The Ladies of Longbourn (35 page)

Jane and Elizabeth, both in deep mourning, could conceal their sorrow behind their veils, but Darcy's countenance showed the ravages of his grief at the loss of a dear friend.

Julian Darcy was late, arriving at the church when the funeral service had almost ended. Indeed, it was his father, who at the very last moment, had stepped in to read the lesson assigned to his son. He was clearly disappointed that Julian had not arrived in time and though he gave no overt indication of his feelings, Cassy knew he had been deeply hurt.

Darcy's heavy heart was due primarily to his deep personal loss, but he was anxious also about the future of the family business Mr Gardiner had developed and controlled for so long and in which he held a valuable partnership. Neither Richard nor Robert Gardiner appeared to have the inclination to fill their father's place.

As the funeral ended and the mourners began to leave, it was Cassy who took her father's arm and moved him away from the graveside, while Jonathan Bingley went swiftly to support his Aunt Lizzie and help her into the carriage that waited to take them back to Pemberley.

Those members of the family who had been close to the Gardiners stayed on after the funeral. To Mrs Gardiner and her two daughters, it was a heavy loss indeed; a loving husband and father who had helped and counselled his family, was gone. Jonathan and Anna stayed at Pemberley at the invitation of the Darcys, while Julian had to return forthwith to Cambridge.

After dinner, Mr Darcy, who had been silent during most of the meal, spoke with great feeling. "I shall miss him; even though I have known for several months that this was coming, the blow is a heavy one indeed."

He was standing beside the fireplace, as he spoke, looking into the flames, then turning to face them, "He has been my friend, my partner in business and, yes, in some ways, my mentor, for many years. He had so much experience, such sound judgment and was most generous with his time; I cannot imagine how we will get on without him," he said, his sombre tones reflecting his feelings.

Elizabeth moved to his side and said quietly, "And yet, he was totally without arrogance or false pride and treated everyone with respect and consideration. In spite of his long illness, he hardly ever complained; he was an example to us all."

She recalled how her father, Mr Bennet, had relied upon their Uncle Gardiner's sound advice in all matters concerning the welfare of their family. "And he was invariably right," she concluded.

Anna asked if Mrs Gardiner would stay on at Lambton, and Darcy assured her that she would. "She is devoted to the place; her husband bought it for her, because she had longed to return to the village in which she had been born and raised."

I do not believe Robert is seriously interested in the business," he said. "He and his wife have many other pursuits, which take them away from
Derbyshire for several months of the year. Robert has given no indication that
he wishes to change that and I can only conclude that he is disinclined to take
on the responsibility."
"No doubt Mr Gardiner would have made provision for the administration
of the business in his will," said Jonathan, and they all agreed that the situation
would be clearer once the will was read.
As the footmen brought in the candles and they rose to say goodnight,
Elizabeth, taking her husband's arm, said, "Dear Jonathan, I think we are both
very grateful to you and Anna for staying over with us at Pemberley tonight.
Your uncle and I would have been very gloomy companions for one another,
without you. Thank you."

The families were to meet once more that year, for a quiet wedding at Netherfield, at which Jonathan Bingley gave his favourite daughter to be married to Mr Colin Elliott, MP. This time, he had the fullest confidence that Anne-Marie's happiness was not in any doubt.

