I'm sharing this information with anyone who might be researching The Woman of Colour and the attribution chain of 21 anonymous novels from five different publishers. This is one tangled attribution chain, and it's been difficult to visualize it. I hope this helps.
​     The first table gives the titles by genre, and by whether they are epistolary or narrative. There are three novels I have not read because they are not available digitally, so I can't confirm their genre. By genre, I am distinguishing between books which are straightforward marriage-plot novels, and those that, like The Woman of Colour, don't have a conventional happy ending. Some use the "good girl/bad girl" approach, with the heroine finding happiness and her heedless friend running into disaster.
    The "by the Author of" column shows the books published earlier which are referenced on the title page of each book. The second column shows the novels which later referenced the title on their own title pages.
      The second graphic shows more clearly the fact that Light and Shade (1803) is the linchpin on the attribution chain. It is the only novel that has the older titles on its "by the author page." Then it's like a new chain starts, only referencing the titles published in 1803 and after.
    There are many mysteries. Why no attributions on the title page of The Aunt and the Niece? And why did the publisher, Crosby, merely say that A Winter in Bath was from the author of "two popular novels" instead of being specific? And if one woman wrote all the Crosby novels in the latter part of the table, why didn't Crosby publish A Woman of Colour? Why did it go to a different publisher? Crosby acknowledged the existence of the novel in later attributions.
   For those not aware, the Crosby publishing house was more prestigious than the Minerva publishing house.

     I've read and reviewed most of the novels in this chain. Sorry I was not able to link each title to my review, but if you click on the category "The Woman of Colour mystery" at upper right, you can see all the relevant posts. 

       Yes, I've noticed that Writing Twitter and Writing Facebook are all about posts bemoaning the hardships that attend the life of a writer--oh, it' so hard to settle down and concentrate on writing, you spend hours in front of your keyboard with nothing to show for it, people are always saying insensitive or stupid things to you, then there is time you waste in research rabbit holes and nobody cares. When I read these complaints, I think to myself, well, nobody's holding a gun to your head, just don't be a writer.
     But none of these social media memes hold a candle to the epic monologue of a character in Substance and Shadow, which I previously reviewed. This is from the anonymous author of the string of novels attributed to the author of The Woman of Colour. I’m sharing this for the interest of professors and students looking into the lives of female authors in Regency times and the way they represented themselves in print.
    The fictional Miss Letsom is accused of putting real characters into her novels, something Jane Austen also faced....

    There are actually three Judiths in this story. As the Orlando Project for Women’s Writing in the British Isle explains: “The incredibly complex plot follows three generations of Judiths and takes place across England, Scotland, Wales, and Jamaica. The story opens with the exemplary clergyman James [Mordaunt] being freed to marry Judith, firstly by getting a small living and secondly by the death of her tyrannical [step-] father. The narrative backs up to tell the story of her mother, also Judith, who was an aristocrat who married for love and was disowned.”
    And there is much more crammed into two volumes, involving dastardly villainy, several backstories, and happy coincidences. One hero—the husband of the first Judith--is wrongly thought to be dead, not once, but twice. Rev. Mordaunt, husband of the second Judith, rescues a baby boy washed ashore from a shipwreck. The infant comes complete with initialed clothing and a miniature locket of a woman. Does the clergyman place a notice in the newspapers? No, of course not! He and Judith the second keep the child. Of course, as Judith foresees, this will inevitably give rise to a love affair between this boy and their own daughter Judith (the third), so they resolve to deceive the boy and let him think that he is actually their son, so he will think of Judith the third as his sister.

   Fedaretta, like The Duke of Clarence, was published in 1795, making them the earliest titles in the attribution chain. Fedaretta was published by the more prestigious publisher Crosby, while The Duke of Clarence was published by [ahem] Minerva. No copies of Fedaretta survive in any libraries, except for an undigitized 1803 French translation which is preserved in France. Fedaretta received a review in French, which Google translates thusly:

     So much for Fedaretta, unless a surviving copy of the original English version comes to hand.

Emily of Lucerne
    Emily of Lucerne (1800) is an outlier in the 21 titles which make up the tangled attribution chain of works possibly written by the author of The Woman of Colour (1809). It is a strange pastiche of a novel of manners, set in London, with a jarringly different gothic interlude set in a castle in Europe, complete with fake ghost. My guess is that the author, who signs herself as "EMF," had an old half-finished draft novel about London society, then she grafted in a gothic short story she also happened to have lying around, to stretch the tale out to two volumes. As she had been lucky enough to place several of her manuscripts with Minerva that year, she must have quickly prepared this one and sold it to them as well, on the strength of the others.
    We start with a heroine raised in Switzerland and brought back to London after her parents die (reminder--most sentimental heroines are orphans). Having no living relatives, she is briefly under the guardianship of a wise older woman who was her father’s first love. 
     When I was reading Volume One, I felt that it was completely different from the humourless and heavy-handed moralizing of other early titles which have been attributed to “Mrs. Foster,” ( Miriam, Judith, Rebecca, Caroline & Frederic, and Concealment). For example, in Emily of Lucerne there are no references to the “Great Disposer of Events” or “The Almighty”, whom the narrator and the virtuous characters frequently reference in those novels. No admonitions to submit ourselves to the will of an inscrutable Providence. Instead we have: “For the improvement which [Emily’s] natural taste had received, she was indebted to the good St. Aubin... But the good priest [also] endeavoured to implant early in her heart a deep reverence for her Creator, under whatsoever form she chose to worship him”
    Under whatsoever form she chose to worship him? What kind of apostasy is that?