The climb into society by an adventuress does not necessarily mean lasting wealth. Neither Harriette Wilson, who blackmailed the Lord Chancellor, Lord Brougham, nor Lola Montez, who relied on him for advice, were successful in retaining their money. But, then again, neither of them murdered their lovers.

Sophie Dawes, born on the Isle of Wight in 1790, the daughter of a smuggler, became a murderess and died a wealthy woman. By the time she was six, she and the rest of the family were placed in the Newport workhouse. At the age of 15, she married a local farmer and, after leaving him, became a prostitute in London.


Generally regarded as stunningly beautiful – some historians say she had arms and legs that could have served as models for Hercules – Ms Dawes took up with a military gent who taught her some manners and gave her £50 a year when they separated.


This money she used for her further education and, by 1809 had placed herself in a school in Chelsea. She then went to work in a brothel in Piccadilly, where the valet of the Duke of Bourbon, Louis Henri Joseph, saw and recommended her to his master, who won her in a card game.


By 1811, she could be found in some luxury in Gloucester Square in a house provided by the duke. After the fall of Napoleon, he took her to Paris where in 1818 he married her off to Baron Adrien Victor de Feuchères so that she could be presented at court. The duke settled a sum of 72,000 francs on them. In the marriage contract, she took three years off her age – describing herself as 25 – and claimed she was the daughter of a Richard Clark and the widow of a William Dawes.


Baron Feuchères seems to have been the quintessential cuckold of the time. He allowed his suspicions of his wife’s relationship with the duke to go into abeyance after being made party to the ‘true facts’ – that indeed she was the duke’s illegitimate daughter. This further deception continued until 1822 when he did finally learn the truth. A judicial separation followed five years later in 1827. In 1824, he had told Louis XVIII of the relation, as a result of which Sophie was banned from the court.


Now she began her intriguing. If the ban were lifted she would ensure her daughter became the heiress of the duke of Bourbon. This was turned down and instead she turned to the duke of Orléans, the future Louis Philippe. Despite the hostility between the Bourbons and the Orléans branches of the family, she brokered an arrangement under which Joseph became the godfather of Louis Philippe’s fourth son, the duke of Aumale.


On 30 August 1829, Ms Dawes coerced the ageing and infirm Joseph into signing a will that left to her estates and cash totalling around ten million francs, and the remainder of his estate to the duke of Aumale. The following year, Charles X readmitted her to the court without the necessity of severing her relationship with Joseph.


It was now she became the ‘Queen of Chantilly’, well respected for her amateur theatricals and a confidante and friend of the statesman Charles-Maurice Talleyrand, whose nephew, the Marquis of Chabannes, married her niece. With the revolution of 1830, Joseph, now aged 74, decided to flee both the new regime and his increasingly unwelcome domination by his mistress. He planned to go secretly to England where he would undoubtedly have changed his will. Sophie also made plans for a visit and in preparation drew a bill for 500,000 livres in London. In the event, neither left France.


On 27 August, the duke was found hanging from two cravats tied to the window of his bedroom at St Leu, near Paris. Quite how he would have managed this is not clear since, in his feeble state, he slept propped up with pillows at the edge of the bed.


His servants promptly accused Sophie of murder. She had at least one other lover and was also accused of the most improper behaviour, something she ‘audaciously denied’. Now she sought the help of Louis Philippe who prevented her arrest, and on 21 June 1831 the judges found there was no case for her to answer. Nor, the next year, did the duke’s family do any better in challenging the will in her favour. Meanwhile, she went to London and returned with her nephew James Dawes, who died suddenly, and in questionable circumstances, in Calais.


He had been an equerry at St Leu and had also come under suspicion over the death but had been able to provide a complete alibi. He and Sophie had been heard quarrelling and it is highly likely she poisoned her nephew to prevent him informing on her. Again her luck held and she was never charged.


Although she had the use of a wing at the Palais Bourbon and owned St Leu she was now under constant attack from legitimists and republicans alike, and she returned to London where she died in December 1840. She had been suffering from dropsy. Her earlier lies about her age, parentage and marital status now caused considerable problems over her will from which the lawyers for her family, Paris hospitals and a charitable institution for soldiers from the Vendée region benefited considerably. Before he did so, however, her sister’s lawyer had to sue for his fees.


James Morton is a former criminal law specialist solicitor and now a freelance journalist