On the morning of her wedding, he had gone to her room and found her dressed in her elegant gown and jewellery, looking very beautiful indeed.
In the time they spent together, she had assured him of her heartfelt desire to marry Mr Elliott. "Papa, he is, without doubt the best man I have known, except for you, of course," she had declared and Jonathan had recalled the previous occasion on which she had said little, as she went to be married to Mr Bradshaw. It had been revealed later that she had cared little for him.
This time he was sure it was different. The glow that lit up her lovely face was evidence of her pleasure, as she contemplated marriage to Colin Elliott. Anna had also reassured him the previous night, when she had gone to Anne-Marie's room and found her sitting up in bed, bright-eyed and sleepless, quite unashamedly admitting her eagerness for the morrow.
"There she was," Anna had said, "sitting up in bed, smiling, unable to sleep, like a child waiting for a special treat! When I asked her if she was looking forward to her wedding day, she answered with disarming honesty, 'Oh Anna, I cannot wait for tomorrow, I love him so much.'"
From the usually restrained young woman she knew, this was a surprisingly passionate admission, which provided Anna with the reassurance she needed. She knew this marriage would bring Anne-Marie the intensity of feeling, that would wipe away all the residual indifference and dullness of the last.
Anna smiled as she told it, recalling her own experience, and her husband, unable to resist the inevitable question, asked if she had suffered similar feelings of impatience before their wedding day. His wife could not and, indeed, did not wish to deny it.
"I confess I did, but I was not as fortunate as Anne-Marie, for I had no one in whom to confide, no one who would understand my longing. Indeed, the waiting was made doubly difficult by my having to conceal my feelings, so as to avoid outraging my mother. She would no doubt have considered any eagerness on my part to be most unseemly," she said.
Her husband's voice was gentle. "And yet, it was you, my love, who chose to wait. I would have preferred that we were married sooner."
"Yes, because I wanted no one to accuse you of unseemly haste after Amelia-Jane's death. Waiting a while longer was a small price to pay," she replied, "even though it meant many days of aching loneliness, when you were away in London. I know I would have given anything to be with you." This frank admission brought such a fond response from him, as to make any further discussion of the issue unnecessary, except to express their hope that Anne-Marie and Mr Elliott would be as deeply happy in their marriage as they were themselves.
Despite the recent death of Mr Gardiner, many members of the family, except Mrs Gardiner and Mr Robert Gardiner and his wife, travelled to Hertfordshire to attend the wedding of Anne-Marie to Colin Elliott.
Jonathan Bingley was so well regarded and Anne-Marie so loved that everyone wanted to congratulate him and wish her happiness. Most of them knew well how much unhappiness she had borne without complaint until Bradshaw's death and how she had devoted her time before and since to helping the poor and sick, using her skills and influence to ease suffering and save lives.
She was, said Mr Bingley, her grandfather, to those of the party that had travelled together from Derbyshire, "an exceptional young woman, who deserved to be exceptionally happy." And there was no dissent from his opinion on this occasion.
Later, at the church and the wedding breakfast, no opportunity was missed to praise the handsome couple for their generosity and wish them a most felicitous marriage. Such universal agreement on the suitability of a marriage was rare indeed. If good wishes and fond hopes could ensure conjugal bliss, then this couple's felicity was guaranteed. Fortunately, they were both far too sensible to depend on such ephemeral gifts alone. Their happiness was more likely to grow out of the strength of their love and their mutual esteem. For the moment, however, no one who saw them together could doubt their delight in each other.

Two days later, they were to leave on their wedding journey to Europe. Anna went to her room to help Anne-Marie pack and found her still in her nightgown; her hair tumbled around her shoulders, tripping around the room in bare feet. When Anna, after a few moments of silence, asked, "Anne-Marie, my dear, is your packing all done?" She had danced over to her and said, "Yes, my dear Anna, I have everything I need, I think," which, considering her trunk lay half-empty beside her bed and her closet stood open, still full of clothes, was something of an exaggeration, Anna thought. Anna's indulgent smile gave little away, but once downstairs, she sought out her maid. "Jenny, please do go and help Miss Anne-Marie, I mean Mrs Elliott pack, will you, my dear? Else I fear she will never be ready when the carriage arrives," she said and Jenny Dawkin's knowing smile revealed that she was well aware of the situation.

Indeed, Rosie the chambermaid had just informed the entire kitchen staff that she had taken up their tea tray in the morning and, when she went to retrieve it an hour later, "it was almost untouched and the couple were still in bed!"

The giggles and laughter this revelation had aroused had been swiftly suppressed when Mrs Bingley appeared at the door. Her instructions were soon carried out to good effect.

