The Ladies of Longbourn

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  “I shall have it done very soon, my dear,” he promised and his wife, pleased, nodded her approval.

  The appearance of Mr Tillyard and his reporters on the scene meant the news of the accident and rescue of the survivors was soon all over the county. Not only was the story told of the terrifying train crash and the tragic loss of life, but so was the tale of the heroic efforts of the rescuers; of Dr Bingley, his sister Mrs Elliott, her husband their new MP, and of course, the innumerable and often anonymous helpers from the Netherfield and Longbourn estates.

  The vital importance of the hospital at Bell’s Field, opened before its time, but invaluable in saving the lives of many of the victims, was most eloquently proclaimed by both the Herald and the Hertford Chronicle. Their front pages told the story of the night-long struggle by dedicated men and women to save the lives of passengers, many of them women and children, who would probably have died without their prompt assistance.

  The hero of the moment was, of course, Dr Bingley, regarded as a local lad who had done well in the city and returned to Hertfordshire to work at the new hospital. His untiring efforts had been recounted in homes and public houses all over the district. Sadly, he had not succeeded in saving all those who had been dragged from the wreckage of the train. Two more had succumbed overnight to severe injuries, while another man lay unconscious. But, more than twenty-five others, a few men, several women and children had been saved; their wounds cleansed, soothed with medication and bound up so they may heal. None of them had any doubt that they owed their lives to the dedication and skill of Dr Bingley and his sister. All expressed their profound gratitude.

  Tillyard, who had campaigned for the establishment of the hospital, despite the intransigence of the local Council, now used his newspaper to say, with obvious satisfaction, “I told you so,” and point the accusing finger at the men in the Council, who had done their utmost to thwart or delay their plans. Elated that he had been vindicated, he now claimed that the accident had proved there was a clear case for the expansion of the institution, from a children’s hospital to a general facility for the entire community.

  Graphic descriptions, written by his reporters, of the scene of the crash and the horrific injuries of the victims, together with accounts of the work of the volunteers, were provided for their readers, bolstered by strong editorial comment; Mr Tillyard was eloquent indeed.

  “There can be no better demonstration of the need for a general hospital to serve this community; the hospital at Bell’s Field, a private initiative of Mr Jonathan Bingley and his daughter Mrs Elliott, whose generosity is deeply appreciated by the people of the area, has amply proved the case for its existence in a single night.

  “It is an indictment of the government’s Health Board and the local authorities that the people of this county must depend upon private benefactors in such dire circumstances,” he wrote, to the great satisfaction of Anne-Marie and all those who had helped in her campaign for the hospital.

  Jonathan Bingley was immensely proud of both his elder children, yet as he said to his wife, it was no more than he would have expected of them.

  “It is what they know they must do. What is far more impressive,” he declared, “is the fact that their example has drawn Mr Elliott into becoming involved himself. I have had remarkable reports of his hard work, from doing menial jobs, fetching, carrying, and cleaning, to documenting hospital supplies. Bowles is full of praise for his efforts.”

  Anna agreed, “Never before have they had a Member of Parliament, who was prepared to turn up and help in a disaster,” she observed.

  Jonathan clearly regarded this as an achievement for which his daughter was responsible and when an opportunity arose in the days that followed, he told her so. “My dear Anne-Marie, I must congratulate you,” he said, and then as she made to protest that it was not all her work, he added, “No, hear me out please, I do not mean to suggest that you were solely responsible for the efforts of the rescuers, although there is no doubt that without your hospital, their work may have been in vain and many more would surely have died of exposure. I know that your brother Charles, Dr Faulkner, and others played vital roles in this operation, but my congratulations go to another matter for which you alone are responsible.” Perplexed, she looked at him, shaking her head.

  “My observation of Mr Elliott has led me to conclude that you have completely converted him to our cause, which I think is a considerable achievement. I am told he worked as hard as any man, doing whatever was needed to help. Considering he does not come from a family with any tradition of community service, this is surely all your own work, my dear.”

  Anne-Marie was delighted. Her father’s approval was always the highest accolade she sought for herself. That he had seen fit to praise the work of her husband was a special pleasure.

  “Indeed, Papa, you have been well informed. He worked as hard as any of us and though exhausted, would not stop until the task he had undertaken was done. I think Mr Dobson will vouch for the truth of this,” and as her father nodded, “I was very proud of him, Papa,” she said, her eyes shining.

  Anne-Marie’s love for her husband would have survived whether or not he had proved himself as he had done on the night of the accident, but his actions had served to strengthen her feelings of esteem. Her father’s recognition set the seal upon them.

  The arrival from Meryton, some hours later, of both Colin Elliott and Charles Bingley, with the news that Tillyard’s newspaper had started a public fund for the hospital at Bell’s Field, climaxed a particularly satisfying day. Most of the remaining patients, now on their way to recovery, had been discharged from hospital and had, after many expressions of appreciation, set out for their homes in the Midlands.

  Mr Dobson, meanwhile, had heard that the Herald, which had already acknowledged several small donations, had that day received a thousand pounds, from a donor who wished to remain anonymous. The person, a resident of the area, it was said, had asked that the money be used to provide services at the hospital to women as well as children. Charles Bingley was particularly excited by the prospect. Having made his decision to move to Hertfordshire, he could not wait to start work.

