From the tabloids to the drawing rooms of great estates, the rumours fly – of court-defying couture, royal rifts, three-day parties, tiaras, tantrums and those 5am emails. In the 365 days since her marriage, Meghan Markle has divided, but has she conquered, asks David Jenkins
It’s tricky, being Meghan Markle. Even when people are sticking up for you, they’re sticking the knife in you, too. Take Suzanne Moore in The Guardian. She wrote a piece knocking the tabloids for going on about the Duchess of Sussex’s habit of cradling her bump, which was decent of her. But, she added, Meghan was not allowed to feel protective of her baby because ‘her job is to breed in captivity’. That must have gone down well with the self-proclaimed feminist and activist – who, it’s true, abandoned her socially conscious online accounts once she got married.
But she’s damned if she does, and she’s damned if she doesn’t. Write stirring messages on bananas for sex workers, and the Daily Mail derides you. Get a Grenfell cookbook published, and there are whispers of disapproval from courtiers. Hang out with the Clooney/Beckham/Soho House set and be assailed for being too Hollywood, for forcing your hen-pecked husband to abandon his old, country-set muckers – including Tom ‘Skippy’ Inskip, the ultra-loyal, tight-lipped Harry pal, who, it’s said, advised Harry not to marry Meghan and has paid the price: banishment.
It’s been there from the beginning, that criticism. Very shortly after her engagement was announced, I had dinner with some old-fashioned grandees, one of whom has connections with Kensington Palace. Meghan came up in conversation. ‘She’s trouble,’ said one peer. ‘I’m not at all sure it’s a good thing.’ The KP-connectee sighed: yes, he said, that’s what a few people there felt. It’s always the way; courtiers are plus royaliste que le roi – more royalist than the king himself. Remember poor Fergie, aka Sarah, Duchess of York. When she married Prince Andrew, the Queen’s second son, she, like Meghan, was heralded as a breath of fresh air, a fun-filled redhead who’d blow the cobwebs off the monarchy. In the end, Lord Charteris of Amisfield, one-time Private Secretary to the Queen, declared, ‘She is vulgar, vulgar, vulgar, and that is that.’ Even The Independent wrote that Fergie had ‘exuberantly expensive bad taste, a voracious appetite for publicity and swallowed up large amounts of money.’
Meghan has seen nothing like that – even though staff at Kensington Palace are now calling her ‘Me-Gain’. And savvy – but well-informed and well-connected – outsiders feel she’s getting bad advice. And that that advice comes not from palace regulars, but from Meghan’s own connections. Connections who are blamed for Meghan’s apparent decision to let friends brief People magazine about her dire relations with her father, her hand in writing Harry’s speeches, her nail polish, her cooking and her trust in God. Eyebrows rose even higher during her luxurious New York trip and the ‘Marie Antoinette’ overtones of her baby shower, which included four Ladurée macaron towers costing $350 each. ‘She needs some pros,’ said an image-business source, ‘because the advice she’s been getting is crap.’ He paused, then added, ‘Which is odd. I’ve met her two or three times, and she’s quite a pro. She knows exactly what she wants. But she’s almost dealing with everything herself, and that’s dangerous.’
All this won’t go down well with her new husband. ‘Harry’s a proud man,’ said one insider, ‘and a sensitive man. He’d be very upset at the idea of people criticising his wife. He’s utterly besotted.’ This upset is, of course, reflected in the couple’s notorious Christmas card: black and white, their backs to the viewer, arms around each other, the sky alive with fireworks which you could, if you wished to, construe as shellfire. Was it meant to be arty, or cool, unlike the bland happy-families shot sent by William and Catherine? Was it a proclamation of us-against-the-world, as many ‘body language experts’ claimed? The photograph was taken on the couple’s wedding day, a day of unalloyed triumph, a day of radiance, a day of happiness, after what Prince Charles told one source was the ‘nightmare’ of the wedding preparations.
