October 5, 1827

I have thought long and hard, trying to decide who Pa might have contacted at the time. It was information after all that he had been asked to provide, and that was the reason for his writing letters at all. He was the sort of man who would have taken his task very seriously indeed, and he would have considered that he was bound to find out all he could, to justify his very large payment in advance.

He might have had contacts with the housekeeper and cook at Shrigley Hall but that was unlikely as they are much closer to shops in Poynton than those in Disley. But he might well have known people from Lyme Hall. They would have owned farms which could have provided the meat, fruits and vegetables, but they would have had to buy spices and tea and coffee and such like from a shop - so perhaps Pa might have got information from them. Lyme Hall and Shrigley Hall abutted each other.

And then there was the church. We always went to St. Mary’s Church in Disley, and Thomas Legh, who owned the Hall, had his family’s boxed pew at the front, and occasionally attended. I very much doubt that Pa would have contacted him directly, but he may well have spoken before or after the service to those in his company of lesser rank. He perhaps would have had a groomsman with him.

I cannot really write any more of my book until I get a response from Mr. Unwin. I wonder what he will make of my inquiry. Perhaps he will not reply at all. In my letter to him, I said that I was researching the happening surrounding the abduction of Ellen Turner in 1826, and that he had been recommended to me as someone who had been around at the time who might help me. Then I asked all sorts of specific questions - about how Ellen and her parents handled the situation immediately after the abduction was over.

October 10, 1862

I have finally heard from Mr. Unwin, or rather from someone he got to write for him - and it is in very bad English and poor script and I can hardly make it out.

It's pretty clear from what he has written that he and his friends didn't have much good to say about Ellen's father - who they thought was an upstart, trying to play at being a gentleman, as he puts it.

What he has told me mostly relates to the time after the trial and sentencing took place in 1827, so I will leave that for now.

Pa might have found out that Ellen was back at home with her parents, and that she was well. Other than that, his letter must have been dealing with his worry about Mr. Wakefield’s character.

One thing Mr. Unwin imparted I found very interesting. Apparently Mr. Wakefield sent Ellen a Christmas present, that year before the proper trial. It was a book called "Forget Me Not" which he must have felt she would appreciate. But Mr. Unwin said the story went that she had already had the same book as a present from none other than her Papa two days before.
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However, now that I have heard from Mr. Unwin, I think Pa’s next letter, which would have been sent to Mr. Wakefield at Newgate Prison in London, might have contained the following information.

Involved in preparing Ellen’s case for the trial was none other than their neighbour, the MP, Mr. Thomas Legh. I have already mentioned him as being someone Pa might have obtained information from. I did not know, when I wrote that, that he was indeed the most likely source of information about Ellen. The publican, Mr. Unwin, says that Mr. Legh fell in love with his client, and as soon as her marriage to Mr. Wakefield was annulled (which happened right after the sentencing) she became engaged to him.

Mr. Unwin said the following about Ellen, which I doubt she would find flattering.

“She was not a particularly comely person, but a fine, big, romping girl who bounded down stairs and as the story has it, nearly knocked an elderly relative over.”

Here is the next letter from Mr. Wakefield:

“25 June, 1827

Newgate Prison

Dear Daniel (I hope you will allow me this informality if we are to be regular correspondents)

Thank you for your note informing me of the new circumstances in Ellen’s life. I wish her every success. I would still like you to continue keeping an eye on the situation for me. I realise that it is not always easy for you to find out what is happening, but any information you may glean will be of interest to me.

I expect you may well have read of my trial and the sentencing in the newspapers. It certainly had a wide coverage in the media. In fact I was told that the newspaper editors had people posted at stages between Lancaster and London and amounts of money were offered for the first person to get the news of the verdict back to London. Considering that even with fast horses and galloping through the night, it must have taken at least fifteen hours. I laugh to think how important my punishment has been made to seem. The country must have something better to think about.

On the 23rd of March, my brother William and I were in court. Our coachman, Edward Thevenot, remains in France, but he was indicted in absentia. Our stepmother’s case was discussed, but she was not present at the trial.

The indictment was “having at Liverpool feloniously carried away one Ellen Turner, Spinster, then a maid and heir apparent unto her father, William Turner Esq, for the sake of the lucre of her substance and for having afterwards unlawfully and against her will married the said Ellen Turner.”

But I am digressing. It is hard for me to put in writing what a fool I was. I wanted money in order to buy an estate and to enter Parliament. I had been married to an heiress, and while she lived, we had sufficient money to do as we wished. When she died, I hoped to get money that I felt was legally mine from her estate, but this proved impossible. So I decided that it was imperative that I should marry another heiress.

It was my stepmother Frances Davies Wakefield, who is the daughter of the headmaster of Macclesfield School and therefore privy to information about where rich girls were being educated, who suggested Ellen as a likely candidate. She was in at a ladies’ seminary in Liverpool - not near her home - and we felt that we could easily make up a story to lure her away.

Early on the morning of 7 March of last year, my brother, William, and I arranged for a carriage and a servant, Edward Thevenot, to go to Ellen's boarding school with a message to the Misses Daulby, the mistresses of the school. (They are the daughters of Daniel Daulby a well known Liverpool collector and the author of The Collected Works of Rembrandt. On another occasion I would have enjoyed making their acquaintance.)

The message, backed up by a fake doctor’s note, claimed that Ellen’s mother was ill and she wished to see her daughter immediately. Not knowing Mr. Trevenot, Miss Daulby was somewhat reluctant, but he put a good case and she in the end agreed.

Edward Trevenot took Ellen to the Albion Hotel, in Piccadilly, Manchester where she was introduced to a Captain Wilson, (really me) who told Ellen he would take her to her mother. But, as the carriage set off again, I revealed myself and told Ellen that her mother was not ill after all and that I would explain everything in due course.

