In my story, A Woman of Love, Annabel is the abused wife of Lord Elliott Peters, but before her marriage she was a widow who successfully ran her late husband’s narrow boat business. (A narrow boat is a narrow barge used in the 19th century to transport goods on English canals and rivers.) Is this realistic? Could a widow in this era legally run a business? Yes, this is seen in the extraordinary life of reporter Nellie Bly. Nellie was born Elizabeth Jane Cochran in Cochran's Mills, Pennsylvania on 5th May 1864. Her father, the founder of Cochran’s Mills, was a landowner, judge and businessman. Unfortunately, he died without a will, when Elizabeth was six years old, leaving the family destitute. At the age of fifteen Elizabeth attended the Indiana Normal School. Her plan was to become a teacher and help support her mother, but she was forced to quit the school after a year due to lack of funds. She moved with her mother to Pittsburgh where the pair ran a boarding house. Her lucky break came when she read an article in the Pittsburgh Dispatch written by Erasmus Wilson. The column stated that women belonged in the home employed in domestic tasks, such as sewing, cooking and raising children. Elizabeth, who was never one to back down from a fight, wrote an angry letter to the newspaper. She understood that many women had to work to support themselves, and their families. Her rebuttal so impressed the paper's managing editor, George Madden, that he offered her a job, giving her the pen name – Nellie Bly Nellie championed women’s issues. She posed as a sweatshop worker to expose poor working conditions. Then she wrote an article calling for a reform of the state’s divorce laws, but the newspaper editors did not appreciate her investigative, cutting-edge journalism and moved her to the newspaper’s women’s page where she was expected to write about fashion and flower shows. Nellie left the Pittsburg Dispatch and headed to New York in search of a meaningful position. After a futile six months, she finally managed to get an interview with John Cockerill, editor of the New York World newspaper. He asked her to write a piece about the mentally ill housed at Blackwell’s Island, a large institution in New York City. (Now Roosevelt Island) She accepted the challenge, going undercover as a woman with amnesia. She lived in the facility for ten days until lawyers for the New York World had her released. Her newspaper articles about her experiences included stories of cruel beatings, ice cold baths and forced meals of rancid food. Her story caused a sensation with the public and politicians alike. A grand jury was called to look into the conditions on Blackwell’s island, which quickly led to reforms. In the years that followed she went on to expose corruption and injustice, revealing shady lobbyists, the way in which women prisoners were treated by police, and the inadequate medical care given to the poor. Given her upbringing it seemed natural for her to identify with the poor and the disenfranchised. In 1889 she took a whirlwind trip around the world in an attempt to prove and beat Jules Verne’s 1873 novel Around the World in Eighty Days. Travelling by ship, train and burro she finished the journey in 72 days and was hailed as a celebrity. At the age of 30 she married industrialist Robert Seaman, he was 70 years old at the time. She gave up journalism and devoted her life to him and his business, the Ironclad Manufacturing Company, until he died ten years later. After his death she took over running his business, and held several US patents; one for a milk can, and another for a stacking garbage can. Unfortunately, she wasn’t a great businesswoman; the company went bankrupt due to financial mismanagement and embezzlement. Impoverished, she began writing for the New York Evening Journal. She travelled to Vienna in 1914 where she watched as World War I unfolded. She visited battlefields, and the trenches and sent back articles to the Evening Journal. In 1919 she returned to New York and was forced to sue her mother and brother for the return of her house. She started writing for the New York Evening Journal again. This time she wrote an advice column. She was now in her fifties and perhaps she was happy to let someone else do the undercover work. She died of heart disease and pneumonia in 1922, and was heralded as the best reporter in America. Although Nelly wasn’t much of a businesswoman she was determined, and didn’t shirk the responsibility of running a business. She also tried to improve the lives of her workers, altering their pay from piecemeal to salary and providing them with recreation centers. It is in her work as a journalist that she comes into her own. It is through the efforts of women like Nellie Bly that we enjoy the freedoms they have today. I thought it would be fun to continue my posts on scandalous Victorians. So today I’m reposting an article I wrote for talented author Gini Rifkin. What does socialite and actress Lillie Langtry have to do with my novella, A Woman of Love? Nothing. My character, Annabel, is driven by love, whereas Lillie seems to be motivated by celebrity and money. So why write about her, and why would you want to read about her life? Because she was notorious. Her