The Merchant's Daughter Read online

  ‘No thank you, but a coffee would be wonderful.’

  ‘Oh, we have plenty of that.’

  He walked her to a small dining room which was laid out for breakfast. Harold Marlowe was already sitting down reading the Financial Times. As she entered, he stood up. ‘Good morning, Mrs Sinclair, it is good to see you again.’

  David walked over to a row of chafing dishes on the side table. He lifted the lids. ‘Eggs Benedict, scrambled eggs, kedgeree, sausages, toast. Mrs Davies must have known you were coming. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to join us?’

  Jayne shook her head.

  As she said no, an old woman appeared in the doorway carrying a pot of coffee and another pot containing hot milk. ‘Miss Rachel will be down in five minutes,’ she said, placing the pots on the table, ’but personally, I think it is going to be closer to fifteen minutes.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Davies.’ David poured a cup of coffee for Jayne and then began to serve himself from the chafing dishes.

  His father put down his newspaper and eyed Jayne over the top of his bifocals. ‘I hear you’re off to Liverpool to follow a lead, according to my daughter.’

  Rachel had obviously been talking to her father. Jayne simply answered, ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘I wish you every success in your endeavours.’

  David placed his breakfast on the table. ‘Liverpool? The family have never lived there. What do you hope to find?’

  Jayne smiled. ‘Just following a lead.’

  ‘I think you will be wasting your time, Mrs Sinclair. As far as I know, the family has no links to Liverpool, except for helping to fund various railways that went to the place. Henry Marlowe and his son, Royston, believed in free trade as a way of increasing the wealth of the country.’

  ‘And of increasing their own wealth too, I expect.’

  David smiled. ‘Of course. Before those two, the family had tended to be simple country folk; hunting, fishing and farming. But after them, we became very involved in the mercantile growth of the country. It was to be expected in the Industrial Revolution, of course.’

  Rachel appeared in the doorway, dressed and made-up perfectly. ‘Sorry I’m late, Jayne. Shall we go?’

  ‘You don’t want to eat, Rachel?’ asked her father.

  ‘No thanks, Papa, Mrs Davies has made me a flask of coffee instead.’

  Jayne drained her cup and stood up. ‘Thank you for the coffee.’

  ‘Good luck with your wild-goose chase, Mrs Sinclair,’ said David Marlowe, without looking up from his kedgeree.

  Outside, they got in the car and took the road to Chester. Jayne waited five minutes before speaking to Rachel.

  ’Last night, somebody tried to run me off the road. I checked the numberplate and the car was owned by Purview Estates.’

  ‘But that’s the name of the farming estates next to Wickham Hall.’

  ‘Exactly. The car was a grey Range Rover.’

  Rachel thought for a moment. ‘There are two Range Rovers on the estate. Anybody can use them. I’ve driven them to the village myself.’

  ‘Did you tell anybody what happened with our research yesterday?’

  Rachel shook her head.

  ‘I was attacked an hour after I left Wickham Hall.’

  ‘I never spoke to anybody until much later, I promise, Jayne.’

  Jayne checked in her rearview mirror. Was somebody following them, and was that how David Marlowe knew of their movements?

  She would be careful today. If she caught the man who was watching them, he would be lucky to escape with his life.

  Chapter Thirty-sEven

  Wednesday, August 21, 2019

  Chester, Cheshire

  It was close to ten o’clock before they parked in Chester. It had been seven months since Jayne had visited this area and she was tempted to go in to see the archivist of the museum, Reg Atkinson, who had helped her with the Roberts case last Christmas. But time was of the essence and she decided to do that another day.

  With Rachel in tow, they walked to Duke Street, a long row of Georgian and early Victorian houses in the middle of the city. The archive itself was housed in what looked like an old brick warehouse or mill.

  They walked in and marched up to an archivist on the front desk.

  ‘Hello, my name is Jayne Sinclair. I rang earlier about looking at the parish registers.’

  ‘It was for St Peter’s, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I’ve found the microfilms for you. Unfortunately, some of the years are missing…’

  ‘Let me guess. 1832 to 1841?’

  The archivist’s eyebrows rose. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘A wild guess.’

