My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  The return to England from Paris of Richard Gardiner, Caroline's brother, who had been training to be a physician, was fortuitous and welcomed for a variety of reasons. Mr and Mrs Gardiner were happy to have their son back at home after several years away in Edinburgh and Paris, while Caroline, who knew her brother had a strong sense of justice and a sound social conscience, hoped he would help with her husband's political campaign. Health care was a crying need throughout the country, nowhere more than in the factory towns and isolated villages of the Midlands.

  Caroline knew her brother's views on the subject were identical to those of her husband. He would speak out about it, and Richard's voice would be listened to; she was sure of it.

  Meanwhile, a new radicalism was rising among the middle classes who had hitherto no voice at all in the Parliament, filled as it was with large numbers of members from pocket boroughs, who owed their places in the Commons to patronage rather than principle. Middle-class professional and businessmen, responsible for some of the most lucrative enterprises in the country, were beginning to join the clamour for Parliamentary reform, but as long as George IV sat upon the British throne, it could have got no further, for the king would not call on Lord Grey to form a ministry.

  When, however, it became clear following the elections that Wellington could no longer command a majority in the Commons and Lord Grey was invited by the new King William IV to lead a government, the hopes of Fitzwilliam and his fellow reformists were reignited.

  With the Whigs back in government, hopes were high, especially with men like the popular Viscount Althorp and Lord John Russell committed to reform.

  During the fifteen months that followed, there was to be a tumult of political and social agitation, the like of which had not been seen in England for many years.

  The Fitzwilliams, the Gardiners, together with their son Richard and his friend Monsieur Paul Antoine, both recently arrived from France, and Sir Thomas Camden were dining at Pemberley when Mr Anthony Tate, the nephew of Sir Thomas, lately down from Cambridge, was announced.

  A fine-looking young man, he had all the self-assurance of the wealthy and good manners besides. Apologising for his late arrival, he broke the news that had delayed him. He had received a message from Westminster that a committee had been set up within the Parliament to draft a Reform Bill, which was “to satisfy all reasonable demands of the intelligent sections of the community for reform of the Parliament.”

  Chief among the men on the committee was Lord Russell, a dedicated reformist, who had given his word that he would introduce a bill for the reform of the Parliament and electoral system.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam was jubilant at the news, but Tate, who was part owner of the Matlock Review, appeared less certain.

  “Do you honestly believe, Colonel Fitzwilliam, that the Whigs will want to give up their share of the rotten boroughs? They are as keen on preserving their privileges as the Tories; it is because they have had a taste of defeat that they've taken up the cause of reform,” he said.

  Mr Darcy, who had previously cautioned against over optimism, tended to agree with young Mr Tate, but Fitzwilliam, though in a minority, was prepared to argue that Lord Grey had given a commitment to the Reformists before the election and would surely deliver upon it.

  “Grey is an honourable man. I trust him,” said the colonel.

  Anthony Tate was unsure. “Even if what you say is true and Grey does keep his promise and produce a bill for reform, the Tories will scream blue murder as soon as it is presented. Mark my words, Fitzwilliam, they will claim there will be chaos and mayhem, that England will disappear under a rising tide of revolutionary excesses; indeed, they will so terrify the populace that very soon there will be no reasonable voice to be heard supporting it.”

  There was laughter as he spoke and when he stopped, there was a sudden silence, as if everyone around the table had realised the chilling truth of his words. Then into the pool of quiet dropped Caroline's voice, not loud but very clear.

  “If this is so, Mr Tate, is it not the sacred responsibility of us all to speak out and contradict it, to tell people that reform is not revolution, that there are many benefits to be had by ridding our country of a rotten system that denies most people the right to vote?”

  It is unlikely, though not entirely impossible, that Anthony Tate had ever before been addressed in such a manner and on such a subject by a lady—except perhaps his mother, who was a remarkably outspoken and liberal-minded woman. He was a young man of intelligence, education, and shrewd understanding, who was soon to control the Matlock Review, yet he found he had no answer for Caroline except to say, with a shrug of his shoulders, “Indeed, Mrs Fitzwilliam, you may be right, but you will admit, I am sure, that the forces ranged against reform are powerful, and who in the community has the courage and the means to rebut them?”

  Directly addressed, Caroline felt she had to respond.

  “I am surprised, indeed, that you should ask, Mr Tate,” she said, and by this time, almost everyone around the table was listening with interest. “Surely it is those who control the press who wield the most power, for you have the means to inform ignorant people of the truth, have you not? The Review has campaigned diligently for a school and a hospital for the children of our area; is it not an even greater cause to lead the campaign for reform, so people may vote for those that govern them?”

  An unfamiliar French voice at the far end of the table said, “Bravo,” and Mr Gardiner and Colonel Fitzwilliam cried “Hear, Hear!” which made Caroline suddenly shy and Anthony Tate, feeling the need to make some acknowledgement, said, “When I hear you present the argument in that fashion, Mrs Fitzwilliam, I must confess I cannot fault it. The Review has always supported the movement for reform and will do so in the future. Whether we can lead a campaign, I cannot say. But you are right; someone must tell the people the truth of the matter.”