lovers were princes, lords and the cream of English society and when society was done with her she reinvented herself. I suppose I should start at the beginning. Lillie Langtry was born Emilie Charlotte Le Breton on 13th October 1853, on the Island of Jersey. (For those of you who have never heard of Jersey, it’s an island in the middle of the English Channel.) She was the youngest of seven children, and by all accounts a tomboy. This is not surprising when you consider she had six older brothers. Her father was the rector and Dean of Jersey. In 1874, Lillie met and married 30 year-old landowner Edward Langtry. He was wealthy enough to own a yacht and Lillie wanted an escape from her island home. The pair moved to London. Soon after their arrival they were invited to a reception by one of her father’s friends, Lord Ranelagh. She wore a simple black, figure-hugging gown, which was a stark contrast to the flamboyant gowns worn by the other women. (This was before Coco Channel invented the “little black dress.”) She caused a sensation. The dress showed off her natural beauty. Among the guests were artists Frank Miles and Everett Millais, both asked if she would sit for them. Their sketches and portraits of Lillie were sold as postcards and were a sell-out success. It was not long before news of the beautiful young, and witty Mrs. Langtry grew, reaching the attention of Edward, the Prince of Wales. Edward, son of Queen Victoria and married to Princess Alexandra, was a well-known philanderer. He arranged an intimate dinner party where Lillie was seated next to him while her husband was sat at the opposite end of the table. And so began her affair with the Prince of Wales, which lasted three years. The prince even built a love nest for them in the Bournemouth area. The affair was over by 1880. Some say she insulted him in public and refused to apologize, others say that her husband threatened to divorce her and cite the Prince and the Earl of Shrewsbury as her lovers in the divorce petition. Whatever the reason the relationship cooled. By this time, Lillie was living well beyond her means; especially considering her husband had never been as wealthy as she had been led to believe. With creditors closing in she was forced to sell her possessions to avoid bankruptcy. Lillie now began an affair with the handsome Prince Louis of Battenberg. She was also seeing a childhood friend, Arthur Jones, at the same time. She became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter, Jeanne Marie, in Paris on 8th March 1881. To this day the question of paternity is still unresolved. Letters Lillie wrote to Arthur, discovered in 1978, suggest the child was his. After the birth of her daughter, she realized she needed to find employment, so she took to the stage. Although, she wasn’t a great actress her charm and stage presence guaranteed a full house. It is known that the Prince of Wales supported her acting efforts by going to her shows and encouraging his friends to do the same. In 1882 she started her own stage company, and announced that they were going to tour the United States of America. Her tour was an enormous success and while critics condemned her acting ability, she played to sold-out houses. She was now with wealthy industrialist Freddie Gebhard. The staggering profits from her tour and her relationship with Gebhard, a man who was not shy about sharing his wealth with her, encouraged her to repeat her stage tour of America. In the meantime, Gebhard showered her with gifts, there was a railcar made to her own design, costing a million dollars, a town home in New York, and trips to Europe. In 1887 she became an American citizen and divorced Edward Langtry. Free of her husband and independently wealthy she decided to return to England. Her relationship with Gebhard faded and in 1895 he married another woman. In 1899 she married Gerald de Bathe, by all accounts the marriage wasn’t a close one, and although they both lived in Monte Carlo they only saw each other at social gatherings. Lillie died alone in Monaco in 1929, and was buried in Jersey. Initially, I found it hard to empathize with Lillie. Yes, she was a survivor who was able to recreate herself, but she seemed so calculating. Was she a social climber? With the exception of Arthur Jones, the men she chose were rich with the social status to match. Was Arthur the love of her life? I really don’t know enough about him to decide. Once Lillie became independently wealthy she could have chosen any man rich or poor. Was Arthur married, or worse, dead by then? Is that why she continued to seek out men from the upper class even though they never made her happy? In the end she died rich and alone. A tragic figure, who I believe was never truly happy. I originally wrote this article for the fabulous blog of talented author Jana Richards. I’m reposting it here because I find Jane Digby to be such a fascinating woman. She had it all, beauty, brains, and vigour. She was a larger than life character who did not let social convention prevent her from following her heart. One of the most scandalous women of the Victorian Era is Jane Elizabeth Digby. She was a woman known for her numerous marriages and affairs. But was she really so bad or was