The Marriage Certificate (13 page)

It was comforting to know that a doctor lived nearby. Rose
hadn’t consulted a medical practitioner at all, not once. She hadn’t wanted any
more people than necessary to know and besides, a consultation with a doctor
was expensive. She and Louisa had compared notes and helped each other. Louisa
had a book, which had answered all of their questions concerning pregnancy.
They were aware of recent health advice on diet and ensured that they were
eating good food in sufficient quantity. They had also decided to follow the
latest medical recommendations regarding corseting. It was that of the Rational
Dress Society, which advocated wearing looser garments, more comfortable during
pregnancy and birth.

So began a relatively calm and restful period for Rose.
Breakfast and lunch were taken in Charlotte’s company, because George left
early for his office in Cowes. In the evening, he returned for dinner, during
which there was much discussion of the war in South Africa. Rose thought she
detected an element of frustration that he hadn’t been able to volunteer, but
age and seniority had ensured that such a course of action was not a practical
option for him.

George too, seemed unperturbed by her presence in the
household. She imagined that he and Charlotte must have had many friends and
acquaintances on the island and she wondered how they would react to her
staying with them. Charlotte later revealed that if anybody asked, they had
agreed with Florence that they would say Frank’s fiancé was staying and the
couple intended to marry upon his imminent return.

Rose’s stay at Brindle Lodge during
September was marked by three notable events.

Florence and Arthur visited Rose for the first time on the
Sunday afternoon, after her arrival. The initial meeting was a little awkward,
bearing in mind that they had only met her once before, at John and Louisa’s
wedding, but Charlotte fussed about with tea and sandwiches and tried to
lighten the atmosphere. There was no doubt that Florence worshipped Frank, and
Rose thought she detected a slight resentment towards her. Arthur though, was
entirely different. He took to Rose immediately. He seemed genuinely interested
in her and listened intently as Rose described her experiences as a draper at
the stores in London and Leyton.

‘I’m sure we could find some way to make use of Rose’s
talents at the hotel, don’t you think, dear?’ Arthur asked his wife.

‘Yes, I’ve no doubt we could, dear, if Rose feels up to it.’

‘Certainly, Mrs Williams. I would be only too pleased to
help in any way I can. I do so need to repay your kindness to me, although I
think I may need to wait until after the birth.’

‘Oh, don’t thank us,’ she said. ‘It’s Frank you need to be
grateful to. He’s asked us to assist you until he returns, which of course we
are happy to do.’

‘Have you heard from him in the last month?’ asked Rose.

‘Not directly,’ Florence replied, ‘but we have had news …’
She let the statement hang in mid-air.

‘Really?’ asked Rose, a little puzzled. ‘What sort of news?’

‘We had a visit from Charlie Mills. You know, his friend
from the island, who ended up in the same CIV company?’

‘Yes, Frank’s mentioned his name. What’s he doing back
here?’

‘Our Frank’s been a bit of hero,’ she said proudly, puffing
out her chest and returning her teacup and saucer to the table.

‘Gosh, what do you mean?’ asked Charlotte excitedly.

Florence had everyone’s attention as she explained: ‘Charlie
Mills was visiting his parents in Cowes last week. He was discharged from the
CIV, as a casualty. He was wounded at Diamond Hill; shot in the shoulder by a
Boer sharpshooter. Charlie came over to the hotel to thank us, the parents of
Frank, his
saviour
.’

‘Saviour!’ exclaimed Charlotte.

‘That’s how he referred to Frank. He said that Frank had
saved his life. Apparently, when Charlie was shot, he fell from his horse and
lay incapacitated in the open, vulnerable to sniper fire. Frank had been
unseated in the same attack, but lay shielded behind the corpse of his mount.
Spotting Charlie, Frank dashed out across the exposed ground, at considerable
risk to his own life, and dragged poor wounded Charlie back to the cover of his
dead horse. Then Frank maintained watch over him, until their comrades returned
and were able to summon medical assistance.’