  It was almost time for the ladies to withdraw and Caroline went with her mother, her sister Emily, and Elizabeth, while the men partook of plenty of port and even more political debate.

  By the time they met again in the drawing room, however, Elizabeth, who had very little interest in matters political, had succeeded in getting them around the pianoforte, and Monsieur Antoine, Emily Gardiner, and Caroline were trying out their parts for a popular French song, the singing of which was followed by general applause and calls for more.

  When coffee was taken, Richard Gardiner, who had been busy telling everyone about Paris, approached his sister and returned to the subject of their discussion at dinner.

  “Very good, Caroline, I am impressed. Tate has already spoken to me regarding an article in the Review about the need for a children's hospital; my friend Paul Antoine is keen to help us establish one, and Tate is happy to give us his support. But I think I shall hold my fire until we have some word on Parliamentary Reform, eh?”

  While he was younger than Caroline, she had always treated her brother Richard as if he were older than she was. His stature and the enormously responsible profession he had chosen set him on a pedestal for her. She knew also that Fitzwilliam loved and admired her brother as a fine young man with a strong social conscience.

  “Richard, I do hope Mr Darcy and Sir Thomas were not angered by my speaking out; I know it is not customary, and Cousin Lizzie would never do it, but I felt I had to say something. Mr Tate is able to use his newspaper to tell the truth in a way no one else can. He reaches hundreds of people, where we probably see ten in a day if we are fortunate. Fitzy works so hard, I would hate to see him disappointed.”

  “Nor shall you, Caroline, I promise. I shall speak to Tate and perhaps I may convince him of the need for the Review to take a stand,” her brother gave her his word. “As for Sir Thomas and Mr Darcy, have no fears on that score—I do not believe I am being indiscreet by revealing that after the ladies had withdrawn, both gentlemen were full of praise for your point of view, and Sir Thomas urged his nephew to consider it seriously. No, Caroline
, the time is ripe for reform and I do believe you have spoken out at the right moment.”

  They were interrupted by their hostess, who wanted to question Richard about Mr Antoine.

  “Richard, you must tell me more about your charming friend—who is he and does he intend to settle in England?” she asked and, as Richard was led away by Elizabeth, Caroline rejoined her husband.

  “Fitzy, I do hope I did not embarrass you at dinner…” she began anxiously, but got no further.

  “Embarrass me? My dear Caroline, it was the most important thing anyone had said on the subject all evening. Until you spoke, we were all being wary and uncertain, while young Tate was downright sceptical,” he said, hastening to reassure her. “Not anymore; we now have Anthony Tate's word that the Review will support reform, even if he has not promised to campaign for it as yet! No, my dear, I think you did our great cause a service tonight. Mr Darcy said so.”

  “Mr Darcy?” She was incredulous.

  “Indeed, he did. When you had left the room, Sir Thomas said, 'Out of the mouths of babes, eh, Tate?'” and seeing her outraged expression, he added swiftly, “But Darcy disagreed and said, 'Caroline is no babe, Sir Thomas, Fitzwilliam here will tell you, she is his staunchest ally and a most effective campaigner.'”

  Caroline looked up at her husband, wide-eyed and astonished at such praise, and asked, “Fitzy, did you tell him I was?”

  Fitzwilliam, realising that her mood was becoming more playful, matched it as he replied, “Of course, though I do believe there was hardly any need for it, my love. Your advocacy was most convincing. I have never before seen young Tate lost for words.”

  The weeks and months that followed were to prove both Mr Anthony Tate and Caroline right. Social upheaval and domestic turmoil overtook many families in the land, and the enthusiasm for reform brought out the supporters of other causes as the cry went up to “end child slavery in the mills” and the working classes began to demand a “ten-hour day.”

  Taking over editorial policy at the Review, Anthony Tate, ambitious and astute, set about acquiring other, smaller news sheets and journals and used them to push the cause of reform. Always aware that those in power may act arbitrarily against the press, if they felt threatened by it, he cultivated the goodwill of influential men like Lord Ashley, a reformist Tory, Viscount Althorp, and a family of prominent Whig lawyers—the Wilsons, who had the respect of both sides of Parliament. As he grew more accustomed to it, he enjoyed the power and influence he could wield through his newspapers, and by the time the Reform Bill was introduced into the Parliament by Lord Russell, Mr Tate and his press were firmly and openly behind it. It was the first time the Review had become overtly involved in a political cause, and it made a significant difference.

  Caroline, meanwhile, had acquired so much information and familiarity with the causes that Fitzwilliam held dear, she had no longer any fear of embarrasing him by her forays into the field of social reform. One story which became almost a legend in the family concerned her chance meeting with the powerful Viscount Althorp at a social function.

