Colin Elliott was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable; he wondered if he should be listening to all this private information, but, at the same time, he realised that if he wanted to understand Anne-Marie better, he had to know more of her life before their short acquaintance. Already he thought he could see why she often seemed withdrawn and occasionally even wary of people.
He listened without comment, as Fitzwilliam continued.
“It was a disastrous decision; they left London on a stormy night and their vehicle went off the road somewhere near Maidenhead. They were all killed in a dreadful accident. The family was devastated.”
Colin Elliott was shocked; he had known that Anna was Jonathan Bingley’s second wife, but having been away from Britain for much of that time, had not heard of the circumstances of the first Mrs Bingley’s death. He was not now surprised that no one had spoken of it to him; it must be a particularly painful subject.
“Poor Mr Bingley, what a dreadful blow!” he said, “and the children, they must have been desolated.”
“Indeed they were, but Anne-Marie held them together. She was superb. The family rallied round, of course. Jane, Jonathan’s mother, took the younger girls to stay at Ashford Park for a while, but Anne-Marie was quite heroic. Later, there was Anna, too, but Jonathan knows he owes his daughter a great deal. She is a remarkably strong and determined young woman.” Colonel Fitzwilliam was unstinting with his praise.
Colin Elliott agreed at once, but did not trust himself to say too much lest he should give himself away.
They had reached the village of Lambton and, having stopped at the inn for some refreshment, proceeded up the road towards Pemberley. As they drove through a beautiful wood, towards the crest of a gently rising mount, Colin Elliott could not help exclaiming at the wealth of natural beauty that surrounded them. The large park, with its fine woods and ample meadows, stretched for many miles until they reached the highest point where, as the woods fell away, they caught sight of the handsome stone mansion that was Pemberley House.
Mr Elliott did not know it, nor did Fitzwilliam, but they had stopped to admire the excellent prospect at the very spot where Elizabeth Bennet, as she then was, had first sighted her future home. Mr Elliott was warm in his praise for the house, its situation, and the surrounding grounds. As they moved on to descend the hill, he was a little nervous at the prospect of meeting the owners of this noble estate. He had only recently discovered the very close link that existed between the Bingleys of Netherfield and Mr and Mrs Darcy. Someone at the Tates’ dinner party had mentioned that Jonathan Bingley was the favourite nephew and godson of the Darcys, to which Mrs Tate had added that there could be no more intimate friendship than that which existed between their two families. He already knew that Jonathan Bingley valued Mr Darcy’s opinion and deferred to him on many matters.
They entered the main park and crossed the bridge spanning a clear stream that widened naturally into a lake some short distance from the house. Colin Elliott, like others before him, found the prospect enchanting. A tall, distinguished-looking man rode up the path from the woods and Fitzwilliam called to him as he brought the curricle to a halt.
“Why, Darcy, how fortunate we are to meet you here. I was bringing Mr Colin Elliott to call on you. He is the new Member of Parliament from Hertfordshire.”
Mr Darcy approached them and all three gentlemen alighted and greeted one another. Colin Elliott was not surprised at the warmth of the feeling evident between Fitzwilliam and his cousin. Clearly they had a close and intimate association.
Darcy greeted him cordially and invited them to follow him up to the house for refreshments.
“Have you been fishing, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam asked, as one of the servants followed close behind with rod and tackle.
I wish I had been,” said Darcy. “That’s not my catch in the bag, I’m afraid. I’ve been with Grantham, my manager, looking over some of the cottages in the valley. We are making some improvements to the houses of my tenants and adding some rooms to the parish school at Kympton,” he explained and as they walked towards the house, he invited Mr Elliott to return and fish in his trout stream, whenever he felt inclined. The invitation was accepted with alacrity. Elliott was a keen fisherman.
They reached the house and walked up the steps to find Mrs Darcy waiting for them. She had seen them from her favourite window and had come down to meet them. Colin Elliott was immediately struck by her charming, friendly manner and handsome appearance. He had heard she was a beauty in her youth, and he certainly did not doubt it; indeed she was still an exceedingly finelooking woman. They made a remarkably handsome couple, he thought.