she just a victim of an era when women were seen as the property of their husbands rather than people in their own right? Jane was born in Dorset, England, in 1807 to an aristocratic family. Her father was a decorated admiral in the British navy who was known for capturing enemy ships and taking their bounty. Jane was an intelligent, independently wealthy woman who spoke nine languages, and was considered a talented artist and a magnificent horsewoman. She would have been coveted for these qualities alone, but Jane was also beautiful. Her peers described her as tall, with a perfect figure, blond and blue-eyed. At the age of seventeen she married Edward Law, Lord Ellenborough, a man nearly twenty years her senior. Lord Ellenborough had a rising political career and it seems he spent many days and weeks away from the young, adventurous Jane. She responded to her loneliness by having affairs first with her cousin, Colonel George Anson, who it is rumored was the father of her son, Arthur. She must have also been sleeping with her husband at this time because Edward had no questions about paternity. Unfortunately, Arthur died in infancy. Next she had an affair with Prince Felix Schwarzenberg. She became pregnant again and gave birth to a daughter, Mathilde, in 1829. This time Lord Ellenborough knew beyond a doubt that the child was not his. Edward divorced Jane by act of Parliament in 1830. In this time period only two divorces a year were granted. The salacious details of this case caused a scandal that rocked England. After her divorce, and against the wishes of her family Jane followed Felix to Munich, but the relationship ended when their son died soon after birth. Felix broke contact with Jane and it seems that she had no qualms about leaving her daughter to be raised by Felix’s sister. Jane wasn’t alone for long, she soon caught the eye of Ludwig I of Bavaria and the pair became lovers. It was at this time that she met and married her second husband, Baron Karl von Venningen. They married in November 1833. This, it seems, was a marriage of convenience, and although Jane may have cared for Karl she wasn’t in love with him. Together they had a son, Heribert and a daughter, Bertha. But Jane couldn’t or wouldn’t settle. Within five years she took another lover, Count Spyridon Theotokis of Greece. When Venningen found out he was furious and challenged Theotokis to a duel. Karl won the dual, injuring Spyridon, but lost the girl. Jane left her husband to care for her injured lover. Seeing that her affections had changed, Venningen released her from their marriage. He kept the children and took care of them, although, he and Jane remained friends and kept in touch for the rest of their lives. Jane, now in Greece, converted to the Greek Orthodox faith and married Theotokis in 1841. The pair had a son, Leonidas. Tragically, he died at the age of six, after a fall from a balcony. Out of her five children, Leonidas was the only one she seemed to have truly loved and was devastated by his death. Her relationship with Theotokis ended and the coupled divorced. Once again, Jane wasn’t alone for long; her next lover was King Otto of Greece. This just seems to have been a quick affair. And Jane moved on to Greek General, Christodoulos Hatzipetros. She threw herself into her life with him, living in caves, riding horses and hunting in the mountains. Christodoulos was a man famous for his womanizing and Jane walked out on him when she discovered he was cheating on her. (Okay, I’m surprised by this considering all the cheating she’d done in her life.) In her mid-forties Jane travelled to Arabia where she met and fell in love with Sheik Abdul Medjuel El Mezrab, whom was fifteen years her junior. Their marriage seems to have been a happy one, built on compromise. She wanted to be married in the European sense whereas he wanted to keep his harem. It is rumored that they agreed to be monogamous for three years after that time he would reinstate his harem and could take other wives. By all accounts, Jane loved the Bedouin life, living for six months a year travelling, and sleeping in a tent. The other six months were spent in her palatial home in Damascus. Her marriage lasted nearly thirty years until her death in 1871. Jane was definitely a woman out of time. She seemed to earn for adventure, and men were a part of that. She doesn’t seem to have had much in the way of maternal instinct. I think her children were just a byproduct of sleeping with men in an era where there was no such thing as reliable contraceptives. I like to believe she found the life she was looking for with the Bedouin. The fact that everyday was different would have been fun for her. And when she got tired of sleeping in a tent she could return to her comfortable home in Damascus. My character, Annabel, in A Woman of Love, wasn’t as fortunate as Jane. Annabel is completely controlled by her disreputable husband, Lord Elliott Peters. So when he demands that she pay his gambling debts by bedding his friend, James Drake, she is forced to comply. What happens when Annabel meets James? You’ll have to read the book to find out. This is a repost of an article I wrote for the marvelous Barbara Bettis. I’ve decided to republish it here, because