The Baronet's Daughter: Edwardian Lady series, #1

By Susan Leona Fisher

Anna knows little of love, but dutifully travels to South Africa to marry a man twice her age, her father's choice. When he dies and the family disowns her, there's no money to bring her home, and she must find a way to survive. Set in the Boer War of 1899 to 1902 and its aftermath, Anna's story is one of transformation as she leaves behind her privileged upbringing and devotes herself to supporting homeless Boer families. More than once she encounters army vet James Forsyth, whom she believes despises her. So, when the war ends and he unexpectedly inherits a title and lands and asks her to marry him, what should she do?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Fisher
• Release date: Jan 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201825034

Susan Leona Fisher

Susan Leona Fisher began writing fiction on her retirement, having been a technical/academic writer in her former working life. She was born in London and now lives in the Yorkshire Dales, having lived in various places in between, due to  her clergyman husband’s various postings. Her route to publication was via the New Writers’ Scheme run by the Romantic Novelists’ Association, of which she is a member. She has written 20 historical romances in settings ranging from the ever-popular Regency period to the Second World War. One of them, A Master of Litigation, made the final for historical romance in the Romantic Novel Awards 2018. She has also written several contemporary romances and one non-fiction biography.

Book preview

The Baronet’s Daughter

by

Susan Leona Fisher

Edwardian Lady series #1

Copyright © 2022 Susan Leona Fisher.

All rights reserved. The right of Susan Leona Fisher to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the author. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.

The characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is coincidental.

This edition published by Susan Leona Fisher in 2022

First published in 2013

EDWARDIAN LADIES SERIES

By the turn of the 19th Century, women were beginning to make their own way, not necessarily dependent on marriage and motherhood for a purpose in life. Many were able and confident and supported the growing demand for female suffrage. This is the first of three stories on this theme.

#1 The Baronet’s Daughter: the tale of a privileged young woman who gets stranded in South Africa during the Boer War conflict and finds her voice and some purpose, except she would like to return to England and her only hope for that seems to be the handsome army vet, James Forsyth.

#2 Miss Deacon Investigates: Factory Inspector Lily Deacon joins an Inquiry Commission to France during the 1st World War, reminiscent of a similar visit she made to South Africa 15 years before. Some chance meetings rouse her curiosity as to why a volunteer doctor went missing without trace at the end of the Boer War, at the same time as a young Red Cross nurse serving at the same military hospital. She determines to find out.

#3 Heiress to a Duke: Olivia Charlton adored her father but has not seen him for many years. , during which she has established herself as a children’s writer and also indulges her passion for racing cars. Then she learns he is not dead, as she assumed, but in hiding and she travels to France to find him. The trip is not without its difficulties as she becomes a suspect in a smuggling case under investigation by Customs’ Officer Sam Master, whom she has actually met before, many years ago.

The three stories are connected by the theme of determined women of the Edwardian era rather than by the characters in them, so can be read in any order.

Table of Contents

1 : Anna Waverly gets wed

2 : James Forsyth takes his leave

3 : The chaperone gets sea-sick

4 : Equine antics on Las Palmas

5 : Anna prepares to meet her husband

6 : Where is Roger Thurston?

7 : Anna finds herself unwed

8 : The army makes Anna homeless

9 : Sister Agnes takes in Anna

10 : Anna has to work for a living

11 : An unexpected meeting

12 : Anna feels rejected

13 : An old acquaintance revived

14 : James Forsyth meets his father

15 : The birth of a foal

16 : An unexpected proposal

17 : Sisters reunited

18 : Welcome, milady

19 : Dinner is served

20 : Anna becomes an aunt

21 : A colt goes missing

22 : Anna investigates

23 : He loves me, he loves me not

24 : A secret revealed

25 : A misunderstanding

26 : Re-united

27 : A birthday, a dance & other happy events

1 : Anna Waverly gets wed

London, April 1900

Mr Squires at last heard the crunch of carriage wheels on gravel, heralding the shoppers’ return. He opened the grand front door, pleased to note the brass fittings had been given a good polish that morning, and watched the driver open the carriage door. As soon as the steps were turned down, the Honourable Miss Anna Waverly’s expensively shod feet were on them, ignoring the driver’s offer of a helping hand and ignoring him, too, as she swept past, leaving a whiff of scent in her wake. She disappeared inside before her grandmother had so much as shown her face. From what he could see of the not inconsiderable array of packages filling one seat of the carriage, they appeared to have had a successful day. He stepped back into the house for a moment to summon one of the maids to help unload and then hurried down the front steps to assist Mrs Waverly, now struggling with two hat boxes.

