The Marriage Certificate (11 page)

The troopers were given the order
to saddle up and prepare to move out. It was only four in the morning and their
blankets had been covered in frost when they awoke. They had received new
mounts the previous  evening: Argentine horses with a good reputation, but time
would tell whether they were suited to the rigours of the terrain and warfare.

It was now early May, and Frank had been in South Africa for
nearly three months. Frank, like the men around him, had changed. They were
becoming battle-hardened. They had seen comrades killed and wounded. Their
early enthusiastic optimism had faded somewhat, appreciating through
experience, that the Boer was a formidable foe and not one to be
underestimated. Some days, when ordered to march in pursuit of the enemy, they
remained in the saddle all day, often under almost continuous fire. They
foraged when they had the opportunity, supplementing their rations with local
game. During conditions of imminent engagement, the nightly routine also
included the chore of digging entrenchments, as protection against shelling.

For Frank’s company, that morning in May was a sad one. They
had buried two popular members the day before: a sergeant and a private. They
had been killed by shellfire during a skirmish with the enemy at Brandfort.
Although they had taken the town, any elation amongst Frank’s comrades ebbed
when the bodies were brought in for burial. The mood of the company was still
sombre.

They covered more than twenty-five miles before nightfall,
scouting ahead of the main infantry column, looking for enemy patrols. It was
hard-going for men and horses. This pattern of activity continued for several
days and the general assessment of the men was that the Argentine horses were
not up to the job.

They went into action at Zand River on 10 May and drove the
enemy from their positions. Frank’s conduct, under fire, was praised by one of
his officers and he was promoted to Corporal. There then followed two days of
calm, during which the horses were watered and grazed in the hope of improving
their condition. On Saturday, 12 May, they took part in the successful capture
of Kroonstad.

The following day, they rested. During the afternoon, seated
in the shade with his back against a rock, Frank wrote another letter to Rose.

13th May 1900

Dearest Rose

I am sending this letter c/o
John and Louisa as I am not sure whether you have been able to remain at the
shop. Perhaps you have left by now? If any of the staff has found out, I do
sincerely hope they treated you respectfully. I do so wish I could be with you,
to lend my support. We would be married without delay.

I hope you are well, my love,
and coping without me. I feel rather useless here and long to be there with
you. Still, I am told that if the campaign continues to go as favourably as it
has to date we shall be returning in September. We are making progress.

I have some good news. I have
been promoted to Corporal, which will enhance my career prospects when I get
back. I have been giving considerable thought to our future. I think it would
be best if you have the child on the Isle of Wight. No one there knows of you.
I don’t think it is fair on John and Louisa to overstay your welcome. Their
house is small and they will need the second bedroom for a nursery. John will
help you with travel arrangements. I think it best if you stay with my parents.

I have written to mother and
father and told them of your condition and my love for you, and of our
intention to marry as soon as I return. I think we should consider the island
our home. My family has contacts in Cowes and I am confident I will be able to
find a job. Cousin George has a senior position in one of the banks and I
believe he would help me find employment if necessary.

Before leaving for the Cape, I
made a will, leaving everything to John. I spoke with John on the voyage down
here. Should I not return, John knows that my fervent wish is that you should
receive the benefit of my estate. It’s not much, but at least you will have
some money to tide you over for a while. I have about forty-five pounds in my
savings and a few shares. I know my parents will help you too. Such talk is
melancholy, my love, and I refuse to dwell on that subject any longer, but I
needed to tell you.

On a lighter note, I have some
good friends here now and we intend to keep in touch when we return. We are
going to a concert this evening given by the band. Have I mentioned Charlie
Mills? He’s from the island too and we have several mutual acquaintances. He
shot a Secretary Bird the other day. It looks a bit like a cross between an
eagle and a stork and has feathers on its head, which resemble quill pens stuck
behind the ear. We cooked it over the fire and it was delicious, if a little
tough. There was enough for about eight of us to enjoy.

I am writing to you with my back
against a rock. We are encamped on a kopje giving us a view for some distance
over the veld. The veld, as the landscape here is called, is a brownish grassy
colour, broken by the most amazingly tall anthills and clumps of prickly pear
trees.

I will have to stop writing now.
I need to check the horses. The new ones we have are not standing up to the
conditions at all well. I am looking forward to your next letter. I hope it is
waiting for me when we return to the main camp.

Take care my love.

Your most affectionate,

Frank.

John Williams returned to his home
for two days’ leave in the middle of May. It was early in the morning as he
turned the key in the lock. He was delighted to find Louisa still in bed, just
as he had hoped. He was tired and hungry, but not too tired to enjoy the
delights of his homecoming with his new wife. Afterwards, Louisa went
downstairs and started to prepare breakfast. John shaved and dressed before
joining her at the table. He was so pleased to be home.