As the mistress of this very impressive estate, one might have expected her to be more imposing—reserved perhaps? Instead, she greeted him with an open friendliness and in their continuing conversation struck him as a witty and intelligent woman, hospitable and eager to put him at ease, as she ordered tea and offered to show him around the house herself.
After they had taken tea, Fitzwilliam engaged his cousin in a long discussion, leaving Elizabeth to take Mr Elliott through some of the main rooms of the house. She explained that recently several areas had been refurbished, but her husband was very particular that nothing should be done that would change the essential character of the house and its environs.
Colin Elliott was most impressed, not only with the handsome proportions of the rooms and the elegance and good taste that marked all the furniture and accessories that adorned them, but equally, he admired the restraint with which Mrs Darcy explained the significance of a picture or the provenance of an objet d’Art, with never a hint of boastfulness or vanity. He had heard both Colonel Fitzwilliam and his wife Caroline speak very highly of Mr and Mrs Darcy; from his very first encounter, he could vouch for the veracity of their judgment.
Elizabeth took Mr Elliott through the music room and the formal drawing rooms up to the long gallery, which held some of the greatest treasures of Pemberley House.
At the far end of the gallery, among a group of family portraits, including the unmistakable likenesses of the Darcy children, was a striking portrait of an exquisitely beautiful young woman surrounded by four exceedingly attractive children, a boy and three girls, one remarkably like her mother.
The resemblance to Mrs Bradshaw was so striking that Colin Elliott stopped right in front of the picture and stared at it with great concentration, before turning around as if he wished to ask a question.
Elizabeth, who had been waiting for him a few feet away, anticipated his enquiry.
“That lady is Amelia-Jane Bingley, my nephew Jonathan’s first wife. She was very beautiful. The picture was commissioned by my sister and brotherin-law and used to hang in the library at Ashford Park, but after her death, my sister Jane found it too painful to have on daily view and it was transferred to Pemberley. Besides, it used to upset the two young ones, Teresa and Cathy,” she explained.
Colin Elliott was still gazing at the portrait.
“The resemblance to Mrs Bradshaw is amazing,” he said at last.
“Ah yes,” said Elizabeth, understanding his drift. “Even as a little girl Anne-Marie was very like her mother, who was very beautiful, as you can see. But there, I am happy to say, the resemblance ends.”
“Indeed?” he sounded puzzled. He looked at her directly, an obvious question in his eyes unspoken, because he was reluctant to offend, even unwittingly. Elizabeth sensed his reluctance and having never been other than honest herself and recalling her conversation with Jane regarding Mr Elliott’s interest in Anne-Marie, she decided that frankness was called for.
“Oh yes, there is almost nothing of her mother in Anne-Marie, except her remarkable good looks. Even so, you may have noticed she wears little or no adornment, whereas Amelia-Jane loved expensive jewellery.”
Colin Elliott indicated that it was something he had noticed. Indeed in the portrait, both mother and daughter wore exquisite ornaments of diamonds and pearls.
Elizabeth went on, “I do not say this with any malice, Mr Elliott. Amelia-Jane Collins was the youngest daughter of my dearest friend, Mrs Charlotte Collins, who now lives at Longbourn. You may have met?”
He indicated that they had.
“Well, Mrs Collins was widowed when her girls were still very young and she had to bring them up alone. The two older girls were well educated and disciplined by their mother, but Amelia-Jane had been somewhat overindulged by her father from childhood.” Elizabeth recalled that she had been Mr Collins’s favourite child. “Unfortunately, unlike her sisters, she grew up with little or no interest in improving her mind or developing any artistic skills, beyond those required to adorn herself, move with ease in society, and please everyone she met.