Allow me, madam, he said, as he took one off her hands. The girl, for whose head the new millinery was intended, had naturally done nothing to help. She’d always been spoilt and had, as a consequence, developed quite a high opinion of herself and her importance in the world. The mistress of the house, and escort for her granddaughter’s shopping expedition, looked flustered and tired.

Oh, Mr Squires, thank you so much. It was so busy in town. I’ll be glad to get my feet up.

Shall I bring tea to the drawing room now, madam?

That would be lovely. She heaved herself up the first of the stone steps, grasping the iron rail with her free hand. The maid had already fetched one load of boxes and was returning for the next before Mrs Waverley had completed her climb. It was not just the one remaining light but cumbersome box, which gusts of early April wind were trying to whip from under her arm, but the burden of rather more flesh on her bones than was healthy. She puffed and complained whenever faced with an upward incline. Mr Squires liked to think of himself as a well-built man, though he knew the other staff referred to him, behind his back, as Portly Peter, that being his given name. His mistress was rather too fond of sweet pastries and cakes and less fond of constitutional exercise and, to put it mildly, had gone a little beyond the portly stage.

Take all the bags and boxes up to Miss Anna’s room, Maisie, he instructed the maid. She bobbed a curtsy and piled herself high with the various packages before gingerly stepping onto the first of the stairs that curved up to the floors above. The precarious load reached the top of her head, and she had to peer round the side of it to find her way.

I’d do well in a balancing act in the circus, don’t you think, Mr Squires? Maisie quipped. She’d been long enough in the family to get away with a few liberties.

Quite so, Maisie, but I’d not attempt the high wire yet. He liked the other staff to think he had a sense of humour. He nodded with satisfaction and a sigh escaped him, but there was no one to hear. He was alone in the entrance hall. Maisie had almost made it to the top of the stairs. She was a reliable girl...well, woman now, for she had been in service to the family as long as him. At least they were all still here. A month or so ago he expected notices of dismissal for half the staff, or even that the house would be closed entirely. The carriage had gone for a time, and the poor coachman with it. Rumours were that the master had made a bad investment again, really serious this time. Not for the first time in the past twenty years, he’d surreptitiously attended an interview for a position in another house. It had not been offered him—hardly surprising at his age—but fortunately for all concerned, a few months ago everything turned round and things seemed to be more or less back to normal. Long may it continue, he thought, though he noted they had carried their purchases back with them rather than go to the expense of having them delivered, so perchance things were still on a tight rein. Of course, shortly there’d be one less mouth to feed. He wondered whether the young woman would be much missed; not by the staff, that was for sure.

* * * *

Maisie found it impossible to knock on Miss Anna’s door; if she attempted it, she’d drop everything.

’Scuse me, Miss Anna, she called out as loudly as she dared, might I come in with all the parcels? There was no reply. Then young Miss Charlotte appeared from her room next door.

Oh, Maisie, let me help you. What a load. Are these all for my sister?

Yes, Miss.

Miss Charlotte immediately relieved Maisie of the top few packages, knocked firmly on Miss Anna’s door, opened it without waiting for an answer, and entered the room. Maisie followed her in.

Hello, Anna, she greeted her sister. I’m longing to see what you bought. Will you model them for me? Put them all on the bed, Maisie, thank you.

Maisie was quite glad to shed her burden so she could get back to her other chores. Anyone would think it was Miss Charlotte getting wed. Miss Anna didn’t seem excited at all. How could two sisters be so different, Maisie thought, as she went along to the servants’ staircase that would take her back down to the kitchens. She’d been a young under-maid when they’d been born into the household and had watched them grow. The one was warm and thoughtful, with a sunny smile, dimpled cheeks, and lively blue eyes framed by golden hair that cascaded from the clasp on top of her head, and swung like a curtain of gold when she turned. Her elder sister, on the other hand, never had a kind word for anyone and walked about with her stuck-up nose in the air, pretending she was better than everyone else. She took after her father in colouring, dark brown hair with auburn highlights that caught the sun when she wore it loose. These days, she had it pinned up, which made her look even more severe. She had dark eyebrows above long-lashed hazel eyes that rarely lit with good humour, and her mouth was set in a permanent sulk. People said she was a beauty, with her heart-shaped face and fine bone structure, but how could someone be pretty if they never smiled? Miss Charlotte, on the other hand, was the spitting image of her poor mother. Fate had not permitted the lovely lady to so much as hold her second born in her arms, for she had died giving her birth.

