Gladys Deacon: a Northamptonshire witch? Or the most beautiful woman in the world?

By Laura Malpas

Gladys and her Blenheim spaniels

Born in 1881 to French-American aristocrats living in Paris, Gladys was an extraordinarily beautiful woman who led an equally extraordinary life. Most of her first years saw her enjoying the highest of society, but in her last forty-four years she retreated to rural Northamptonshire, where her life could hardly have been more different. Her life was filled with drama, passion and tragedy, but remains a fascinating tale nonetheless.

Gladys (pronounced ‘Glaydis’) was the oldest of five children born to Edward and Florence Deacon. Florence was a society beauty who enjoyed indulging her taste for the finer things including cultured male company. Her husband Edward was jealous and irritated by her frivolous lifestyle and was physically abusive to Florence and his children. When he found Florence shedding tears after the death of their fourth child and only son, he beat her viciously. Edward’s mental health declined, and despite inheriting wealth from his father, the couple struggled.

Like many in their social circle, Florence flirted socially, infuriating her husband. She eventually took a lover, and her husband caught them together, while her lover hid behind the sofa adjusting his trousers. Edward shot and killed him but was sentenced to only one year’s imprisonment. On his release he filed for divorce and sued his wife for criminal infidelity and returned to the United States with Gladys and two of her sisters. Edward died in 1901 and the girls returned to Europe to live with their mother with a large inheritance which would provide a comfortable income for the rest of their lives.

Even as a girl, Gladys’s intelligence and ambition made her a thoughtful observer of society. She captivated many of the Parisian intelligentsia and Auguste Rodin and Marcel Proust were both obsessed with her. Aged fourteen she noted that many American heiresses were proving appealing as marriage material to the British aristocracy. She wrote to her mother that Consuelo Vanderbilt had made a magnificent marriage with the Duke of Marlborough, becoming a Duchess and mistress of Blenheim Palace. Gladys wrote of her dismay that she was too young to ‘catch him yet’ but noted that she was already ‘mature in the ways of women’s witchcraft’.

Her tutors were impressed with her academic abilities. Languages came easily to her, and she loved mathematics impressing her tutor. She developed a lifelong love of art, literature and poetry, and her confident social skills and beauty drew widespread attention and admiration. Aged eighteen she was first sketched by Italian artist Giovanni Boldini, and her launch into Paris society of the Belle Époque was confirmed.

Since learning of their engagement, Gladys had always paid attention to news of the Marlboroughs. When she was around twenty years old, she met the Duke and Duchess, and their lives were never the same. Unhappy with one another, both Conseulo the Duchess, and Sunny the Duke were entranced by their new companion. 

The three developed a friendship, with Gladys as their social protégé. She was the subject of public admiration, courted and painted, inspiring works of literature and endless romantic speculation. But perhaps because of her childhood experiences Gladys rejected all proposals of marriage. At Blenheim whilst hosting the Crown Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, the young man fell head over heels, pledging his love with his Imperial ring. However, the Kaiser forbade a relationship. The crown prince was devastated, but Gladys was unconcerned. 

At twenty-two, Gladys was at the height of her beauty but began to compare her profile with that of the classical sculptures she had seen in museums all over Europe. This led her to seek cosmetic surgery to ‘correct’ the bridge of her nose by filling it with paraffin wax. This was not a success, infection followed and eventually the wax slipped down to form lumps in her chin. She was still a sought-after beauty, but her confidence was affected.

The relationship between the Marlboroughs was deteriorating. Tired of their marriage, Consuelo pushed Sunny and Gladys together. Now aged thirty, Gladys became Sunny’s mistress, installed in an apartment in Saville Row. However, it was ten long years before Consuelo was ready to divorce, and the early desires of fourteen-year-old Gladys were realised. In 1921 they married in Paris, and Gladys became the Duchess of Marlborough, and mistress of Blenheim Palace.