  ‘The registers for earlier in the century are still available. I’ve pulled out the ones from 1800 to 1810 for you.’

  ‘Didn’t we see those with Reverend Arbuthnot yesterday?’ Rachel asked.

  Jayne nodded. ‘Do you have anything else for the period?’

  The archivist thought for a moment and began to shake her head, before an almost visible light bulb went off in her eyes. ‘You could try the Bishop’s Transcripts.’

  ‘Bishop’s Transcripts?’ asked Rachel.

  ‘Copies of the parish registers were sent each year to the Bishop of Chester. Researchers often use these records when the original is difficult to read or is missing.’

  ‘So the 1832 to 1841 records will be in the Bishop’s Transcripts?’

  ‘I don’t know, honestly, but they could be. It all depends whether the vicar at that time was diligent in his duties. I’ll pull out the microfilms for you anyway.’

  She vanished into a room behind her desk and returned minutes later with an armful of microfilms.

  Jayne thanked the archivist and took them to a reader, inserting the first of the Bishop’s Transcripts reels into the machine.

  ‘You’re not looking at the register?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘We’ve already seen it at the church and time is running short. This place closes for lunch at one and we have to get to Liverpool for two. It’s in the Bishop’s Transcripts that we’ll find new information.’

  She scanned the records quickly, looking for any sign of St Peter’s. There was nothing in the first reel or the second. Finally, she inserted the third and final reel into the reader, crossing her fingers as she did so.

  ‘I didn’t know you were so superstitious, Jayne.’

  ‘The gods of genealogy are a fickle bunch. It’s best to keep them onside.’

  She scanned this last reel more slowly. After twenty minutes, just as her spirits had begun to ebb, a title card appeared on the screen.

  St Peter’s Church, Little Marden

  ‘Bingo, we’ve got it,’ said Rachel.

  Jayne moved slowly through the birth records, which started in 1822 and stopped in 1842. They read all the entries, even though the handwriting was a terrible scrawl which only improved with the obvious arrival of a new vicar in 1836.

  Nothing.

  There were a lot of familiar Cheshire names, but no Marlowe births were recorded. No mention of a Royston Marlowe.

  ‘It looks like he was baptised somewhere else.’

  ‘Or maybe the year was wrong?’ Jayne went through the rest of the baptismal records until 1842 again.

  Still nothing.

  ‘What do we do now?’

  Jayne thought for a moment. ‘These Bishop’s Transcripts also have marriage records. Let’s check them.’

  They scrolled to the end of the microfilm, finding the marriage records. Rachel was the first to spot it.

  ‘Look! Clara Marlowe married Henry Roylance on February 14th, 1836.’ She paused for a moment before adding, ‘Is this the son of Jeremiah Roylance?’

  Chapter ThIRTY-eight

  Wednesday, August 21, 2019

  Chester, Cheshire

  Jayne advanced the microfilm. On the next page was the full entry for the marriage.

  Marriage of Hen
ry Roylance and Clara Marlowe

  Groom’s age: 30

  Groom’s residence: Hope St, Liverpool

  Profession: Merchant

  Groom’s father: Jeremiah Roylance

  Groom’s mother:

  Bride’s age: 28

  Bride’s residence: Wickham Hall, Little Marden, Cheshire

  Profession:

  Bride’s father: Sir Philip Marlowe

  Bride’s mother: Lady Anne Marlowe

  Jayne Sinclair whistled under her breath. ‘No wonder we couldn’t find Henry Marlowe’s birth records…’

  ’I don’t understand, Jayne. Henry’s name is Roylance, not Marlowe? But the family tree says he was born in 1804 as Henry Marlowe?’

  ‘This proves he wasn’t. His real name was Henry Roylance and he lived in Liverpool.’

  ‘But… but how did he get the name Marlowe? Did he take his wife’s name?’

  ‘I’ll show you.’ Jayne jumped up and strode towards the archivist. ‘Do you have a copy of Phillimore and Fry?’

  ‘The Index of Name Changes? I think so, let me find it for you.’

  A couple of minutes later the archivist returned with a red, leather-bound volume.