the subject horrifies me. I feel for the women who suffered the humiliation of wife selling and am grateful that I live in an enlightened society where women are no longer seen as property. In my novella, A Woman of Love, Annabel’s husband gives her to another man after losing a hand of cards. Would this really happen? In my opinion, yes, especially if the husband has no regard for his wife. Women in this period did not exist in the eyes of the law. To make matters worse, once a woman was married she, along with all her possessions, and her earnings, belonged to her husband. This made women property rather than people. Which leads me to the shocking subject of wife selling. Yes, there were men in England who thought that they could sell their wives, and in some cases their children too. Wife selling was a custom that took place, in England, between the late 17th century and the early 20th century. The husband would lead his wife, using a rope around her neck, waist or wrist, to the market place or cattle auction, as if she were livestock. Once there he would sell her to the highest bidder. Many believed wife selling was a legal way to dissolve a marriage. To understand this you have to understand that until the Marriage act of 1753 all a couple had to do to be legally married was to agree to the union in front of witnesses. As long as they had reached the age of consent, twelve for girls and fourteen for boys, the marriage was legal. (Scary isn’t it.) So if it was that easy to get married it must be just as easy to get divorced, right? Wrong. Divorce was a legal procedure that involved an act of parliament, the blessing of the church, and a lot of money. It was something well beyond the reach of the average man. The first reported case of wife selling, I can find, was in November 1692 when John Whitehouse of Tipton sold his wife to Mr. Bracegirdle. But it’s hard to believe that this custom didn’t exist before this date. Women had long been viewed as property under English law. I have read of an instance where a woman was deeded to another man as early as 1302, and although I haven’t been able to corroborate it, it wouldn’t surprise me to find it was true. At the turn of the nineteenth century there were judges who opposed the law. But they seemed to be confused as to whether they had the right to prevent it. The magistrate for Ashbourne, Derbyshire called wife selling scandalous, but in the next breath said, “As to the act of selling itself, I do not think I have a right to prevent it, or even oppose any obstacle to it, because it rests upon a custom preserved by the people of which perhaps it would be dangerous to deprive them by any law for that purpose.” In fact, there were Poor Law Commissioners (These were local officials who were responsible for the workhouses.) who took advantage of it and forced husbands to sell their wives and children, so the family could be expelled from the workhouse. In one such case, in 1814 the wife and child of Henry Cook, who were living in Effingham workhouse, were sold at Croydon market for one shilling, the parish paid for the cost of the journey and a "wedding dinner". (This breaks my heart.) Wife selling jumped in popularity reaching its highpoint in the 1820’s and 1830’s. When it was at it’s most popular there was a backlash of public opinion. Husbands wanting to sell their wives came under extreme social pressure and the practice waned, but it didn’t disappear completely. Newspapers in England reported ten cases of wife selling in the 1890’s, according to a research paper, Wife Sales written by Peter T. Leeson, Peter J. Boettke, Jayme S. Lemke. The fact is that once women were granted property rights under the Matrimonial Causes Act of 1857, and then the Married Women’s Property Act of 1870, wife selling declined. I should point out that from 1730 and 1900 newspapers reported only 192 wife sales. (Newspaper accounts are the best way to gage this subject as husbands were rarely prosecuted for this crime.) This seems a relatively small number compared to the number of marriages and how many of those marriages would have been unhappy.
This is undoubtedly one of the most deplorable, disgusting customs I have researched, but I will leave you with a true tale of wife selling that does have a happy ending. Henry Bridges, 2nd Duke of Chandos, while on his way to London, dined with a companion, at the Pelican Inn in Newbury. A commotion in the courtyard caught their attention and upon further investigation they discovered that a man was going to sell his wife, Anne. They went to see. The duke was instantly taken with the poor young wife. He purchased her and brought her home where he educated her. The pair fell in love and were married On Christmas Day in 1744. They remained together until her death in 1759. If that isn’t inspiration for a romance novel I don’t know what is. After last week’s post on Caroline Norton I had to wonder how a woman could be victimized by her husband and have no recourse and was in effect in the eyes of English law a non-person. To look to the subjugation of women in England we have to go back two thousand years to the Roman period. The Celts who ruled before the Romans had a high regard for women they could be leaders