Mrs Boots: A heartwarming, page-turner inspired by the true story of Florence Boot, the woman behind Boots (Mrs Boots, Book 1)

by Deborah Carr

  Eventually, after what was probably only minutes but seemed to Florence to have taken hours, the living room door opened. She studied her father’s face. He seemed happy. Although on second glance she saw an underlying nervousness about him. Was it because he had giving his permission with the knowledge that her mother would need to be persuaded that Florence marrying Jesse was the right thing to allow them to do?

  ‘Florence, please come in, will you?’ He let her pass him into the room and stepped out of the doorway, calling for her mother to join them.

  Her mother took a moment, no doubt to dry her hands and remove her apron, Florence mused.

  ‘Yes, William,’ she said, her voice light, until she stepped into the room and caught Florence’s eye. Her eyes hardened and she looked from Florence to Jesse and then to her husband. ‘William?’

  She said his name in a question, but didn’t hide the underlying threat in her voice, Florence noticed.

  ‘My dear, I have been speaking to Mr Boot alone. He has asked for Florence’s hand in marriage and I have—’

  Before he could finish his sentence and make Florence the happiest woman alive, her mother shook her head. ‘I will speak to you alone for a moment, please, William.’

  ‘Stay here with Mr Boot, Florence,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask Amy to come and join you both while I speak with your mother.’

  She stayed in the room alone with Jesse, the door closed firmly behind her parents. Just then Amy walked in.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, frowning. ‘Mother looked very stern when Father told me to come in here.’ She stared at Jesse. ‘Is something wrong?’

  He shook his head. ‘I asked your Father to give me his blessing so that I might ask Florence to marry me.’

  ‘Jesse, tell me what Father said,’ Florence asked, taking Jesse’s hands in her own and hearing her parents’ whispers becoming more urgent and angry in the next room. ‘Quickly, before they return. I have a horrible feeling that today isn’t going to end how we would have wished it to.’

  Jesse frowned. ‘Why not?’

  Florence glanced at Amy, who had sat on the chair across the small room and was watching them apprehensively.

  ‘I suspect that Mother has her reservations about us marrying and she does not want Father to give us his blessing.’ She sighed. ‘Therefore, before they come back to the room, please, tell me what Father said, so that I can enjoy it for at least a moment.’

  Jesse gave her hands a slight squeeze and gazed into her eyes. ‘He gave his permission for us to marry,’ he said, his voice gentle and filled with a love that mirrored her own. ‘We are going to be married, Florence. Isn’t that wonderful?’

  They hadn’t heard the door opening.

  ‘I am afraid that if you do marry my daughter, Mr Boot, that it won’t be in the near future.’ Her mother stared at Florence’s hands in Jesse’s as they both stood up. Florence saw that her mother was unable to meet Jesse’s distraught gaze.

  ‘Mrs Rowe, Mr Rowe? I don’t understand,’ Jesse said, letting go of Florence’s hands, his face ashen.

  ‘We all need to remain calm,’ her father said. ‘My dear, please, take a seat.’ He looked at Jesse. ‘Mr Boot? If you wouldn’t mind doing the same. And you, Florence.’

  They did as he asked.

  ‘William,’ her mother said, her voice hard as she clasped her hands together on her lap.

  Her father remained standing and cleared his throat. He studied first Jesse and then Florence. ‘Your mother believes, as do I, now I think of it, that it wouldn’t be seemly for the two of you to marry too soon. She suggested that you postpone any engagement until next year.’

  ‘Next year?’ Florence was horrified.

  ‘You have known each other such a short time,’ her mother said, concern sharpening her tone.

  ‘I understand what you are saying,’ Jesse said, his voice calm. ‘However, how are Florence and I going to be able to become better acquainted when I have to return to my work in Nottingham and she is living here?’

  ‘You may correspond by letter,’ her mother said after a brief hesitation.

  ‘Yes, both take the time to be certain that you are right for each other,’ her father continued, clearing his throat.

