Woman Who Survived The Titanic Soon Had To Answer For Her Behavior The Night Of The Sinking

Today, there are some names that will forever be associated with the ill-fated maiden voyage of the Titanic: John Jacob Astor, Captain Edward John Smith, the “Unsinkable” Molly Brown. But it was renowned fashion designer Lady Duff-Gordon and her husband, Cosmo, who dominated headlines in the immediate aftermath of the disaster. 

As women and children piled into lifeboats — and men gallantly went down with the ship — the actions of some of the Titanic’s richest passengers were called into question. But what really happened in the early hours of April 15, 1912? And were the Duff-Gordons truly guilty of the accusations that were slung their way? 

Born in June 1863 in London, England, Lucy Christiana Sutherland, later Lady Duff-Gordon, had an eventful early life — although nothing could have prepared her for the drama she would later encounter. Tragically, her father died when she was just an infant, prompting her mother to cross the Atlantic and settle in the Canadian province of Ontario. 

Then in 1871 Lucy’s mother remarried, and she and her sister Elinor returned to Europe, this time moving to Jersey in the Channel Islands. A few years later, a ship in which the girls were traveling ran aground in the English Channel. And although both of them survived, it was perhaps an omen of what was to come.

After an unhappy marriage marred by a string of affairs, Lucy separated from her first husband, James Stuart Wallace, in 1890. But by that time she had a daughter, Esme, and needed to find a way to support them both. And so she turned to something that had been a passion for most of her life.

As it turned out, Lucy was a talented dressmaker with an eye for the latest fashions. And in 1893 she opened her own store, Maison Lucile, in London’s West End. Soon, she was designing clothing for the upper echelons of British society — not to mention catching the eye of one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors.

A sportsman descended from Scottish aristocracy, Cosmo Duff-Gordon had recently inherited the title of 5th Baronet of Halkin. And as such, the divorced Lucy wasn’t exactly considered a perfect match. But the pair defied convention and married in 1900. By that time, the career of the self-styled Madame Lucile was really taking off.

While her husband shied away from the spotlight, Lucy thrived in her new role as a high-society figure. Meanwhile, her business went from strength to strength. And in 1910 she opened a store in New York City, followed by another in Paris the following year. In fact, it was while working at her studio in the French capital that she received the telegram that would change her life. 

On April 7, 1912, Lucy was contacted by the managers of her American store. Apparently, her presence was urgently required to oversee the business back in New York. Keen to make the crossing as quickly as possible, she headed to the offices of the White Star Line to book passage across the Atlantic.

According to her memoir Discretions and Indiscretions, which was published in 1932, Lucy was apprehensive about the journey from the start. She wrote, “To this day I cannot explain my reluctance when the clerk at the White Star offices said, ‘The only berths we have are on the Titanic, which will be making her maiden voyage.’” 

At more than 880 feet long, the Titanic was the biggest ship in the world at the time — and the pride of the White Star Line. Inside, the vessel was equipped with every luxury imaginable, from a swimming pool and Turkish baths to opulent lounges and a Parisian-themed cafe. Meanwhile, newspapers touted it as unsinkable, thanks to a clever system of watertight compartments.

Surely, then, Lucy should have jumped at the chance to travel on the Titanic? After all, there were plenty of illustrious passengers already signed up for the maiden voyage, and the Duff-Gordons would certainly have been among friends. But despite the reassurances of her husband, she felt inexplicably nervous at the prospect of boarding the great liner.

Eventually, Sir Cosmo agreed to accompany his wife on the ill-fated Titanic. But unlike some of the celebrities traveling on the liner, the couple bought their tickets under an alias — probably hoping to escape the attention of the press. Unfortunately, though, they would soon find themselves under more scrutiny than ever before.

As Mr and Mrs Morgan, the Duff-Gordons boarded the Titanic, accompanied by Lucy’s friend and secretary Laura Francatelli, known as Franks. Was their choice of alias perhaps a dig at J.P. Morgan, then the owner of the White Star Line? According to high-society rumors, he had forsaken the maiden voyage in favor of an illicit encounter with his mistress in the south of France.

Whatever the inspiration behind their pseudonym, the Duff-Gordons would not remain anonymous for long. In fact, they would soon have been recognized by many people on board. Despite this, though, the couple seemed to enjoy the crossing at first, with Lucy particularly impressed by the standards on board the Titanic.

“Like everyone else I was entranced with the beauty of the liner,” wrote Lucy. “I had never dreamt of traveling in such luxury. I remember being childishly pleased at finding strawberries on my breakfast table. ‘Fancy strawberries in April and in mid-ocean,’ I said to my husband. ‘You would think you were at the Ritz.’”

Even Lucy’s stateroom, it seems, was a source of great comfort, despite her initial misgivings about the voyage. Equipped with an electric heater and decked out in pink curtains and cushions, it would have provided a cozy retreat amidst the often-chill Atlantic air. Meanwhile, Cosmo occupied a separate cabin on the other side of the hallway.

Were the Duff-Gordons in the middle of some argument that had left them unable to even share a room? Or was there another reason for this strange arrangement? More than a century later, the answer to this riddle remains unknown. But before long, there would be no shortage of rumors surrounding the apparently estranged couple.

For four days, the Titanic glided steadily towards New York, setting such a pace that some speculated a new record would be broken. And on the morning of April 14, there was nothing to indicate the trouble that lay ahead. According to reports, the sea was like glass, although the temperature plummeted as the day progressed.

