distress?”
“It did.”
“Did you complain to your husband at that time?”
“No, I thought I better not, in the hope conditions would improve.”
“Did they improve?”
“I’m afraid they did not.”
This note remains a great mystery, for it was never entered into evidence. It is possible it was a note from Mary Kirk Raffray, although, at the time, it seems unlikely that she and Ernest had begun their liaison.
Wallis then testified that she had received another letter, addressed to her but intended for her husband, a letter thanking Ernest in a warm, loving way for a gift of some roses. After this, she had sought counsel and hired detectives. Birkett then submitted a letter she had written afterward to her husband:
Dear Ernest:
I have just learned that while you have been away, instead of being on business, as you have led me to believe, you have been staying at the Hotel Bray with a lady. I am sure you realize this is conduct which I cannot possibly overlook and must insist you do not continue to live here with me. This only confirms the suspicions I have had for a long time. I am therefore instructing my solicitors to take proceedings for divorce.
With this letter, Wallis finished her time on the witness stand and quietly slipped back into her seat alongside Birkett and Frampton.
Birkett next called two employees who worked at the Hotel de Paris in Bray. Each testified that on July 28, 1936 they had served breakfast in bed to a man they identified as Ernest Simpson and a woman called Buttercup Kennedy—almost certainly Mary Kirk.
With this, the plaintiff’s case was over. No one questioned precisely how Wallis had managed to ascertain her need for a detective on the same day that Ernest would conveniently commit a public act of adultery. Hawke seemed suspicious. For several minutes, he said nothing. Finally, he began to question Birkett about the incident at the Hotel de Paris.
Without waiting for Hawke to finish his question, Birkett interrupted him by saying, “I assume that what your Lordship has in mind—”
But Hawke would not let him complete his sentence. “How do you know what is in my mind?” he asked angrily. “What is it that I have in mind, Mr. Birkett?”
“I think, with great deference,” replied Birkett gently, “that Your Lordship may have in mind what is known as ‘ordinary hotel evidence,’ where the name of the lady is not disclosed. I thought that might have been in Your Lordship’s mind.”
Hawke was silent for several moments. He eyed Wallis suspiciously, then declared, “That is what it must have been, Mr. Birkett. I am glad of your help.”
“The lady’s name,” Birkett said, “was mentioned in the petition, my Lord, so now I ask for a decree nisi with costs against the respondent.”
“Yes, costs against the respondent, I am afraid,” Hawke agreed with great hesitation. “I suppose I must in these unusual circumstances. So you may have it, with costs.”
“Decree nisi with costs?” asked Birkett.
“Yes,” Hawke replied, “I suppose so.” 14
With this, it was all over. Wallis crept out of the courtroom, but she paused long enough to speak to a reporter from United Press International, who had asked her if she was planning to return to America now. “I will never return to the United States,” Wallis said directly. “After all the nasty things said about me I could never show my face there again. I have never experienced anything like it in my life. I don’t know why they should talk about me that way I certainly am not that important.... The things that have been said about me are almost beyond belief. I have never seen or heard anything like it. I feel terribly hurt and humiliated.” 15
Ironically, on the same day, Win Spencer was divorced from his second wife, Miriam, in San Diego, California. She had charged him with desertion, drunkenness, cruelty, and physical violence in breaking up their furniture in his drunken rages. Some
Matt Christopher, Stephanie Peters