  Florence knew that her mother had forced her father’s hand in this decision. He wasn’t worried about her marrying Jesse; otherwise he would have put a stop to the conversation when Jesse broached the subject. No, this was all her mother’s doing. She had managed to enforce her anxiety about Jesse’s age and health onto her father, Florence mused, angrily. She was unsurprised but hurt that her mother didn’t trust her to know what was best for herself.

  She looked at Jesse, unable to miss the hurt in his gentle face. He wasn’t a stupid man and she could tell that he knew that her mother would not choose him as her daughter’s partner. Was that why he wasn’t saying anything? She scowled in her mother’s direction, catching her eye and wondered how she could be so mean as to insist on this proviso to their marriage.

  ‘I explained that you have asked for Florence’s hand in marriage and that I had agreed. However, I’m sure you will understand that under the present circumstances this situation will have to change.’

  ‘But, why?’ Florence cried, frustrated with how things had turned out. ‘It doesn’t make sense. This is about Jesse’s age, isn’t it? And the fact that he has rheumatoid arthritis.’

  Her mother’s face reddened. Florence knew how she hated confrontation and believed that people should not discuss certain things with others. Things just like these.

  ‘Fine, if you insist. Then yes, I am concerned about Mr Boot’s age and, well, his health.’

  ‘But how is a year apart going to solve those issues? It doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘There’s no need to give me that look.’ Her mother scowled. ‘You are my daughter. I love you and want the best for you.’ She seemed to realise what she had just inferred and addressed Jesse. ‘Mr Boot, I’m sorry; I don’t mean to insult you.’

  ‘Please, do not concern yourself,’ Jesse said quietly.

  ‘Father, please.’ Florence was unable to resist pleading to him, although she knew it was probably a waste of time.

  ‘Florence, that is enough,’ her mother said, glaring at her. ‘William, continue please.’

  ‘Yes, as I was saying, Mr Boot, Mrs Rowe and I have discussed this matter.’ He cleared his throat and glanced at his wife before continuing. ‘And we’re in agreement when I say that I feel the need to rescind my permission.’

  Florence gasped. She covered her mouth with her hands to stop from crying out. It wasn’t fair. How could her parents do this, and after her father giving his permission already? She daren’t look at Jesse, but could feel his humiliation from where she was sitting feet away from him.

  ‘We have also agreed that it would probably be better if you go back to the mainland as soon as you are able. You are, as you say, a very busy man. If Florence is to spend her future with you then that is something she will need to become used to.’

  She looked at Jesse to gauge his reaction. His face was ashen and his eyes wide as if he had been slapped. Despite this, he was sitting calmly, listening to what her father was saying. His controlled reaction made her love him even more. He might have physical frailties, but mentally this man was strong. Strong and determined, and he loved her. The thought reassured her a little.

  ‘As I mentioned, we have no issue in you corresponding by letter. We also believe that if your feelings are as strong for each other next summer, say, July, as they are now, then I will give my permission and assure you I will not stand in your way if you still wish to be married.’

  Florence watched him conclude his speech. Her mother mumbled something to herself, but Florence, aware that this resistance had come from her mother, was unable to look at her in case she saw how much she resented her at that moment.

  She should be planning her wedding to Jesse right now. Celebrating their ex
citing news and writing to her friends to share their joy. Not sitting here, lost for words, trying to find a way to bear what seemed like a terrible unjust loss.

  Jesse stood. ‘I have no choice but to accept your terms, Mr and Mrs Rowe. Would you mind if I take a moment to speak with Florence alone, briefly?’

  Florence waited for her mother to reject his request, but her father surprised her by agreeing.

  ‘Come along, dear,’ he said to her mother, leading her and Amy out of the living room. ‘I will wait in the hallway for you, Florence.’ He cleared his throat and reached out his right hand for Jesse to shake. ‘Goodbye, Mr Rowe. Until we next meet.’