As they ate, Louisa brought him up to date with events and
gossip and of course, the topic most on her mind was Rose. She told John what
had happened a couple of Sundays before and that Rose was pregnant and
expecting the birth in October. As Louisa anticipated, John wasn’t entirely
surprised and agreed that they would let Rose stay with them until Frank’s
return.

Louisa explained that her father could not let Rose continue
working for him beyond the end of May when her condition would start to become
obvious to staff and customers. He had to protect the good name of Crockford’s.
He had agreed though, that if possible and if enough work was available, he
would employ Rose as a casual outworker so that she could at least try to make
a living, but he made no promises.

‘Has Rose heard from Frank?’

‘Yes, she’s had two letters from him. She showed me the
first. He wrote it during the voyage to Cape Town. He said he was missing her
terribly and had never before had such feelings for anyone. He’s hoping that
she will want to see him when he returns, but of course, he wrote his letter before
knowing her news. She replied immediately, explaining everything and is worried
that his feelings for her will change.’

‘I doubt that very much. When he spoke to me about what
happened while we were away on honeymoon, he seemed absolutely besotted with
Rose. I’m sure he’ll stand by her. It should all be fine, providing of course
that he doesn’t get himself wounded or killed. Things are tough down there you
know. It certainly isn’t a picnic.’

‘What if Frank’s return is delayed and it drags on past the
autumn? Do you think we should consider that possibility?’ asked Louisa.

‘I think we should. We need to be careful. I know you are
very fond of Rose, but this is a small house and we don’t want to start getting
in each other’s way. If she spends her confinement here and has the baby here,
then of course the locals may get to hear about it. That could have some
unwelcome repercussions for your father. It might be best to see how things go.
Don’t make any promises.’

‘What do you mean, don’t make any promises? You’re not here
most of the time anyway. I’ve already said she can stay,’ said Louisa starting
to get angry.

‘No, don’t misunderstand me. Of course, we’ll see her right.
I’m thinking aloud … I may have a solution: what if Rose were to have her baby
in Ventnor? Nobody there knows her and she could help my parents with the
hotel. They’re still refurbishing it and mother was telling Rose at the wedding
about her problem in finding a skilled seamstress for all of the curtaining and
drapes. That could be the answer. I know that Frank would be agreeable. He even
half suggested it himself, certainly that our parents would help out.’

Louisa considered this idea. It had its merits. ‘So how long
could she stay here, then?’

John thought for a few seconds. ‘Rose is due to leave the
shop by end of this month and she’ll come here, yes?’

‘That’s right, if all goes as expected,’ confirmed Louisa.

‘Right, so let’s give it until end of July and then review
how things are going. We might know by then when they intend bringing back the
CIV. Maybe she could stay until after your birth, but leave after that?’

‘That might be too late if she’s going to go to your
parents’ hotel,’ explained Louisa. ‘I’d like her to be here when I have the
baby, but from what I’ve been told, you generally don’t like too much gadding
about during the last few weeks of pregnancy, so a crossing to the Isle of
Wight in September might be too much. If she did leave before I’m due, father
said Mrs Jones from the shop could stay for a few days to help me, especially
if you can’t get leave.’

‘Well, let’s see how it goes and how we all get along under
one roof. If we know Frank’s coming back before September, then it won’t be a
problem. She can stay until he returns. If not, then we can consider sending
her over to the hotel.’

Frank’s life as a CIV trooper
continued to take him into potentially dangerous situations. He always fought
bravely when required and gave a good account of himself. However, since
learning that Rose was pregnant, his attitude to life had changed. He no longer
volunteered for extra duties without thought or care, especially if it meant
possible contact with an enemy patrol, or the likelihood of conflict. It wasn’t
that he was reluctant to fight or wished to avoid the enemy; it was more a case
of realising that he now had responsibilities and a reason to return to
England.

He calculated that his odds of coming through the campaign
unscathed were improved if he reduced the frequency of confrontation with the
enemy. This was not in any way cowardly, for when his company went into action,
Frank was there, leading his small group of men, with no less determination
than before. It was just that now, he avoided what he considered to be the more
frivolous of volunteer activities, such as laying in ambush at night, on the
off-chance that a couple of Boer scouts might fall victim to an improvised
trap. Such endeavours were not without occasional success and plenty of men
volunteered, as much to relieve boredom as anything else. The fact that Frank no
longer did so bore no reflection on his character or capability as a soldier.
His new attitude merely reflected his changed status. No longer the impatient
confident young buck, he was now a wiser more discerning man, with a beautiful
prospective wife and soon to be born child, waiting for him at the end of his
spell of duty in the Cape.

