Jane Frearson

Jane Frearson had lived at the Bell Inn in Derby for some five months, employed as a kitchen maid by Mrs Wightman. She had returned to the area after spending time in Sheffield, again as a domestic servant, having previously lived with her parents at Normanton.

Tuesday 19th January 1830, and at the Bell Inn a most gruesome discovery was made. A newborn female infant had been discovered among the detritus in the privy at the public house. At the inquest, also held at the Bell Inn, medical opinion suggested the child had been alive at birth, there was no outward appearance of any injuries and nothing to suspect internal injuries. The child had probably died shortly after birth. The inquest decided Frearson should face charges and was given bail awaiting her appearance in court.

The case came to court on Wednesday 28th April 1830, where she faced a charge of concealing the birth of her infant bastard child. The court decided to acquit her, and Frearson walked free. It later transpired that Frearson had been seduced by a member of the family while working in Sheffield at the home of what was considered a respectable family. Finding herself with child, she returned to Derby, securing the job at the Bell Inn. Here she attempted to hide her pregnancy, but in the later stages it was clear to all and when the infant was discovered in the privy there was no doubting who the mother was. Frearson claimed the child had been alive at birth but died shortly after, medics could not determine whether the child would have lived had she sought medical help.

Whether Jane Frearson would have faced more serious charges today is uncertain. Contemporary reports do not touch on her mental state, nor go into any details as to how she became pregnant, the reaction of her employers in Sheffield, or why she left their employ.

The Oddingley Murders

Researching one thing often results in finding something else of note. This piqued my interest recently and, although I had read about such before, delved a little deeper.

The story begins in the quiet village of Oddingley some 5 miles north of the city of Worcester. The place name means ‘the woodland clearing of the family or followers of a man called Odda’, and as the story unfolds you will see events really do get ‘odder’.

Beginning on 24 June 1806, two fellows travelling near the glebe meadow heard a gunshot. As they went to investigate, they heard the faint cry of “Murder!” and soon discovered a man lying in the meadow, with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. This was George Parker, Rector of St James’ Church in Oddingley, but not for long as he soon died from his wounds. These witnesses also spied a man fleeing the scene. While these strangers could not name him, from their description he could only have been Richard Heming, a local odd-job man. A man-hunt ensued, but Heming would never be found – it was rumoured he had fled the country and living in anonymity in America. Not having any reasons to doubt the murderer had made good his escape, the story made the local headlines for a while but, other than local gossip, was forgotten.

Forgotten until 24 years later when the skeleton of a man was discovered buried beside the wall of a barn at nearby Netherwood Farm. Forensics not available in the first part of the 19th century, the identity of the chap could only be deduced from the clothes and belongings found with him. There was no doubt these were the skeletal remains of Richard Heming.

Investigations showed Netherwood Farm had been leased to a famer named Thomas Clewes at the time Heming vanished. Arrested, Clewes confessed to having witnessed the death of Heming, gave clear details of the killing and named the murderers. He named John Barnett and George Banks as the killers (a third man, Captain Evans, had since died), all three local farmers who had been at odds with the rector on the subject of tithes and had paid Heming the princely sum of £50 to kill George Parker, but subsequently reneged pn the deal and bludgeoned the assassin to death. They had the motive, the body, and the murderers. Locals were confident Barnett, Banks, and Clewes would soon provide the focus for the spectacle of a public hanging.

What had been a local scandal in 1806, became a national headline in 1830. Interest grew when it was announced they could not be tried with the murder of the rector, but only as accessories. The late Captain Evans, said to be the ringleader and mastermind despite being an officer and a magistrate, could not face charges; farrier James Taylor had dealt the fatal blow (according to Clewes) and he faced a murder charge; Clewes was charged, as were Barnett and Banks.

At the trial, the complexities of the case created more confusion. Clewes was the key, everything revolved around his confession. The jury’s verdict against Clewes was ‘guilty as accessory after the fact’ – but when the judge pointed out (and as the press reported quite vociferously) Clewes had not been charged with that but with ‘aiding and abetting’, they retired a second time and returned with a verdict of ‘not guilty’. Such effectively ended the cases against all concerned, and all went back to the quiet life away from the public eye.

