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

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  It had come about almost by chance. The Tates had invited the colonel and Caroline to dinner, and afterwards, while Rebecca and Caroline were engaged in a game of cards, the gentlemen—Colonel Fitzwilliam, Jonathan Bingley, and Anthony Tate—had been involved in a discussion on the imminent passage through the Parliament of the Ten Hour Day legislation and the Public Health Act, for which they had campaigned over many years.

  Rather bored with the card game, Caroline was paying some attention to their conversation when she heard the name of David Wilson mentioned. Jonathan Bingley had pointed out that Wilson had shown scant interest in the debates on these vital reform bills.

  “He has also been seen quite often in conversation with Lord XXX___, and there are some who believe he is about to defect to the Tories and vote against the Public Health Bill,” he said, and his companions well nigh exploded in expressions of outrage and disbelief.

  “That's impossible—the Wilsons have been Reformists since the days of William Pitt!” said Tate.

  At this point, both Becky and Caroline put down their cards and turned to listen more closely. Both women had an interest in the conversation.

  David Wilson was one of two brothers in the Parliament from a prominent family of Whig lawyers, but even more important for Caroline was the fact that he was the husband of her cousin Emma Bingley.

  They had been married some ten years, had two pretty daughters, and Mr Wilson, a personable and ambitious member of Parliament, was said to have a bright political future ahead of him. His elder brother James, a quieter, less ostentatious gentleman with strong Reformist credentials, was already a well-respected member of the government.

  Neither Becky nor Caroline had found it easy to accept that the younger Mr Wilson was a potential defector to the Conservatives.

  But there was no mistaking the concern expressed by Jonathan Bingley and by Anthony Tate, who, being even more suspicious about Wilson's motives, promised to have his reporters investigate the man.

  “It should not be difficult to discover if he has been approached by the Tories and if he has, the plot should be exposed,” declared Tate.

  Caroline was perturbed. She wondered what, if anything, Emma knew of her husband's activities, and when they were taking coffee, she had approached Jonathan Bingley, hoping to find out.

  “Jonathan, forgive my asking, but I could not help hearing your comments about Mr David Wilson, your brother-in-law, and I wonder, is it possible that Emma is ignorant of these matters?” she asked.

  Jonathan Bingley, whose natural predisposition was to be obliging, had answered her with disarming honesty.

  “I have very little reason to believe that my sister is aware of anything concerning Mr Wilson's parliamentary activities, Cousin Caroline. As you know, she lives mostly at Standish Park in Kent and comes only occasionally to London and not at all to Westminster. I think I could safely assure you that she knows nothing of these developments.”

  Caroline did know that, unlike Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had encouraged her to attend the Parliament whenever he was speaking, Emma's husband did not welcome her attendance and, except on formal occasions when wives of members were invited to attend, Emma Wilson took no part in her husband's political life. She recalled Emma saying as much in answer to a question about her attendance at an important debate.

  “It appears that Mr Wilson does not derive any pleasure or benefit from our presence,” she had said, with a little shrug of her elegant shoulders. “Indeed, he claims it puts him off—because he does not debate with the same degree of aggression if his mother and I are in the ladies' gallery.”

  Caroline had thought at the time that this was an odd thing to say, but had not pursued the matter, noting that Emma had not wanted to pursue the matter either. Clearly their attitudes differed. Caroline would not dream of missing such a debate if her husband was involved.

  She proceeded to quiz Jonathan Bingley. “Do you really believe he intends to defect to the Tories?”

  “Well, I can only say that there is a very strong suspicion in Whig circles that he may do so,” had been his circumspect reply and he added, “However, I think, Cousin Caroline, we should not speak of this matter to anyone else until we are quite certain of the facts.”

  Caroline had agreed at once, but persisted with her enquiry.

  “What if Mr Tate's men turn up some information? Would you do something about it then?” she had asked, and Jonathan Bingley had said in a voice that was suddenly very grave, “That would depend very much on the nature of the material they uncovered. If it was clear that he had undertaken a course of action that was going to damage the government, I would certainly consider bringing it to the attention of the party whip. I believe it would be my duty to do so.”

  And there was no doubt in Caroline's mind that he meant it.

  Returning home to Matlock, Caroline had repeated their conversation to her husband, whose disillusionment and anger were further inflamed by it. He expressed his displeasure in no uncertain terms.

  “I have never had much time for young Wilson; he has always struck me as pretentious and vain, using the party and the Parliament to promote himself. He lacks any commitment to the cause,” he had said.

  “Now James Wilson is quite different; a thorough gentleman and a sincere reformist. Caroline, it is a great pity your cousin Emma did not marry him instead of that young coxcomb!”