of their tribe, could own property, were allowed to be warriors, healers or druids, and had a say in the government of their clan. And in a divorce was entitled to half their joint property. The differences in the Roman and Celtic views on women can be seen in the story of Boudicca, (sometimes spelt Boudica or Boadicea) queen of the Iceni. Upon his death her husband, Prasutagus, left his kingdom to be shared by his two daughters and the Roman emperor, Nero, believing this would keep the peace with the Roman governors in Briton. Unfortunately the Romans refused to recognize the rights of his daughters. In their world women could not rule, it was against Roman law. They flogged Queen Boudicca and raped her daughters. In retaliation Boudicca raised an army in rebellion. Although she had many victories, she was ultimately defeated. The exact date of her death is unknown. By the late 4th or early 5th century (Scholars disagree on the actual date) the Romans had withdrawn from Britain leaving behind a power vacuum which was filled by successive waves of invasions from the Scots, Picts, Jutes, and Saxons. The Saxon’s were the most successful and ruled most of England until the Norman Conquest in 1066.
In her book Women and Marriage in Nineteenth Century England, Mrs. Joan Perkins said this about the Saxons “In Anglo-Saxon England women had rights to property, to a share in control of domestic affairs and of children, even in a last resort to divorce and legal separation, departing with the children and half the martial goods.” Everything changed under Norman rule, with military service being linked to land ownership, women were pushed to the side. By 1180 women they were legally described as a sort of infant needing to be under the control of a husband or father. As a result they had very few rights. (I have read of this law in several of my text books, but nowhere does it state where this is referenced. If you know the author of this law I’d be interested in the details.) I can find very little change in the status of women for the next nine hundred years. It seems that owning property meant having power, which as society evolved translated into having the right to vote. I should point out that until 1832 the right to vote depended on being a man over the age of 21 and owning property. This meant that the vast majority of men could not vote either. Even after 1832 Reform Act, out of a population of about 30 million only 1.43 million could vote. It wasn’t until after World War 1 with the 1918 Representation of the People Act that all men over the age of 21 and women over the age of 30 gained the right to vote. (Statistics provided by BBC Bitesize History) So it seems that the voting rights of women, at least, ran hand in hand the rights of the common man. After the Norman Conquest power and freedom lay in the hands of a precious few. The rest of society worked and slaved with very little say in how things actually were. In Common law and church law a woman was essentially the property of her husband. There must have been hundreds, probably thousands of Caroline Norton’s over the years. Women who were abused and beaten by their husbands and found that there was nothing they could do to protect themselves or their children. We only know the fate of Caroline because she was well educated and well connected. A Woman's status as a non-person meant that they could lose everything in a heartbeat, desertion or abuse at the hands of her husband left her desperate with no legal recourse I am eternally grateful for the courage of women like Caroline Norton and Emmeline Pankhurst who fought so hard for our rights. Some people are born to be activists, others are forced into politics by circumstances beyond their control. This is the case with Caroline Norton. She was born in 1808 to an impoverished but genteel family. At the age of nineteen, she was encouraged by her widowed mother to marry George Norton. She had been assured he would make a good match and be a good provider for her and her children. Unfortunately, George had misrepresented his earnings and once married Caroline discovered that he had virtually no income, was lazy and did not like to work. Luckily, Caroline was a gifted writer and was able to support them with her publications. In 1830, at the request of her husband, Caroline asked an old family friend and Home Secretary, Lord Melbourne, to find George a position. By all accounts George was a womanising drunk who frequently beat Caroline. The couple had three sons, but during her fourth pregnancy, sometime in 1835, he beat her so badly she miscarried. This was the last straw, she left taking the children with her and sought refuge with her family. This was when she discovered that married women did not exist according to English law. Legally, everything they owned as a couple belonged to George that included; The house, The furniture, Her clothes, Her personal items, Her writings – professional and personal, Any income she earned, And most importantly – the children. In 1836, he took the children and refused her access to them. He then sought a divorce, accusing her of adultery with Lord Melbourne who was now the British Prime Minister. George also sued Lord Melbourne for ten