‘Gosh, how very brave!’ said Charlotte.

Rose’s immediate feelings were mixed: admiration, yes, for
his bravery, but worry too that he had been in a dangerous situation and at
great risk. Florence, for her part, seemed unconcerned of any dangers to Frank.
She was so proud of him; her pride seemed to outweigh any misgivings she may
have had for his safety.

‘I wonder if he’ll be recognised for a medal, or mentioned
in despatches?’ asked Charlotte.

‘I doubt it,’ replied Arthur, trying to bring the atmosphere
back to reality. ‘It was a brave thing he did, but that’s all part of fighting.
No, you need to do something really outstanding, to get any form of gallantry
medal. I doubt we’ll hear any more of it, but it was decent of Charlie to come
over and thank us personally.’

The second event of import during this period was far more
serious in nature. Charlotte received a note from Florence during the afternoon
of 9 September. A Post Office messenger boy had delivered a telegram to the
hotel that morning. The telegram was from John. Louisa had given birth to a
baby boy the day before, but the birth had been prolonged and extremely
difficult. The aftermath had left her exhausted and in great discomfort.

This news was worrying. Louisa’s mother had developed
childbed fever two days after giving birth and she had passed away before the
end of the third day.

Florence had left immediately for Leyton, promising to write
to Charlotte by return with more details. Both Charlotte and Rose were greatly
perturbed. Rose considered going back to Leyton herself to support her friend,
but Charlotte sensibly talked her out of it.

‘You are in no state to travel now,’ Charlotte said. ‘Better
we wait for more news from Florence.’

Rose knew Charlotte was right. She felt increasingly tired
at times and often needed to lie down and rest. Undertaking the journey back to
Leyton would be folly and there was little help she could give, that Florence
was not capable of providing.

They worried and speculated for several days, until the post
brought a letter from Florence. The news was good. The midwife had been
invaluable; it was thanks to her that Louisa and the baby had survived. Louisa
was feeling better and coping with the baby, whom they had named Henry. Mrs
Jones, the housekeeper at Crockford’s, had returned to the shop, while Florence
remained at Apsley Street. John was there too.

Charlotte and Rose wondered whether Louisa had suffered
complications similar in nature to those that had brought about the death of
her mother, when Louisa was only eight years old. They knew that there was
nothing practical they could do to help. Leyton was too far away. They
discussed the routine and nature of Rose’s confinement and agreed that Rose
should change nothing. She was clearly following correct advice. Rose wrote a
brief note to Louisa, wishing her well and promising to write more fully in a
few days.

In the meantime, Charlotte persuaded Rose that they should
spend some time on turning one of the rooms into a nursery. The maid was given
the task of cleaning and dusting one of the small bedrooms. It was another
lovely room, close to Rose’s, with its own fireplace to keep it warm in winter.
There was an old wooden cot in the attic. Charlotte had it revarnished, while
Rose made some new curtains. Luckily, the large house had lots of blankets and
sheets stored away in cupboards and drawers. Some of these, Rose cut and sewed
to fit the cot. When they had finished, the nursery looked splendid.

Charlotte loved to organise and plan. She convinced Rose
that they ought to have in readiness an adequate supply of napkins and other
infant requisites, including gripe water. Rose was grateful for her kindness
and support.

Ten days later, Rose and Charlotte were relieved to hear
that Louisa was fine. John had gone off to sea again and she was looking after
Henry herself. Florence brought the news in person, enjoying her captive
audience, as they hung on to her every word. The only sad part was that
Louisa’s doctor had warned her that she might have problems in conceiving
again. He couldn’t be sure and hoped that it would not be the case.