  “Fitzy!” Caroline had exclaimed, incredulous, only to have him reinforce his provocative remark with another, “It's true, Caroline, ask your cousin Lizzie; she knows that Mrs Bingley would have preferred Emma to have married James, but David was a handsome rogue and stole a march on his brother, I believe. I know him only slightly; he never showed much interest in the work of the party, unlike James, and from what I have heard, poor Emma is being badly deceived. It is well known that he drinks heavily, gambles himself into debt, and is slow to repay his creditors. It is common talk in the Parliament—the man's a disgrace and does his family no credit at all.”

  Caroline had been so shocked by what she had heard that evening, she had not been able to sleep at all well that night. Quite clearly poor Emma must not know all this; but if she did, what could she possibly do about it? Her thoughts turning over in her head had driven away all hope of sleep, and by morning, Caroline had been feeling quite ill and miserable.

  Her own indisposition, a variety of domestic concerns as well as Amy and James going down with measles had taken her mind right off the subject for some weeks, until one afternoon, closer to Christmas, when Jonathan Bingley and his wife Amelia-Jane had arrived to see them.

  Jonathan was a regular visitor to their house; being the local member, he frequently consulted Fitzwilliam about political and parliamentary matters. But Amelia-Jane, who was not by inclination politically active, came rarely, only to be sociable. Caroline could see, however, that this was not such a visit.

  Jonathan's countenance gave very little away, except to signal his general unease, while his wife wore a look of such extreme outrage that Caroline wondered what it was that had so offended her. When they were all seated in the parlour, partaking of refreshments, the purpose of their visit and the reason for their extraordinarily grave demeanour was revealed. “I have just been with Anthony Tate at the offices of the Review,” Jonathan had explained, “and I am told that the men who were assigned to investigate David Wilson have uncovered a good deal more than we anticipated.”

  As the rest listened, he added with some embarrassment, “His private behaviour appears to be almost as outrageous and irrational as his public life.”

  When Caroline and Fitzwilliam appeared bewildered, Amelia-Jane, taking over from her husband, had provided them with the details.

  “Caroline, the man is not only a traitor to his party, he has consistently deceived and betrayed his wife and family. He has a mistress who runs an illegal gaming house in Chelsea, which he attends regularly. He is both a turncoat and an adulterer and is so deep in debt, he
is in the clutches of a group of ruthless villains,” she declared in what sounded very much like the tone of a moral crusader.

  Amelia-Jane appeared to be even more outraged by Wilson's private immorality rather than his public betrayal of faith, but Jonathan hastened to add that both were equally reprehensible.

  “He has certainly gone beyond the bounds of decency in his private affairs; I have no doubt that my sister will be desolated were she to learn the truth, yet his betrayal of his party is likely to bring much greater retribution upon him. Emma may forgive him, but his parliamentary colleagues will not,” he said ominously.

  Caroline was so shocked she could hardly speak. She listened as her husband asked how exactly these matters had come to light.

  Jonathan's explanation was patiently given, but Amelia-Jane was far more precipitate and Caroline wondered at her vehemence. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had asked for more details, was so appalled when they were provided, by either Jonathan or his wife or both, that he had risen abruptly from his chair and left the room.

  When he returned, some time later, he was calmer and had addressed them gravely.

  “Jonathan, he cannot be permitted to go unchallenged; it is beyond belief that he should be conspiring with the Tories to subvert the elected government. Wilson will have to be exposed.”

  “But how shall it be done without harming Emma and her children?” asked Caroline, appealing to Jonathan.

  He was well aware of the need to consider Wilson's family and advised caution. “Before we act, however strong the principle, we must consider the effect exposure will have on his wife, his mother, and the two girls, Victoria and Stephanie, all of whom are innocent victims in this matter. There is also Mr James Wilson, who must be one of the most respected men in the Parliament. I do not believe we should embark upon any course of action that may destroy their lives.”

  Amelia-Jane was less circumspect. Wild for some kind of revenge, she interrupted, “But, Jonathan, if we do nothing, tell no one, will he not get away with it and probably do many more things that will only harm his family to a much greater extent?”

  Despite her own feelings of abhorrence, Caroline had agreed with Jonathan. “I believe that we should proceed with caution. It is not our prerogative to undertake some moral crusade that will create much misery for so many innocent people. But I do agree that David Wilson cannot be permitted to carry on his activities with impunity.”

  At which point, Colonel Fitzwilliam had remarked, “I should very much like to know Darcy's opinion on this matter. I am angered by Wilson's hypocrisy and cannot claim to be without prejudice; I dislike the man. But Darcy hardly knows him at all, and has no particular political allegiance; he will be dispassionate and fair.”

  This prompted Caroline to suggest that the Darcys be invited to dinner and the matter of David Wilson be discussed with them before any further action was taken. That was agreed to be an excellent suggestion, and it had fallen to Jonathan, because he was their favourite nephew, to go to Pemberley and convey the invitation.

  And so it had been arranged.

