and daughter to leave, Emmeline pleaded to Sylvia, ‘Look after Father!’, a
charge that the sixteen-year-old took very seriously since she idolised the man.^4
Once the train journey had begun, Emmeline began to relax and take an
interest in the places they passed through, especially Paris; she had long wanted
to show Christabel the city where she had studied and which she loved. But the
daughter was less enchanted with Paris than the mother. ‘Christabel takes it all
with her usual calm’, Emmeline wrote back to Richard.^5 Once in Switzerland,
Emmeline and Christabel travelled to Corsier where Noémie was holidaying.
Here they spent sunny days relaxing by the lake, rowing, motoring and enjoying
the scenery. One day, when Christabel sat writing to Sylvia, Emmeline asked
her to include a message – ‘Mother says will you make a parcel of “Studios” &
put some drawings of your own in – some of your charcoal things etc. Also you
must not ride too much on your bicycle.’^6 Emmeline, like any mother, was keen
for others to see the work of her talented, artistic daughter, and also anxious
that Sylvia, a less accomplished cyclist than Christabel, should not run the risk
of another accident.^7 A letter from Richard to his wife, the last she was ever to
receive from him, spoke loving words. ‘When you return, we will have a new
honeymoon and reconsecrate each to the other in unity of heart.’^8
One day soon afterwards, at tea-time in the garden at Corsier, a telegram
addressed to Emmeline arrived. It was from Richard. ‘I am not well. Please come
home.’^9 In an agitated state of mind, Emmeline left immediately leaving
Christabel behind. On the train from London to Manchester, on 5 July 1898,
someone entered Emmeline’s compartment and opened an evening newspaper.
She saw a black border and read of the death of her own husband. In deep
shock, Emmeline cried out as the passengers tried to comfort her.
Arriving home well after midnight, Emmeline found in the house not only
the children and Ellen, the nursemaid, but also her brother, Herbert, her sister,
Mary, and Susannah, both of the latter now married. The visitors had come to
comfort the children and help, generally. The thirteen-year-old Adela and
eight-year-old Harry were in bed but Sylvia, who had just turned sixteen, was
still up. And it was especially the ashen-faced Sylvia, who had waited for her
mother to arrive, that the grief-stricken Emmeline held closest to her. Sylvia
had longed for Emmeline to return yet dreaded it. ‘Mother, I did not send for
you; I did not get a doctor till Sunday.’^10 Emmeline murmured no reproach
since she was anxious for her daughter, the responsibility she had borne and the
shock she had endured. Although Adela and Harry had been brought to see
their sick father, they had left for school before he passed away. It was Sylvia
who had been in the room when Richard had died, holding the oxygen tube
that he needed to make his breathing easier.^11 Later that day, Emmeline regis-
tered the death of her fifty-eight-year-old husband from a gastric ulcer which
had perforated his stomach. Under the category of description of informant she
wrote ‘Widow of deceased’. She was forty years old.
Emmeline was heartbroken. She and Richard had been comrades in strug-
gling causes for nineteen years, and devoted to each other. Now all was gone.
WIDOWHOOD AND EMPLOYMENT