Chapter Fourteen - Beneath the Passing Clouds

Painting by Joseph Murray Ince, A View of Radnorshire, 1839

 As the heart of winter approached, Henry and Charlotte welcomed the birth of their second child, Edward Joseph. They brought the baby to St Edward's Church in Knighton, where he was baptised on January 20, 1829, simply under the given name Joseph. Joseph was the name of Henry's maternal grandfather, Joseph Saunders, a name that was also passed down to his brother, Joseph Murray Ince. On the baptism record, Henry and Charlotte's residence is listed as Garth Cottage, and Henry's occupation is recorded as an officer in the Berkshire militia, a title he held while serving on half pay, despite the regiment having been disbanded and rarely meeting for training.

Edward Joseph Ince's baptism entry, St Edward's Church, Knighton, 20 Jan 1829

New roads were planned to ease travel between Knighton and Presteigne, but by the time they would ever be underway, Charlotte and Henry had replaced the hill land of Knighton with the wide fields of Broad Heath, only about a mile and a half outside their hometown of Presteigne. Charlotte's life was always filled with adjustment and change, but this year would bring the warmth of familiarity. 

 The summer half of the year was awakening. The mornings glistened beneath the passing clouds, and the green of the valleys was ever scattered with blossoms. The cuckoo returned with its song, bringing a trove of childhood recollections spent picking wild violets and hawthorn, or walks along the Lugg, when Charlotte was happy to be no one other than herself. Between Charlotte and her siblings, there were almost twenty small children now filling their households, so many sharing the same laughter and expressions, sometimes clothes and sometimes shoes; together, unknowingly, reliving generations of memories that time had tucked away. Soon on Nos Galan Mai (May Eve), the children would be collecting branches of birch and mountain ash to lean against the doorways and drape upon the stables to ward off the unknown, especially the trickery of y tylwyth teg, the fair family, otherwise known as the faerie folk. It was something Charlotte would not dare to speak lightly of, if at all, for old stories never die in Radnorshire, and she knew them well. How quickly time would pass if you stepped into a faerie ring, and it seemed like everyone knew of someone lured off the path into a world they could not explain. 

 

Somewhere amid family connections and planting oneself back into place, Henry's dreams of farming finally came true. According to land tax assessment records, Henry leased a small farm in Broad Heath from James Stephens. The Hereford Journal describes the property in an advertisement as "a neat cottage fit for the residence of a genteel family consisting of two good parlours, a kitchen, numerous culinary offices, three best bedrooms and three servants' bedrooms." There was a well-stocked garden with fruit trees, two five-stall horse stables, a cowshed for five cows, a barn, a pigsty, an acre of orchard and a cottage for a workman. To live in such a place must have felt surreal to Charlotte. How she wished her brother Alexander could see her now. Sometimes, when watching Henry through the window, plotting his next move, it brought back the look she knew in her brother's eyes. Eleanor and Alexander stirred up nearly as much gossip as Charlotte over the years when Alexander, a young farm labourer, married Eleanor Stephens of Woodside, a widow and landowner almost twice his age. Together, they lived on her farm in Knill, Herefordshire. When calling upon Eleanor, Charlotte could still see Alexander standing there, straw and tangles of grasses clinging to his waistcoat, brushing off his hat, rushing over to greet her. How surprised he would be to see that she was now a gentleman farmer's wife.

1830 Presteigne Land Tax Assessment showing Henry Ince as occupant

Men Scything, sketch by Joseph Murray Ince, 1829

Description of the house Henry and Charlotte leased from James Stephens
from an 1821 advertisement in the Hereford Journal

 Henry's parents moved from Broad Street, where they had lived for many years in a house leased from Edward Jenkins, later known as Roseland, to St David's Street. For several years, they shared the house on Broad Street with Edward Lee James, a prominent landowner and lawyer in town. He was the uncle of John James, who served as guardian to Charlotte and Henry P. Pyefinch's children. On St David's Street, their landlord was Robert Edwards, a druggist, who owned at least five other properties on the street. Although Henry R Ince's name does not show as an occupant in the St David's Street land tax records, Robert Edwards mentions him as a tenant in his will: "all that messuages, garden, orchard and premises… situate in St David's Street." Henry's parents may have found it to be a better location, perhaps more subdued than busy Broad Street. It is possible that Henry's father secured better office space for his surgery there, as he was in partnership with another physician, Mr Cross, at the time. It seems likely that the premises he leased are now known as Warden Court. 