The acquittals were, rather surprisingly, met with relief in and around Oddingley. Indeed, some of the villagers broke into the church and rang the bells in celebration – such levity did not go well with landowners or the press, especially when they learned the bell ringers gathered a group who continued the celebrations by drinking and smoking inside the church. Generally the newspapers were in agreement with the verdict as an important principal of law had been upheld.

While I could never suggest George Parker deserved to be murdered, his tithe demands would certainly be seen as excessive. As rector the tithes came to him, one-tenth of the value of their crops to be paid to him to cover his income. That income of £135 per annum - £14,450 today is not a fortune, but considering he did not have to pay for his accommodation, comfortable enough – but Parker, having spent five years trying to get the farmers to pay up, demanded an extortionate sum of £150 in compensation. When the rector took the farmers to court to get payment, he won. Then after five years the farmers, who had resigned themselves to having pay every year, would have given up – but then Parker got greedy.

Perhaps today forensic evidence would have helped secure a conviction or convictions. Doubtless we could almost certainly have shown Heming had not left the country, and surely forensic evidence would have identified killer or killers. And yet today’s legal system would also likely have rejected Parker’s demands for £150.

Dordon Hall

Dordon Hall, built from red sandstone and one wing built in brick and is situated on Dunns Lane, Dordon.

This post –medieval farmhouse, with elements dating from the 16th or 17th century, was extensively remodelled in the early 18th century by William Sant, who built its prosperous-looking, symmetrical sandstone facade. The building's complex irregular plan and crow-stepped gables suggest earlier Tudor origins, and it features timber framing with whitewashed brick infill, along with latter-day brick and sandstone additions.

Medieval Origins: The earliest part of the house has a timber-framed structure with an irregular plan, indicated by features like jowled posts to the gable ends and hints of a pre-Tudor origin. Early 18th Century Facade: William Sant, a prosperous landowner in the 1720s, commissioned a new facade for Dordon Hall. This addition was built from regular coursed sandstone, featuring a string course and a moulded cornice, giving the building a more formal appearance. Later Additions and Alterations: In the 19th century, the building underwent further alterations and rebuilding, with modifications to the front range, including the addition of a Cl9 ribbed door with a rusticated surround. Some parts of the original timber-framed left wing were also rebuilt with brick.

Materials: Dordon Hall is a combination of materials, including timber framing, whitewashed brick, and sandstone for the main front elevation. Gables: The building displays crow-stepped gables, a distinctive architectural feature that indicates its earlier Tudor-era origins.

Interior Features: The interior includes broad stop-chamfered beams and an altered open fireplace with fire windows, showcasing elements of its historical construction.

William Sant was buried at Grendon Church on 14th April 1779 and here is a copy of his will.

Amington Hall

The current building known as Amington Hall was built in 1810. Designed by Samuel Wyatt – he also designed Soho House in Handsworth – it replaced the Amington Old Hall farmhouse, both are Grade II Listed. Owned by the Repington family, who had held the estate since 1539.

Ownership passed down to eventually reaching Charles Henry Wyndham A’Court. He rented it out to wealthy tenants, as did his son Charles a’Court Repington on his father’s death in 1903.

Eventually Charles Junior sold the building to former tenant Sydney Fisher, owner of Kettlebrook Paper Mill – their wealth is indicated by the 1911 Census records showing he living at the hall with his wife, four children, a butler, footman, hall boy, governess, two lady maids, and five house maids.

Arbury Hall

Ancestral home of the Newdigate family, built on the site of the former Arbury Priory. One of Nuneaton’s most famous ‘sons’, author George Eliot – actually a famous daughter, Mary Anne Evans – was born on one of the estate farms, her father was the estate’s land agent. She used Arbury Hall as the model for Cheverel Manor in Scenes of Clerical Life, it is the setting for Mr Gilfil’s Love Story.

. In more modern times the film Angels and Insects was filmed here; and became the fictional Hoxley Manor in BBC’s The Land Girls.

The Newdigate baronetcy was created on 24 July 1677 and became extinct with the death of the 5th baronet in 1806. The family name is later noted as Newdigate-Newdegate.

