Coco Chanel_ An Intimate Life - Lisa Chaney [80]
Léon told Gabrielle all that he knew. It had been late last evening, on the road between Saint-Raphaël and Cannes, when Arthur and Mansfield had almost reached their destination. Léon said that Arthur must have been very tired.
As he spoke, Gabrielle’s face was tortured, but she did not cry; only sat there, utterly still.
After a few minutes, still without a word, she walked back up the stairs. Returning, she had dressed and now carried an overnight bag. No, she would not wait; she wanted Léon to take her south, immediately. As they set off in his car, the dawn light was spreading over Paris.
Gabrielle refused Léon’s pleas with her to rest on the arduous journey south, and they reached Cannes the following evening.
Although it was late, Léon went from hotel to hotel asking if Lady Michelham, Arthur’s sister, was staying there with them. He made some calls. At last, he found her. Bertha was distraught. Gabrielle’s bid to see Arthur before he was buried made her refuse rest on the journey, but her wish was not to be granted. Apparently, Arthur had been so badly burned that the coffin had already been sealed.
Bertha insisted that the travelers must stay in her suite of rooms. They did, but Gabrielle refused a bedroom, sitting up on a chaise for the remainder of that night. The next day, she would not accompany Bertha and Léon to the first office in Arthur’s honor, at which he was given military honors, nearby at Fréjus cathedral. Instead, Gabrielle requested that Bertha’s chauffeur take her to the place where Arthur had died.
This man later told Bertha that at the spot where the captain’s car still lay, burned out like a blackened skeleton on the edge of the road, he stood back. He watched as Gabrielle walked around the car, touching it as if she were blind. Then she sat down on a milestone beside it. And at last, the heartbroken woman bent her head and sobbed. When Arthur had married, Gabrielle had “lost” him. Yet while he was alive there had always been hope, and he had returned. Each time he left her, there was the possibility he would come back. This time, there was none. To the chauffeur, standing discreetly at a distance, it seemed as if Gabrielle wept for hours.
On December 28, 1919, Le Gaulois reported that “the body of Captain Arthur Capel, Knight of the Légion d’Honneur, Mons Star, killed in a car accident, arrived yesterday morning [in Paris] and was laid in S.-Honoré d’Eylau, in the church’s vaults.” On January 2, the newspaper announced that “the funeral of Captain Arthur Capel, Companion British Empire . . . will take place tomorrow, Saturday 3 January at midday.”
A good portion of Parisian society congregated in the church filled to capacity that day.24 So, too, did a large English contingent, led by the British ambassador, Lord Derby, as well as a deputation of Arthur’s fellow British officers. Diana’s sisters and husbands were present, but Diana herself, and Arthur’s mistress, Gabrielle Chanel, were both absent. Afterward, Arthur was laid to rest in the cemetery of Montmartre, where a large tomb was later raised. In keeping with the ultimate elusiveness of this extraordinary man, it was marked with neither name, date, nor epitaph. It reads simply:
FAMILLE CAPEL
In letters of condolence to Diana, friends described Arthur’s importance to them, and how much he was loved.25 One of Diana’s sisters talked of his “pilgrim’s soul,” saying that “he never seemed to be very securely anchored” to this world. “His country was unexplored, don’t you agree?” One friend wrote: “He was such