Although it is from a much later period, the map gives an idea of where Henry's family lived. The red dot marks the house where the Inces lived on St. David's St. The dark blue dot represents their home on Broad St. The purple dot indicates where Henry's mother's sister, Mary Ward, and her daughters lived. The light blue dot shows the location of Henry P. Pyefinch's gravesite in the churchyard. The green dot marks the border between Radnorshire, Wales, and Herefordshire, England, which is separated by the River Lugg. Lastly, the pink arrow shows the road leading to Broad Heath, where Henry and Charlotte were now living.

Charlotte was well acquainted with St David's Street. All three of her babies with Henry P. Pyefinch were born there. It is unclear whether Henry P. rented the house for Charlotte or whether she lived with family. When looking at the Salop Fire Office policy records, in 1825, Charlotte was listed as the occupier of a house belonging to Robert Edwards, the same landlord as Henry's family. The premium on the house was £40, and £30 for a thatched cider mill that was adjacent to the house. Charlotte would have been only about eighteen at that time. Her older brother, Richard, a labourer, also lived on St. David's Street for several years with his wife, Margaret, whose maiden name was Boulter, and their three small children. It seems likely that he would be the main occupier on an insurance policy if Charlotte were living with him. The 1825 land tax record assessment does not list Charlotte, nor many of the other occupiers of Robert Edwards' houses on St David's Street, although it does list a "Bolter. "In 1820, a Mary Boulter, aged sixty, died on St. David's Street, and in 1825, another Mary Boulter, aged sixty-six, passed away on the same street. One of them was likely Richard's wife's mother, Mary Boulter, formerly Wanckling or Wanklin, suggesting they may have lived with her or vice versa. With this in mind, as well as the tax amount on the houses Robert Edward owned and those listed on his insurance policy, it appears that Henry P. Pyefinch was supporting Charlotte as his mistress and mother of his children up until about the time she married Henry.

 Some things never change – market days were still on Saturday, and the June Fair at the Warden was the festival of the year, never to be missed. The church day bell still rang so early at five on summer mornings and sounded curfew at eight o'clock every evening all year round. The Meyricks were the butchers, James Beebee was the rector of Presteigne, John Davies was the miller, and Charlotte still eyed every hat in the dress shop on Broad Street since the time she was a little girl. Henry's cousin Susannah still doted on his every move, and always news would spread through the parish like spilt molasses, taking its time, gathering more tarted-up gossip. Still, there was an unexplainable comfort in being back, found in each step Charlotte took. To her, it was the place where familiar footpaths carried her to wherever she wished, where each bend in the road, no matter how mundane, revealed how close she was to where she was going. If there were any ill feelings remaining towards her by Henry's family and associates, surely the subject was becoming dull by now.

View of St Andrew's Church, Presteigne by Joseph Murray Ince, 1852

The last Saturday of May, the entire town of Presteigne awoke to the sound of bells stretching across the valleys, celebrating the coming of age of Sir Harford Jones Brydges' only son and namesake. Music filled the streets; colourful banners streamed from the church tower. Freshly baked bread, cider, and roasted meat were served, encouraging all to partake in the day's merriment. Henry's mother, as sick as she was with dropsy, would be seated by her doorway with her sister Mary Ward greeting passersby; the newly starched frills of their small white bonnets joined in conversation. Charlotte was sure that Henry's cousins, Sarah and Susannah, would catch up with them. She could see them now, looking in all directions, moving like swans in their finest street clothes. By evening, the whole town would be illuminated. Candles would flicker in the windows, and the hills would be a spectacle of bonfires and fireworks. Nearly a hundred people would fill the inns at a time, and while the ale, wine and punch kept flowing, the townspeople lifted their cups to the health of the Jones-Brydges family. Sir Harford Jones Brydges, a baronet of the Boultibrooke estate, was politically a Whig and not afraid to express his opinions, particularly his stance against taxation. He had served in the East India Company and was appointed Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to Persia. In the years to come, Henry's father, Henry R. Ince, who shared similar political views, would be a member of the Grey Coat Club, an organisation founded by Sir Harford Jones Brydges.

The seating of Radnorshire's Great Sessions was held in Presteigne's new Shire Hall for the first time that August. Only three prisoners were brought before the court. James Roberts received a death sentence for stealing a horse, but in benevolence, the verdict was changed to transportation for life. Still, a hefty sentence. The other two prisoners had been accused of stealing wearing apparel; William Pope, otherwise known as Protheroe, was sentenced to fourteen years transportation, and Mark Jones received one year of hard labour. Even though the gaol at Presteigne was relatively new, frequent breakouts continued, as they had in earlier years. Security upgrades were lacking, possibly due to poor wall construction, jailers' oversights, or simply good fortune on the prisoner's part. Either way, many of the townspeople just chose to look the other way. Less than three months earlier, John Pugh, under a sentence of transportation for stealing a goose, made his way out with his dirty smock-frock, grey smock coat, an old light-coloured waistcoat, kerseymere breeches, strong nailed shoes and a very old hat. It is said that Radnorshire jurors tended to sway slightly in favour of the accused, to the extent that it was once reported that a judge, being driven to Knighton, saw a hare running across the road chased by two greyhounds. "Nothing but a Radnorshire jury could save that hare", he said. Charlotte would likely smile at such a statement.

