The Ladies of Longbourn (28 page)

Mr Elliott, on arriving in London, had gone directly to his apartment and immediately despatched a message to his friend at the Home Office. While awaiting a reply, he was visited by Thomson, one of Tillyard's men, bringing news that the fugitives had been seen at an inn quite close to London; there had, however, been only the two men, one recognisably Mr Sutton, with his ruddy face and beard, but no children with them.

"I think, Mr Elliott, sir, we're on to them, but I would not want them to find out until we have discovered the children," he said and Elliott was very puzzled.
"Where on earth could they be hiding them?" he asked. "It cannot be easy to hide two little girls, if you are travelling; they get hungry and need to be fed, for a start . . ."
"Indeed, sir," said Thomson, "and when they're tired and sleepy, they get crotchety, too. You couldn't keep them quiet. We are still making discreet inquiries, sir," he said and having accepted a quick drink, left assuring Elliott that they would soon find them. "We've got better sources than the police," he volunteered and Elliott hoped he was right. He was deeply concerned that the children had not been sighted, knowing how much it would mean to Anne-Marie and Mrs Sutton.
A note from Masters, his friend at the Home Office, arrived about an hour later, arranging a meeting at his club. Colin Elliott changed and dressed for dinner and went out to meet him. When Masters arrived, Elliott laid his cards on the table, giving him all the available facts including the latest from Thomson. He asked for information on both Sutton and his partner in crime; anything that would help track them down. Shocked by the story of the abduction of the children, Masters agreed to make inquiries and find out whatever he could.
"If you cannot find me at my apartment, try Mr Bingley's house at Grosvenor Street," Colin Elliott said.
Masters was curious. "Does Bingley have an interest in this matter?" he asked.
Colin Elliott was immediately alert; he had no right to give any information concerning Mr Bingley. "No, not directly, but his daughter does," he said. "Mrs Sutton, who is separated from her husband, is a friend of hers. Indeed, she was dining with Mrs Bradshaw at Longbourn when the children were abducted," he explained and urged Masters to be assiduous and discreet in his quest for information.
"If we are to restore these children to their mother, who is quite distracted with grief at the moment, we need to know where they have lodged them," he declared as they went to dinner.
Meanwhile, Jonathan Bingley had reached London. Weary and sore from travelling with very little time to rest, yet knowing there was no time to lose, he sent a servant with a note round to Colin Elliott's apartment, inviting him over to Grosvenor Street. It was late, but Mr Elliott, who had only just got in, went at once. The two men greeted each other cordially and, despite the fact that they both knew there were important matters to be settled between them, they took time to enquire after each other's health and exchange the usual pleasantries.
Over the time they had known one another, Jonathan had come to respect and value Elliott as a principled and hardworking MP and a fellow Reformist, despite his Tory antecedents. They shared many concerns and hopes for their nation's future and the improvement of their community. He had been particularly impressed with the expeditious way in which Colin Elliott had handled the negotiations with the Council and now, in this present peril, he appeared to have done everything that needed to be done with commendable speed. Jonathan was quick to commend him.
"I must say, Elliott, you have been exceedingly prompt in all the things you have done; it must have been a dreadful shock," he said, and Mr Elliott agreed. "It certainly was, sir; I was appalled, but it was the ladies who were most affected. Both Mrs Sutton and Mrs Bradshaw were absolutely distraught and I believe Mrs Collins was taken ill and had to be helped upstairs. I was very glad to be there and able to offer some assistance at once. I called in the police, who have been very thorough," he explained.
"What are they doing?" asked Jonathan.
"They were able to identify the men with some help from the maid's descriptions and, since then, they have been trying to track them down," he explained and Jonathan thought he sounded hopeful.
"Are they close to finding the children, do you think?"
"Unfortunately no, Mr Bingley." Colin Elliott sounded almost apologetic. "While the two men have been sighted on the road to London, the two children have not," he explained.
"What? How can that be? I thought Sutton wanted to take the children."
"That is what we deduced, sir, but while he may want them, he may not want to travel around with two young girls . . ."