At night, beneath his blankets, he thought about Rose. He
longed to receive her next letter with perhaps a photograph. He wanted to know
how she was coping. The shame of pregnancy outside of marriage could not be
exaggerated. He was mindful of the taunts and jibes she might receive, after
all, unmarried mothers were under great pressure to give up their children for
adoption. There was no legal system of adoption and giving a child away was
usually the only option for an unmarried mother. Sometimes babies were given up
at birth and taken by the midwife to a childless couple. There were adoption
societies too, which brought together couples wishing to acquire a child and unmarried
mothers pressured to give one up, but money often changed hands and there was
no official paperwork.

Frank knew of instances where families made their own
private arrangements, with childless relatives taking on the infant of an
unmarried cousin or friend. Such arrangements made good sense because the child
stayed within the family. The grandparents were often able to remain in contact
and of course, a couple desperate for a child had their prayers answered.

 Frank even recalled advertisements he had seen in the
newspapers at home: ‘
Offered for Adoption. Three months old, baby girl, all
rights forfeited
.’ He shuddered at the thought.
No child of mine will be
given away or fostered
, he promised himself. He would write to his parents
and implore them that if anything happened to him, they would see that Rose and
her child – his child – were spared the indignity and cruelty of forced
separation.

John arrived back from Cape Town on
schedule in late June. He hugged and kissed Louisa when he came into the house,
commenting humorously on her increasing girth. It was mid-morning and Louisa
and Rose had been sewing dresses in the front parlour. Cuttings and remnants
were scattered all over the rug. After polite exchanges, Rose made herself
scarce and went up to her room, so that John and Louisa could talk in private.
John appreciated her diplomatic exit, but was disappointed not to be able to
enjoy the same welcome home he’d received on previous occasions. Obviously,
decorum decreed that he and Louisa maintain a respectable air in front of Rose.

While they were alone, John brought Louisa up to date with
events at the shipping company and other news. ‘Have you heard of the lying-in
hospital in Finsbury?’ he asked.

‘Yes, of course, the one near St Luke’s on City Road.’

‘That’s the one. Did you know that it was established to
assist, amongst others, wives of soldiers and sailors?’

‘I know that it’s some sort of training hospital for
midwives and doctors, but I didn’t know who its patients were. Why do you mention
it?’

‘Because, I’m a sailor and you’re my wife!’ John exclaimed
excitedly before quietening his tone. ‘I appreciate how anxious you are about
the birth …’ he took Louisa’s hand, ‘with what happened to your mother and baby
brother. George Corbett told me that I should get on to the office, because
they have contacts at the hospital and they can arrange for us to have a
midwife, to be present when you have the baby.’

‘But that means I will have to go into hospital … and I’m
sure I heard that they had some problems a few years ago, with infection and a
large number of cases of childbed fever. That’s what my mother caught.’

‘No, apparently that’s all been sorted out and you wouldn’t
have to go in, because they have some very experienced midwives who go out to
patients. You could still have the baby here at home.’

‘Really? Do you think so?’

‘Yes, that’s why I’m so pleased about it.’

‘It certainly would be reassuring to have a woman here, who
knew what she was doing, but would they come this far? It must be about five
miles away.’

‘George reckons they would. He says the company has special
influence at the hospital and a word or two in the right ear should be enough
to swing it. I’m going into the office tomorrow to get the ball rolling, if
you’re agreeable.’

‘Yes, of course, it sounds perfect and I know my father will
be greatly relieved too. He’s never got over losing mother and when I told him
I was expecting, I saw a moment of fear in his eyes, before he controlled
himself and offered his congratulations.’

‘Good, so that’s settled then.’

Later, as Louisa prepared luncheon, John enquired of Rose
how she was and how things were going. He could see that she also was now
noticeably pregnant, nearly as big as Louisa, in fact. He asked her how she was
coping.

 ‘I feel much better now,’ Rose said. ‘Louisa and I compare
notes on our conditions. I left the shop on the last Saturday in May. I didn’t
have many things to bring with me, because I‘d already brought most of my few
possessions over the week before. Mr Crockford called me into his office just
before I went. He gave me three months’ wages, which I think was most generous
of him. He said that I had been an excellent employee and was sorry to lose me.
He handed me a reference to that effect. The others were kind too, apart from
Mrs Robins on haberdashery. She was desperate to tell the rest of the staff the
real reason why I was going, but Mr Crockford had been adamant she was not to
do so and threatened her with instant dismissal if she breathed a word. At
least I didn’t leave under a cloud, as far as my other work colleagues were
concerned. Sidney even gave me a little present to remember him by.’

