“Do you suppose Mrs Tate has discussed this with her husband?” he asked and Emily replied with confidence, “I should be very surprised if she has not. For some time now, Becky Tate has been writing occasional pieces for the Review, which her husband publishes, using the pen name Marianne Lawrence. In them, she has made mention of the scandalous conditions of women's employment. It is unlikely that Mr Tate would not be aware of it himself. It is an issue that affects the lives of many hundreds of women and children in this county and all over England.”
In later years, Jonathan was to tell Mr and Mrs Darcy that if he had doubts about Colonel Fitzwilliam's offer, they were largely dispelled by talking to Emily and afterwards, to Anthony and Rebecca Tate, who had promised him complete support. On his return to Ashford Park, he would write to Colonel Fitzwilliam, accepting the proposition.
Before Jonathan left Pemberley, Emily returned with a letter addressed to his sister Emma, who now lived in London at the Wilsons' house in Mayfair or at their family estate in Kent.
“When you see your sister Emma, Mr Bingley, may I trouble you to give her this letter from me? I had intended to send it to the post, but since you are here, I wondered if…”
He interrupted her gently and said, “Pray do not concern yourself, Cousin Emily, it will be no trouble at all. I expect to be in London on Wednesday and will hand it to Emma personally when I see her.”
Emma Wilson received Emily's letter from her brother's hand when he joined her and her husband David Wilson at dinner the following Wednesday. Mr James Wilson was also present and Jonathan was keen to consult him about his recent decision. After dinner, leaving the gentlemen to their discussion of party politics, Emma went upstairs to her room to read her letter; it had been awhile since Emily had written and Emma was eager for news.
The two cousins had been friends for many years despite the difference in their ages—Emily was almost thirty, while Emma Wilson was not yet twenty-one.
Dearest Emma, wrote her cousin:
I must immediately apologise for the lateness of my response to your kind letter; it is not for want of inclination, I assure you, merely the lack of time and opportunity to do so.
We have been so very busy these last few weeks with the work we are doing to help the poor women of the district and their children, who are the innocent victims of this terrible system.
However, I must not delay giving you what must be the best news we have had in almost two years. It concerns my sister Caroline.
As you would know from your mama as well as from my letters, Caroline has been almost a recluse these eighteen months, since the death of her beloved Edward. She has consistently refused to be sociable or to travel any distance from her home, which has become her physical and emotional fortress.
It has been a source of great sorrow to us all, my parents and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who has done everything that one could ask of a husband, himself bereft and grief-stricken, to encourage and support her.
I had almost given up hope of interesting her in the work we do for the women and children of this area, made destitute by this wretched recession and the strict enforcement of the new Poor Law, when suddenly, following a visit from Mama, Caroline volunteered enthusiastically, I am told, to join us.
Emma, it is the very best thing that could have happened and I know that Colonel Fitzwilliam is very pleased. He arrived to take her home last Friday, after we had spent the day working at the cottage shelter in Springwood, and seemed delighted at the change in her. Caroline herself says little, but she works with a will and at a great pace.
I am so thankful to her and to our dear Mr Darcy for his generosity in making available the cottages at Springwood and Little Meadow, not far from the hospital at Littleford. Our women are ever so grateful that they and their children are far safer than before.
Reading between the lines, Emma could sense the relief and joy that her cousin must feel at Caroline's return to normal life. She had learned from her mother Jane of the concern they had all felt at her state of mind, and poor Colonel Fitzwilliam was desperately unhappy that he had not succeeded in helping his wife to return to a degree of normalcy, as Elizabeth had done.
Emma, who unbeknownst to all her friends and family carried a burden of sadness that she would reveal to no one, knew how both Emily and Caroline must feel. There were afflictions, she believed, that women would endure alone and not divulge to anyone.
Putting away her letter, which she would return to reply later, Emma went downstairs to join the others, only to find her husband, David, fast asleep on the sofa in the drawing room, having finished most of the port, while his brother James and Jonathan Bingley sat by the fire, clearly engrossed in their discussion. Reluctant to disturb them, Emma bade them good night and returned to her room.
Much later, she heard her brother-in-law and their guest come upstairs and retire to their rooms. Only in the small hours did her husband, awakened no doubt by the icy temperatures in the drawing room, where the fire had long been extinguished, stagger into their room and fall noisily into bed, fully dressed and very drunk.
Emma, who had lain awake for hours, pretended to be fast asleep.