"Why?" asked Jonathan, puzzled at this conundrum, but, this time a thought appeared to have struck Elliott, who did not answer him at once, taking time to do some thinking. "I wonder . . ." he said, and then added quickly, "By God, I should have thought of that, Mr Bingley. It is quite probable, in fact more than likely, that the children are still in the neighbourhood, or at least somewhere in Hertfordshire, concealed, left with some family he knows. The last thing he would want to do would be to drag them along to London. Where would he hide them? How would he explain their presence? It would present a mighty problem."
"You are probably quite right, Elliott; indeed, I am sure you are. But how shall we be certain?" asked Jonathan.
"There is but one way, sir. We must find Sutton or his henchman and confront them. Abduction is a crime; they could be hanged or transported if they are caught and charged," he said and Jonathan thought it was not a very practical scheme, even though Elliott did sound very determined.
"That could be dangerous," he warned. "Had you not better leave it to the police? They are better able to handle these men."
Colin Elliott agreed that it could indeed be a hazardous undertaking, but explained that the police, who were busy solving murders and robberies in London and its environs, were unlikely to spend much time and effort on what they would probably regard as a domestic matter, a squabble between estranged parents. They may well believe that Sutton has the right to take his children. "I have asked a friend in the Home Office to provide me with some information," he explained. "Depending on what he says, I shall decide whether to pursue the matter myself or leave it to the police."
Jonathan Bingley was very impressed with the decisive manner in which Elliott had acted. He had always had a problem with such situations, being loathe to become involved in confrontation himself. He envied Colin Elliott his sense of confidence and self-reliance. As Elliott prepared to leave, Jonathan said, "On another matter, Mr Elliott," and Colin Elliott swung around at once. "I have had your letter; you say you love Anne-Marie and wish to marry her?"
"With all my heart, sir," Elliott said earnestly.
"And have you any inkling of her feelings?"
"An inkling, yes, based chiefly upon my hopes, I think, but I am yet to know her mind, sir. I was hoping to discover how she would respond, but this terrible business has intervened. I expect I will know her feelings when I see her again," he replied.
"You have spoken with her, then?" asked Jonathan.
Colin Elliott smiled and looked a little sheepish. "I have, sir. I do apologise; I know I should have waited for your reply."
Jonathan shook his head and interrupted, "My dear fellow, you have no need to apologise. You are perfectly entitled to propose to my daughter. She is almost twenty-four years old and as you would know, a very independent young lady, with her own income. I made certain that she would not be dependent upon me, so I can hardly expect her to wait upon my approval, to decide if she is to accept or refuse you."
He was smiling and Colin Elliott indicated that while he was aware that Mrs Bradshaw was at liberty to marry whomever she chose, he had wanted to ensure that her father was made aware of his interest.
"I understand what you are saying, Mr Bingley, but it would give me very great pleasure, and I am sure Anne-Marie feels exactly the same, if you would give us your blessing," he said softly.
Jonathan was moved by his obvious sincerity.
"Of course you would have my blessing, if she accepts you. It is to your credit that you have sought my permission, but in truth you do not need it. May I ask, have you discussed your intentions with anyone else in the family?" he asked.
Mr Elliott was a little puzzled by the question.
"No, certainly not, sir," he assured him, but Jonathan continued, "Good, now, may I advise you to speak with my wife Anna first, yes, before you return to Anne-Marie for her response. Mr Elliott, Anne-Marie is my eldest daughter and, since her mother's death, she has been a source of comfort and support to her two young sisters and occasionally to me. She is very precious to us. But as you are aware, she was married for a very brief period. It was not, I regret to have to tell you, a happy experience for her. Indeed, it was quite the reverse."
Colin Elliott seemed troubled by his words and said quickly, "I am very sorry to hear that, sir. I had no idea. I learned only that she was widowed a year or so ago."