John Pugh's Escape, Police Gazette, 6 June 1829

Cottage scene by Joseph Murray Ince, 1851

Charlotte could not help but notice the absence of Henry P. Pyefinch at the town events. She looked for him on market days but seldom caught sight of him. When, by chance, she did see him, she could not help but note how worn he looked. He assured her that the children were doing well and often arranged for Charlotte to see them. He would talk about the children's future, hoping they would have guidance, jokingly wishing for them to inherit his good sense, patience, and her charm. All the while, she felt the ground shifting; She knew something was not right. It was not like her not to ask questions, but she knew in his voice the words he did not speak. She worried for him. If she were an artist like Joseph, she knew the sky she would paint. It would be crumbling, and the colours so deep yet muted, there would be no horizon. 

It is likely that Charlotte's unmarried brother, Samuel Vaughn, now in his early twenties and listed as a farm labourer in later years, was working on the farm with Henry. An acre of fruit trees could be a hundred or more trees, and Henry was planning on a good supply of pears and apples. The potato plants were already beginning to wilt, signalling they would soon be ready to dig up. Charlotte was pregnant with their third child and had no time to rest. Even on a small scale, her responsibilities would include milking cows, feeding pigs and chickens, baking bread, churning butter, preparing meals, laundering and mending clothing, while caring for both an infant and a toddler. They likely hired a young girl to help, and it would not be surprising if Charlotte's mother, Ann, lived with them for a time. The heavy downpours of August may not have troubled Henry and Charlotte's modest garden, but nearby, the River Lugg and its tributary streams had overflowed, playing havoc with the lowlands. Fields and pastureland throughout the area were damaged, causing a loss of wheat and clover for some of the neighbours. Henry hoped the hay they had would carry them through the fall.                         

1829 Radnorshire Game License List, 30 Sept 1829, Hereford Journal

In September, Henry's name appeared for the second consecutive year in the Hereford Journal's list of those who obtained game licenses in Radnorshire. Family friend Dr. Edward Jenkins was also on the list, as was John James. A typical hunter was no longer one who headed out into the wilds of the forest; those days were long gone. To hunt, Henry had to purchase a license, which, at £3 13s 6d, was quite costly. Hunters were required to own land valued at £100 or more per year or lease land worth £150 annually. If you were the eldest son of a high-status gentry, a person of high degree, or fortunate enough to be invited by a landowner, you could be an exception. Those who did not qualify could not own a hunting dog, and individuals with smaller plots of land could not shoot any game that entered their property, even if it destroyed their crops, unless it was a rabbit, but not a hare. Game was defined as pheasants, hares, moorfowl, and partridges and did not apply to all animals. Although no one truly owns a wild animal that roams about, with ongoing enclosures of fences and hedgerows in favour of those that owned the land, deer, ducks, and rabbits were now regarded as semi-wild and considered the property of the landowner. 

How Henry was able to obtain a hunting license raises a question. It might be that the property he leased in Broad Heath generated enough income to permit him to hunt, but it is even more likely that Edward Jenkins invited Henry to hunt on his land. Dr. E. Jenkins was the squire of Nant y Groes, situated several miles from Presteigne, between Whitton and the village of Pilleth. He owned much of the land extending from there to the village of Bleddfa. Nant y Groes holds historical significance as the ancestral home of John Dee (1527-1608/9), the famed mathematician, occultist, and alchemist who served as advisor and court astronomer to Queen Elizabeth I.

The 16th-century Flemish tapestry depicting Christ entering Jerusalem was presented
to St Andrew's Church in 1737. Now hanging on the wall, it was initially used as an altar cloth.

 As September readied to slip into October, when the sky against the colours of the trees was so blue, Henry and Charlotte brought their two children to the parish church to be christened. It was Wednesday, September 30, the day following Michaelmas, signalling the return of autumn and one of the traditional quarter days of the year when leases commenced, rents were due, servants were hired, and legal matters were settled. St Andrew's Church was where Charlotte stood several times before with her first three babies, but this walk up the gravel path marked an entirely new season for her.