  As Jayne opened it, she explained to Rachel what she was doing. ‘This book was printed in 1905 and it’s an index to all name changes that were announced or occurred through Royal Licence after 1760.’

  ‘Will Henry be in there?’

  ‘We’re going to find out.’

  She opened the yellowing pages of the book and went through the index for M.

  ‘Markeloff, Marker, Markham, Markland, Marks, Markwick, Marlow… Here it is.’ Her finger jabbed the page. ‘“Marlowe: Roylance, Henry, on his marriage to Clara Marlowe”. February 14th, 1836, and September 12th, 1837. I think the second date is when the name change took effect.’

  ‘And what’s “LG 898 and LG 1053”?’ asked Rachel, peering at the page.

  Jayne didn’t answer the question but instead asked the archivist, ‘Do you have a computer I could use?’

  The archivist pointed to an empty desktop on the right. ‘But you’ll have to be quick, we close for lunch in fifteen minutes.’

  Jayne rushed over to the desktop with Rachel following closely behind. She sat down and typed the web address for the London Gazette, the LG in the reference. ‘This is the newspaper where all official notices were printed by the government. It’s still used today. We’ll just search their archives for 1837, pages 898 and 1053.’

  Jayne typed quickly and one entry appeared on the screen. ‘Bingo.’

  Whitehall, 12 September, 1837

  The Queen has been pleased to grant unto Henry Roylance, of Liverpool in the county of Lancashire, Gentleman, his Royal Licence and Authority that he and his issue may henceforth use the name and arms of Marlowe in lieu and instead of that of Roylance, being the ward and presumptive heir of Sir Philip Marlowe of Wickham Hall, Little Marden, in the county of Cheshire.

  And to Command that the said Royal Licence and Authority be recorded in his Majesty’s College of Arms, otherwise to be void and of none effect.

  Signed

  Sir Ralph Norris

  ‘There’s another page, LG 1053, let’s check that too.’

  Jayne typed in the next page reference. Again, just one entry popped up.

  VICTORIA R.

  Victoria, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Queen, Defender of the Faith, To Our Right Trusty and Right Entirely Beloved Cousin Henry Duke of Norfolk, Earl. Whereas Henry Roylance, of Liverpool in the county of Lancashire, Gentleman, hath by his petition humbly represented to Us that through wardship and marriage he wishes to adopt the surname Marlowe. The Petitioner therefore most humbly prays Our Royal Licence and Authority that he and his issue may take and henceforth use the surname of Marlowe in lieu and instead of that of Roylance. Know ye that We of Our Princely Grace and Special favour have given and Granted and do by these presents give and grant unto him the said Henry Roylance Our Royal Licence and Authority that he and his issue may take and henceforth use the surname of Marlowe in lieu and instead of that of Roylance, provided that this Our Concession and Declaration be recorded in Our College of Arms, otherwise this Our Licence and Permission to be void and of none effect.

  Our Will and Pleasure therefore is that you, Henry Duke of Norfolk, to whom the cognisance of matters of this nature doth properly belong, do require and command that this Our Concession and Declaration be recorded in Our College of Arms to the end that Our Officers of Arms and all others upon occasion may take full notice and have full knowledge thereof. And for so doing this shall be your Warrant.

  Given at our Court of Saint James the Twelfth day of September, 1837 in the first year of Our Reign.

  By Her Majesty’s Command

  (Signed) H. A. BRUCE

  Recorded in the College of Arms, London, pursuant to a Warrant from the Earl Marshal of England.

  (Signed) GEORGE HARRISON, Windsor Herald

  Henry Roylance, Licence that he and his issue may take and use the surname of Marlowe in lieu and instead of that of Roylance.

  ‘Sounds like Victorian mumbo-jumbo to me.’

  ‘It’s really simple. Your ancestor Henry changed his name by Royal Licence from Roylance to Marlowe.’

  ‘He adopted his wife’s surname? Why would he do that?’

  ‘I think the word “wardship” in the explanation gives us a reason. He must have been adopted by your ancestor, Sir Philip Marlowe.’

  ‘But why?’

  Before Jayne could answer, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. It was the archivist.

