If it sometimes seems that The Teatime Tattler has nothing but scandal and bad news, then do not blame us, dear reader. Such stories are sadly plentiful. But every now and then a story comes across our desk that touches even our calloused hearts, and that reassures us that courage, perseverance and loyalty still exist in this war-weary world.
Such is the story of Maggie Parker and her children. Picture, if you will, the daughter of one of our brave soldiers, a sergeant, who died in the service of God and his country. Maggie, a good and modest girl for all that she had been raised by her father in the army’s train, was told to choose a husband. And quite right, too, dear reader. The army is no place for a virtuous single girl with neither father nor husband.
Dear reader, Maggie was fortunate. There was a corporal she liked, a William Parker, and he like her, and so they were married, and for a time they were blissfully happy, even in the midst of war. Their son was born, and named for his father, and little Billy grew and prospered. Never was a little family so content.
But war is a dreadful thing, and when the French were driven from Spain and Will’s regiment were given their orders to march after them and end the long war, Billy had one of those childhood illnesses that are short duration but terrifying to parents. Maggie, who was also ill as her second confinement approached, remained behind.
And that, dear reader, was the last this gallant lady heard of her dear husband.
By the time she, her son, and her new daughter were well enough to follow him to France, the peace had been signed, his regiment had been sent elsewhere, and nobody could – or, perhaps, would – tell her whether Corporal William Parker was still in the land of the living.
Maggie returned to Spain, and worked to save money to travel to England, where she hoped to find Will’s mother. A determined woman can conquer mountains, and Maggie made it to England, but on the way she found a difficulty. Parker is a common name, and the only thing she knew about Mrs. Parker’s address was the name of the village. Ashton. How many villages are there in England with the name Ashton? Twenty or more, spread across the land.
But that did not deter Maggie Parker. She arrived in Portsmouth, purchased a wheelbarrow, set her baggage and her son in it, strapped her daughter to her back, and set off to find her mother-in-law.
Spare a thought for this gallant woman, the flower of English womanhood, marching the roads of England with all the determination of a conquering army.
Dear reader, I am certain you join with all of us at The Teatime Tattler in wishing her God Speed, and a Happy Ending.
***
Maggie’s Wheelbarrow in Merry Belles
A year ago, Maggie’s husband marched out of Spain with his regiment to invade France. She hasn’t heard from him since, and when she followed him, the battles were over and his regiment was gone. Letters to the army, him, and his family have brought no answers, so she and her children are off to find him, even if they have to walk the length and breadth of England.
(Merry Belles is a Bluestocking Belles collection.)
Recently, one Seth Caulfield, boldly bearing the earl’s surname, appeared in London wearing the uniform of a naval officer of sorts. One gathered he bore the rank of surgeon, a warranted rank, not one of a gentleman to be sure. He had the look of a Caulfield about him, however, and no sooner than he had appeared than he was welcomed to the earl’s table and given full support. It appeared that another one of the, if you’ll pardon our language, Clarion Bastards has appeared on the scene. (I apologize if ladies take offense but we do like to speak the truth, and the man is well, not legitimate at all.)
About the Story
Justin dragged himself out of bed to answer a thunderous cascade of knocks on his door. It was Victor Grant, who raised his brow at Justin’s appearance and said, “What does the schoolmaster get when he is late for school? Six of the best? Would you like me to administer them for you?”