The 300 acre estate has a system of private canals. Connected to the Coventry Canal, there are six distinct sections, and a seventh (The Griff Hollows Canal) not connected to the others. The entire system covers 6 miles and has 13 locks – one a Y-shaped feature is the Triple Lock, with two separate entrances leading to different branches. A few visible signs remain on the estate today.

Arbury Park in South Australia is named after Arbury Hall. A 17-room Georgian-style house constructed in 1935 for politician Sir Alexander Downer, close friend of Sir Francis Alexander Newdigate-Newdegate (1862-1936) MP for Tamworth, Nuneaton, and Governor of Tasmania and Western Australia, which is why he chose the name.

Pooley Hall Colliery

The Pooley Hall Estate surrounded the hall built by Sir Thomas Cockayne in 1509. Later the hall became the property of Charles Jennens and subsequently the Hon. Charles Finch MP. When the Coventry Canal opened in 1789 – it runs within twenty metres of the hall – it was probably inevitable that coal would be extracted from the extensive coalfields.

The first shaft was sunk in 1849 and completed in 1849, with the first coal extracted the following year. By 1897 the colliery had been formed and a branch line built to connect to the Trent Valley Line – remains of the bridge across the canal can still be seen.

In 1921 the Pooley Hall miners did not join the miners’ strike and in June the striking miners at Baddesley and Birch Coppice marched on Polesworth to persuade them to join the strike – but 200 policemen had been drafted in and a baton charge left several striking miners unconscious. Eventually the strikers accepted the reduction in salary and extension of the working week, as the Pooley Hall miners already had.

In 1924 the colliery was visited by the Duke of York – the miners selected to meet the future King George VI were instructed to wear their Sunday best suit and a flat cap (if you didn’t own a flat cap, go out and buy one!) Further evidence of the conditions they worked in was hidden by whitewashing the pit bottom, while an underground toilet was installed (the first in the country) complete with rosewood seat. Nobody could use this toilet until the Duke’s visit was over, and within the week the bucket toilet was removed as the stench was overpowering.

The miners did join the strike of 1936, but as the family also owned Tamworth Electricity Company, they used the suddenly available labour to dig trenches for the electricity cables to bring electricity to surrounding villages.

The colliery closed in 1965 – much of the buildings had to be demolished due to subsidence. Today 154 acres of the estate is Pooley Hall Country Park.

Superstitious Black Country Miners

It is no surprise to find those working in dangerous jobs as being among the most superstitious. As is often the case, while researching one thing another interesting snippet surfaces and I found the following seven omens of disaster.

Ghosts and spirits seen in the workings could be chased off with the Bible and a key held in the right hand while reciting the Lord’s Prayer. Remember, not that long ago miners worked with candles and such would readily have produced the eeriest of images.

Foul smells were a bad omen – certainly true as any detection of gases which could asphyxiate or, such as methane, potentially explosive would be very useful.

If Gabriel’s hounds had been about the works, then no work was done that day. Gabriel’s Hounds (also known as Gabriel’s Ratchets) are legendary spectral hounds associated with death and misfortune in folklore – sometimes described as a pack of ghostly dogs with human heads that fly through the air while yelping. Some have ascribed this belief to migrating geese at night – night flying geese is also a bad omen.

A bright light seen in the mine was a good reason to flee. Aside from the obvious sign of fire, there is also a link to ghosts and spirits. Black magic was supposedly possible in the depths of the shafts – and protecting themselves by placing a crust of bread and a piece of cheese alongside a cross made from a knife and fork at the mouth of the shaft, before reciting the Lord’s Prayer backwards would be sure to save them. Unless, of course, somebody dreamed of the bread and cheese being eaten. Bread/cheese and knife/fork dates back to lead mining.

Dreams of fire were harbingers of danger – and for obvious reasons.

If a woman was encountered at sunrise on the way to the pit, the men would turn on their heels and return to their homes. This goes back to the Staffordshire ‘plaguey woman’, another promise of doom and disaster. One colliery used a female ‘knocker-up’ – one employed to rouse the workers from their beds in the days before alarm clocks – which didn’t help the superstitious men in getting ready for work. Pit managers rarely accepted this reason for absenteeism.

To dream of a broken shoe foretold danger. Shoes feature regularly in Black Country folklore, but this would be a result of the Wednesbury miner who dreamed of his one shoe crumbling and ignored the warning only to be killed the next day.