  When the last of the patients had left, the hospital was cleaned and disinfected under the supervision of Dr Bingley and made ready for the formal opening. The hospital board, meeting to hear an account of the disaster, placed on record its appreciation of the work done by several members of the community, especially Dr Bingley and his sister Mrs Elliott. The date for the opening was fixed and no one around the table had to think twice about who should be invited to perform the task. Mrs Colin Elliott, the wife of their new MP, was the unanimous choice.

  The board’s record of meeting reads, It was decided that in view of her dedication, her untiring efforts to establish this hospital and to pursue the very highest ideals of the nursing profession, Mrs Colin Elliott should be invited to open the hospital at Bell’s Field.

  When the formal invitation arrived, Anne-Marie pointed out that it was probably unnecessary to open the hospital.

  “It would never be more open than it was on that dreadful night, when the train from London rolled down the embankment into Sidley’s Creek and the hospital opened its doors to the victims,” she said, “One could wish that so many unfortunate people did not have to die, before the Council was convinced, but I am glad their change of heart has come at last.”

  For Colin Elliott, to whose mother’s memory the hospital was dedicated, the compliment paid to his wife brought great satisfaction. Having watched her work tirelessly for the fulfilment of her dream of a children’s hospital, he had come to love her generosity and compassion.

  Anne-Marie was a beautiful woman with a naturally affectionate nature and when he had realised how deeply he cared for her, he knew it was her warmth and beauty that had drawn him to her with feelings no other woman had aroused in him. But her passionate concern for others, that he had learned to share, had changed his life.

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nbsp; Unlike many young county gentlemen brought up in a culture of selfindulgence, Colin Elliott had always wanted to do more with his life than achieve material and social success. His wife, whom he loved dearly, had shown him the way.

  END OF PART THREE

  An Epilogue

  THE LADY DOROTHY ELLIOTT HOSPITAL for women and children was opened by Mrs Colin Elliott, well in time to treat the victims of an epidemic of whooping cough and influenza. In past years, these and other diseases had carried away many young children and often one or more of their older siblings. Infections, which could have been avoided with early detection and treatment, had led to grave complications before families, too poor to pay and much too proud to beg, called in the apothecary or a physician.

  “At least this Winter, death will not have to be accepted into the homes of the poor with fatalistic resignation, since modern medical treatment will be available to all children of this community,” Mrs Elliott had declared in her speech and her words had clearly touched many hearts, since public donations for the hospital had continued to pour in.

  The family was not surprised to discover that Charlotte Collins had been the secret donor of one thousand pounds and though they were not supposed to speak of it openly, they knew and blessed her for her generosity. Having been saved from a life of penny-pinching poverty and loneliness by the benevolence of Jonathan Bingley and the kindness of Mary Bennet, Charlotte had seized the chance to assist the hospital and through it the community in which she had lived happily and with dignity for many years. The sum of one thousand pounds left to her by her uncle was, she considered, appropriate recompense.

  Jonathan, Anna, and Anne-Marie all knew full well the value of such a sum of money from a woman of modest means and blessed her for it.

  As Charles Bingley moved to live at Netherfield and established himself as a hardworking and skilled physician, his reputation and that of the hospital at Bell’s Field grew and its effectiveness in the areas around Netherfield and Longbourn increased considerably. Even those who had initially harboured some distrust of doctors and hospitals, preferring the old ways of herbalists, folk remedies, and spells, began to appreciate the benefits they had brought into the community.

  That more infants and young children survived the Winter was proof enough for most families. Anne-Marie, advised by her husband, whose political instincts were improving every day, determined that the community would get even more than improved health care for their children. At his suggestion, she would draw upon the people of the area for workers at the hospital; cooks, gardeners, labourers, even nurses were to be found in the district. Young women, attracted to nursing by the example of Miss Florence Nightingale and her band of probationer nurses, were provided with training in nursing and hygiene, while older women with some experience of caring for the soldiers after the war were pleased to be paid fair wages for their work.

  None of this would guarantee success, of course, as her father gently pointed out. “You do know, my dear, that the success or failure of the hospital will be judged only by the beneficial effects it has upon the health and wellbeing of the community, especially its children. And this,” he had warned, “will take many years to ascertain. Meanwhile, you must be prepared for the sceptics and critics to become quite vocal from time to time.”

  “Indeed, Papa, I do know it and I am prepared, but I also am aware that many of the women, especially the mothers of children, are deeply grateful for the services we provide. They express their gratitude quite openly,” she had replied, confident of its success.

  That the hospital was a vast improvement upon the harsh, rudimentary facilities available to the poor at the workhouse was acknowledged even by the Council, whose members had been shamed into acknowledging its value to the community.

  To Jonathan Bingley it was a source of deep satisfaction. A benevolent and solicitous landlord, Mr Bingley had urged the Council to set up a clinic to treat the poor in the area, offering to donate the land if necessary. In the face of their opposition, he had despaired of it ever being accomplished until his daughter began her campaign for a children’s hospital. He had also confided in Anna that he had once worried about Charles’s future in the medical profession.

