Free Daughters of Fortune: A Novel by Tara Hyland

her to lose the Cockney accent. Nor did it take long for her to capture the attention of Edward Melville, the eldest son and heir apparent to the business.
    Rosie had heard all about Edward. Handsome, charming, and good-natured, he was a notorious playboy, known for taking girls out, showing them a good time, and then dumping them quickly afterward. Rosie wanted more from him than that. When he asked her out, she politely declined his invitation.
    “I’m engaged,” she lied.
    Unused to rejection, Edward was intrigued. By the time Rosie finally dispensed with the imaginary fiancé and agreed to go out with him, he was already falling in love with her.
    That was the summer of 1939. There were already murmurs of unrest throughout Europe. When Chamberlain finally declared war on Germany in September, Edward was one of the first to sign up for the RAF. All that time, Rosie had been carefully withholding her favors from him. That night, in the alley at the back of the dance hall, their kisses were hot and urgent. Rosie pulled away first.
    Breathless, she said, “I wish I could be with you . . . properly.”
    “There’s a guesthouse nearby,” Edward eagerly suggested.
    She looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But it’s a sin.”
    Swept up in the romance and bravado of the times, Edward proposed on the spot. They married via special license that weekend, with two strangers for witnesses. By the time his family found out, there was nothing they could do about it.
    “How could you be so stupid?” his father, Oliver, roared. “She’s nothing but a common tart!”
    “She’s my wife, sir,” Edward replied calmly. “And you will have to accept her.”
    When Edward went off to war the following week, Rosie took up residence in the Melvilles’ Belgravia house. It wasn’t as pleasant as she’d imagined. Oliver refused to acknowledge her. Mealtimes were silent. More than once she considered moving back to her parents’ little house in the East End. But she had worked too hard to give up that easily. Instead, she looked for a way to ingratiate herself with Oliver. The war gave her the opportunity she’d been looking for. With Oliver’s three sons and many of the staff signing up, she could sense her father-in-law was struggling to cope at Melville. Rosie knew the store well and reckoned she could help. So she turned up at the head office one day, found herself a desk, and set to work.
    Gradually, she began to earn Oliver’s respect. When the Blitz began, his wife and other daughters-in-law retreated to Aldringham.
    “I suppose you’ll be off down there, too, Rosie,” Oliver said dismissively.
    “No. I’m staying put in London.” She paused. “And in future, please call me Rosalind.” After all, it felt more appropriate to her new status.
    When Edward came home on leave for Christmas 1941, he was pleased to see his father and wife getting along. A month after he went back, Rosalind was delighted to find that she was pregnant.
    Her happiness was shortlived. In late August, a telegram arrived. Edward’s plane had been shot down over France. The shock of the news, combined with the subsequent air raid, sent Rosalind into premature labor, in the very public surroundings of London Bridge Underground. When she finally gave birth to a healthy baby boy, she felt a rush of euphoria that overrode all thoughts of her missing husband. She named the boy William: a grand, respectable name, fit for kings. Firstborn of the firstborn; heir to the Melville fortune. Her position was secure.
    Word eventually reached them that Edward wasn’t dead. He was a prisoner of war in Kreuzburg, an
Oflag
, or officers’ camp, in Poland. He finally returned home in early 1946. Rosalind and Oliver, along with young William, went to meet him off the boat. They had heard he wasn’t injured—but the Army only meant physically. When he stepped onto the dockside, Rosalind rushed forward to embrace him. He stood limply as she put her arms