Bespoke House History Research

This week’s house history research into an address in Epsom brought me across a curious story that unfolded in the town back in the late 19th century. Victorian England was a very different country to the one we know today, especially in how the law treated personal relationships.

This story originated out of South Street, Epsom, an old road with a colourful reputation and history. Once known as New Inn Lane, it led to the New Inn on Dorking Road and over time became home to everything from breweries and cycle works to lemonade factories and even a wartime munitions workshop. Its first block of shops (Nos. 1–9) became known locally as the Controversy Cottages, after landlord Thomas Hersey, a man remembered for his outspoken opinions and cycle garage. South Street may not have been the most fashionable address in Epsom, but it was certainly one of the most interesting. It was here, in this lively working-class community, that Katie Gould was born in 1869.

Katie was one of several children of George and Ann Gould. Her father worked as a groom, one of many trades tied to Epsom’s racing industry. By her early twenties, Katie was supporting herself as a barmaid at the Sun Hotel in Kingston — a respectable but precarious job, with long hours, low wages, and plenty of exposure to gossip.

It was there she met Horace Walpole Ingram, who introduced himself as a gentleman, a writer, and godson of Lord Orford. The connection must have seemed dazzling: a leap from barmaid to bride of a man with aristocratic ties. When he proposed marriage at the Spanish Exhibition in 1888, Katie accepted.

But the letters he sent her, later read aloud in court, revealed a mixture of passion, secrecy, and red flags. One began with an Italian flourish:

“Carissima & Bellissima Mia — for the first time in my life I write to you… I long to kiss you… I cannot bear to be apart…”

Another gushed:

“My own darling Kate — Oh, Kate, darling, sweetest, best… you don’t know what a load you have removed from me. I am so happy, darling mine.”

These effusions may have thrilled Katie at the time, but in the courtroom they prompted laughter. His flowery language — “Never again cause me such fearful pain. I have been in despair since Sunday, and have never slept or eaten since” — fell flat under the glare of public scrutiny.

More troubling were his constant instructions to keep their engagement secret. As he wrote in one letter:

“One thing I must get you to promise, never as yet to mention my name to anyone, or to let them know that I write. You will promise this, will you not?”

Katie, perhaps sensing the risk, offered him two opportunities to release her from the promise of marriage. Twice, he refused. That refusal must have deepened her sense of betrayal when, in March 1889, he abruptly ended the engagement “in an insolent and contemptuous manner.”

The break left Katie devastated. Newspapers reported that she lost her job, returned to her mother’s home in Epsom, and required medical care. Whether her illness was partly emphasised to strengthen her case or was simply the result of heartbreak and humiliation, she had every reason to be angry.

In 1890 she sued Ingram for breach of promise of marriage at the Surrey Assizes. In court, she was described as “a good-looking young woman.” One can imagine her carefully preparing that morning, her appearance scrutinised alongside her testimony, perhaps even expecting to see her former fiancé again. But Ingram never attended. Katie faced the ordeal alone, while his letters — once private declarations of love — were read aloud and ridiculed.

The jury awarded her £190 in damages, a vast sum for the time. Yet questions lingered. One newspaper noted that “Horace Walpole Ingram” was not widely known, and may have been using a false identity. If so, Katie may never have received her money. The law recognised her injury, but justice may have been out of reach.

Katie’s story did not end there. In 1893 she married Charles Satchell, a builder, back in Epsom. Together they raised at least nine children and later settled in Kent. Katie lived to the age of 74, passing away in 1944.

Breach of promise cases faded during the 20th century and were finally abolished in 1970. But in Katie’s time, love was still a legal matter, and the courts could decide the price of a broken heart.

From the Controversy Cottages of South Street to the dazzling attention of a “gentleman,” from betrayal and public scandal to resilience and family life, Katie’s story is a reminder that even in the past, some red flags in relationships look very familiar.

What stories might be hidden behind your own front door, and what might the women who lived there have to tell us?