thousand pounds in damages. (Talk about a grab for the cash.) George had encouraged Caroline’s friendship with Melbourne when he wanted a job, but now he wanted to use that friendship to his own ends. The courts threw out the case, declaring Caroline innocent, but her reputation was tarnished and she was branded as a scandalous woman. Worse the fact that the courts had denied George’s claim of adultery meant that she had to remain married to him. Under English law she could not file for divorce, because her husband beat her, he had every right to abuse her because she belonged to him. And she could not claim guardianship of her children or request access to them. In effect she was a non-person. Caroline did the only thing she could do; she set about trying to change the law. She published pamphlets and essays stating her case and asking that the law be changed. I should point out that many of her supporters were men. In 1839 The Custody of Infants Act was passed with the help of men like Thomas Talfourd, Lord Lyndhurston, and Lord Vassall Holland who spoke on behalf of mistreated women, citing cases, and actively crusading for the bill to be passed.
In reaction George took the children to Scotland which had a different system of laws and so were exempt from English law. In 1842 tragedy struck when their youngest son, William, contracted tetanus. Caroline was unable to reach him before he died. This is overwhelmingly sad and must have touched George, because he finally relented and allowed Caroline to visit her remaining two children, although he still refused to give up custody. The pair continued to fight over money. George tricked her into signing a financial agreement and then reneged on it. There was nothing she could do because under the law she had no separate identity from her husband. This led Caroline to write and petition for a law allowing women to divorce, and keep their earnings. She stated publicly that as her husband was entitled to all her wages she would only write about the need to change the marriage laws. In 1857 the Divorce Act was passed. It was a beginning and provided some legal protection for divorced, separated, and deserted women. Caroline finally became free of George when he died in 1875. She married lifelong friend Sir William Stirling-Maxwell in 1877, but died three months after her wedding. It is unfortunate that Caroline had to suffer for the laws to be changed. But at the same time I’m grateful that she found the strength to fight the unjust system of laws that viewed women as property rather than people. In keeping with my Victorian theme I have a special guest here to talk about her ancestors and her new book, introducing Frances Evesham. Hello and thank you Marlow for so kindly letting me feature on your blog today. I’m Frances Evesham and my novel, An Independent Woman, is available now from The Wild Rose Press. Like Marlow, I admire a spirited, energetic woman who makes something of her life, as Emmeline Pankhurst did, while still finding love. I’m old enough to remember some of my own Victorian ancestors. My great aunts, Annie and Winnie, were tiny and neat but they stood for no nonsense. Annie became a schoolteacher while Winnie kept the Post Office in a beautiful Cotswold village, Sibford Gower. I met them in their later years when they had both retired. At 90, still fiercely independent, their carriage was dainty, their backs as straight as rulers. They made tea for their guests, spooning whole leaves from their precious caddy. This tin box inhabited a special corner cupboard in the immaculate, minute parlour where Annie and Winnie received visitors. They expected children to sit quietly, rewarding good behaviour with a boiled sweet and a wink, quelling shouting or fidgeting with a single glance. Even the noisiest boy subsided at once under their quizzical gaze. I thought about Annie and Winnie as my heroine, Philomena, set out on her quest to find independence, alone and adrift in a Victorian world were men had every advantage. Philomena, feisty and determined, makes plans that seem inevitably to fail, leaving her in a series of predicaments. She never gives up, even when she meets and falls for Hugh, the grand and aristocratic Lord Thatcham, who complicates her life still further. She makes another plan and moves on, just as I imagine Annie and Winnie would have done. An Independent Woman With nothing left from her childhood except a tiny portrait of a beautiful woman, some skill with a needle, and the knowledge of a dreadful secret, Philomena escapes her tormentor, Joseph, and the dank fogs of Victorian London, only for a train crash to interrupt her quest for independence and freedom. Trapped between the upstairs and downstairs occupants of the great country house, Philomena hears whispers of the mysteries and lies that lurk in empty corridors and behind closed doors. Her rescuer, the dangerous, enigmatic Hugh, Lord Thatcham, wrestles with his own demons and makes Philomena’s heart race, but she must fight her passion for she can never marry. Haunted by her past, Philomena’s only hope of happiness is to confront the evil forces that threaten to destroy her. To purchase An Independent Woman Amazon.com print version Wild Rose Press print