“With the advantage of her looks, she was universally spoilt and flattered, until at the tender age of sixteen, she became engaged, after an amazingly brief courtship, to my nephew Jonathan, on the eve of his entry into Parliament. They were married and were declared to be blissfully happy, in which state they remained for some years, until boredom and the unhappy deaths of two sons, both before they were a year old, took their toll.
“The marriage crumbled despite the best efforts of Jonathan, his family and friends. Poor Amelia-Jane, with no real friends, she came to depend upon a pair of malevolent women, who convinced her to leave her husband and family and accompany them to Bath!”
By now, Elizabeth noticed that Colin Elliott was looking distinctly unhappy, but she persisted. “It was catastrophic! Amelia-Jane and her companions were all killed when their coach overturned somewhere near Maidenhead. Jonathan was left to cope with the scandal and opprobrium, while Anne-Marie, who was not then twenty-one, held their shattered family together and, I do believe, helped save her father’s sanity.”
Listening to her words, Colin Elliott was struck by the fact that in the space of twenty-four hours, he had heard the same story from two members of the family—Colonel Fitzwilliam and now Mrs Darcy. But, while each in their telling of it had clearly displayed their own personal attitude to the late Mrs Bingley, neither had had anything but good to say of Anne-Marie. Indeed, both had confirmed her strength of character and judgment.
He could not stop himself, as he looked back at the picture and said, “I can quite easily believe that. I have thought for sometime now that Mrs Bradshaw is one of the strongest, most single-minded women of my acquaintance. I would sincerely have wished she could have met my late mother.”
Elizabeth smiled and nodded as they walked towards the stairs, and stopping once again to look at the picture, he said, “She is also one of the loveliest women I have ever met, yet she seems completely unconscious of her beauty.”
Elizabeth said nothing but thought how her sister Jane would have given anything to have been present at that moment. Thinking the subject closed, she moved towards the stairs, when he spoke again. “Mrs Darcy, forgive me asking and I give you my word this is not out of idle curiosity, but did Mrs Bradshaw know…I mean was she old enough to understand at the time…?” his voice trailed off as the awkwardness of his question trammelled up his speech.
Surprised by his question and yet, determined to be open with him, Elizabeth replied, “Oh yes, she not only understood, she was the only member of the family who, knowing the danger her mother was in, tried desperately to avert what was about to happen. Both Jonathan and his sister Mrs Wilson can attest to the truth of this. And when it did happen, she was the only one, in the midst of the tragedy, who could console her father and sisters.
“Charles, her brother, was quite hopeless. Desolated by his mother’s death, he blamed his father, quite unfairly, and was totally incapable of consoling anyone. Anne-Marie, later with Anna Faulkner’s help, held them together. Her courage and compassion were quite astonishing in such a young woman.”
Colin Elliott shook his head as if in bewilderment. In fact, he was agreeing with her. “Though I have no personal knowledge of these circumstances, I have long admired those qualities of selflessness and courage in her,” he said.
Elizabeth thought, for one moment, that he was about to say something more, but just then they heard from below the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive and, looking out, they saw Mr Darcy and Fitzwilliam walking down to meet it.
As it approached the house, Elizabeth recognised the occupants.
“Look, it’s Caroline and Anne-Marie,” she exclaimed, and noticed how Colin Elliott’s countenance coloured deeply. For a few moments, he looked very shy and would not meet her eyes, but then he seemed to force himself to speak.
“Mrs Darcy, please let me say how much I appreciate what you have told me today. I am grateful that you trusted me to know the details of what is surely an intimate family matter.”
Elizabeth smiled.
“It is indeed an intimate family matter, Mr Elliott, and I do trust you to respect the confidence I have placed in you. But, I know you are acquainted with my nephew and his family and it is not inappropriate that you should learn the true circumstances of his first wife’s death from one of us, rather than hear of it through rumour and gossip.”
Assuring her that he would never have paid any heed to such sources, he thanked her again for trusting him, as he followed her down the stairs.
By the time they reached the main hall, the two ladies had been admitted to the saloon and were about to be seated. They entered the handsome room with its pleasing view of the park and the wooded hills beyond, where Caroline was busy explaining to her husband and Mr Darcy how they had visited Kympton and spent a most instructive morning with Emily Courtney at the parish school.