As for Caroline, after a week or two of working at the cottage shelters, she had realised not just the value of Emily's work to the women and children of the area, but the inestimable worth of her sister's scheme in her own life. She had admitted this to Rebecca Tate as they worked together and to her husband when they were alone.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was clearly delighted to see her so engaged and active again. He could not do enough to help her and told her of his happiness often, demonstrating his pleasure and approval in every way and on every possible occasion.
She knew that he loved her dearly and understood the depth of the fear that had assailed him; fears for her health and reason. Caroline was pleased that she could, at last, reassure him that she was at least well on the way to recovery.
But, it was in the private thoughts, which she confided only to a little notebook with a blue leather cover which she kept locked away in her bureau, that she revealed even to herself what it had really meant to her.
Some three weeks after she had begun to travel daily to the cottage at Springwood, where groups of children arrived each morning brought there by their mothers on their way to work at the houses, where they were employed to sew, mend, wash, and iron, or on the farms, where they picked, washed, and packed fruit and vegetables for market, Caroline wrote:
Were it not for Emily, her unending goodness and selflessness, these little children and their mothers would undergo the most atrocious suffering, making barely enough to eat, and I would have continued to remain locked in the dungeon of my selfish despair.
Once again I know that I owe so much to my dear sister. Over these last few weeks, she has shown me not only how one might usefully employ the vacant hours of one's life, but she has opened my eyes to the extent of the truly intolerable suffering of hundreds of women, many in our own neighbourhood.
While I knew from Fitzwilliam that poverty was on the increase, because of the loss of jobs in the mills and mines, it was not till I saw these unfortunate women—some of them mere girls, weary and work-worn, their hair greasy with sweat, their faces grimy with dirt from the fields in which they had toiled—not until then, did I understand the true extent of a mother's suffering. As for the children, many of them so thin that one might feel their bones through their clothing, the sight of them brings tears to my eyes.
If there is a cause that one feels impelled to work for, it must be this and I am filled with gratitude for the opportunity; for since the death of my darling Edward, I have believed that my suffering and my own loss was so overwhelming I had no time for anyone else's troubles. What were they when compared with mine? I know different now and it was Emily who opened my eyes.
Since I have rejoined the world, my dear husband is happier too.
Poor Fitzy, he is the mainstay of my life; without him, I would
surely have been blown so far off course, my life would have been utterly wrecked.
His patient, loving nature has meant even more to me in these cruel years just past than the ardent passion we shared when first we were married.
Then, I being young and innocent, learnt from him the ways of love, when it was easy to be happy and nothing could happen, but it would enhance our desire for one another. I had not known such happiness was possible.
But it is quite another matter to love when the heart is wounded and every circumstance conspires to hurt and bruise. I thought it had all ended for me then, that I would neither love nor care again. Even my dear parents and my precious children seemed not to reach my heart. As for those like Jane or Kitty, I could hardly bear to see them, knowing the sight of their happy, healthy children would only serve to ignite in me dreadful fires of envy and grief.
Only Fitzy remained close to me, loving, trying, encouraging always. What would I have been without him? I am afraid to think.
And Emily, dear, generous Emily, who must be the closest thing to an angel here on earth. I know I have her to thank for my sanity.
Tomorrow, she and I will join Becky Tate in making an appeal to the council for funds to start another shelter, this one for the children of Wye Bridge, the little village below the Tate property, where most of the men are out of work.
If the council will help with funds, the Tates will provide a vacant cottage and furniture, and two more ladies from Matlock will join our group at the shelter.
I shall pray that we succeed.
It will mean that I shall again have the joy of knowing that my work has truly done some good.
THE DEATH OF KING WILLIAM IV early in 1837 brought to the throne of England a very young queen, and for the first few years of her reign, at least, a new spirit of enterprise and excitement seemed to possess the nation.
Queen Victoria, though she did not actively promote many cultural pursuits, came to symbolise a growing concern with style and refinement, which included an interest in the arts and architecture, no less than the pursuit of trade and commerce.
A softer approach to those who lived and worked upon the land came to be advocated and in some cases followed by some landowners, who had begun to understand the value of providing decent housing, sanitation, and facilities for schooling and health care on their estates.
This was particularly the case at Pemberley and Camden Park, where the combined efforts of Sir Thomas Camden, Mr Darcy, and the ladies of Emily and Caroline's group had made a significant difference to the lives of the people in the surrounding villages. With the support of the Tate family, whose newspapers provided them with all the publicity they could ask for, the ladies of Pemberley and Matlock campaigned for everything from schooling for girls to shelters for vagrants.
So well did they achieve their goals that they soon caught the attention of aspiring local politicians, who would vie with one another to cut the ribbon or unveil the plaque at the opening of a school, a library, or an orphanage established by the efforts of the women.
