The Marriage Certificate (25 page)

For some reason, the questions surrounding the children,
Edith, Harold and Henry seemed to top his imaginary list. If Henry was Louisa’s
son and he had died, then who was the child listed in the Williams’ household
on the 1911 Census – the son named Harry? What about the adults too? There were
mysteries there.

Peter was in a quandary and deliberated for a few moments.
He made a decision. He would concentrate initially on the young children, by
finding births for Rosetta’s twins and a death for Henry.

He searched the birth registers using the surname ‘Ince’ in
the last quarter of 1900. He soon located their births, both in Ventnor IOW. He
noted the reference details in readiness to order their birth certificates.

Next, he looked for the death of Henry, assuming that the
‘Henry’ in the telegram was Henry Williams, Louisa’s son. He tried the West Ham
registration district, where the John and Louisa lived. He looked at the third
quarter of 1902 and was very disappointed to draw a blank. How frustrating he
thought. Who was Henry? What was his relationship to Louisa?

He went over the information he had on Louisa. She was
married to John. Her father’s name was Thomas. She had a brother David and
there was an Uncle Frederick. There wasn’t anyone else. The Henry in question
had to be her son. Unless Henry had been involved in a fatal accident, he had
to have died from illness or disease. Peter recalled that Louisa had received
two postcards with references to Henry’s health in 1902. In June, Florence’s
card referred to, ‘…
if young Henry’s up to it…
’ and in July, Rose had
written in her card ‘
Hope Henry is better now
’. Surely, it was more
likely that young Henry had died through some form of illness.

Peter wondered what happened to sick children in 1902. He
resorted to the web. He ran a search engine query and examined the results. He
clicked on a link and came up with a possible answer. The London Hospital for
Sick Children had been founded in 1852, in Great Ormond Street. Leyton was only
a few miles away. Could Henry have been in the children’s hospital? He searched
the hospital’s historic admissions register, available online, with the name
Henry Williams. He found two matches.

He clicked on the first match. It gave details of the
admission of a child called Henry Williams, aged two years, with severe
diarrhoea on 12 June 1902. He was discharged after seven days with his
condition ‘relieved’. The second match also gave details of the admission of a
child called Henry Williams, aged two years, with ‘intussusception’ on 8th
October 1902. The result of his treatment said ‘Died’.

Peter sat back from his computer for a few moments, to take
in what he’d discovered. He looked up ‘intussusception’ and was disturbed to
find out that it was a condition whereby the bowel folds in on itself. He
needed to find a death certificate for this poor child to prove, for certain,
that it was Henry, the son of John and Louisa Williams.

Great Ormond Street fell within the registration district of
Holborn. It took him just a few minutes to find the death and note down the
reference. He then ordered two birth certificates for Rosetta’s twins and one
death certificate for Henry, paying the supplement for the express service.

Next, Peter turned his attention to the adults. He wanted to
establish any connections between George and Charlotte Morris, Rosetta or the
Williams family. He knew from the census that Rosetta was born in Paddington,
London, which made her an outsider when compared to the others. They had a
common factor, in that they were all born on the Isle of Wight. They may have
been friends or may have been related. Friendships were hard to prove in
genealogy, but that was not the case with family relationships.

An easy relationship to establish was that of first cousins.
Peter calculated that John Williams, Louisa’s husband, was born in 1869. Taking
a chance, he looked for a marriage of John’s parents on the Isle of Wight,
during the period 1864–1869. There was only one marriage, where the groom was
called ‘Arthur Williams’. He clicked to view the other names on the same page
of the marriage register.

Well done
, Peter said to himself. He had found the
correct marriage, because the name of one of the brides was Florence Morris.

Then he looked up Florence on the 1861 Census and found her
living as a young woman, with her parents and one older brother named George.
Names were often passed down within families. Peter had a strong feeling that
Florence’s brother George would be the father of George Morris born about 1864,
who married Charlotte. It took him just a few minutes, looking at the census
returns from 1871–1891 to prove that he was right. John and Frank Williams were
first cousins to George Morris. Florence was George Morris junior’s, aunt.

The other result of the trip to Unit 14 was that Peter had
the chance to learn more about Frank Williams. Previously, he had got nowhere,
looking for Frank after the wedding. However, Peter now had a clue, namely
South Africa, and that is where he decided to start his next search.

