“Does it not?” Teresa seemed astonished at this admission.
“No, and I have discovered that for myself, when I married Mr Bradshaw, who was a decent, good man, but God must forgive me, because try as I might, I never could love him and our marriage was a nightmare!”
Teresa, wide-eyed and troubled, saw the tears in her sister’s eyes and instinctively put her arms around her and held her, while she sobbed.
“Oh, Tessie, I am determined that I will never make the same mistake again. Nor must you, my dear sister. I am quite determined that I shall marry only for the deepest love or remain single for the rest of my life.” There was no mistaking the anguish in her voice and young Teresa, deeply affected by her sister’s sorrow, said no more.
In the early hours of the following day, Anna Bingley was brought to bed with her second child. There having been little warning that it would happen so early in the month, the household was thrown into some confusion and every other matter was set aside, while doctors and midwives were roused from their beds and fetched to Netherfield House.
Colin Elliott, who had prepared himself to speak with Anne-Marie that day, hoping to discover something of her feelings towards him, was awakened very early by the sounds of horses and carriage wheels on the gravel drive and footsteps of people with hushed voices coming and going up and down the stairs. Having guessed what was afoot and not wanting to be in the way, he had risen while it was still dark, dressed quietly, and gone downstairs only to find the entire kitchen staff in a huddle at the bottom of the stairs.
Seeing his embarrassment, Mrs Perrot took pity upon him, put him in the sitting room, and brought him some tea.
“Is everything all right?” he asked tentatively, to which she replied, “Yes, sir, the doctor is with Mrs Bingley now—” but before she could finish her sentence, the door opened and Anne-Marie rushed in.
“Mrs Perrot,” she cried, her voice rising with excitement, “It’s a boy! He is beautiful, but poor Mrs Bingley is very tired and weak.” She hugged the housekeeper, not seeing Mr Elliott, sitting by the fire, with his tea.
Mrs Perrot left to tell the rest of the staff the news and as Mr Elliott stood up, Anne-Marie caught sight of him and gave a little gasp of surprise.
“Mr Elliott!” she said as he put down his cup.
“Mrs Bradshaw, I am sorry if I startled you. I heard a lot of comings and goings and I came downstairs,” he said, trying to explain his presence in the room, but she smiled and said, “Please do finish your tea, Mr Elliott; I did not see you when I first came in.”
But he felt he was in their way and was keen to be gone.
“I think I should be leaving; you are all going to be very busy and you will not want me in the way, I am sure. Please convey my congratulations and best wishes to both your father and Mrs Bingley. I trust the little boy and his mother will both be doing well, soon,” he said.
“I certainly shall,” said Anne-Marie and then asked, “Will you not have some breakfast before you leave?”
“Thank you, it’s very kind of you, but I must be gone. I do hope I will see you again, soon,” he said, and she smiled as she said, “Of course,” and in a moment, he had kissed her hand and was gone.
In Meryton, Colin Elliott went directly to the offices of the Herald, where he found his friend Stephen Tillyard asleep in his chair. The paper had gone out an hour ago. It was the best time of day for a tired newspaperman. When Elliott walked in, Tillyard opened his eyes and, seeing who it was, closed them again.
“What are you doing here?” he asked sleepily, “I thought you were at Netherfield House, wooing the beautiful Mrs Bradshaw. Did she turn you down or are you here to announce your engagement in the Herald?”
Colin Elliott snapped, “Neither, you idiot; wake up, Tillyard, I need some breakfast, I am starving!”
“Do they not serve breakfast at Netherfield anymore? No, don’t tell me, you fled before the household was awake, you were too scared to propose! Elliott, if you do not ask the lady, you will never discover if she will have you.” Tillyard was enjoying his friend’s discomfiture, but his friend had lost patience with him.
“Oh, damn you, Tillyard, it’s none of those things. Mrs Jonathan Bingley was delivered of a child very early this morning, and I left because I did not wish to be in the way.”
Finally, Tillyard looked interested. “Was it a boy or a girl?” he asked.
Puzzled at his sudden interest, Elliott looked surprised, but answered, “A boy, I believe. I heard Mrs Bradshaw tell the housekeeper the news. Unhappily, I think Mrs Bingley is rather weak…” Then realising suddenly that he was telling a newspaperman, he broke off.