We travelled up through Saddleworth, Halifax, Settle and Kendal, and Ellen was, it seems, easy in my company. By the time we reached Carlisle, I had persuaded her that her father was financially ruined, that my uncle had extended a loan to her father, and the only way to ensure the family's security was for Ellen to marry a “man of honour”, namely me.

I convinced her that, supported by the family solicitor, I was the only one who could save the Turner family from financial ruin. Her father, as you no doubt know, is a wealthy calico printer and High Sheriff of Cheshire, originally from Blackburn. Ellen is an only child and his heir. Her father did so well in calico-printing at Mill Hill that he bought Shrigley Hall, near to Disley, demolished the old Elizabethan house and built a new family home. But back to my story.

The proposal was that her father’s property be transferred to her and she would marry me so that the estate would then belong to me, her husband, and the wealth would then be ‘safe’ for the family.

She allowed me to take her to Carlisle, expecting to meet with her father who had supposedly fled there to escape his creditors. But once there, I produced a ‘message’ which I pretended was from her father, imploring her to proceed immediately with the marriage in order that the whole family would not be ruined.

Next day I claimed that her father was actually on the run and there was an agreement between two banks that some of her father's estate would be transferred to her or, to be exact, to me, her husband. I claimed that my banker uncle had proposed that I marry her and if she would agree to marry me, her father would be saved.

Ellen hesitated no longer and we went to Gretna Green where the marriage ceremony was performed in the time-honoured way by the blacksmith, Mr. David Laing.

I then informed her that her father had returned home to Cheshire and that we were to follow him, but when we got as far as Leeds, I was alerted to a pressing appointment in Paris. I sent my brother to Cheshire to sweettalk her father but he was forstalled by a message from our father. 

Of course, when we arrived in London, there was another pretend ‘message’ that her father had proceeded to France as my father had said it was imperative that I get out of the country as soon as I could, as a warrent was out for my arrest.

I had written  to Mr. Turner from Carlisle, (apparently he had been informed of the abduction some days after it happened when his lawyer saw our marriage announcement in a newspaper - put there by my father, stupid man) informing him that I had married his daughter and I realised how worried they must be, but I hoped he would give me the opportunity to show him that I was sincere in my desire to have her as my wife.  I really thought that he would be so willing to avoid scandal that he would comply.

When we arrived in Calais, Ellen sent a letter to her mother, signing it, Ellen Wakefield.

But not long after that, we were walking along the pier in Calais when we were spotted by Ellen’s uncle, the family solicitor and a bow street runner. Ellen was overjoyed to see her uncle, but she didn’t as yet know that my story about her family’s financial difficulties had all been fabricated. They confronted me but had no power to arrest me in France. They went to see the Mayor of Calais but I appealed to him to prevent the family forcibly removing Ellen from me, her lawful husband.

Ellen, however, having found out the whole story from her uncle by this time, told the Mayor that I had tricked her into being compelled to marry me. Realising that I could get no further in my plans, I handed Ellen over to her uncle, stating “you receive her at my hands as a pure and spotless virgin” – and then I also put it in writing.

Ellen and her uncle returned to England, and I set forth for Paris to see my children and decide what to do next.

My brother, William, had been married in Paris over those few days, and then returned to England and was promptly arrested at Dover. I then decided it was my duty to return to England and to stand trial with my brother and stepmother who was also indicted. 

I spent a month or so trying to decide my best course of action and then turned myself in. I was first questioned at the magistrate’s court in Disley - as you know - and from there went to Lancaster where after my court appearance in August I was given bail.

If after reading this, you are prepared to continue corresponding with me, I would value your friendship very much.

At the end the trial this last March, the jury returned guilty verdicts against us all. We were committed to the Lancaster Castle on the following day.

On May 14 we were taken to the Court of King’s Bench in Westminster for sentencing. I asked for leniancy for my brother, William. I said that he was young, and very impressionable, and did what he did for my benefit only.

In my plea for mitigation, speaking for myself, I swore that our legal expenses had exceeded £7000. I pointed out that this had already placed a heavy financial burden on me and any further fine would be equivalent to a sentence of life imprisonment as I would never be able to pay and the law is such that people remain in prison until all fines are paid.

Mr Justice Bayley imprisoned each of us for a term of three years. I was directed to serve my term in Newgate and William was returned to Lancaster Castle. Although a guilty verdict had also been returned against our stepmother, the Turner family extended mercy to her and, consequently, no sentence was imposed.

We are both fortunate, we feel, to avoid the noose, which we were told would have been the likely outcome if I had married Ellen in England rather than Scotland.  I feel badly that William should suffer the same fate as me, as he was only doing my wishes, and would have gained little for himself if our plan had come to fruition.

Ellen didn’t even look at me when she was telling the story. I have read what many of the papers have written about the trial and am annoyed that many put blame on Ellen. They seem to think she connived in the abduction, and that if she had tried to get away, she might have done so easily. The truth in the matter is that she was convinced by my story, and always felt that I had her family’s best interests at heart, so there was no reason for her to try to escape. We really did become friends and as I told you before, I care for her now, and only wish her the best. The evidence throughout the trial was of her laughing and being pleased to be with me, as I was with her.

I am being treated with some leniency here, now that the ways have been oiled by diplomacy and not a few bank notes. I have quite a large room to myself and am allowed to read and write what I wish. I am able to have good food brought in, and my sister visits me regularly bringing with her my requests.

This letter is already too heavy for normal postage rates, so I shall tell you more about my accommodation here when I next write.

Yours faithfully,

Edward Gibbon”