version Wild Rose Press digital versions On Special Today Extract Her eyes were half closed. His lips brushed gently, soft and warm, over her mouth. For an endless moment she stayed quite still, beguiled by the spicy sharp taste of his lips. A charge electrified her body. Then her head cleared. She gasped. Was she mad? This was Lord Thatcham and she was nothing but a penniless waif in his power. He meant to have his way with her, just as Joseph had tried to do. She tore herself away from the embrace. “How dare you.” Her voice shook with fury. “How dare you treat me so?” Lord Thatcham’s arms fell away. Blood drained from his countenance, leaving the dark eyes aglow in a white face. He said not a word. Author Bio Frances Evesham, Somerset author of the Victorian mystery romance, An Independent Woman, published on 11 June 2014 by The Wild Rose Press, is so fascinated by genealogy that she set her debut novel in the 19th Century as a tribute to her ancestors. Frances has worked as a speech therapist, a professional communication fiend and a road sweeper. She’s also spent time as an intermediary with vulnerable people in the English criminal courts. She lives in Burnham on Sea, collects grandsons and Victorian trivia, cooks with a glass of wine in one hand and a bunch of chillies in the other and loves the smells of rosemary and garlic. Writing historical romances and books on communication leaves enough time to enjoy bad jokes and puns and wishes she’d kept on with the piano lessons. Contact Frances by email: frances@francesevesham.com Website and blog at www.francesevesham.com Tweets: www.twitter.com/francesevesham Facebook page: www.facebook.com/frances.evesham.writer Would you be surprised to learn that Emmeline Pankhurst, the leader of England’s suffragette movement did not hate men? I was. It never occurred to me that the militant feminist who set empty buildings on fire had actually been a happily married woman. I’ll start at the beginning, she was born Emmeline Goulden, in Manchester, England, in 1858. Her family were known for their radical politics openly supporting causes such as women’s suffrage, but they weren’t so forward thinking as to want their daughter to have a man's education or to go into politics. In 1879 Emmeline met and married Richard Pankhurst, a man twenty years her senior. Richard was a lawyer, barrister and an ardent supporter of women’s rights. He authored the Married Woman’s Property Acts of 1870 and 1882. These acts of parliament allowed women to own and control property, keep their earnings, and inherit in their own name. In her autobiography Emmeline wrote this of her marriage and family life:- “My home life and relations have been as nearly ideal as possible in this imperfect world. About a year after my marriage my daughter Christabel was born, and in another eighteen months my second daughter Sylvia was to come. Two other children followed, and for some years I was rather deeply immersed in my domestic affairs. I was never so absorbed with family and children, however, that I lost interest in community affairs. Dr. Pankhurst did not desire that I should turn myself into a household machine. It was his firm belief that society as well as the family stands in need of women’s services. So while my children were still in their cradles I was working on the executive committee of the Women’s Suffrage Society, and also on the executive board of the committee, which was working to secure the Married Women’s Property Act.” Richard died suddenly from a perforated ulcer in 1898, devastating Emmeline. They had been married for nineteen years. Later that same year, she continued his work by founding the Women's Franchise League, which fought to allow married women to vote in local elections. Not happy with the slow pace of the league, she helped establish the more militant Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU) in October 1903. It is as head of the WSPU that she came into her own. Emmeline’s actions and those of her followers were quiet radical and included arson, smashing windows, and heckling politicians. Very unladylike behaviour indeed. The WSPU suspended their militant activities in 1914 on the outbreak of World War I. They were rewarded in 1918 when women over 30 years of age were given the right to vote. Men at this time had the right to vote at 21. Some say the disparity was because so many men had died in the war they didn`t want women voters to outnumber the men. I`m not sure how true that is, but I find the idea thought provoking. In 1928 women in England were finally given equal voting rights to men. The years to lecturing, touring, activism and hunger strikes had taken their toll on Emmeline`s health and she died later that same year. I was struck by two things with Emmeline`s life the first was how profoundly she was influenced by her husband. I suppose the old saying that behind every great man there`s a great woman can be reversed for Emmeline because without Richard’s encouragement and support she might not have achieved her goals. She did not hate men and her fight was not about taking away the rights of male voters. It was about giving women the freedom and power to choose. |
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