Jenny and Rosie went upstairs and presently, Anne-Marie was packed, dressed, and ready when her husband came to escort her downstairs to the waiting carriage. This time the entire household appeared on the steps to wish them Godspeed. While it is neither necessary nor seemly to intrude upon the private passion of the newlywed pair to ascertain the extent of their happiness, one letter from Anne-Marie to her Aunt Emma Wilson, will suffice to prove their felicity. Written from London, where they spent a few days at Mr Elliott's apartment in Knightsbridge, it read,

My dearest Aunt,
What can I say? For in truth you know it already, far better than I do. It was you who taught me what joy a good marriage with a loved and

loving man can bring a woman. You who helped me believe that a woman can and must have the right to love and be loved, with sincerity and passion. You who made me understand that it was neither wrong nor wicked to want such love, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Dear Aunt, it is difficult for me to say just how happy I am, indeed, to describe how I feel, for I fear that you, who know well what a low ebb I had reached, may well believe my language to be extreme. Because I had so little happiness in my previous marriage, you may think that any joy, however small, may seem like heaven!

Please believe me, dearest Aunt, when I say that there is no longer anything more I desire, no one I envy, no one whose good fortune I covet, no woman in the whole world with whom I will exchange one hour of my life, from now on.

This I owe primarily to my husband, but also to you, to my dear father and Anna. Without your love, I may well have given up my struggle and never found true happiness. I do love you all with all my heart,

God bless you,
Your loving and dearly loved niece,
Anne-Marie Elliott.

While in London, Mr and Mrs Elliott dined with her brother, who was now a firm friend of Mr Elliott, whose courageous defection from the Tory Party had won his admiration. Charles Bingley had sat in the gallery as Elliott made his speech in the Commons and confessed later that he had wanted to cheer loudly at several points but was reluctant to risk ejection by the ushers.

"I thought it was superb. Your denunciation of the inertia and lethargy affecting the Tory Party was absolutely timely. I could not have put it better myself!" he declared, at dinner, "and when you stated that you would in the next session of Parliament support Lord Russell's Reform Bill, you should have seen their faces!"