"She has not spoken of it to you?" Jonathan asked and Mr Elliott looked quite disconcerted. "No indeed, sir, I must protest; we have not discussed the subject of her marriage at all. Mrs Bradshaw has never intimated to me, by any means, that she was unhappy with her late husband," he declared, with so much fervour that Jonathan smiled, pleased to hear him leap to Anne-Marie's defence.
"That certainly bodes well," he thought, and said, "Well, in that case, I would advise that you see my wife and tell her what you have told me. Anne-Marie was seriously ill after Bradshaw's death and it was not because she was mourning his demise; my sister Mrs Wilson and Anna helped her through those dark days. I think you will learn something about her, which you may otherwise never know, by speaking with Mrs Bingley," he said gravely.
Colin Elliott, still somewhat perplexed, agreed to do as he asked.
"Thank you, sir," he said, holding out his hand, "I shall call on Mrs Bingley at Netherfield as soon as I return to Hertfordshire. Meanwhile, do I have your consent to my proposal?" he asked, still somewhat anxious.
Jonathan took his hand. "I see no reason at all to refuse my consent; so long as you do not expect me to campaign for the Tories at the next election," he quipped and Colin Elliott laughed out loud.
"You may rest assured that will not be necessary, Mr Bingley. I have already written to my party, or should I say my former party, informing them of my intention in the next session of Parliament, to move to the cross benches, from where I will support the Reform Group in their efforts to bring about the important changes we need to make."
"Have you now? That is excellent news." Jonathan was jubilant and shook his hand once more. "No doubt you have also informed my brother-in-law, Mr Wilson?" he asked and Elliott smiled broadly, as he replied, "I certainly have, sir. And I might say he was exceedingly pleased." He went out into the night, where a thin drizzle of rain was making puddles in the street, but did nothing to dampen Elliott's mood.
On returning to his apartment in Knightsbridge, he found a message from Masters, who asked to meet him at the White Hart, which was around the corner. Fortified against the cold and wet with a drink, Masters confirmed that Sutton's partner in crime was a returned convict, who was even now being hunted by the police. If he was caught, he would certainly be transported or worse, he said, and warned Elliott not to confront him.
"He's a thug and a bully, with a very bad reputation for battering his victims. Do watch your step and try not to cross him. If I were you, I'd let the police deal with him."
Elliott thanked his friend for the information and the warning, before they shook hands and parted.

Outside his apartment, Thomson was waiting for him, huddled in the doorway, trying to keep out of the rain, which was heavier now. Elliott took him indoors and, once he was gratefully installed in front of a good blaze with a drink in his hand, he revealed that Sutton's partner in crime had been arrested by the police for disorderly behaviour in a public house. Thomson had discovered that he was Baines, a convict in trouble again with the law, thereby confirming Masters's story.

"From what I hear, he's a nasty piece of work, sir, without much mercy for his victims. I'm told he has been evading the police for several months. Now, he's back in custody."

While this development may bode well for the general populace, since it took one dangerous villain out of society, it rather threw their own plans into disarray, since being inside, Baines could no longer lead them to Sutton and the children.

Elliott revealed to Thomson, his own belief that Sutton had probably not brought the children to London at all, but had lodged them with someone in Hertfordshire, intending to lie low for a while, before going back to get them. Thomson agreed. This would surely account for the fact that while there had been two sightings of the men, no one had seen two children with them, he said. "I'm afraid, sir, we seem to have travelled to London on a fool's errand; looks like it's going to be back to Hertfordshire and a bit more digging around Meryton and its environs."

Mr Elliott nodded; he was very tired and in need of sleep.
"Well, Mr Bingley agrees with me. I intend to return to Hertfordshire tomorrow. I shall leave early; perhaps we can meet up at Tillyard's office in the afternoon and decide on our next move."
Thomson agreed and took his leave, promising to "keep an eye open for anything useful" and at last, gratefully, Colin Elliott was able to get to bed.