The third event, which marked the passing of September for
Rose, was a letter from Frank. It had been forwarded from Leyton. He’d written
it at the beginning of the month. The CIV were encamped just outside Pretoria,
waiting with growing anticipation for the order from high command to send them
on their way to Cape Town and a ship to bring them home. He made no mention of
the incident with Charlie Mills. He hoped that she was on the island by now,
but hadn’t received confirmation, so he had sent the letter care of John and
Louisa to ensure she received it.

Rose reread the letter several times. His affection was still
there, perhaps more so. It was obvious he was looking forward to returning home
and getting married. He was extremely optimistic about getting a job in Cowes.
It was apparent that he hadn’t considered the possibility that Rose would be
anything other than delighted to live on the island, but for Rose, misgivings
persisted despite her attempts to suppress them. She constantly told herself
that she wouldn’t have long to wait, either for the baby or for Frank, and that
shortly after he returned, they would marry, and all would be well. She was
lucky. Things could be much worse. In the scale of things, sacrificing her
career would be a small price to pay. Why, only six months before, she was
contemplating life in the workhouse, as an impoverished and disgraced unmarried
mother.
Put any doubts out of your mind
, she reprimanded herself.
Be
positive. Frank will soon be home and we will be able to get on with our lives
as a family.

The CIV remained encamped
throughout September and were inspected by Lord Roberts on 2 October. He made a
speech and spoke in flattering tones of the strengths and successes of the
volunteer forces. During the build-up to the parade, Frank felt increasingly
unwell. He had been under-the-weather for a day or two, with a headache at
times and he had started to develop a cough. As his company formed up to troop
past the senior generals, Frank clenched his stomach muscles to combat the
increasing pain in his abdomen. He hoped he was suffering from nothing more
than a reaction to disagreeable camp food, but in his heart, he was also
increasingly worried that he was developing fever – enteric fever.

He’d witnessed the symptoms several times during the
previous months, as comrades had succumbed to the condition. Despite feeling
cold and shivery, he maintained his place in line. At one point midway through
the address, he thought he might pass out, but he managed to remain in the
saddle. However, after the ceremony ended, he slumped forward against the neck
of his pony and collapsed. He was put on a stretcher and sent for medical
examination.

A camp doctor confirmed Frank’s illness as likely to be
enteric and he was despatched, along with some other very sick soldiers, to the
military hospital at Bloemfontein. The journey took the best part of two days,
part of it by slow-moving bullock wagon. At the same time that Frank was
enduring his journey to hospital, his healthy comrades in the CIV were
embarking on trains to take them to Cape Town.

Frank arrived at the hospital on 4 October. He was delirious,
badly dehydrated, and very weak. His abdomen was painful and distended, caused
by putrefaction in his intestines. He was too sick to start the regime of four
pints of milk per day, the standard treatment of the time. They tried to give
him a drink containing arrowroot, but he was unable to keep it down. In the
early hours of the following morning, Frank died. Later that same day his
comrades boarded the
SS Assegai
and began their journey home.

Frank was buried before sunset, in the graveyard adjoining
the hospital. When his headstone was erected later, it gave the following
details.

Name: Williams, F

Rank: Corporal

Unit: City of London
Imperial Volunteers

Enteric, 5th October
1900 at Bloemfontein.

The young Post Office Telegram boy
dismounted his bicycle and leaned it against the railing outside The Cascade
View Hotel, on Marine Parade, Ventnor. He couldn’t have been much older than
fourteen. He looked very smart in his uniform, as he entered the main door and
proceeded to the desk in the hall. He rang a small bell and thirty seconds
later, a gentleman appeared from the dark interior of the hotel.

‘Telegram for Mr Arthur Williams,’ he declared, retrieving a
small brown envelope from his leather satchel.

‘That’s me,’ replied Arthur.

‘Would you be so good as to sign here, please sir?’ The boy
opened a page in his receipt book.

‘Yes, of course,’ mumbled Arthur, distracted as he
considered what news the telegram might contain.

‘Thank you, sir,’ replied the messenger, handing the brown
envelope to Arthur. ‘Good day to you, sir.’