Colin Elliott laughed and confessed he had avoided looking at some of his former colleagues.
"I have come to despise many of them; they are such consummate hypocrites, Charles. They claim to represent the people in their constituencies, yet they vote down everything unless it props up the privileges of the wealthy. I doubt I could have lived with myself, had I continued to support them," he declared and his wife added proudly, "Papa says it was one of the finest speeches he has heard in the Commons."
Charles smiled, hearing the adulation in her voice; it was clear that his sister adored and admired her husband. He could scarcely believe that a short time ago she had been so miserable he had feared she may find life too dreary and difficult to bear. Anne-Marie saw his expression and understood his thoughts. She had herself marvelled at the way her life had changed in the course of a year.
With Mr Elliott and her father both preoccupied with political and social change, she had found herself drawn into the discussion of matters generally regarded as outside her scope. The examples of Emma Wilson, Becky Tate, and Caroline Fitzwilliam, and her own work as a nurse were proof that women's minds could be occupied with much more than the cut of a gown and the length of a sleeve or the interminable round of society gossip.
She heard her husband say, in reply to a question from Charles, "Nothing can stop the Reform Movement now; even if the Whigs were not to win the next election, I believe Gladstone's Liberals would take up the cause. His commitment is more genuine than that of Disraeli, whom I do not entirely trust."
"And you believe he will extend the franchise to working people?" Charles asked, to which Elliott replied, "I have no doubt he will. He has no alternative; there is no turning back."
"And when do you think women will get the vote?" asked Anne-Marie eagerly, excited by all this talk of reform.
At that, unhappily, they fell silent. Neither man seriously believed this would be soon. However, Colin Elliott was unwilling to dismiss her question. Keen to nurture her interest, he explained gently, "It will not come soon, my darling. There will have to be a prolonged struggle, I fear. Neither the government nor the opposition wants to be first in promising women the vote."
His wife sounded disappointed and bewildered. "Why? Surely it is an important part of reform that women have the right to vote. Do you support it?"
"Of course I do, my dearest, as do many sensible men in the Parliament. Most see it as inevitable, but those entrenched in power do not want a change. They have irrational fears of what it will do to society. They claim it will destroy the foundations of family life. It's rubbish, of course!"
Charles laughed out loud. "More likely they have very well-founded fears that it will shake the foundations of their own power," he declared and Elliott agreed.
"You are quite right, Charles; I regret that the conservatism of the Queen does little to help the cause."
Charles Bingley, realising how disappointing this must be to his sister, decided it was time to announce some good news. Changing the subject, he said rather brightly, "I have been thinking, for some time now, of moving back to Hertfordshire."
Anne-Marie was immediately interested. "What? Leave London, you mean?"
"Yes, do you suppose Papa and Anna will have a room for me at Netherfield House?" he quipped.
At this, there was much laughter and Anne-Marie said, "Charles, of course they will; they will be delighted. But, what on earth has prompted this decision?"
Before he could answer, Colin Elliott asked, "Does this mean you will give up your work at the practice in East London?" Charles nodded and; seeing the astonishment upon his brother-in-law's countenance; proceeded to explain.
"Oh, I know I shall miss it. I have learned so much here, especially the work I've done on the diseases of children and the problems caused by poverty, malnutrition, unsanitary conditions, all of that has been invaluable. But, they will not go to waste, because I am thinking of applying for a most important position in the country."
"Indeed? Where?" asked his friend.
"Well, I have it on the best authority," said Bingley, slowly and deliberately, "that an appointment is soon to be made to the new Children's Hospital at Bell's Field."
At this, Anne-Marie could not contain her joy; she rose and threw her arms around her brother's neck, to the general amusement of the staff.
"Charles! How wonderful! You want to work with us? Is it not the very best news, Colin?" she cried and there were tears in her eyes as she turned to her husband. She had dreamed of this, but had not dared to suggest it to her brother, fearing he would refuse or worse, accept and then regret turning his back on a career in London. With the big teaching hospitals growing in size and reputation, she had thought he would look to them for a position, rather than a small country hospital.
Now he had made his decision and she was overjoyed. A new children's hospital with her own staff and Charles as its chief physician; she could not ask for more. Her husband agreed, "This will solve all our problems," he said, congratulating his brother-in-law. "Charles, you have made a most generous choice, yet I am sure you will not regret it."
Charles Bingley admitted he had thought long and hard about it; it had been, he said, a difficult choice, but once he had decided, he was quite certain it was the right thing to do.
"I am well aware how much time and effort you have all invested in this venture; Papa, you and most of all, my dear sister, here. I know my father has long wanted to do something significant to improve the health services and education for the children of the estate and the surrounding district. Well, I cannot do much about their education, but I can help improve their health and their chances of survival. I have seen too many die or be scarred by preventable diseases. I wanted to join you and achieve something worthwhile for Netherfield."
His sister's eyes shone, "Oh, you will, Charles, you will. And your reward will be great satisfaction; I can promise you that," she said. "I cannot wait to tell Papa and Anna. I must write tonight, so it will be in the post first thing tomorrow morning." Both men smiled at her enthusiasm.
"I had intended to write myself, but I would not dream of spoiling your pleasure. I shall delay mine until Monday, by which time yours will have reached them," said Charles. "However, I am expected at Netherfield for Christmas, so when you return from Italy, I shall already be there, awaiting the grand opening of the hospital by the wife of our new Reformist MP."
Anne-Marie delayed not a moment, after returning to their apartment in Knightsbridge, before sitting down to write to her father and Anna. Her husband was mightily amused even as he indulged her, wondering what other bride of less than a week would be preparing, late at night, to pen a letter to her father about a hospital! But he knew how much it meant to her. She wrote,