 A church has stood on the site of St Andrew's Church for over a thousand years. The medieval walls and different coloured stonework tell the story. Although primarily a late 12th to 14th-century structure, including the square bell tower, chancel, and Lady Chapel, the church is believed to have been first built by the Anglo-Saxons in the 9th century. Windows, arches and the present north wall are attributed to them. In 1052, Welsh ruler Gruffudd ap Llywelyn raided the area, and it appears that both the settlement and the church were severely damaged. The church was rebuilt, this time by the Normans, using part of the original structure. Two round pillars stand as a remnant of such times. Constant warfare and resistance continued over the following centuries as the Welsh pushed back the border ruled by the Norman Marcher lords. Owain Glyndwr, in the fight for Welsh independence, destroyed much of Presteigne in the early 1400s, leaving one to wonder how the church or town managed to exist at all. Yet in opening the arched wooden doors of St Andrew's, the high timbered ceiling overhead appearing like the heavens, a coffin lid silent with secrets, a small medieval carving of St Andrew keeping watch from above a window, the cherished tapestry of Jesus entering Jerusalem draped upon the altar, and the stone font, ancient and yet familiar – the resilient remains of centuries.

St Andrew's Church, Presteigne, about 1910

 As to why Henry and Charlotte waited so long for their firstborn, Henry Robert, to be baptised, it is not nearly as puzzling as to why baby Joseph, now with the full given name Edward Joseph, was baptised a second time. It seems likely he was given the name Edward in honour of Edward Jenkins. Henry Robert, now nearing the age of two, was, by the Church of England's standards, long overdue for christening.

 At first, it seems like there may have been two baby Josephs born. However, based on the baptism of Henry and Charlotte's third child, who is now due to be born in the spring, and counting backwards to the baptism of the last baby she had with Henry P. Pyefinch, there appears to be not enough calendar months for a fourth child to have been born. Church doctrine states that a baptism can only be performed once. Still, the thought crosses my mind that as a newborn, Joseph may have been sickly and, therefore, quickly baptised at home. Yet in that case, unless it was believed that the ritual was performed incorrectly, which is doubtful since it was officially recorded in the Knighton register as performed by the Reverend Robert Morris, baby Edward Joseph would have only been introduced into the congregation and not rechristened. It is likely that Henry and Charlotte simply wanted their children baptised in their home parish so that family members could attend. Another thought is that Charlotte was a nonconformist, as was much of Henry's family, and so in no rush to have the children christened. Or, when looking ahead to Charlotte's future years, perhaps she was considering converting to Catholicism and waiting to come to an agreement with Henry over the children. Whatever the reason, in coming to know Charlotte, I see her, out of fear for her children's souls, going ahead with any holy baptism, even twice or forbidden, just to be sure.

Parish baptism entries for Henry Robert and Edward Joseph, 30 Sept 1829,
St Andrew's Church, Presteigne

 Traditionally, there were to be three godparents. Two men and one woman for a male child, and two women and one man for a female child. Joseph may have travelled in from London to take part, or perhaps Edward Jenkins stood as godfather. Charlotte's siblings may have been chosen. Curate Meyrick Beebee, who often filled in for his father, the Reverend James Beebee, officiated. Charlotte and Henry, with their young sons, stood ready by the ancient stone font filled with the purest water, accompanied by the godparents. Curate Beebee began the ceremony, echoing the words that had been spoken in those walls for hundreds of years, with the opening statement as it appears in the Book of Common Prayer: "Hath this child been already baptised, or no?" Surely, they would answer no. Soon, infant Edward Joseph was back in his mother's arms, with Charlotte and Henry keeping the mystery to themselves.

The Ministration of Public Baptism taken from the Common Book of Prayer, 1800

Rural scene by Joseph Murray Ince

Autumn's mild weather was put on hold when suddenly, in the first week of October, the Radnorshire hills were draped with snow. The weather soon changed to heavy rain and sleet, glazing the fields and harvest wagons with ice. So sharp and piercing was the cold that some say it was the coldest day of the year. Yet, as quickly as it appeared, the seasonal days returned. Henry and Samuel hurried to collect the remaining harvest, half expecting another display of winter's whimsy to catch them off guard again. Henry turned thirty-two that month. Generally, birthdays were not celebrated with much fuss - that came later over the years. Although Henry's mother likely invited them for a goose dinner or perhaps sweets with tea. The backgammon set would come out. Henry's father's namesake would be pulling on his leg to see, while Edward Joseph finally napped on Charlotte's lap in the far corner of the drawing room.

