The problem with being involved in an Abdication is that anyone can and will say anything. Every possible rumour and innuendo was attached to the Duchess of Windsor by the press — even that she was a man. Conspiracy theory biographers such as Charles Higham had a field day — endless lovers, special ways learnt in Shanghai, the infamous Chinese dossier that clearly never existed, to name just a few. Some of these were encouraged by the Royal Family; the Queen Mother blamed her (unfairly) for causing the Abdication and thus hastening the death of the King. Princess Margaret took that line, while Elizabeth II did her best to keep on gentle good terms with her ‘silly uncle’ (as she sometimes called him).
The biggest misconception is that Simpson was ‘the woman who stole the King’. On the contrary, there is extensive evidence that the Duke of Windsor was unhappy with his lot in early life — see his letters to Freda Dudley Ward. He wanted to go. He did not want to be King. Surely he must have realised that the various Governments, not to mention the British public, would not accept Wallis Simpson as Queen? He would have denied it, as he would also have denied that he ever regretted his decision. By abdicating, he turned Simpson into the world’s most hated woman, something which greatly upset her. And he realised this — that he had let her down. He minded about her not being a Royal Highness and he minded about her not being accepted — or received — by his family.
I have been studying this story for more than 60 years and my conclusion is that Simpson enjoyed being the King’s friend (and I don’t mind what connotation is put on that word), but in no way did she want to become his wife, or to cause a major constitutional crisis. She held some sway over him, but due to threats on her life, she was sent to the South of France. Thus the King was on his own in his fort, and made the decision to abdicate, which she might possibly have prevented.
By abdicating, the Duke moved into the past tense. Many of the Royal Family wrote to him, pretty much saying goodbye. At one time, Queen Mary compared him to the men who gave their lives in the First World War, and told him she was askance that he was not prepared to make a lesser sacrifice. George VI became increasingly fed up with his brother’s demands. Queen Elizabeth took a Tammy Wynette role — standing by her man, taking a position if ever the Windsors threatened to encroach.
Villa Windsor, in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, was the main residence of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor from 1953 until the Duke's death in 1972. Simpson continued to live there until she died in 1986
I was brought up on the idea that Simpson was an awful woman. Then one day I saw a photograph of her going round the World Fair in New York in 1964. I was 12 years old then, but two thoughts struck me — first, why would a newspaper bother to print a photograph of this so-called harridan? And secondly, she looked elegant and smart — or ‘rather nice’, as I would have put it at that age. Soon afterwards, early in 1965, there were daily photographs of the Duchess coming in and out of the London Clinic, visiting the Duke as he recovered from his eye operation.
By then the emphasis on her story was changing. Aware that the Duke would die one day, the Royal Family needed to effect some kind of public reconciliation. In June 1967, the Windsors were lined up with Elizabeth II and Royal Family at Marlborough House for the unveiling of the memorial to Queen Mary, ironically the most obdurate member of the family in not receiving the Duchess. In May 1972, Elizabeth II visited the Duke in his house in Paris, when he was near death. There were photos of the Duchess with her and the Duke of Edinburgh and the Prince of Wales, but significantly not the Duke, on the steps of their house in the Bois de Boulogne. The Duke died 10 days later.
This photograph was taken in Tallahassee, Florida — to which they were frequent visitors from the 1940s through to the 1960s.
By this time, I was convinced that the Duchess had been dealt a bad hand in history. I was sent to see the Duke’s Private Secretary, John Utter, on the day before Elizabeth II’s visit (in connection with a reference article in Burke’s Guide to the Royal Family). On this occasion I expressed that sympathy, something which Johanna Schutz, their multi-lingual Swiss secretary, noted. To cut a long story short (but told in forensic detail in Behind Closed Doors), years later she enabled me to tell the story of what happened to the Duchess after the Duke died, and also to begin the process of re-assessing the Duchess — her role and her character.
After the Abdication, the Duchess had to look after a man who had once been fully occupied and now had nothing to do. For the next 35 years, she served him more delicious food in more beautiful surroundings than he had experienced in his early life. She did her stylish American best to keep him entertained. One of the crucial differences I discovered was that the world had adored the Duke, while those who worked for him had serious reservations, whereas the world hated Simpson, but those who knew her and worked for her held her in great respect.
The Duke and Duchess of Windsor were famous for their obsession with pugs.
At the time of the Duke’s death, Cecil Beaton, normally acerbic, wrote: ‘She is a good friend to all her friends. There is no malice in her. There is nothing dislikeable.’ He also wrote: ‘During these days of death, she has behaved with extreme dignity. She has by the simplicity of her silhouette made the rest of the Royal Family appear dowdier than ever…’ Here perhaps was her one mistake. Lady Diana Cooper said that if she had taken him on, she would have made him be a cowboy in Wyoming, but Wallis turned herself into the epitome of a royal Duchess, yet more elegant than the extremely elegant royal princesses we had in England — Princess Margaret, the Duchess of Gloucester, Princess Marina, the Duchess of Kent and Princess Alexandra. She created for the Duke a miniature court in exile — with coronets abounding, servants in royal livery etc. Maybe that is what he needed, but maybe not?
Her Swiss secretary said that when the Duchess went to the hairdresser, she came downstairs, and was it not marvellous that the Duke came down in the lift to see her into the car? And was it not also marvellous that when she came back, there he was to open the car door? I know what she meant, but it has an air of claustrophobia, the feeling that he followed her about like a spaniel. Schutz also said that when the Duchess travelled after the Duke’s death, they did not put her name on the list of ship’s passengers. Occasionally she came into the dining room and everyone immediately turned. I naturally said: ‘They recognised her.’ She said: ‘Some recognised her. Others didn’t. But they knew she was someone.’
She ran the house in Paris and the Mill in Gif-sur-Yvette to perfection. Monsieur Martin, who stayed with her at the house till the end, said: ‘Until the Duke died, she knew everything. After the Duke died, she knew nothing.’ Almost by radar, she would have known if someone broke a plate at the Mill, even if she was in Paris. After the Duke died, something snapped. She no longer had to perpetuate the myth of the greatest love story of the 20th century.
'I started my book already very much on her side, not to mention horrified by the fate that befell her in her widowhood'
I started my book already very much on her side, not to mention horrified by the fate that befell her in her widowhood at the hands of her sinister lawyer, Maître Suzanne Blum – all of which will soon hit the big screen as My Duchess with Joan Collins as the Duchess and Isabella Rossellini as the lawyer. Visiting her house over the years, I was impressed that her taste was more Elsie de Wolfe than chintzy Waldorf Astoria. As a hostess, she made sure that no one was left out. The food she served was delicious and inventive. Lady Cooper pointed out that she brought out the best in people. They sharpened up when she came into the room. She was quick witted. When it was suggested she should look up her old friends, she responded: ‘Look ‘em up? Dig ‘em up!’ Her taste in clothes was exceptional, and her jewellery stylish, though interestingly, the Cartier flamingo only became iconic after her death.
History has certainly treated her badly. I ended my research impressed by the quiet dignity with which she handled a tricky situation, by her care of a man she almost certainly had not wanted to marry, and by the respect in which she was held by those who knew her — in stark contrast to the cruel tabloid image created around her.
Hugo Vickers is the author of 'Behind Closed Doors: The Tragic untold story of Wallis Simpson', which was reissued on June 4, 2026.