  “I wondered if he would remain in London, looking to take advantage of a more lucrative practice, perhaps, or maybe return to Edinburgh. I never believed he would be satisfied with a position in a country hospital. It is hard work and not as financially rewarding,” he had said, adding with a sardonic smile, “which goes to show, my dear, how very wrong one can be, even about one’s own children.”

  His wife had replied that, with his example of public service, it was no surprise at all that both his elder children had chosen to serve as they did. “I am immensely proud of both of them, as you are, dearest, but I think we must not forget that Charles has had the advantage of his sister’s remarkable example. Anne-Marie’s strength of purpose, her resilience, and dedication have astonished me.”

  Jonathan agreed. It had given them both great pleasure to see her recover from the morbid malaise of her previous marriage and regain her zest for life. There had been fearful times when this had seemed almost an impossible goal.

  For Anne-Marie, who with her husband had worked with tenacity and courage to regain her self-esteem and bring a dream to reality, there was the greatest fulfilment of all. For along the way, difficult as it had been, she had discovered love, passionately felt and honestly acknowledged. Having endured the dreariness of a loveless union with Mr Bradshaw, she had learned with Colin Elliott to give and accept his love in return.

  Two events, both unexpected, though inevitable, affected the lives of the families at Longbourn and Netherfield at this time. Their general consequences, however, flowed well beyond Hertfordshire, changing the course of English political history, itself. The election of 1865 saw the rising politician Mr Gladstone move to contest a seat in South Lancashire, where he immediately threw his considerable influence behind the campaign to extend the vote to ordinary working men, while at Westminster, the death of Lord Palmerston brought Lord Russell to the leadership of his party.

  Colin Elliott was reelected after an exhilarating campaign in which he was assisted not only by the gentlemen of the Reform League, but also by several members of his family. Caroline Fitzwilliam, despite her own family responsibilities, arrived to help Anne-Marie and Anna as they visited homes and addressed meetings in his support. Together with great national Reformists like Edmund Beales and Samuel Morley, Mr Elliott promised to press Russell and Gladstone to hasten the pace of reform. On one occasion, Caroline told a meeting of supporters that her husband had told her that “Lord Russell has had a Reform Bill in his back pocket for ten years, hoping to sneak it in, when Palmerston was not paying attention.”

  To which Colin Elliott had added that, there would be many members in the new Parliament eager to get that bill out of Lord Russell’s back pocket and onto the statute book! “There will be those who will try to thwart us, be assured, it will not be easy. They will claim that if men like you have the vote, the sun will not rise and the corn will not ripen, but we shall persevere and in the end, the demands of the people, the momentum for change in the country will carry the day,” he had declared amidst applause.

  After the election, Anne-Marie, her father and sisters made frequent journeys to Westminster to hear him speak in the great debates that raged in the Commons over the next eighteen months.

  Not in all that time, did she once countenance the possibility of failure.

  The death that Autumn of Sir Henry Wilcox, a neighbouring landowner and prosperous textile manufacturer who owned many mills in the Midlands and Yorkshire, brought a completely unforeseen development.

  It arrived in the form of a visit from Miss Laura Wilcox, who called on Anne-Marie with a proposal for the endowment of the parish school. She offered to finance it with money she had inherited from her deceased father’s estate.

  Anne-Marie’s astonishment
at her approach was tempered somewhat by the reaction of her husband and her brother, both of whom enthusiastically supported the idea. Not even the fact that Sir Henry Wilcox had been an uncompromising Tory, who had resisted all attempts to assist the poor or improve working conditions in the mills, seemed to concern them.

  “What does it matter now? If Miss Wilcox wishes to use some of her father’s ill-gotten gains to improve the lives of the children of the parish, she should be encouraged to do so,” said Colin Elliott. He was supported by Charles Bingley, who pointed out that the children of the area, who had no proper schooling, needed and deserved a chance to be educated. Though convinced they were right, Anne-Marie wrote to her Aunt Emma Wilson at Standish Park for advice.

  My dearest Aunt,

  If there was one more thing we needed for the improvement of the estates of Netherfield and Longbourn, it was a good parish school. Because of times in the country being rather uncertain and constant talk of depression, we have had little hope of finding the necessary funds.

  That was until one wet afternoon, when a Miss Laura Wilcox called to see me. I knew of her, but we had never met; not surprising since she and her father Sir Henry Wilcox, the “textile Tory” moved in very different circles to our family. Yet, she came to me with a proposal to endow the parish school at Netherfield, if it would agree to teach reading, writing, and numbers to all the children in the parish who may wish to attend, and not just the children of churchgoers.

  She struck me as sincere and determined. She said she had worked in East London among the children of the poor for almost two years and has taught at the parish school of St Francis, where I recall you did some work, too.

  I am inclined to trust her and both Mr Elliott and my brother, who knows Miss Wilcox from meeting her in London, are in favour of accepting her offer. For my part, I think it would be a great joy to be able to have a real school and teach the children to read, write, and count as well as sing hymns and listen to Bible stories, as they do now, but I should like to have your opinion, before I put the proposal to Papa.