* * * *

Anna was sitting at her dressing table with her back to the door when it burst open and Charlotte charged in and ordered the maid to deposit her parcels on the bed. It made her start.

Not now, Lottie, I’ve a headache coming on. Anyway you’ll see me in the wedding outfit tomorrow. She had no enthusiasm for trying on the new garments yet again. She removed her little straw boater with the flowers on top, which Lottie had spent an age decorating for her.  She didn’t care much for it and hoped Lottie wouldn’t notice when she left it behind. She let it slip from her hand now, onto the floor beside the dressing table, where she trusted it would lie unseen till after her departure. Idly, she tidied up a few loose strands of hair. How tired she looked.

Are you disappointed not to be having it all done properly, walking down the aisle in a lacy white dress and so on? Lottie asked her. Anna glanced at her sister’s reflection in the mirror, now sitting amidst all the packets and boxes on the bed. If only those were your things, she thought, and you were the one getting married.

I’ve explained, Lottie, it is being done properly; it’s just that Mr Thurston can’t be here in person so this proxy thing is to be done. By this time tomorrow I’ll be Mrs Roger Thurston with a ring on my finger. Anyway, I believe there’ll be another church ceremony in Cape Town, when we’ll both be present and I’ll wear my proper wedding outfit.

I wish I was coming with you so I could be there to see it.

Anna sighed. So do I, Lottie, dearest. It will be quite strange with none of my family there, but needs must. I’m sure you can come and visit, once this wretched war is over.

Aren’t you scared to be going where there’s a war on?

Not really, it’s only a local skirmish, up country as they say, miles from Cape Town. Father says it’s to do with the gold and diamonds and keeping British interests there.

But it’s been going on for six months already.

I know, but they’re saying it’ll be over soon.

I hope so.

Anna frowned at her reflection. It’s no good, I’ll have to redo my hair. Impatiently, she pulled out the pins holding it in place, and the loose strands tumbled down, cascading round her shoulders.

Lottie jumped off the bed. I’ll do it for you if you like. Anna handed her the brush, and for a while they were both quiet.

Anna could almost see Lottie’s mind working as she observed her sister’s eyes screw up with puzzlement, always the prelude to a question. What is it, Lottie?

Don’t you think it’s rather strange...to be marrying someone you hardly know? You were sixteen when you met him...my age...and you’ve not seen him since. How do you know you love him? Why are you looking at me like that?

Like what?

Like there’s something you know but I don’t, like you’re hiding something from me and won’t tell. You act so superior sometimes.

Anna sighed and started lining the hairpins up ready to put back, hoping her inquisitive sister would let it go. Honestly, she was like a dog with a bone sometimes. Before she could think up a suitable response, Lottie saved her the trouble by finding her own explanation.

Roger’s parents are friends of Father’s aren’t they? Is that why you’re marrying him?

Partly, yes, but I did like him when we met. How easily the lie fell from her lips.

How do you know you love him?

In circumstances such as these, one has to hope that love will develop and grow.

But, Anna, you’ll have to do that thing that married people do. How will you bear it if you don’t love him?

What do you know about that, Lottie? Her Grandmother had recently given Anna a private talk about that thing. She’d made it sound like an unpleasant duty owed by a wife to her husband, which must be repeated whenever he so desired. Anna was dreading it, but she couldn’t admit that to Lottie.

Not much, except it happens in the bedroom when no one else is there. I’m sure it would be all right with someone young and handsome, like Tom...but, Anna, he’s so old. Lottie’s face screwed up with distaste, the same face she used to make when cook made her eat her spinach as a child.

Anna ducked away from the brush and stood, taking Lottie’s free hand in both of hers. You’re not to worry about me, Lottie, darling, I’m nineteen...almost twenty...and old enough to cope with all that side of marriage. Many women are married with a child or two by my age.

Lottie put down the brush and gave Anna a hug. Heaven knows she needed it, but she had to stop the tears that were trying to spring from her eyes.

I’m going to miss you terribly, Lottie told her.

Me too, Lottie, but we can write to each other. Come on, we must both dress for dinner. My last one with you all for some time, remember? Quickly, go and change now, then we can go down together.

Anna had persuaded herself to the role she now played, an eligible English heiress given in marriage to a member of a successful business family in the colonies. She would be the sophisticated hostess, and within the next year her table would be the one Cape Town society longed to share. She planned to run her household firmly but fairly; and of course, her husband would be besotted with her and there would be babies. But deep down she knew it was all pretence. This match Father had negotiated was designed solely to restore him to solvency. Anna herself had not been privy to the negotiations but she was aware that a considerable fortune had flowed from the Thurstons to her father and that, other than her person, she would be taking no dowry when she set sail for South Africa tomorrow.