Jonathan Bingley, supported by both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Anthony Tate, was standing for election in Fitzwilliam's seat. He readily acknowledged that he was assisted to a very great extent by his family connection with Pemberley.
Dr Richard Gardiner received what could only be called a hero's welcome when he took up his position at the new hospital at Littleford, which had been built on land donated by the Camden and Darcy families and equipped with funds raised by Emily, Caroline, and their friends.
For Richard and Cassandra it was a very special year. When they had become engaged, it had been with the intention of marrying within a year. Yet, their wedding had been postponed not once but twice, following the deaths first of young Edward and William and then, the year after, of Mr Bennet.
The couple, though quite passionately attached to one another, agreed to wait a little longer. Having proved the depth of their love by their constancy and restraint, when at last they were wed, they were rewarded with one of the loveliest days that Nature and Pemberley could provide.
No one in the large gathering of friends and relatives who saw them married could have had any doubt of their joy. For their parents there was no prouder, happier moment than that of the union of their beloved children.
Caroline and Emily, who had been privy to some of the agony that had accompanied the long months of waiting, knew how gladly Richard and Cassandra would set off on their wedding journey.
After the marriage of her brother to Cassy Darcy, Emily was drawn even deeper into the fold of the Pemberley family. Her enduring and warm friendship with both Elizabeth and her husband gave her a very special place in their home.
Meanwhile, Caroline found herself becoming more involved than before with the workings of her father's business. With his younger son Robert away in the colonies and Richard married and busy with his work at the hospital, Mr Gardiner, who had always valued Caroline's ability to grasp a problem and suggest a sensible solution, began to turn more often to his daughter for help. Her quick understanding and methodical approach to work was an asset to her busy father. She began to go regularly to Oakleigh to put his papers in order and attend to his accounts.
While initially, she had not regarded it seriously and had been rather flattered to be consulted by her father, the first realisation of the gravity of her situation came when her parents were on holiday in France. Emily, who had inherited a small property in France from her late husband, had persuaded her parents to accompany her on a visit.
Mr Gardiner had left Caroline in charge of his office, instructing her to attend to the accounts and pay the bills in his absence. Expecting not to have to do more than reconcile the weekly statements from the offices in London and Manchester, Caroline had cheerfully agreed.
“You will help me, will you not, Fitzy?” she had said rather playfully, not knowing that Fitzwilliam, though a partner, had little knowledge of the workings of his father-in-law's business.
While the first week passed without incident, the arrival of an express communication addressed to her father threw everyone into a state of confusion. It was from an attorney, Mr Culver, requesting Mr Gardiner's immediate presence in Manchester on account of his chief clerk Mr Upton being arrested for defrauding Her Majesty's Customs.
Caroline, who went immediately to Pemberley to consult Mr Darcy, found, to her consternation, that he had gone to Derby on business. There was nothing for it but to leave immediately for Manchester with her husband. Taking her father's authority and seal with her and hoping that there had been some stupid mistake, Caroline left, having begged Elizabeth to send a message to Mr Gardiner asking him to return to England at once.
“It would be best not to tell him about poor Mr Upton, Lizzie, at least not until he gets here. It would so upset him and Mama and achieve very little, for there is nothing he can do until he gets to Manchester,” she said, and Elizabeth agreed.
On arriving in Manchester, they took rooms at the house where Mr Gardiner usually stayed when visiting on business and went immediately to the company office.
Caroline had been there before, with her father, but she did not recall it being so gloomy. Perhaps it was the fact that Winter was almost here and Manchester in Winter was not a salubrious spot, or it might have been the general air of desolation that hung over the narrow street that afternoon; either way, it made Caroline's heart sink.
Inside, it was not much better. Two junior clerks sat in a cold office, looking stunned, while an old man, who was supposed to be in charge in the absence of Mr Upton, sat at his desk, sighing and wiping his tearful eyes.
“Fitzy, this is ridiculous,” Caroline whispered, “how are we ever going to discover the cause of the problem?”
“I think you will have to ask them, my love,” he replied in a voice that was certainly not filled with confidence.
Caroline, after looking at him quickly to check if he was serious, drew up a chair and sat down at the
chief clerk's desk.
The others looked at her as if expecting her to take over where Mr Upton had left off and give them their orders. Clearly everything had come to a shuddering halt when he was arrested and taken away. They were still sitting there, shocked.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs heralded the arrival of a rather smartly dressed young man, probably in his early thirties, dapper and well spoken, who on seeing Caroline and her husband said, “Ah, customers I presume? I am so sorry, sir, ma'am, but unfortunately, we are not in a position to…”
My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6 Page 18