  As soon as her father was out of the room, Florence turned to Jesse, and taking his hands in hers, whispered, ‘I’m so sorry they’ve reacted in this way,’ she said, her voice tight with emotion. ‘I wish … I wish.’ She struggled to find the words to explain how heartbroken she was that he would soon return to England and she would be left behind here in Jersey. The thought of not seeing him for several months devastated her.

  ‘Hush, now,’ he soothed. ‘Your parents want to protect you. I have to respect that. As much as I am disappointed not to be returning to Nottingham with you as my bride, or at least as my betrothed, we don’t have too long to wait until we can make our dreams a reality.’

  ‘But a year!’ she cried, unable to stop her tears from slipping down her cheeks.

  ‘Not that long,’ he argued, taking his handkerchief and handing it to her. ‘You’d better wipe your face. Your father will forbid me from ever seeing you again if he walks in and finds me doing it for you.’

  She took the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes and cheeks. She had never felt so much emotion as she had since meeting Jesse. Him coming into her life had stirred up feelings she had never experienced before and now she was to be without him again. It didn’t seem fair.

  ‘It is ten months, not even that,’ Jesse reassured her. ‘We can write in that time. I will be busy and I’m certain you will be, too. The time will pass quickly, you mark my words.’

  Calming and collecting herself a little, Florence focused on the positive. ‘We can plan our wedding in our letters, can’t we? Discuss all the things that we would otherwise do if we were together.’

  He smiled and whispering, added, ‘We will plan our wedding so that when I do come back to Jersey, we won’t have to wait too long to be married. What do you say to that?’

  She sighed deeply. She had no choice but to accept the situation and make the best of it. She was strong. She would find a way to prove her mother’s fears to be unfounded. Florence resolved to make the most of this time away from Jesse, to get to know him better through his letters. She might have to wait for Jesse, but she could do that. She was determined not to be deterred. She would marry him and then show her parents that they were a perfect match for each other, regardless of his health and her youth.

  ‘Yes. We will put everything into place, so that all that needs to be done is have the banns read on your return to the island next year and set the date.’

  He glanced at the door. He stepped forward quickly and kissed her damp cheek. ‘All will be well, I promise you, dearest Florence.’

  She believed him.

  Chapter 15

  She showed Jesse to the door and watched him walk away from her down Queen Street. It was the last time she was going to see him for ten months and she couldn’t look away until the pavement curved, and he was out of sight.

  A wave of emotion hit her. She had to hurry back inside and close the front door before anyone saw her make a spectacle of herself. She ran upstairs and into her bedroom, slumping down on her bed and giving into the sobs that had been threatening to come.

  She had tried her best to be brave in front of him and her parents and sister, but she was unable to hold back her tears any longer. She had no idea how long she had been crying when there was a light tap at her bedroom door.

  ‘May I come in please?’ Amy asked.

  Unable to speak without crying, Florence didn’t answer. Amy knew her well though and after a brief wait let herself in coming to sit next to her on the bed.

  Florence brushed away her tears with the back of her hands and sat up.

  Amy rubbed her sister’s back lightly. ‘I’m so sorry that this has happened,’ she said. ‘I wish Mother had left well alone. You seemed so happy earlier and I can’t bear to see you this heartbroken.’ She got up and going to one of Florence’s drawers, pulled open the top one and took out a laundered handkerchief. ‘Here, dry your eyes and blow your nose.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Florence sniffed. She took a moment to tidy herself up and pull herself together. She never let emotion take over and always kept control of herself. ‘I don’t know what has become of me, acting in such a hysterical fashion. I rarely cry but seem to be doing rather a lot of it lately.’

  ‘You had expected to end the … I was going to say luncheon, but that never happened, did it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Anyway, as I was saying. You were expecting to be celebrating your betrothal to the man you obviously love.’ She caught Florence’s eye. ‘You really do love him, very much. Don’t you?’

  ‘I do,’ Florence said. ‘I hadn’t realised quite so much until today, if I’m honest.’

  ‘I had no idea.’