Tomorrow! For months, knowing this was coming, she’d been able to pretend it wasn’t, because it was still some distant event that didn’t touch her day-to-day routine here. But the whole world now knew it was coming, for notices had been placed, and at last the day had arrived; it was happening, and she couldn’t stop it. For a moment she stared at her trunk—packed and ready, daubed with various official labels. Nearly everything in it had been purchased by her soon-to-be husband’s family. They owned her. Until this day she’d been owned by her father. Now he’d sold her, and, from tomorrow, she would be answerable to Roger Thurston and his family. She hated it, and she hated herself for not being able to stop it.

She tried not to think too much about Roger Thurston himself. Four years might have changed him, but it was unlikely they had done so for the better. She remembered him as uncouth and loud, a show-off, with his dandy clothes, ready money, and a fondness for port wine. Quite possibly he possessed other unhealthy appetites, of which she was vaguely aware and which came under the heading sowing wild oats. Shortly after her sixteenth birthday, he’d visited with both his parents and had taken tea. She hadn’t understood their actual purpose then, as she dutifully handed round china cups and plates and played them a piece or two on the piano. When evening came, she’d been made to say goodnight and her Grandmother had ushered her from the room, and accompanied her upstairs, while the Thurstons had stayed on to dine. There’d been no listening at the door that evening, but she had noticed the bottles being carried to the dining room and the empty glasses on the trolley afterward, so whatever the purpose of their conference with her father, it had involved considerable drinking. She’d not had much concept of age then and had no idea how much older he was than her. It had been mentioned recently, and she was horrified, though she’d never admit it to Lottie. At thirty-eight he was twice her age, with twice as much experience of life, while she was an innocent. It might be reassuring if she could imagine that he would treat her with kindness, but somehow she doubted it.

There was a knock on the door. Come in, she called automatically. Oh, it’s you, Maisie.

Would you like some help getting dressed for dinner, Miss?

Yes...we’ll need to put this gown I’m wearing in the trunk and I’ll wear the blue for dinner.

Should we hang out your outfit for tomorrow, Miss?

She nodded. Perhaps you could see to that after I’ve gone down and unwrap and pack the new things we got today.

* * * *

The symbolism of the ceremony was not lost on Anna, as her father walked her into the little City church and handed her over to Roger Thurston’s substitute. She felt like a hunting dog, or racing horse, changing hands at an agreed price. The proxy was a middle-aged man, on the rotund side and slightly balding. Anna knew only that he was called Mr Hadley and that, as soon as the ceremony was over, she would be escorted by him, with his wife as her chaperone. She would be in continuous company with them until they reached South Africa and handed her safely over to her new husband. So she had almost three weeks of their company to endure. She kept her face as un-expressive as she could, for she had no veil to hide behind. The traditional outfit was packed in her trunk ready for the second ceremony which would take place at the cathedral in Cape Town. Today, she wore an ivory suit in fine linen; the skirt flowed beautifully, slightly flaring to just above the ankle, allowing her matching satin shoes, with their neat low heel, to show. The top was a stylish short jacket, caught at the waist with a single button, the sleeves puffed at the shoulders and wide lapels tapering to her slender waist. On her head she wore a tilted, wide-brimmed hat, simply decorated with netting and a feather. She loved the outfit...it was a shame it would be forever associated with this event.

The carriage stood waiting outside, with her own and the Hadleys’ luggage already stowed. Anna was grateful that the farewells were accomplished quickly. It was only parting from her sister that made her sad. If she allowed herself to acknowledge her feelings about her father and his mother, they were mainly anger at her father for using her like this, and a sense of betrayal by her grandmother for not preventing it. Anna bitterly regretted the fact that her mother, whom she hardly remembered, was not alive, for surely she would have put a stop to them using her in such a way.

They joined the traffic rolling and bumping its way to Waterloo Station between the crowded pavements. Careless pedestrians occasionally ran across between the string of carriages and hansom cabs, causing the drivers to shout abuse. Anna stared from the window, vaguely aware of all the activity, but seeing little. It was merely a stratagem to avoid conversing with Mr and Mrs Hadley.

Here we are Mrs Thurston, Mrs Hadley said as the carriage jerked to a halt. If you’d like to come along to the waiting room with me, Mr Hadley will see to our baggage.