 There, the secretaire was filled with books, its glass doors barely able to close. It was a place where Charlotte welcomed losing herself in the moment. Trying to catch each title out of the corner of her eye, she could hear their quiet conversation brush from one topic to the next - Henry's cousin George and family were travelling to America. Were they planning to see his father in West Virginia? Uncle Thomas Willson's pyramid cemetery plans continue to entertain the London papers, and Joseph has not stopped painting since the last time they saw him. Mr Ince was eagerly awaiting the outcome of an upcoming meeting of county magistrates and freeholders in the hope of keeping the Assizes in Radnorshire. Relocating them to Hereford in England would only injure the welfare of the county, he said. With each tick of the clock, Charlotte's thoughts were still upon the bookshelf. She eyed several worn volumes of medical journals she remembered seeing on Henry P. Pyefinch's busy desk. And just like that, a simple book carried her further back than she dared to remember. She knew that any day now a note would come, stamped in black sealing wax, to her door.

A Welsh Funeral by David Cox, 1848.
David Cox was Joseph Murray Ince's art instructor and mentor.

 All Hallows' Eve approached. It was a Saturday, a night with no moon, only stories of hellhounds and spirits passing like the wind in the sounds of wild birds. It was when people walked faster to hurry to their hearths, and tradition predicted abundance, death, and marriage - and the day Henry Pateshall Pyefinch died at his home on Broad Street. 

The bell tolled nine times on the morning of his funeral. While a fancy horse-drawn hearse decorated with plumes and velvets might have been an option, Henry P. Pyefinch's coffin was likely carried to the parish church, as it was located just down the street from his home. A procession of family members, colleagues, associates, and townsfolk who had come to rely on his doctoring over the years gathered behind, the men wearing black armbands and gloves, the women in sombre colours and black ribbons on their hats and bonnets. They would pause at the lynch gate, awaiting the Reverend James Beebee. Then, close friends and family would follow. Henry P's niece, Mary Stephens, would be there with her brother, his nephew, John Taylor Stephens, as well as his cousin, John Bird, and close friend and sole executor of his estate, John James. 

Charlotte was not his widow, but she would wear black. Now, at age twenty-one, she felt as if she had spent a lifetime with him. He had taken her from servitude to mistress to motherhood. He understood when she wanted more from life, when his love was not enough, when their social differences still held the reins on what he could not shake. He had been her security, even with no strings attached; he watched over her, cared for their children, and gave her a life. In his will, Henry P. Pyefinch acknowledged his natural children and secured their future apprenticeships, as well as their inheritance. And now there she stood in the churchyard, where they once stood, filled with the loss of their youngest child, this time trading white spring blossoms for the muted gold of sycamore trees that lined the walkway. Even now, Charlotte found herself comforted by his words when, in fact, she knew she should have been the one comforting him.

Henry P Pyefinch's death notice, 18 Nov 1829, Hereford Journal

Henry Pateshall Pyefinch's grave inscription. He died close to the time of his 60th birthday.

 Henry P. Pyefinch's grave is marked by an altar tomb that was later shared with his nephew, John Taylor Stephens. It rests near Broad Street, alongside what was later known as the Old Bridge Inn. Charlotte would pray for his soul, and when she had a moment free, such as on market days or during last-minute errands to town, she would take a longer route to pass by his grave, to finish the words she couldn't find and watch the last of autumn's leaves swiftly swirl away.

 And so now, it was suddenly December, with the days closing in so early across the hills. Charlotte's sister, Ann, and John Abel recently had a baby boy named George Abel Vaughn, baptised on the twenty-first of the month at the parish church. The family gathered together, and Charlotte had plenty of apples to make a proper tart. Ann and John lived on Scotland Street with John's mother, Hannah. They had posted marriage banns two years prior, but whether they decided to postpone the ceremony or were wed outside the Church of England remains unknown. Until 1836, marriages conducted within another denomination were not considered legally binding, and the children typically carried their mother's surname. The twenty-first was also St Thomas's Day. Like the women of the neighbouring farms, Charlotte set a sack of wheat outside her door for "thomasing" - when the women would go farm to farm, collecting a quarter measure of flour to add to their supplies, which they often saved for Christmas baking. It was also a day welcomed by the poor cottagers, who were permitted to ask for their share as well. To refuse them, they say, was very unlucky.

The solstice brought the promise of light, and the year prepared to end the way it began, with sudden, subtle snowflakes wandering the heathland. Frost gathered in the dingles and valleys, and peat smoke leaned from their cottage chimney. Charlotte's life was always a journey of change, but this time she was happy for the warmth of winter dreams. While Henry made a final check on the livestock and the last rush candle of the night burned low, Charlotte glanced at Henry and Edward nearby in their cradles, hoping they were sleeping peacefully, smiling, seeing angels.