When he awoke the following morning, he felt refreshed, even though he'd had only a few hours' sleep. The hope that the Sutton children may indeed still be in Hertfordshire, in Meryton even, had lifted his spirits. The weather had cleared and he was always pleased to be leaving the bustle of London. At least, he thought, looking for the girls may be easier in the country and it was quite likely they'd be safer. He left early, hoping to make the first part of his journey by midday. Despite his concern for Lucy Sutton's children, Colin Elliott was far more anxious about his meeting with Anna Bingley, wondering what was about to be revealed to him and hoping he would be able, soon afterwards, to see Anne-Marie again.
Advised by express letter from Jonathan, Anna was expecting Mr Elliott. She had a shrewd idea what his visit was about, too. When he arrived, she was kindness itself, making him welcome, plying him with refreshments and making sure he was comfortable and at ease.
Naturally, her first questions concerned the whereabouts of the Sutton children. "Poor Mrs Sutton has been desolated; she will neither eat nor sleep and Anne-Marie has been sharing the burden of her grief. Mrs Collins has not been too well either and Harriet Greene has been kept busy attending upon her. We have all been awaiting some news from London. Mr Bingley wrote to say you would have some news for us," she said and Colin Elliott told her all he knew. He was able to give her some little hope, but sadly, not the good news they had all been waiting to hear.
Mrs Bingley sighed and looked very worried as he tried to reassure her.
"We hope that it will not be long before they are found, Mrs Bingley," he said. "Meryton after all is not London. It is not easy to conceal persons for long here; especially not two small girls. Someone is bound to notice."
"I sincerely hope and pray you are right, Mr Elliott. It is not just poor Mrs Sutton who suffers while ever this dreadful business goes on. I am truly at a loss for words to say what I think of the villains who do this type of thing."
Colin Elliott realised she had been under great strain, especially with Mr Bingley away. He tried to reassure her, suggesting that with the police and Tillyard's men all looking for them, the children would surely be found.
She appeared to draw some comfort from his words and turning to him, changed the subject. Her voice was suddenly lighter, her expression less grave, and she smiled as she addressed him. "Mr Elliott, Mr Bingley says you wish to discuss a private matter with me. How can I help?" He was completely taken aback by the frankness of her approach.
Understanding his surprise she added, "I did not mean to discompose you, Mr Elliott. I received an express from my husband this morning, he expects to stay on in town for a day or two, and in it, he mentioned that you would be calling on me and that you had a private matter of some urgency to discuss with me."
She saw him relax visibly and invited him to take his time, for there was no hurry. If there was something that troubled him, she was happy to listen.
Colin Elliott was confused. "Mrs Bingley, believe me it is not a matter that has troubled me at all, indeed I am not even aware of its substance. It was Mr Bingley who suggested that I should speak with you about it."
"On what matter?" she asked, "Is it concerning the hospital?"
He shook his head; plainly Mr Bingley had not indicated clearly to his wife what they were to discuss. He felt a trifle put out, but took a deep breath and said, "Perhaps, I had better start at the beginning . . ." Anna agreed that might be a very sound idea.
And so, over the next half hour or so, he revealed to her, as he had to Mr Bingley, his love for Anne-Marie and his wish to marry her. He had written to Mr Bingley and asked Anne-Marie herself. Mr Bingley had given his consent, but had, at the same time, suggested that he talk to Mrs Bingley first. It was something to do with Mrs Bradshaw's first marriage, he said. Anna waited until he stopped to catch his breath and asked, "Has Anne-Marie given you her answer?" Colin Elliott looked concerned at her question, wondering whether Anne-Marie had spoken of his proposal to Mrs Bingley. Did she know more than he did? He wondered and was uneasy.
Anna was determined that she was not going to make things easier for him; she wanted to hear exactly what he had to say.
"I have asked Anne-Marie to marry me and she has asked for some time to consider my proposal," he explained.
"And did you tell her you loved her?" she asked, cautiously.
He smiled and answered without hesitation, "Of course, with all my heart. I told her much more besides and I am hopeful she believed me and will accept me," he said, then seeing her smile, he appealed to her, "Mrs Bingley, please, if you know of any reason why she may refuse me, some impediment that I know not of, I beg you to tell me." Anna's heart was moved by the sadness of his countenance and the sincerity of his voice as he spoke.