He studied the postcard from Frank, to John and Louisa and
remembered that the
RMS Kidwelly Castle
with John Williams on board had
sailed from London to Cape Town on 19 January 1900, only four days after the
wedding. Peter’s earlier research had shown that in 1900, the
Kidwelly
Castle
was under commission to the War Office to transport troops to South
Africa. Somehow, Frank had also got himself to South Africa. To be there on the
10 February, he also must have left Britain within a few days of the wedding,
even perhaps on the
Kidwelly Castle
. It may have been a coincidence, but
not impossible and furthermore, Peter thought, Frank had sent a postcard of
John’s ship. The most intriguing question though, was what was Frank Williams
doing in Cape Town? Was he a member of the British military forces? A few
minutes later, Peter had the answer, but sadly, it was from a website that
listed British casualties of the Boer War.

Name: Williams, F

Rank: Corporal

Unit: City of London
Imperial Volunteers

Died, Enteric, 5th
October 1900 at Bloemfontein

Peter quickly established that ‘enteric’ was now more
commonly known as typhoid. It was rife throughout the entire campaign; poor
sanitation, dirty water, flies and inadequate hygiene being the principal
causes. A commentator of the day noted ‘that enteric and dysentery killed by
the thousand, whereas enemy action killed by the score’.

Peter left his computer at that point and went downstairs to
join Felicity. He needed a break. The news of the deaths of young Henry and
Frank Williams revealed a sad story. He explained it all to Felicity as he
brought her up to date.

‘Yes it is sad,’ Felicity agreed. ‘But you’re making
progress, even if some of it does make uncomfortable reading. Finding the
postcards and telegram was a real coup.’

‘You don’t think I should give up then? Bearing in mind
Highborn Research is also on the case.’

‘No not at all … luck seems to be on your side at the
moment, and as you say, something made you buy that certificate in the first
place.’

‘Yes, spooky isn’t it? I’m sure I’m being drawn along. I
have to continue. The whole thing is becoming really fascinating. Who knows
where it will end? I’m determined to find out.’

Peter lay in bed, unable to sleep.
His mind was racing. He’d ordered Frank Williams’ death certificate, but as the
death occurred overseas, it could take three weeks to arrive from the General
Register Office. He was now regretting his decision not to pay extra for a
priority delivery. He was also waiting for a copy of Frank’s will. Having
identified the grant of probate to Frank’s brother, John Williams, Peter was
anxious to know the details. It would reveal whether or not Frank was married.
Wills also took about three weeks to arrive, unless a visit was made in person
to the Probate Registry in London. Unfortunately, Peter couldn’t spare the time
for that, so he would just have to be patient.

Never mind
, he thought.
The death certificate of
young Henry and the birth certificates of Rosetta’s twins should arrive
tomorrow in the post
.

Peter was looking forward to seeing what they revealed. Who
was the twin’s father? That was something he wanted to know.

The following morning, Peter was out in the garage when
Desmond, the postman, crunched his way up the shingle drive. Peter went out to
intercept him. Desmond personified the reliable, friendly village postman who
loved to chat and normally, Peter would have been delighted to catch up on
village news, but on this particular morning he recognised at least two of the
envelopes in Desmond’s hand. At the first opportunity, Peter managed to end the
conversation with Desmond, slightly prematurely perhaps, and relieving Desmond
of the post, walked briskly into the house to open the two letters from the
GRO.

The first contained the death certificate of Henry Williams.

It confirmed that poor little Henry was the son of John and
Louisa Williams and that he died of intussusception. The second envelope
contained the birth certificates of Edith and Harold Ince.

Peter’s eyes went straight to the entry for ‘Name and
surname of father’. The boxes were blank! That meant that the children were
illegitimate and confirmed that Rosetta Ince was an unmarried mother, a
situation, which at the time, would have attracted social disapproval. Peter
checked the dates of birth. They were the same and next to the date, the time
of birth was entered too, confirming that the children were twins. Edith was
the older by about twenty-five minutes.

Well, well, well,
Peter thought wryly. He’d suspected
from the start that Louisa had married in haste. Obviously, Rosetta too had
fallen pregnant, but for some reason, she did not marry the father.

Something occurred to Peter: supposing Frank was the father
of Rosetta’s children? Rosetta was acquainted with Frank Williams, certainly
from the wedding, if not before. Frank died in Bloemfontein, South Africa,
nearly nine months after the wedding. Rosetta could have become pregnant around
the time of the wedding in January 1900. The dates matched. She had twins, so
they could have been born a week or two early. Frank died on 5 October 1900 and
Rose’s children were born on the 8 October. Could there have been a connection?
It all fitted, but he knew it was supposition; he had no way of proving it, one
way or the other.

Peter also noticed that 8 October must have been a
significant day in the lives of the people he was researching, but for
different reasons. It was the day that John and Louisa lost their son Henry, whereas
for Rosetta Ince, it was the birthday of her twins Edith and Harry. Although
the events occurred two years apart, it seemed a strange coincidence.