“Tillyard, don’t you dare print any of this. No, not if you value your life! Not till you get Mr Bingley’s permission,” he warned, and Tillyard promised he would print nothing until he had obtained Mr Bingley’s consent.
“The Bingleys are a very well-respected, public-spirited family in these parts; there would be a natural interest in matters relating to them. Mrs Anna Bingley is much loved and admired. She is a talented woman, with a lot of personal style, in the European mode, as I am sure you have noticed; people would want to wish her and her child well,” he said, as he rose and pulled on his coat. Closing the door behind them, they went out to get some breakfast at the inn across the road.
News of the birth of Jonathan and Anna’s second son, Simon, was delivered to Jane and Charles Bingley at Ashford Park in Leicestershire that very day, via the electric telegraph. No sooner had she heard, than Jane had to set out for Pemberley to acquaint her sister Elizabeth and Mr Darcy with the news. The Darcys were pleasantly surprised to see them, having dined with them but a few days ago. But they were always welcome at Pemberley and on this, a cold January day when it looked very bleak out of doors, it was a special pleasure.
Elizabeth was, as always, pleased to see them and when Jane, a little tearful, told of the birth of her latest grandson, both Darcy and Elizabeth understood exactly why she had ventured out on this day.
The occasion, said Darcy, called for a little celebration and while the drinks were being brought in, Elizabeth urged them to stay to dinner.
“We’re expecting the Fitzwilliams, too, so it will be nice, very much like old times,” she said and sent for her housekeeper to advise her of their extra dinner guests.
The Bingleys accepted, of course. Though Bingley and Darcy had not gone into active politics in the way Fitzwilliam and Jonathan Bingley had done, they remained interested. Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline still kept up with all the goings on in Parliament and, whenever the families met, they could be counted upon to have some of the latest news, scandal, and rumour from Westminster, and lively conversation was assured. Elizabeth was sure that this evening would be no exception.
Jane had received a letter from her daughter Emma, whose letters were always full of news. As they took refreshments in the saloon, where the footman had stoked up a fine blaze, Jane brought out her letter and read it to them.
My dear Mama, she wrote,
We had hoped to be able to make the journey to Ashford Park and to Pemberley, as well, after Christmas, but at this most inappropriate time, there is much talk at Westminster of war. It is difficult to believe that such a thing is possible. James says it is all to do with Lord Palmerston having encouraged the Danes to defy Bismarck, with vague promises of support. Now that they are under grave threat, Palmerston finds that Britain has no heart for it or rather no army able to stand up to Chancellor Bismarck.
James does not believe that the government will send troops to defend the Danes, but he says it is not the right time to leave London. Everything is too uncertain and should we have a spell of bad weather, a blizzard, or a heavy snowfall, as we did two years ago when everyone was snowed in for days, he may not get back to London in time for the party meeting.
We are both very sad, and Charles and Colin are disappointed that they will not be there for the fireworks. Perhaps when this is over�
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Emma’s letter stimulated an energetic discussion about the wisdom of Lord Palmerston’s foreign policy. Fitzwilliam, an admirer of the Prime Minister, defended his strategy, but Darcy and Bingley thought it foolhardy and, worse, would end in humiliation for Britain, when Bismarck called their bluff.
“You cannot believe that he plans to go to war, Fitzwilliam,” said Darcy. “Clearly he has encouraged the unfortunate Danes to stand up to Bismarck, knowing all the while, that if the Chancellor chooses, he can walk all over them and Britain can do nothing to stop him. It is thoroughly reprehensible.” Fitzwilliam would not agree and Elizabeth and Jane, who wanted to talk of things other than politics, decided to leave them to argue the point.
As they went upstairs, Jane intimated to her sister that there was a section of Emma’s letter she had kept to herself. Now, she wanted her to see it and Elizabeth was very curious. It was not like Jane to be so secretive.
When they reached the privacy of Elizabeth’s room, Jane handed her the letter and pointed to the last page, “Lizzie, read it and tell me what you make of it,” she said.