  They sat quietly for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts as their parents’ voices hummed through the walls from the living room

  ‘Mother really annoys me sometimes.’ Amy frowned, her cheeks pink with suppressed temper.

  ‘It’s not her fault,’ Florence said, feeling the need to defend their mother despite her actions ending the chance of her going to Nottingham a married woman this side of Christmas. ‘She only did what she thought was right.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ Amy scowled.

  ‘No, it’s true. She’s only doing what she thinks is best for me, however much I might dislike it.’

  ‘You’re not angry with her?’

  ‘Yes, I am. Furious, in fact. But I know that she has acted this way because she loves me and believes she is protecting me. So, as much as I’m hurt and cross, I … oh, I don’t know.’

  Amy stood up and opened the bedroom window a little wider than it had already been. ‘It’s hot in here. Would you like me to fetch you something cool to drink?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Florence said, grateful for her sister’s kind thought. Amy left the room and Florence stared at the blue sky above the opposite building to theirs. Ten months wasn’t that long, she tried to persuade herself, walking over to the small table beneath her window and sitting down to write her first letter to Jesse.

  Jesse might not have left yet, but she was going to ensure he arrived home to several letters from her. She wanted him to know that he was going to marry a woman of character and strength, one who wasn’t floored by disappointment and others nastiness. They would have a future together. Just not as soon as they had hoped.

  27 Queen Street

  St Helier

  Jersey

  20 September 1885

  Mr J Boot

  16–20 Goose Gate

  Nottingham

  Dear Jesse, she wrote, feeling much better now that she had a plan.

  I am sitting in my room trying to come to terms with what happened earlier this evening. I find I am unable to believe that matters took such an unexpected turn. To think that one moment my father had given you permission to ask for my hand in marriage, only for my mother to then deliver a blow so heartbreaking that I am almost at a loss for words.

  You left our home minutes ago and have probably not yet arrived at your hotel, but already I feel your loss. I console myself with the knowledge that my father will stand by his word and my belief that your feelings towards me will not alter before next summer arrives.

  I must trust that if I keep myself busy with my work and friends, then the time will pass speedily. At least we are not forbidden from
communicating through letters; that is something I am relieved about.

  Safe journey home to England. I hope the weather is kind to you and the sea is not rough.

  I look forward to receiving a letter from you.

  Your dearest,

  Florence

  Florence struggled to still her mind enough to fall asleep. Finally, after several hours, she fell into an exhausted slumber only to dream that she was standing in front of a congregation and everyone was staring at her in horror. For a moment she couldn’t understand why, then, turning to face her groom, she realised she was alone. Where was Jesse? She stared from face to face, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Florence cried out and woke with a start. Sitting up immediately, it took a moment for her to realise that she was in her bed at home. Relief coursed through her as it slowly dawned on her that she had been having a nightmare and had not been humiliated publicly.

  She took a moment to allow her heart to stop racing, then flung off her bedsheet and light summer blanket. She rubbed her face to help herself come around and swung her feet out of the bed.

  Florence stared at the curtains. It was light outside. She walked over to them, and, holding back one side, she peaked out at the dawn. She usually liked waking early before the rest of the household stirred. But not this morning. She was going to be exhausted by the evening, having woken at such an early hour. She drank some water from the glass on her bedside table and opened the curtains, aware that she was too traumatised by her nightmare to sleep.

  Slowly the events of the previous evening came back to her and she sank back onto her pillows trying to rationalise how to deal with the fact that her immediate dreams had been quashed. Well, she thought, trying not to dramatise her and Jesse’s situation, maybe not, but they had been delayed for almost a year.

  She was unable to face her mother just yet. She was aware that they would be eating breakfast in the next two hours, so Florence washed and slowly dressed, sipping at her glass of water. An hour later, desperate to keep her mind from racing, she went downstairs to the shop. She wanted to be alone, but busy, and so quietly went in and began refilling spaces in shelves and dusting before her father and Amy joined her.