“I have never felt so cold,” Lucy recalled telling her husband as they strolled the decks. “There must be icebergs about.” But apparently Cosmo dismissed her concerns. Still struggling against the chill, Lady Duff-Gordon retreated to her cabin with Francatelli, refusing to change out of her warm clothing for dinner. 

After a lively evening in the dining saloon, the small party retired. And while Lucy and Cosmo headed to their separate staterooms on the promenade deck, Francatelli returned to her own cabin on E Deck far below. But they had not been in bed for long before a terrible noise tore through the ship.

Alone in her stateroom, Lucy was woken by a strange rumbling sound and went to alert her husband of the situation. By this time, she recalled, there were several other people milling around the deck. But officers assured them that there was nothing to worry about, and the majority returned to bed.

Soon, though, it became clear that there was plenty to worry about indeed. Alerted by the sound of the ship’s engines stopping, Lucy roused Cosmo once more and pleaded with him to find out more about their situation. Reluctantly, he went — and returned with a grave face. At that, the Duff-Gordons dressed in their warmest clothes and headed out to meet their fate.

Even now, more than 100 years after the disaster, what happened next is a matter of some debate. What we do know is that the Titanic had hit an iceberg, tearing a great gash in its hull. And even though the liner could float with four of its compartments flooded, the water would soon breach six.

For those in the know, it became a certainty that the Titanic would sink. But for the passengers wandering the decks of the liner, it took a while for reality to set in. And even when Captain Smith gave the order to launch the lifeboats, many were reluctant to leave the ship and be cast out into the gloomy ocean.

According to Lucy’s memoir — and the testimony that she would give at the official inquiry — most of the lifeboats had already been dispatched by the time that she and her husband reached them. But just as she began to despair, she claimed, they spotted another, empty, vessel still suspended from the ship’s davits. 

Allegedly, the Duff-Gordons, along with Francatelli, were ushered into the remaining boat, along with two American passengers who were standing nearby. And despite the captain’s orders of “women and children first,” the vessel was put to sea with three male passengers and a crew of seven men on board.

Shockingly, that made for a total of 12 passengers in a boat that was built to carry 40. To make matters worse, the Titanic was woefully short on lifeboats. And out of the 2,240 people on board, only about 700 were able to escape the sinking ship. To this day, it remains one of the worst and most infamous maritime disasters in history.

Eventually, the Duff-Gordons’ lifeboat was picked up by the Carpathia, a Cunard Line vessel that had steamed through the night to reach the ailing Titanic. And on April 18, one day after their scheduled arrival, the surviving passengers sailed into New York. There, they were met by a huge crowd of onlookers waiting desperately for news of their loved ones.

But it wasn’t just friends and family who were waiting anxiously as the Carpathia made its way to shore. In New York, the world’s press had assembled, desperate for the latest take on a tragedy that had shocked the world. And in the days and weeks that followed, the lines between fact and fiction would become blurred.

As it emerged that many women and children from second and third class had perished — while 57 men from first class had been saved — the public turned against the survivors. In fact, even the men who had gone down with the ship were initially tarnished by media reports. And in early stories, both John Jacob Astor and Captain Smith were accused of unchivalrous behavior as the scene on board the Titanic had descended into chaos.

Today, of course, it is generally accepted that both men died heroic deaths. But what of the male passengers who somehow made it onto a lifeboat despite the fact that women and children were still on board? For many of them, their survival became a stigma that would dog them for the rest of their lives. 

Even the female survivors, it turned out, were not safe from the ire of tabloid journalism, known at the time as the “yellow press.” And Lucy would soon find this out first-hand. Within days of the sinking, you see, stories had begun to emerge of a so-called “Millionaire’s Boat” — an emergency vessel commandeered by some of the Titanic’s wealthiest passengers.

Before long, Lucy realized that the rumors concerned their own lifeboat — and that wasn’t the worst part. According to the stories making the rounds, the Duff-Gordons had begged the crewmen not to return to the shipwreck and search for survivors, afraid that their boat would be overwhelmed. In fact, people said, Cosmo had even bribed them with $5 a piece to ensure their compliance.

According to the Duff-Gordons, these claims were little more than fantasy, invented to titillate the readers of the yellow press. In both her memoirs and her official testimony, Lucy denied that she had ever told the crewmen not to return to the Titanic. And the alleged bribe, she said, was a goodwill gesture on Cosmo’s behalf, intended to help the crewmen get back on their feet after the disaster.

But the Duff-Gordons’ denials did little to stop the scandalous stories from spreading. And to make matters worse, a comment that Lucy made during the sinking had also made its way to the yellow press. Apparently, while watching the Titanic disappear, she had said to Francatelli, “There is your beautiful nightdress gone.”

In the light of such a tragic disaster, this comment must have seemed outrageously materialistic — and it did little to improve the Duff-Gordons’ standing in the public eye. And by the time that the couple arrived in London on board the Lusitania, they were met with placards and headlines decrying their behavior on the Titanic. 

On May 17, 1912, Cosmo took the stand at the official inquiry into the disaster, followed by Lucy three days later. In front of an audience of eager spectators, they refuted the claim that they had used bribery to prevent the crew from returning to the wreck. And eventually, the court agreed, exonerating them of any wrongdoing. 

For Lucy, that was largely the end of the ordeal. Her career flourished, and even today her garments can be seen in museums around the world. But sadly, Cosmo was never quite the same, his reputation forever sullied by the rumors of the yellow press. And three years after the sinking, the Duff-Gordons parted ways, never to reconcile.