Emma had written that her husband James Wilson had recently invited Mr Colin Elliott MP to dine with them at Grosvenor Street.
He is, you may recall, Mama, the new Member in the seat formerly occupied by his father, Sir Paul Elliott. Having been away in the colonies, he has recently returned to England. I gather he has already called on Jonathan at Netherfield and is well regarded by him.
Although he is a Tory, I understand he is not as intractable as his father was and James seems to like him well enough. Indeed, he has it—he says on very good authority—that young Mr Elliott may one day be persuaded to join the Reform Group in the Commons.
For my part, I have to say he was extremely charming and has the most pleasing manners of any young MP I have met. None of the arrogant cockiness that marks so many of them. And, he does seem genuinely keen to do something for the people he is supposed to represent. But, more importantly, Mama, he spoke endlessly and with great enthusiasm of the Bingleys, Jonathan and Anna, of course, for whom he has great respect and Anne-Marie. She has, for some time now, been wishing to establish a children’s hospital for the area and, as the local MP, it seems Mr Elliott has become involved in this charitable scheme.
I am aware, from Anna’s letters, that she and Jonathan have been supporting their efforts and so I believe has the local rector, Mr Griffin, but to listen to Mr Elliott, you may be forgiven for thinking that Anne-Marie was doing it all on her own. He was so impressed with her generosity, her hard work and her energy, I was left in no doubt that he thought very highly of our dear niece.
Later, after he had departed, I asked James if he thought Mr Elliott had been inordinately keen to speak of Anne-Marie.
“Not inordinately, perhaps, but certainly remarkably so,” he replied, pretending he had noticed nothing unusual, but I soon got it out of him that he had heard a great deal about Mrs Bradshaw’s scheme for a hospital and, if one were of a suspicious frame of mind, one might assume that Mr Colin Elliott was in some danger of falling in love with the lady!
Now, Mama, you and Aunt Lizzie will soon have an opportunity to judge for yourselves, because Mr Elliott has been invited to Derbyshire by the Tates, whom he met recently in London, (James says Anthony Tate, like a good newspaperman, can scent a crossing of the floor coming on!) at exactly the same time as Anne-Marie is to travel thither herself to stay with the Fitzwilliams at Matlock. I shall be very surprised if their paths did not cross. I know the Tates will want to introduce Colin Elliott to Mr Darcy and Aunt Lizzie and if you should meet, I should very much like to know your opinion of the gentleman.
When Elizabeth read and returned the letter, she looked a little bewildered and said in a cautious voice, “Now Jane, you are the great romantic in our family; tell me what does this signify? Do you believe Mr Elliott, whom I have never met, is really in love with Anne-Marie, and will she countenance his interest?”
Jane looked anxious and troubled; she was clearly concerned about her granddaughter, “I really do not know, Lizzie; she has not confided in me, though I expect I shall learn something of it from Teresa when she visits me in May. Meanwhile, I worry about Anne-Marie because I know she suffered terribly and wish to protect her from any injudicious decision.”
“Do you fear she may marry again in haste?” Elizabeth asked, but her sister shook her head.
“No, Lizzie, I am more concerned that she may not consider some one like Mr Elliott seriously. You know how difficult Anne-Marie can be when she is set upon an idea; she does put me in mind of you, sometimes, Lizzie,” said Jane and her sister laughed merrily.
“Poor Anne-Marie,” said Elizabeth. “I doubt she can ever have been as recalcitrant as I was; do you recall our mother’s wrath, when I refused Mr Collins? No indeed, Anne-Marie accepted her clergyman and look what became of that marriage.”
Jane nodded, remembering well. “You are right, Lizzie, but I do hope she does marry again and happily, this time. I cannot bear to think of her growing old alone.”
This time, Elizabeth laughed and berated her sister
“Come now, Jane, must you have us all neatly wed and settled? Will you not admit that a woman can be happy without a husband and family, on condition, of course, that she was not left in a state of poverty?”
Her sister looked askance; happily married for many years, she and Bingley were certainly examples of conjugal felicity, but she had the good sense to know that marriage alone was worthless without esteem and love.