  The events of the next few weeks seemed to take place at a heightened speed, each following upon the other with inordinate rapidity, creating such a confusion of thoughts and feelings as to render one's recollection of them utterly unreliable, as though they were scenes from some chaotic nightmare.

  Caroline, in years to come, would attempt to forget many of the sordid scenes, the shocking stories which had emerged as Fitzwilliam and Jonathan Bingley had gone to London to acquaint James Wilson with his brother's situation. Their hope of confronting David Wilson himself had been dashed when, self-indulgent to the end, he had, on being forewarned, gone into hiding at the house of a friend, where he had shot himself, rather than face exposure in the Parliament.

  But Caroline could not forget the day Colonel Fitzwilliam had returned with news of Wilson's suicide. It had been very close to Christmas, yet there had been no festive atmosphere in the house while they awaited Fitzwilliam's return from London. When he did arrive, the news he brought was so shattering, Caroline had gasped and sat down at the foot of the stairs. She had been numb and cold; but, thinking at once of Emma, she had felt only an immense sense of relief.

  Apart from breaking the news, Fitzwilliam seemed unwilling to talk about the details, and it was some time later, when Caroline went to visit her sister Emily at the Kympton rectory, that she discovered the hideous story of David Wilson's demise and the even more shocking revelation of his ill treatment of his wife over many years, a secret she had hidden from most of her family.

  Emily, now a mother of two children and an indefatigable worker for the poor of her parish, was closer to their cousin Emma than anyone else, and there was much that Emily knew which no other person had heard.

  Her compassionate heart had given Emma some comfort.

  When Caroline had learned what her sister had known, she had wept.

  “Knowing how cruelly she was treated, the depth of her anguish, it is difficult to imagine that Emma could go to London, attend the funeral, and accept the condolences of strangers,” she had said.

  “Yet, for the sake of her children, her family, and her mother-in-law Mrs Wilson, whom she loves as she does her own mother, she went through it all with grace and decorum,” Emily had replied gravely.

  Caroline had found it incomprehensible.

  Shaking her head, she had said, “I could not have done it, Emmy, not after such cruelty.”

  But Emily had pointed out that none of us is able to say what we could or could not do until faced with the moment and the decision.

  “We have all known sorrow, Caroline: you, I, and Lizzie, each in our own way. None of us can claim that hers is the greater agony; all of us have borne the pain and survived. But where ours has been the result of sickness or accident, of misfortune or circumstances outside our control, poor Emma made a choice to marry David Wilson. Having discovered, all too late, her dreadful mistake, for she says she knew within weeks of her wedding that life with him was not what she had hoped it would be, she then determined that she alone would bear the consequences of her error of judgment. Hers was a life sentence, self-imposed, with little relief except in her two children; we can only be grateful that it lasted but ten years. It is a blessed reprieve.”

  Caroline had one more question to which she sought an answer.

  “Emmy, did you understand why Amelia-Jane was so enraged as to be almost vengeful towards David Wilson? Did she also know of his cruelty towards Emma?”

  Emily had smiled. “No, but she knows enough of his capacity for deception and betrayal; I learned last year that he had tried to seduce her when she and Jonathan were guests of the Wilsons at Standish Park. To her credit, she gave him short shrift and threatened to expose him, but it was a dreadful shock to her and she has never forgiven him. She has not told Emma, but I think she must have known he was capable of it.”

  There had been tears in Caroline's eyes as Emily spoke, tears of understanding and relief. Hearing the news of Wilson's ignominy and death, she had felt only relief and been concerned at her apparent callousness. Having spoken with Emily and learned more of the truth, knowing what her cousin Emma had been through, she now believed that hers had been an entirely appropriate response.

  The arrival of Charlotte Collins at Pemberley the following Summer, to spend some time with her dear friend Elizabeth, provided an occasion for all the ladies of the family to meet and exchange news and views, while their husbands talked inevitably of business and politics.

  Elizabeth gave a party, at which the main topic of conversation among the ladies was the forthcoming marriage of Jane Bingley's widowed daughter Emma to James Wilson, her well-respected brother-in-law.

  Jane was delighted. It was what she had hoped for with all her heart.

  “He is, without doubt, one of the finest gentlemen I have met,” she said and then had to admit, on being teased, that he was perhaps just a little less perfect than he
r dear Mr Bingley.

  Elizabeth knew her sister's heart.

  “They are so well suited, it is a pity they were not married to one another in the first place,” she said and everyone concurred.

  The wedding was to be at the church at Ashford Park in Autumn, and Emma's sisters Sophia and Louisa were excited at the prospect of being bridesmaids. There was not one person in the room who would not have wished Emma, who was a great favourite in the family, every happiness.

  Following Jane's happy news, it was Mrs Gardiner's turn; her son Robert was expected home soon. Having spent several years in the eastern colonies, where he had worked for a leading British trading house, Robert, it was hoped, would now have sufficient experience and skill to assist Mr Gardiner with the management of his own company.