  ‘I’m sorry, I have to close up now, it’s close to one o’ clock.’

  ‘Thank you, sorry for being so long,’ Jayne replied. Turning back to Rachel, she said, ‘Let’s find a café somewhere and have a quick lunch before going to Liverpool. There may be one more document that should explain everything. With a bit of luck, it will be online.’

  •

  Chapter ThIRTY-nine

  Wednesday, August 21, 2019

  Chester, Cheshire

  After leaving the Cheshire Archives, Jayne and Rachel quickly found a café.

  Jayne pulled out her laptop and logged on to the internet.

  ‘This is so exciting, Jayne. We now know Henry Roylance adopted the surname Marlowe when he married into the family. What are you looking for?’

  Jayne’s fingers tapped at the keyboard. ‘It’s a bit of a long shot, but according to the family tree, Sir Philip Marlowe – Clara’s father – died in 1837. I’m hoping that as a rich landowner, he left a last will and testament. Luckily many of the historical Cheshire wills are kept online.’

  Rachel looked over Jayne’s shoulder as the landing page for Findmypast appeared. Jayne pulled up the Cheshire Wills page and typed in the name ‘Philip Marlowe’ and the date ‘1837’. There was a pause as the search engine looked for the answer.

  Then just one response appeared on the screen. Jayne clicked on the name and a copy of the last will and testament slowly formed.

  Rachel read out the words, occasionally stumbling as the copperplate writing became too florid for her:

  ‘“I, Sir Philip Marlowe, of the parish of Little Marden in Cheshire by this will and testament give and bequeath to my dearest adopted son, Henry Marlowe, everything of which I may possess including the house and estate of Wickham Hall, my house at 23 Cadogan Square, London, all my chattels, appurtenances and moneys, with the following exceptions and after the payment of all my funeral expenses.”

  ‘“To my dearest and only daughter, Clara, I leave 1000 pounds plus an income of 150 pounds for life to be spent as she sees fit. To the church of St Peter in the parish of Little Marden, I leave 500 pounds to be spent on the upkeep of the church and its surrounding graves including my own. This money must not be used for the upkeep of the minister. He has had enough money off me during his tenure of the benefice and has done little work to justify
the cost. To the poor of the parish of Little Marden, I also leave 500 pounds for the construction of homes for the old and sick. These homes to be constructed on estate land by my manager Alfred Smith.”’

  Here, Rachel paused for a second. ‘I know those houses. They still exist on Chester Road, just as you leave the village.’

  She went back to reading the will.

  ‘“To the afore-mentioned Alfred Smith, I leave the sum of 100 pounds as well as an income of 10 pounds per year to be paid annually, for his loyalty and advice when the estate was suffering penury and blight. Finally, to Mrs Amelia Gaynor, who provided such support and comfort for me after the death of my wife, I also leave the sum of 100 pounds and an income of ten pounds per year to be paid annually.”

  ‘“I appoint the said adopted son, Henry Marlowe, as executrix of this, my last will and testament.” It’s signed by Sir Philip Marlowe and dated April twenty-seventh, 1837.’

  ‘The will makes it clear. Henry was not Marlowe’s legitimate son, but was adopted when he married Clara.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘That long family tree with male heir after male heir is tosh. The line was broken in 1837 because Sir Philip had no male heirs.’

  ‘My brother won’t be pleased when I tell him.’

  ‘Don’t let him know for the moment. We should make sure of our facts first and provide a true family tree for him.’

  ‘How are you going to do that?’

  ‘The key lies with this man.’ Jayne pointed to the screen. ‘Henry Marlowe, also known as Henry Roylance.’

  ‘Didn’t his name come up when we searched in the pub? How are you going to find out more about him?’

  Jayne thought about telling Rachel of her search for the Roylances on Wikipedia, but decided against it. She could give Rachel the article to read in the car on their way to Liverpool, she had realised that nothing remained secret for long once Rachel knew about it.

  Instead, she said, ’It’s the reason we are going to Liverpool now.’

  ‘Oh, Jayne, this sounds so exciting. A proper detective story, and instead of acting in it, I am actually living it.’