Gladys had never truly wanted to belong to just one person, and marriage to the Duke of Marlborough was difficult for her. Their life was happy enough whilst travelling together, but domestic life was increasingly tense for both. She said, ‘I married a house, not a man’. Motherhood might well have helped, but three miscarriages later, breeding her Blenheim spaniels provided her with some of the companionship she needed. The couple began to live separate lives, with the Duke mostly in London, or staying at the Bear in Woodstock rather than at Blenheim. He hated the smell of the dogs, and she found him irritating. On one occasion whilst dining with her guests, she placed a revolver next to her dinner plate saying, ‘I might just shoot Marlborough’.

By 1931 Sunny could no longer live with Gladys, and they both began proceedings to divorce. Sunny complained of eccentric behaviour and the twenty dogs living inside the Palace, soiling and destroying the antique textiles and flooring. Gladys complained of cruelty and unreasonable behaviour. By 1933 a bitter separation followed, leading to Gladys’s eviction from Blenheim, and a financial settlement. This was rapidly followed by the death of Sunny in 1934.

Grange Farm, Chacombe

Now fifty-three, Gladys retreated from society, and happily opted for a rural existence, eventually settling into Grange Farm, Chacombe in Northamptonshire where she was to live for the next 24 years. The farmhouse was pretty and comfortable, and she made it even more so, building a library and tending to the garden with her friend Mrs Grylls. She employed several of the villagers to help, but was considered very strict, but many felt affection for her and her eccentricities. She was uninterested in supporting the war effort, and was suspected of Nazi sympathies, but the reality was more prosaic. Hard physical work and several injuries were exhausting her, and she ended up neglecting everything, including herself and her beloved spaniels. Mentally she was sharp as ever, neat diary entries and thoughtful letters show her fully abreast of current affairs, but her external appearance, once so important to her, was ignored. She lost her teeth and let her hair get matted. Local lads teased and threw stones, calling her a witch. She chased them with a shotgun. Despite this Gladys now preferred the company of the Chacombe folks and her herd of aggressive geese to her society friends who still occasionally kept in touch.

In 1951 Gladys decided to engage the services of a young Polish man, Andrei Kwiatkowsky. It was an unconventional arrangement, but his care and utter loyalty preserved her way of life and safety for years. Occasionally friends visited and those that were let in became increasingly concerned at her circumstances. Andrei became her carer, but was never allowed to stay. Gladys remained sharp and aware, but she seemed unconcerned for her circumstances, relishing her freedom.

Now aged eighty-one, in 1962 her family took action, ashamed by what might be perceived as neglect. They decided that she was living in ‘practically inhuman circumstances’ and described her as a ‘public nuisance’. Their solution was to send her forcibly to St Andrew’s private psychiatric hospital in Northampton. It was a well-equipped and luxurious establishment with many facilities, and even a beauty salon. It was to be Gladys’s last home, but she repeatedly demanded to return to Chacombe and made several attempts to escape. Her ever-loyal Andrei continued to visit her to the end of her life, even though she blamed him for her incarceration.

The family assessed her estate, and discovered many astonishing treasures hidden in the squalor of Grange Farm. Jewels, art works and rare books were found, and her income was still heathy. Despite her family attempting to take her riches, Gladys wrote to the Lord Chancellor, who sent the Official Solicitor to see her. He declared that she still had capacity, and the family were unable to get their hands on her possessions.

Her last years were spent being well looked after, but her temper was always demanding. Her diaries show her alert intelligence remained until she died in her sleep aged ninety-six. She is buried in Chacombe churchyard. 

Her greatest gift was not her beauty, but her mental strength which supported her extraordinary journey from Paris to Northamptonshire. If you would like to learn more about Gladys Deacon, her biography ‘The Sphinx’ is well worth a read. The author Hugo Vickers befriended Gladys in the last two years of her life, when he was twenty-four. The book was rewritten and published in 2020.