‘Utterly besotted’ is spot on. (Palace denizens, who used to favour Harry over the petulant William, now complain that it’s impossible ever to catch the Duke of Sussex’s eye; he’s always gazing, cow-eyed with devotion, at his wife.) And the besottedness was clearly immediate. Violet von Westenholz brought the couple together, and two dates later Harry whisked Meghan off to Botswana where, he said, ‘We camped out with each other under the stars, sharing a tent and all that stuff. It was fantastic.’ That was in August 2016; look at Harry looking at Meghan, and it’s clear that nothing’s changed.
Alas, nothing much has changed with the press, either. Come 8 November 2016, and Prince Harry’s Communications Secretary issued an extraordinary statement: ‘This past week,’ it said, ‘has seen a line crossed. His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment. Some of this has been very public – the smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racist undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments. Some of this has been hidden...’ It went on to talk of Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, having to struggle past photographers and the attempts of reporters and photographers to gain illegal entry to her home.
Unprecedented, that. But applauded, in most quarters – though the statement was released as the Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall were on an official tour of the Middle East; Clarence House can’t have been best pleased that its timing knocked their engagements into the back pages. Still, the brouhaha gave good reason for Meghan to consider whether her prince was worth the destruction of her privacy. It’s one thing to be an ambitious actress playing the PR game; quite another to be en route to a wedding with a worldwide audience of 1.9 billion.
But on the couple sailed. There was gossip – of course there was. That Prince Charles had met Meghan, been fascinated by her, but told a friend, ‘I just hope he doesn’t marry her’; that later, admiringly yet overwhelmedly, he compared her to ‘tungsten’, conjuring up that metal to describe her strength of character. That Harry could barely keep his hands off her at Skippy’s wedding in Jamaica in March 2017. All well and good. We loved it. But one Hollywood friend of mine shook his head and said, ‘She’s a piece of work,’ which, in LA terms, is not a compliment. Her website, The Tig (for Tignanello, an Italian wine), was scoured for insights: ‘running around a city and trying to get into clubs wearing headbands of the phallic persuasion’ on a hen night, she wrote, would not be ‘on brand’; another post read ‘everything tastes better with a little hot sauce.’ She was, it became clear, big on homeopathic medicine and holistic remedies. And, she told another blog, ‘I learned [on film sets] how happy people would be when I walked in with a tray of perfect crudités’ – a forerunner, perhaps, of the ice-cream and sorbet stand friends told People magazine she’d bought for her office at Kensington Palace: ‘I came by one day,’ the friend reported, and ‘they [the staff] were remarking how it was “the best day of work ever.”’ Love was in the air. Her ex-husband, very properly, kept his counsel. But...
Well, Gina Nelthorpe Cowne, a former agent of the duchess, noticed a difference in late 2016. She met her in 2014 when Meghan was enthusiastic about working with the Young World Conference, a youth summit that aimed to inspire 18- to 30-year-olds, and an enterprise that Nelthorpe Cowne was dealing with. She calls Meghan ‘a really warm and genuine person’ who is ‘ferociously intelligent’ and who was ‘interested in humanitarian and philanthropic causes – and in animal rights issues too, but her main focus was and I believe still is, women’s rights. She wanted to be recognised as a humanitarian.’
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The two worked closely together, and warmly, until September 2016 when ‘there was a big change. She did give me a difficult time.’ Meghan snapped at a young reporter: she complained about being asked to move seats in a first-class lounge to ‘make way for a group of male Colombian dignitaries.’ Nelthorpe Cowne got the feeling that, ‘it was as if this would be the last time anyone would ever ask her to move again.’ And that, roughly, was that: in October, Meghan wrote her ‘a lovely email, saying she was giving up her career and we had to terminate our contract.’ Remarkable to be so sure, just four months after she and Harry met. Not just made of tungsten, but possessed of a crystal ball as well.