How strange to hear herself called that, Anna thought, but she’d better get used to it. She dutifully fell into step behind Mrs Hadley, who, being only slightly less plump than her husband, formed a useful barrier as they negotiated the crowd. Both the Hadleys were of short stature, adding to their plump appearance and, even at only five foot four, Anna was an inch or so taller. The station was busy and echoed with noise, with the army’s khaki much in evidence.

They boarded the train fifteen minutes later, and it was a relief to distance herself from the noise and sooty air of the station and be free of the riff-raff. They had a first class compartment to themselves and Mrs Hadley opened the small hamper of provisions she’d brought along. Anna was not hungry but made an attempt to nibble a sandwich and drink some of the tea supplied by an attentive steward. As far as Mrs Hadley was concerned, he was a little too attentive and when he appeared for the third time to ask whether they needed anything else, she told him firmly that he’d not be required again. She might be a small lady, but she had a decided manner and, clearly, would brook no nonsense.  Anna felt a little as she had when the new governess arrived shortly after her tenth birthday.  She’d run the first two or three ragged, but that one had stayed. A pint-sized lady with a will of iron, not unlike Mrs Hadley.

When Mr Hadley at last joined them, he more than made up for Anna’s lack of appetite and the hamper was soon quite empty. No wonder he needed those strong braces to hold up his trousers. Anna wondered if he ever did up his jacket and suspected it no longer met in the middle. His suit was a serviceable tweed, entirely inappropriate for the role he’d just played as substitute bridegroom, but sensible for travelling. Her own outfit, on the other hand, looked somewhat out of place in the dusty, greasy environs of train travel.

After eating, Mr Hadley took himself along the corridor for a smoke and on his return was full of information.

Seems there’s a large unit of soldiers bound for the same ship at Southampton. Poor lads, some of ’em look so young.

Mrs Hadley glanced at Anna. Your father was telling us that some of the young men from his country estate have volunteered.

So I believe, Anna responded. She tried not to think about it. One of them was the son of the gamekeeper, a year younger than her. She and Charlotte had played with him when they’d been children. Now she was to be a wife at nineteen, and Tom was already a soldier at eighteen. He and two others had gone out last month. She wondered how they were faring. It was said some of the British were trapped under siege in various towns.

At her terse reply and clear wish to avoid further conversation, a look passed between Mrs Hadley and her husband. Anna pretended not to see it. She imagined they cared as little for her, or this task they’d taken on, as she did for them. Her father had explained they were former servants of the Thurstons, from when they’d maintained a permanent household here in England. Anna was presumably their ticket to a free holiday in South Africa. Her father had spoken to her after dinner the previous evening...lectured her more like. He’d explained that the Hadleys would be in loco parentis for the duration of the voyage and that Anna must obey them totally at all times. It really was quite ridiculous. Here she was, a married woman, being treated like a child. She really had no choice, but she didn’t have to like it, or even pretend that she did.

Southampton docks were seething with people and activity, noisy and not a little smelly. Anna screwed up her nose and opened her little beaded satin purse to retrieve a rose-scented handkerchief, which she gratefully held to her nose.

This way, Mrs Thurston, if you please, Mr Hadley instructed as he led her to the tall structure from which they’d gain access to the big liner. Mrs Hadley followed close behind. Anna was sandwiched between them rather like a prisoner being escorted to the scaffold. An image reinforced by the considerable number of steps they had to climb before negotiating the high walkway that brought them to the top deck. Mr Hadley excused himself and left his wife and Anna to pass the time looking at the view below. There was plenty to see. The people on the quay looked quite small, and Anna watched the cranes swinging their large nets back and forth as they loaded crates of cargo, the dock-workers shouting instructions to each other. Their noise was drowned by the approach of rhythmic thumping as a crocodile of soldiers came alongside the liner and marched up the first ramp...they’d be the ones Mr Hadley came across on the train. There were even some horses being boarded, quite a lot of them, poor creatures. Anna thought for a moment of Star, her little chestnut mare. She’d pleaded with her father to be allowed to take her. "I don’t know," he’d prevaricated, we’ll have to make enquiries...not sure it’ll be allowed, and it would cost some. So she’d said goodbye to her beloved friend six weeks ago, on a brief visit to their small country estate. Star was eight years old and had been given to Anna, as a foal, for her eleventh birthday. At the time Anna had wondered if it had been intended as a reward for not causing the latest governess to run away. It had certainly made a difference to her life, having the sweet little creature to