While their marriage had now been reduced to a mutual concern for each other's health, she and Randolph still decided to embark on a world tour together, taking with them a leadlined coffin in case he died en route. He was so ill that Jennie was pinning her hopes on marrying the highly eligible Count Kinsky as soon as she was free. In Rangoon, however, her hopes were dashed. There, Jennie received a telegram announcing the Count's engagement to another woman.
Randolph made it home to England but died aged 44, in January 1895, and was buried at Blenheim.
And her end?
The end came out of the blue. One day, while visiting a friend in Somerset, Jennie, who was wearing some shoes she had just bought in Rome, slipped on the oak staircase. A bad fracture ended in gangrene and amputation of a leg, and a couple of months later she suffered a fatal haemorrhage.
'I do not feel a sense of tragedy but only loss,' wrote Winston loyally. 'Her life was a full one. The wind was in her veins.'
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