“Tomorrow, we are to visit the hospital at Littleford,” said Caroline, and Anne-Marie, who had her back to the door, had removed her hat, and was attempting to fix a lock of her hair that was slipping down her neck, added, “We asked Emily if Mr Elliott could come, too; he was keen to visit the hospital and Emily was quite agreeable. We shall have to send word to him tonight,” she said as Elizabeth and Mr Elliott entered the room.
Darcy, smiling broadly, aware that they had already heard her words, said lightly, “Well, here’s the man himself, Anne-Marie; you can give him the good news.”
Anne-Marie swung round and on seeing Mr Elliott standing there with Elizabeth, her face and neck became covered with a deep blush, and moments later, she asked to be excused and left the room. Elizabeth accompanied her as she went upstairs, asking permission to sit quietly for a few minutes. Though she did not press her at all, Lizzie was in no doubt that Anne-Marie was well aware of Colin Elliott’s interest in her. They returned some fifteen minutes later to join the others for refreshments, which had been brought in and laid upon the table by the windows. After a while, Elizabeth noticed that Mr Elliott, who had been talking avidly to Caroline, had moved to seat himself beside Anne-Marie. Plans were being made to visit the hospital on the morrow and, before they left, an invitation was issued and gladly accepted for the entire party to dine at Pemberley on the Saturday.
“I should very much like you to meet our daughter Cassandra and her husband Dr Richard Gardiner,” said Mr Darcy. “Richard has an abiding interest in improving the health of our communities. He has worked untiringly to establish and improve the hospitals at Littleford and Matlock and runs his own research laboratory.”
Darcy was plainly very proud of the achievements of his son-in-law, and Mr Elliott looked most impressed. “Then he will certainly have much to tell that is of interest to us; both Mrs Bradshaw and I are hoping to do the same for our community in Hertfordshire with the hospital for children at Bell’s Field. I look forward to meeting Dr Gardiner,” he said.
Anne-Marie, glad to be back on a safe subject, agreed at once that Richard Gardiner, with his experience, would be an excellent source of advice. Fitzwilliam was sure there would be no other subject discussed on the night.
“Darcy, I suggest we retire to the billiard room after dinner,” he said, as they parted in great good humour, looking forward ve
ry much to their next visit to Pemberley.
The visit to Littleford hospital was a most salutary experience. It opened their eyes to so many significant matters that Anne-Marie had to borrow notepaper and pencil to take notes for future reference. Emily Courtney, who’d had charge of administering the hospital for several years, was able to explain all the possible problems they might encounter along the way and more besides. She introduced them, too, to Dr Henry Forrester, who gave them plenty of sound advice on the types of childhood ailments and diseases that would need to be attended to and the need to have an isolation room for children with contagious diseases. “It is essential if you are to avert an epidemic in the village, which can, if not diagnosed in time, cost the lives of very young children,” he warned.
Time and again, Colin Elliott found himself surprised by the number of matters that had been overlooked and needed attention—licenses to practice, a willing apothecary to dispense medicines, competent nurses, sanitary officers, and above all, a good, hardworking doctor.
When they dined at Pemberley and met Dr Richard Gardiner and his wife Cassandra, the subject of a doctor for the hospital came up again. Richard was adamant that they must appoint a young man.
“He must not only be fit, with a strong constitution, and patient with sick children, who are notoriously fractious when away from home,” he said, “but he should be young enough to be open to the new ideas that are coming thick and fast. Dr Faulkner is dedicated and competent, but he is elderly and may not be able to cope, though he will be a useful locum. Be warned; demand for services will double overnight, once the clinic is established,” he explained. “The poor, Mr Elliott, especially those with many children, cannot afford to attend a doctor’s consulting rooms. But establish a free clinic and they will come. Believe me, your hospital will save lives just as it did here.”
The Ladies of Longbourn Page 18