  Mr Gardiner and Richard had accompanied Fitzwilliam and Caroline to London to attend the debates on the bill. While Caroline returned with ecstatic reports of her husband's speech, which had won sustained applause from an unusually crowded chamber, Richard had a far more intriguing tale to tell.

  At a soireé in the salon of a leading London hostess, while everybody around them was talking of “the bill and nothing but the bill,” Caroline, finding herself seated next to the influential Viscount Althorp to whom she had been introduced, had taken up a cause dear to her heart. Her brother, at first a somewhat panic-stricken listener, had been amazed to observe them as they spoke.

  “You could have knocked me down with a feather,” he told the family as they sat at dinner. “There was Caroline, telling Althorp that while it was very important indeed to get Parliamentary Reform, it would not be much good to ordinary people until they could get their children out of the mines and into school. He listened, paying her every courtesy, while she related heartrending stories of families whose boys went into the mines when they were barely ten years old and ended up stunted and wizened like gnomes, having worked the long hours underground, hardly ever seeing the sun. It was clear that Althorp was moved; he never once interrupted her and listened most attentively.”

  Mr and Mrs Gardiner could scarcely believe it themselves, when he continued, “I could not hear exactly what he said in reply and did not wish to seem to eavesdrop on them, but when I asked Caroline later in the evening, she was quite sanguine about it. Apparently, though initially surprised at her interest, he had assured her that the cause of young children in the mines and mills was a matter he intended to address very soon, by bringing in new laws to regulate working hours and conditions for both women and children. He even told her that it was a matter on which he had the support of the prominent Tory Lord Ashley as well!”

  When the story came to be repeated at Pemberley, by Mrs Gardiner, Elizabeth and her sister Jane were incredulous.

  “But did she not fear he would rebuff her? It could have been quite mortifying!” said Jane, and Elizabeth wondered at her cousin's apparent boldness. She herself would never have contemplated such a thing.

  “Was she not afraid of offending him by such an approach?” she asked.

  “Apparently not,” replied Mrs Gardiner. “Caroline told Colonel Fitzwilliam she had thought that as one of the most powerful members of the new government, Viscount Althorp would be the best person to lobby on a matter of such importance, and since she found him conveniently seated next to her, she decided to do just that.”

  Mr Darcy put down his wine glass and laughed.

  “She is absolutely right, of course, there is not much to be gained by haranguing some obscure back bencher with little or no influence in the Cabinet. Althorp and his supporters must ultimately win the day,” he said. “Britain cannot for much longer preach the abolition of slavery for Africans while retaining conditions tantamount to enslavement for its own children.”

  Mr Bingley cried, “Hear, hear!” and Mr Gardiner could barely conceal his delight and pride in his favourite daughter. Caroline was the very apple of her father's eye, and he predicted confidently that she would eventually succeed in her campaign to free the children from the mines.

  “She has set her heart on this and will not give up,” he declared.

  Elizabeth had a question. “Do you believe Caroline is sufficiently ambitious for Fitzwilliam to put up with the strains and vagaries of political life? It is not easy for a woman to be so deeply involved.”

  Darcy replied, “It is not simply a question of ambition. I do not believe Caroline is unduly ambitious for her husband; not any more than he is himself. But each time I hear her speak of such matters, I cannot help feeling that she wants to change things for the better. She is not content to be comfortable, as many of us are; she sees injustice and wishes to do something about it. Whether it is the children of the poor who get no schooling, or the widowed women who have no recourse but to the poor house when they are too old to work, Caroline is moved by their plight and draws attention to it, hoping someone will listen. Now these are important, worthy causes and her work cannot possibly do Fitzwilliam any harm with his constituency.”

  There was general agreement on that score, but Mrs Gardiner remained anxious. “You are right, Mr Darcy. She has a compassionate heart and I can see her, a child in her arms and another at her side, talking passionately to anyone who will listen about the evils of child labour. I know she appears to have boundless energy but I do fear she works too hard,” she said, expressing a mother's anxiety.

  Had she seen the note Caroline had written to her sister Emily, Mrs Gardiner may have been somewhat less concerned.

  Dearest Emily,

  You are the very first to hear my wonderful news, all three pieces of it.

  First, Fitzy is to work with Mr James Wilson, who is in charge of the cam
paign for the election in December, which he says will finally set the seal of approval upon the Reform Bill. It is indeed a great honour to be invited, for the Wilsons are both important and influential reformists.

  Second, I know you will be delighted to hear we are to get some money from the council for the parish school, for which we must thank young Mr Tate and his dear mother, who have campaigned endlessly in the Review for it.

  And last, but certainly not least, my dear sister—you after my beloved husband are the first to know—I am to have another child in the Summer!

  Is it not the most wonderful conclusion to a most successful year? With Richard home and all our family together again, it will be just the best year of all. I feel so excited and happy I have to tell someone, else I shall explode with the joy of it all!

  Dearest Emmy, pray do not say anything to Mama or Cousin Elizabeth. I must tell Mama myself and let her have the pleasure of giving the family the news. I had to tell you though, for I know you will share my happiness.