John chuckled. ‘Louisa said he was very taken with you.’

Rose smiled and continued. ‘The staff were told that I was
going back to the West End to take up a position in one of the prestigious
drapers there. They assume it’s a promotion, but fortunately no one asked me
too much about it.’

‘What if one of them finds out that you are staying here?’

‘If anyone discovers I’m here, I can say that the job wasn’t
as I’d been promised and that I’m helping Louisa for a while, but I really
don’t think that’ll happen. I shan’t be going into the town, so it’s unlikely
they’ll know at Crockford’s. Anyway, I’ve had another letter from Frank and he
says it would be best if I went to stay with your parents in Ventnor, until he
returns and we get married.’

‘When was the letter written?’

‘May 13, just after they took Kroonstad, I think. He said
the campaign was going well and according to camp gossip and speculation, they
will be coming home in September. He’s been promoted to Corporal. He’s decided
he doesn’t want to go back to his old job in London. He said that your family
has plenty of contacts on the island and he should be able to get a job in
Cowes.’

‘Really? He’s made up his mind not to go back, whatever.
That’s a shame, because I thought he had good prospects as a shipping agent.
Did he say anything about the conditions out there? I’ve heard that a lot of
men have gone down sick with enteric. The hospital at Bloemfontein is
apparently full of soldiers suffering with the fever.’

‘He hasn’t mentioned it. Is it really that serious?’

‘It can be. It depends how quickly they get onto it. If left
too long, you can get abominable complications. It can take months to get over
it.’

‘Let’s not talk of it. I’d rather not know too much about
subjects like that.’ Rose turned the conversation to other matters. ‘Don’t you
think Louisa’s looking well? I’d say confinement suits her.’

‘Yes she is. She’s looking more beautiful each time I come
back.’

‘When would you like me to leave?’ Rose asked bravely,
raising the matter with John. ‘Shall I stay until after Louisa has had the baby
or go to Ventnor before? Only, originally I thought I would prefer to stay here,
if you were agreeable, but I am getting rather big now and perhaps if I’m going
to travel, I ought to go before.’

‘Let’s think … Louisa’s expecting around 2nd September. I’ll
write to my parents about suggested arrangements for you. They’re probably quite
busy at the moment, with it being the start of the season, but they usually see
trade drop off towards the end of August, especially after the regatta ends. In
fact, that might be a good time to go. Louisa’s baby will nearly be here by
then. I’ve just been telling her that I’m going to arrange for her to have a
midwife from the lying-in hospital in Finsbury attend her. Mrs Jones from the
shop is on standby as well to help after the birth, so you wouldn’t want to be
here then anyway, would you?’

‘Oh no, not if she’s coming. I’ll need to be well away
before then. Mid to late August should be fine, if your parents are agreeable.’

‘I don’t think it will be a problem. You might need to keep
your head down at the hotel. I mean the circumstances are a little unfortunate,
but Frank is the apple of mother’s eye you know. She’ll probably put any
embarrassment aside, as you two intend to marry when he gets back. If you’re
discreet, there shouldn’t be any real harm done.’

‘What’s Ventnor like? I was reading the other day that it’s
now very fashionable, with a south-facing climate that’s ideal for those
wanting to improve their health … you know, clean air and salt-water bathing,
and the like.’

‘Quite right. It started out as a fishing village, but since
they built the railway connection from Cowes, it’s grown substantially. It’s
got lots of things for visitors … an esplanade, a pier with a bandstand, a
landing stage, and a lovely beach with those bathing machines, which they push
into the water so that the bathers can have some privacy.’

‘So, your parents’ hotel is quite busy then?’

‘Yes, they’re doing well. They’re quite near the small
waterfall known as The Cascade. It’s famous for the abundance of plants that
grow around it, plants more suited to warmer climes.’

‘It sounds lovely. Have you managed to book some leave?’
enquired Rose. ‘I know how important it is to Louisa to know that you will be
here for the birth.’

‘I’m supposed to have six weeks, starting from my next
return to London. That should be on 2 August. Do you realise that we’ve hardly
had a break since January? Just a couple of days at each end and then back to
sea again. There is always the chance that leave will be cancelled. Let’s hope
nothing untoward happens in the Cape … in fact, thinking about it, I might even
be able to go over to Ventnor with you. I haven’t seen mother and father since
the wedding and I can help you with the luggage.’

‘That’s very kind. I would appreciate some assistance, but
only if you think you can leave Louisa.’

‘Oh, I think she’ll be able to manage for one night. I can
return the following day. I’ll write to my parents tomorrow to make sure that
they can accommodate you.’