‘Yes, good day,’ Arthur muttered to the departing boy.

Arthur sat down at the desk and turned over the envelope. He
hoped it wasn’t more bad news from John, concerning either Louisa or little
Henry. He slit the envelope at the top and then hesitantly started to slide out
the single sheet of paper it contained. He’d only revealed the top inch when he
paused. His heart missed a beat. It was stamped ‘On Her Majesty’s Service’ and
‘WO’, which Arthur knew meant it was from the War Office.

With shaking hands, he pulled out the telegram and read the
message upon it. He groaned in despair and put his head in his hands. The
message was brief and to the point.

To: Arthur Williams,
The Cascade View Hotel, Ventnor, IOW.

Date: 8 October 1900.

Regret to inform you,
your son 7159896 Cpl Frank Williams CIV died of Enteric at Bloemfontein OFS,
fifth October.

Arthur stumbled his way to the private rooms at the rear of
the hotel and broke the tragic news to Florence.

She let out an awful wail and collapsed in a chair, holding
the telegram before her, barely able to confirm the message through her tears.
She was inconsolable – Frank, her beloved Frank, gone. She’d lost him and he
would never return from that wretched war in South Africa.

Arthur it was, who later broke the news to Charlotte and
Rose. They were together in the parlour, cutting and arranging flowers. He was
guided through by Mrs Edwards and was barely able to maintain his composure,
when he faced them to deliver the dreadful news. He told them, before showing
them the telegram message to read for themselves. It was cold, brief and
contained only the bare facts, addressed to him being Frank’s next of kin.

Charlotte gasped in horror and then started to cry.

Rose remained quiet, stunned for a few moments. Then she
felt again that sensation she’d had in the shop all those months before. She
felt sick. Her pulse rate increased and a crackling noise started to build in
her ears. Her vision became unclear and finally, relief; she fainted.

When Rose regained consciousness shortly after, she found
herself lying on the floor. She had fallen heavily on her side. The others
gently lifted her to her feet. Mrs Edwards declared that Rose should have a
glass of water and be put to bed without delay. They helped her climb the
stairs to her room. Arthur waited in the sitting room downstairs, while Rose
was settled into bed.

Charlotte returned to see if Arthur would like a drink. She
started to weep once again and it was Arthur’s role to console and sympathise.
He found the maid and asked her to make some tea. As he returned to the sitting
room, he saw Mrs Edwards coming down the broad staircase. She took his arm and
ushered him into the room, so that she could address both he and Charlotte at
the same time.

‘How is Miss Ince?’ asked Charlotte.

‘I think she’s started,’ announced the housekeeper. ‘I think
the fall and the awful news have given her a terrible shock and I do believe
the baby may be on the way.’

‘Oh my goodness! Should we call Dr Kendall immediately?’
cried Charlotte.

‘No, I don’t think that will be necessary, not just yet. She
can’t be more than a week or so from her time anyway. I’ll go and sit with her
for a while and keep an eye on her, if that’s agreeable to you, madam?’

‘Yes, of course, and if in the meantime there are any
complications you will call me straightaway, won’t you? I’ll join you shortly.’

‘Of course, madam.’

Arthur decided that perhaps he ought to take his leave. He
needed to get back to the hotel to look after Florence and he would have to let
John and Louisa know too. Charlotte showed him tearfully to the door. He went
out into the street, pondering the bad fortune that had befallen his family and
wondering whether he should tell Florence that Rose’s baby might be on the way.

When he arrived home from the
office, Charlotte gave George the painful news of Frank’s death. He was
terribly upset and retired to his study with a glass and a brandy bottle.

Meanwhile upstairs, Rose was in the early stage of labour.
Her hip was bruised from her fall, but she appeared to have no other external
injuries. Mrs Edwards was reasonably confident that she had no internal
injuries either, but only the next few hours would tell. As the evening drew on
and the candles were lit in the bedroom, Mrs Edwards gave orders to the maid to
fetch clean linen and towels and to keep a supply of hot water in readiness.
She was prepared for a long night; this was, after all, Rose’s first child.