Here on in, then, there are two eras. Love, love, love from the public – and the press – up to and including the wedding. Her half-sister, the nightmarish Samantha Markle was, and is, exactly that: a nightmare. Her father, Thomas, also didn’t cover himself in glory but... Why didn’t the palace take him in hand? Why wasn’t he showered with affection and inclusivity? What was, and is, going on? It’s strange not to have any member of your family at the wedding, bar Doria, your lovely and dignified mother – providing, by the by, an excellent PR opportunity for the Prince of Wales to conduct himself really, really well with Ms Ragland. (Speaking of awkward relatives: don’t forget that Kate Middleton still had her scapegrace Uncle Gary to her wedding.) It was clever, too, of the Archbishop of Canterbury to suggest the loquacious Bishop Michael Curry to give the address, and shrewd of Prince Charles to propose The Kingdom Choir for a rendition of ‘Stand By Me’. (Incidentally, the Archbishop met his Old Etonian chum, Matt Ridley, at Euston station the Wednesday before the wedding. How was he, asked Ridley. ‘I’ll be fine after Saturday,’ was the reply. ‘What’s happening on Saturday?’ asked Ridley, proving that not everyone was gripped by events.)
Ridley was among those at a lunch given that week by a national newspaper editor, at which the host shared his guesstimate about Meghan-Harry: after five years and two children, she’d take them to California to see their grandmother – and file for divorce. This wasn’t an uncommon topic. Great, obviously, to meet someone who adores you, but wouldn’t Meghan chafe? Fine to show up, as she did, in Roland Mouret to the concert for Sentebale, Harry’s HIV charity, and to sit near hedge funder Ian Wace; but how will a ‘ferociously intelligent’ woman pursue her more ‘controversial’ concerns? As simply a Suits star, she’d have been sure to diss Trump. As a royal, that’s verboten. Could she join the Women’s March? She’d want to, but anything plainly political is, again, out of the question for a royal. And Harry, for all his big-heartedness, is no intellectual.
She made a gesture of embracing Harry’s country side, but did it her way, going out on an aristo shoot in jeans and a jumper, toting a gun but not firing it – ‘didn’t care or try too hard,’ adds the source. ‘She also isn’t interested in being girlie/fluffy/having silly chats with the Sloanes. Separated herself a bit.’
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The ‘separated herself a bit’ comment is telling. Harry is now less in with his old Gloucestershire set than he used to be. Although Skippy was invited to the couple’s wedding, alongside many of Harry’s old friends he was edged out of the reception at Frogmore House in favour of big celebrities. Both Harry and Meghan attended the Daisy Jenks-Charlie van Straubenzee wedding, but they also – eyebrow-raisingly – went to the three-day-long launch of Soho House Amsterdam. (Meghan, of course, held her hen party at Soho Farmhouse, near the couple’s cottage in Great Tew.)
The Amsterdam bash took place the weekend one of their wedding guests, Sophie Carter, married Robert Snuggs in Norfolk. William and Kate were there, Sophie being one of Princess Charlotte’s godparents. I don’t know which party I’d have preferred, but Soho House was definitely ‘new Harry’ – fan of the stars and aromatherapy devotee. Fun had already been had with the mixing of Goop/yoga-oriented Meghan with shots’n’wellies Harry. The Mail on Sunday ran an April Fool piece, claiming that his stag weekend was to include yurts, yoga, laverbread smoothies and predawn Celtic chanting in a blue stone circle in the Brecon Beacons. And lo, it has come to pass, as we know from Harry’s enthusing to a crowd in Birkenhead about the benefits of yoga.
Kate probably does yoga, too. But that, it’s said, seems to be the limit of her and Meghan’s shared interests. Everyone ‘knows’ Kate was reduced to tears by Meghan’s brusqueness to her daughter, Charlotte. And everyone ‘knows’ that Harry upbraided William for what he felt was the Cambridges’ lukewarm embrace of Meghan. And everyone has their own views on whether the Cambridges did or did not have a prior engagement when Prince Charles invited them and the Sussexes to Scotland. And everyone’s got a mental image of the moment when Meghan will for the first time have to curtsey to Kate, when Kate becomes Queen, as protocol dictates. It’ll make having to wear nude stockings seem a breeze.
