knees by the bed.
“Mom!” Annie shouted, unable to hide her surprise, despite knowing the story behind the room and the man who once lived in it.
Laurel was not the type for swooning, or vapors, or whatever it was that was happening. Annie had never seen her mom so weak.
“Are you okay?” she’d asked.
“Ha-ha! Yes!” Laurel jumped to her feet. She looked at Annie like she hadn’t remembered she was there. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I tripped. Clumsy me.”
The only clumsy thing was Laurel’s struggle to hide her reaction.
“Annie, I’m sorry this trip has been such a debacle,” Laurel said, at the train station, as the board flickered overhead. “I didn’t think it’d be like this.”
“It’s not a debacle but I’m kind of ticked we’re leaving. What about the ‘girl time’ you promised? All the touristy stuff? And now we’re going home? Tomorrow? What a waste of a trip.”
“Annie, we can’t stay indefinitely.”
“Why not? You’re retired. I’m unemployed as we all know. Seriously, we could hang around for another week. Two weeks! What do we have to get back for?”
“My riding students?” Laurel offered.
“They’re in good hands with Margaret,” Annie said. “You’ve already talked about transitioning more lessons to her anyway. Come on, we can extend the trip. At this point, the horses are just an excuse.”
“No,” she said. “They’re not. I promise we’ll do a big trip in the spring to make up for this. Wherever you want! Turkey? Greece? New Zealand? Bangkok?”
“Bangkok?”
“Yeah, you’re not really a Bangkok type.”
“Mom,” Annie said. “I want to be here. Taking this trip. Now.”
“Come with me to London, then! Or stay here and explore on your own. You have the rental car. Check out Blenheim Castle. The day is yours to do whatever you want!”