Rose groaned and grimaced with the pain, which came in
waves. Charlotte sat in a chair beside the bed and mopped her brow. As she
comforted her, Charlotte realised that Rose hadn’t spoken of Frank’s death,
since collapsing in the kitchen. She could only surmise that she wanted to
block it out for the moment, while her mind and body were focused on the
imminent birth of her baby.

Rose, however, although not voicing her thoughts, was deeply
tormented. She was inwardly terrified. She had lost Frank and now she was going
to have his baby, with no hope of marriage or of a father for her child. It
would be a bastard child. The shame; the disgrace; whatever would she do? Why
had she been robbed of the father to her child? Why was life so cruel?

A very strong contraction brought her back to the present.
Mrs Edwards examined her and confirmed that the baby’s head was visible. Rose
gripped Charlotte’s hand tightly. Mrs Edwards kept her surprise to herself that
Rose’s labour was progressing more quickly than anticipated. A short while
later, after Rose had summoned all her strength for a final push, a baby
arrived into the world. Happily, it started to cry and Mrs Edwards placed the
child in Rose’s arms. It was a healthy little girl.

Rose looked beyond the child to Mrs Edwards, who met her
eyes and nodded knowingly. ‘You’ve another one in there, my dear. Come on, you
can do it,’ she pronounced encouragingly. ‘I don’t think we’ll have to wait too
long.’

Charlotte wrapped a sheet around the newborn child, put her
in the cot, and gave Rose a sip of water. Twenty-five minutes later, a second child
was presented to Rose, this time a healthy little boy. Both babies were small,
but that was to be expected. Rose was exhausted. She tried to feed them, but
fell asleep, so Charlotte and Mrs Edwards each cradled a newborn and fed them
with watered down cows’ milk, from a small spoon.

The twins were placed ‘top and tail’ in the cot in the new
nursery, where they drifted into a contented doze. Charlotte went downstairs to
find George and gave him the news. He looked sad, slumped in his armchair, but
managed a smile and gave Charlotte a hug, when he heard that not one, but two
healthy newborns were now in the room upstairs. It was good to hear and somehow
tempered the bad news of just a few hours before. 

Rose did not take easily to
motherhood. Although relieved to have two strong babies, she struggled to feed
them adequately and Dr Kendall was called upon.

‘Assistance from a wet nurse is the only option,’ he
declared. ‘I know of a suitable woman. Sadly, she has recently lost a baby. I
am sure she can provide enough milk to make up any shortfall in that provided
by mother. I’ll arrange for her to call three times a day, until the children
are weaned.’

The wet nurse duly called and Rose was relieved to find that
she only needed to feed the children herself, if they woke during the night.
Charlotte helped with napkin changing and later as the twins began to consume
solids, she helped with feeding too. Charlotte took to the role of ‘motherhood’
with a natural ease, unlike Rose, and displayed great affection towards the two
infants. It made it easier for Rose and she was very grateful.

Charlotte also accompanied Rose to the local register office
in order to register the births. Rose named the babies Edith and Harold. Edith
was her mother’s name. Harold was simply a name that she liked. The registrar
raised his eyebrows when no name was provided for the father.

Rose had wanted to register Frank as the father, but the
registrar took delight in explaining that it was not allowed. She and Frank
were not married; nor was he present to give his consent and in such
circumstances the law precluded entering a father’s name on the certificates.
In the eyes of the law, the twins were illegitimate.

Rose and her babies continued to
reside at Brindle Lodge. Money was a source of worry to her. She did not feel
comfortable living off the generosity of Frank’s parents. They continued their
arrangement with Charlotte and George, but Rose wanted a long-term solution.
She still had the greater part of her savings and John had assured her that
when Frank’s estate was settled he would pass on everything left to him in
Frank’s will.