But Meghan’s glamour must be a hard pill for Kate to swallow, too. It’s not as though Kate and William were not in love when they married. But theirs had been a 10-year courtship, with ups, downs and even break-ups. So the remarkableness of Kate was... well, not entirely remarked on. She was, after all, a commoner, the first ever to marry a future King. (Edward VIII renounced the throne to marry the commoner and divorcee that Mrs Simpson was.) But Kate had learnt to play the royal game. Almost too well. She hasn’t put a foot wrong, but she has, in truth, played it safe. Not for Kate the likes of a £56,000 Ralph & Russo gown when she was photographed for Vogue; instead, she wore a £24 top from Petit Bateau. Not for her the expensive clothes that Meghan wears, perhaps paid for by Meghan, perhaps by the Prince of Wales. Which, indeed, leads one shrewd observer to ask, ‘Where’s the wonga going to come from when Charles is King? It’ll be William who’ll be handing out the Duchy money then. That’ll be interesting.’
It will. William wasn’t thrilled to be ticked off about his attitude towards Meghan. And Harry, some say, was not thrilled when William advised him against rushing into marriage. William’s a prickly character, and Harry’s hot-headed. And, as can be seen from his ‘what Meghan wants, Meghan gets’ outburst, he’ll fight his wife’s corner fiercely. Was the tiara at the centre of that tantrum already promised to Princess Eugenie for her wedding, as some believe? (Harry and Meghan, don’t forget, queue-barged their way into the first Windsor wedding of 2018.) And did the Queen veto Meghan’s plans for a sleeveless wedding dress? The rumours may be false, but not as false as the speculation Meghan was pregnant on her wedding day – ‘that’s why the dress was so baggy,’ one young woman assured me – and certainly not as false as the rumour that theirs is an IVF baby.
But it’s rumours like that, and the drip, drip, drip of stories about aides leaving Meghan’s employ and servants being upset by her manner, that are making their lives such a misery. The Prince of Wales’ enthusiasm for his daughter-in-law is being ignored, as is Meghan’s role as the catalyst for a new warmth between Harry and his father. People who’ve lunched with her have loved her; she’s beautiful; she’s clever; she’s made Harry happy. What’s not to like?
But are they happy as a couple? Harry’s circle has narrowed, and Meghan has shown how stung she’s been by letting her friends defend her in People magazine. George Clooney has stood up for her, invoking what happened to Diana, Princess of Wales as a warning. And it’s tough when her make-up chum, Daniel Martin, posts a picture of the tea she had laid out for him – avocado on toast, chocolates – and the line, ‘Thank you Meghan for being the consummate hostess this weekend and still being the #avocadotoastwhisperer’, and posh noses sniff; it’s just not on, they say – what sort of person is she having around? Meghan wants a doula; cue mockery. Even though Britain has ten times more interracial relationships than the rest of Europe, according to a study quoted by Afua Hirsch, author of Brit(ish): On Race, Identity and Belonging, some of the antipathy must be racist, as it was of the biracial President Obama. Which is hard to stomach. Some of it is anti-American, in the mocking Gwyneth Paltrow dynamic-5am-email sense. Some of it is captured in the Daily Express headline ‘Loving... but dominating’. Some of it reflects sadness at the passing of the Jack the Lad Harry, the roguish Harry, the roistering Harry, in favour of a more sober, duller version.
And some of it is... some of it is the fact that people love a good gossip. Love to hear that the Clooneys, sitting next to John and Lady Carolyn Warren at the wedding, were bickering in the choir stalls. Love to think that there are duchessly handbags at dawn. Not nice at all if you’re the subject of it. And not nice when you’re pregnant in a foreign land, and not at all sure that royal insiders are on your side. Yes, it’s tricky, being Meghan Markle.
This piece was originally published in the May 2019 issue.