She responded gently, "Mr Elliott, if you do love Anne-Marie dearly, as you have said you do, you have told her so and, in so doing, convinced her that you do love her, and if she believes that she loves you, too, I can see no reason why she will refuse you."
His spirits lifted instantly, she could see it in the straightening of his shoulders and the brightness of his expression. Speaking quite slowly and confidentially, she said, "Anne-Marie was married for about fifteen months, to a man, a clergyman whom she did not love and who must not have loved her, else he would not have agreed to the marriage on those terms. Quite clearly, he did not care greatly how she felt and when they were married, insisted upon his marital rights as her husband, despite a total lack of affection between them.
"Anne-Marie was absolutely miserable. Barely one-and-twenty, she had been persuaded to accept his offer by friends, whose good intentions were clearly misplaced, and she suffered terribly for her lack of judgment.
"Yet, her loyalty to her husband and her refusal to blame anyone else for her unhappy state prevented her from confiding in any of us. She said not a single word against him for all of that time, despite her anguish."
Anna was conscious of the disturbed expression upon Mr Elliott's countenance. Her next sentence brought a gasp of surprise.
"Then, one day, without warning, he collapsed and died in the vestry after Evensong." Anna paused before continuing; she could see he was deeply shocked.
"Anne-Marie's reaction to her husband's death was quite strange; at first she went through all the traditional rituals, the wife in deep mourning, a continuation of the charade that her marriage had been. But very soon, the mask began to slip; she began to feel free and genuinely happy and, of course, she was consumed with guilt about having such feelings. She suffered as I have seen no young woman suffer and it took a terrible toll upon her body and mind. She was very ill for several months, until my sister-in-law Mrs Wilson took her to stay at Standish Park. She remained with them until she recovered completely and was ready to return home. She came back to us last Spring, a healed and changed young woman."
Anna heard him say, "Thank God," under his breath as she went on. "So you understand why my husband thought you should speak with me first. Anne-Marie is very precious to him, to all of us, and we would hate to see her hurt again. Mr Bingley probably thought it was best that you knew all about her first disastrous marriage and its painful consequences before you heard her answer. I agree that it was best that you knew what she has suffered; it is only a year or two ago and you may find she is still sensitive about it. I do know she has not forgotten it. You may need to be very gentle with her," she said.
Colin Elliott was shocked and deeply touched, not just by the troubling circumstances of the story he had just heard, but by the deep affection and care that her family had lavished upon young Mrs Bradshaw when she had needed them. It was the sort of affection he could never have found in his own family, where as a boy, he had often been left to his own devices and only his mother had cared whether he lived or died. After her death, he had had to fend for himself in what had been a rather cold, hard world of masculine disdain for tender feelings.
It served only to increase his regard for the Bingleys and their family, whose affectionate concern for one another he found endearing. As for Anne-Marie, it had made no change at all to his love for her and he was confident he could help her overcome any residual fears resulting from her unhappy marriage. He told Mrs Bingley so and, when they parted, Anna was sure he was right.
From the outset, she had liked Mr Elliott for his good sense and clearsightedness. The excellence of his understanding was never in doubt and her husband Jonathan had already claimed him as a sincere and passionate Reformist. All this and a reputation for exemplary conduct had set him well apart. That he had fallen in love with Anne-Marie did not surprise Anna in the least, for of late her beauty had been greatly enhanced by the return of her qualities of enthusiasm and warmth, which they had missed for a while. They were traits naturally attractive to a young man like Colin Elliott.
"Thank you, Mrs Bingley, for your kindness and your good counsel. I am very grateful. I hope now to go to Longbourn and see Mrs Bradshaw," he said as he kissed her hand, preparing to leave.
It was midafternoon. They both knew that Mrs Collins, who was a creature of habit, always rested in her room upstairs at this time of day. He hoped this would allow him an opportunity to speak with Anne-Marie alone. Anna Bingley smiled and wished him success.