Rose could not get the feeling of resentment out of her
mind: resentment that Frank was dead and that she was now responsible for two
hungry mouths. Since Frank had declared his love for her, it was a
responsibility she had not truly envisaged she would have to face alone.
Although she had worried for Frank’s safety in South Africa, she mostly assumed
that he would return in one piece. She was weighed down with her difficulty in
taking to motherhood and the dashing of her ambitions.

When the children were nearly four months old, Queen
Victoria died at Osborne House. For a few days, the island was the centre of
world interest, before the Queen’s body was taken ceremoniously across the
Solent and on to London. Her state funeral took place in February 1901. To the
nation, it seemed like the end of an era and mourning lasted three months. Rose
wore black in public. Black and purple banners were hung from shop windows and
business premises, as a mark of respect.

The Queen’s death provided an unexpected opportunity for
Rose. The Cascade View Hotel wanted to mark the Queen’s passing, by festooning
mourning banners from the windows on the front façade. Still grieving for
Frank, Florence found the whole experience too much and asked Rose for
assistance. Rose was glad to help.

Florence gave her some money to go to Marshall’s, the best
draper in Ventnor. There, she purchased material, before making the banners at
Brindle Lodge. Charlotte kindly created a sewing room for her in the attic. She
worked late into the evening, with Charlotte happy to attend to the twins. The
following day, Rose oversaw the hanging of the banners on the front of The
Cascade View Hotel, much to the admiration of Arthur and Florence and their
guests.

Several other hotel proprietors, impressed by Rose’s
handiwork and anxious to show appropriate respect, contacted Florence with
similar requests. She passed on their names to Rose, requesting she contact
them. Before she knew it, Rose had taken half a dozen orders. This time she
charged for her labour, and with Charlotte’s blessing, she made all of the
banners at Brindle Lodge, before fitting them as required at her clients’
establishments.

The opportunity was important for Rose for a number of
reasons. Primarily, it proved to her, that work of a bespoke nature might
provide a means for her to earn an independent living and to pay her way in the
world. If the work expanded, then perhaps it would open the door to her long
held ambition of becoming the owner of a draper’s shop or related business.

Her frequent trips to Marshall’s, owned by the Marshall
family, also brought her into contact with Charles Marshall, a most eligible
man, she guessed no more than two years older than herself. Whenever she
entered the shop, he dropped whatever he was doing to make himself available to
assist her at the counter. He was extremely charming, and Rose knew that she
had made a good impression, so good in fact, that he agreed to reduce the
prices she paid for her material, the reason being of course that she was, ‘in
the trade’.

He proved to be a very good contact. Wealthy customers
looking at materials for refurbishing their houses were sometimes at a loss to
find someone with the skills and experience to make and fit new drapes and
curtains. Charles started to pass on the name of Miss Ince. It was a useful
arrangement for both of them. Rose obtained valuable work and Charles supplied
the fabrics.

Rose made sure that she never met with clients at Brindle
Lodge. She always went out to see them and this ensured that none had any idea
that she was an unmarried mother.

Ten months after their birth, Edith
and Harold were baptised quietly in a very private and discreet ceremony, restricted
to immediate family. Rose chose to wait ten months, mainly out of respect to
Florence and Arthur, who wished to observe a lengthy period of mourning after
the loss of Frank. It also allowed sufficient time to elapse after the death of
Queen Victoria.

John and Louisa came to the church at Ventnor, bringing
little Henry with them for the first time. Fortunately, the baptism coincided
with John’s shore leave. Henry had been christened a fortnight earlier at
Leyton, with John’s shipmate and friend, George Corbett, and his wife, acting
as godparents. As for godparents of the twins, John and Louisa agreed to be
godparents to Harold. George and Charlotte were thrilled and honoured to be
godparents to Edith.