“Oh no, Lizzie, that is not fair. While I certainly believe that a happy marriage with a good man is the best situation a woman can achieve, I do not and never have advocated matrimony for common or mercenary reasons. Why, I cannot imagine how anyone could contemplate such intimacy without the deepest affection and respect. I certainly could not, nor would I wish it on anyone of mine.”
Having settled that question, they were about to go downstairs, when they were joined by Caroline Fitzwilliam, who revealed that a Mr Colin Elliott was indeed expected in the neighbourhood soon.
Rebecca Tate had invited the Fitzwilliams over to meet him, she said; there was to be a dinner party on Saturday week.
“Fitzy is looking forward to it; he believes the gentleman is available for conversion to the Reform Group,” she declared.
“And is he?” asked Elizabeth, to which Caroline replied with a laugh, “I could not say, Lizzie, the subject did not come up when I met him at the Wilsons’ in London, but I found him to be a most impressive young man, intelligent, charming, and very much in love with our Anne-Marie.”
At this, Jane and Elizabeth exchanged glances and protested in one voice, expressing complete consternation. “Caroline, you cannot possibly know that!”
But Caroline, whose own love story would have outdone even the most passionate romantic novel, was unrepentant. “Indeed, I can. It was quite clear to me just watching him observing her and so could you, if you saw them together,” she said.
“And do you believe Anne-Marie is aware of his interest?” asked Jane.
“And does she reciprocate it?” prompted Elizabeth.
Caroline was more circumspect, “I could not be certain; Anne-Marie is remarkably good at concealing her true feelings. But I am sure they have moved on since then and when they meet again as they surely will, when they are both here, I am sure we shall know.”
Both Jane and Elizabeth wondered how this was to be arranged, but their cousin was confident. “Leave it to me. Anne-Marie is eager to find out as much as possible about the hospital at Littleford. When they are both in the area, it will be the most natural thing in the world that I should have a dinner party to which you are all invited along with the Tates and Mr Elliott. Would that not be a good scheme?”
It was generally agreed that it would and, having sworn each other to secrecy, they went downstairs to join the gentlemen.
Colin Elliott arrived at the house of Mr an
d Mrs Tate, bearing dismal news from Westminster. Even Anthony Tate, who owned newspapers with reporters in London and all over Europe, did not have a great deal of information on the situation. Mr Elliott confirmed their fears that Chancellor Bismarck, who had long been spoiling for a war to enable him to consolidate his united Germany, was on the verge of invading the Danish-ruled Duchies of Schleswig and Holstein.
“This is by no means unexpected, Mr Tate,” he said as he took tea with his hosts. “Bismarck has been threatening the Danes ever since the death of King Frederick last year, but that he should seek to invade with impunity has shocked many in Westminster. Worse still, it is quite clear that Britain intends to do nothing. Despite their belligerent rhetoric, Palmerston and Russell never intended that we should go to war for Denmark. The Chancellor has called their bluff.”
Anthony Tate agreed.
“The entire policy has been a disaster,” he said. “It’s Palmerston’s fault. He was once a great Prime Minister; today he is an embarrassment!”
When the gentlemen met again that evening with Colonel Fitzwilliam and others of the Tate’s friends and neighbours, Colin Elliott was scathing in his criticism of Lord Palmerston and his government. Fitzwilliam alone defended Palmerston and, stopping only to refill their glasses, they continued their lively debate.
Earlier in the day, Caroline had driven out to the inn at Lambton to meet Anne-Marie Bradshaw and her maid, who had arrived on the coach.
Having welcomed her visitor warmly, Caroline conveyed them to her home, where Anne-Marie rested and bathed before preparing to attend the dinner party at the Tates’. Though a little tired from her journey, Anne-Marie was excited at the thought of meeting the Tates, whom she knew to be very influential in local politics in the Midlands and extraordinarily supportive of their community. Her father had claimed he owed much of his success in politics to the support of Mr and Mrs Tate.
Caroline explained, “The good work Rebecca has done pleading our cause in the newspapers and the Council, together with the work of her husband, Anthony, has enabled us to achieve much for our community; without them we would have been hard put to it to gather the funds for the school, let alone the hospital.”
The Ladies of Longbourn Page 16