The Ladies of Longbourn (9 page)

When they were seated and taking tea, he addressed Anna, "I understand, Mrs Bingley, that you are mainly responsible for starting the School of Fine Arts for Ladies at Longbourn; my aunt Mrs Boucher with whom I am staying, has spoken of you. Her daughters Margaret and Alison are your students, I think. As I have already told Mr Bingley, they have nothing but praise for you."

Anna was both surprised and pleased at this information. It gave her a convenient opening for conversation, and she assured him that she was ably assisted at the school by her aunt Mrs Collins, "who does most of the difficult work, leaving all the pleasant and interesting things to me."

Turning to Anne-Marie, Mr Elliott, who had been made aware by Mr Bingley that his daughter was recently widowed, was discretion itself, saying, "And Mrs Bradshaw, I am astonished to hear that you are not only a trained nurse, but have spent a great deal of time attending upon our sick and wounded soldiers. Let me say how very proud and honoured I am to meet you."

Anne-Marie, unable to resist the opportunity afforded her by his words, thanked him and responded that she was truly honoured and pleased to be meeting him as their new Member of Parliament, and she hoped he would be able to help her. When he seemed delighted, if a little puzzled at her words, she declared her interest.

As Anna and Jonathan looked on in some surprise, Anne-Marie set about explaining the very important matter of the proposed hospital for children. Mr Elliott, seeing as she spoke, her face alight with enthusiasm for her cause, her eyes bright, her words purposeful and keen, could not fail to be impressed.

Anne-Marie was by anyone's standards a lovely woman. Her recent bereavement and consequent distress had caused her to lose some of her youthful vivacity, but Mr Elliott saw only a remarkably handsome young woman, her complexion gilded by a long Summer in the country, making an eloquent plea for a cause dear to her heart.

He was clearly quite moved and assured her that it was indeed a most worthy cause and her interest in it did her credit.
Not content with his response, she proceeded to press him for an acknowledgement that a hospital for children was needed in the area.
"Your interest and support would be immensely significant, Mr Elliott. It would make the difference between success and failure," she pleaded.
When Jonathan and Anna, anxious that their guest should not feel besieged, intervened to suggest that perhaps Mr Elliott had only just entered Parliament and might want to wait a while before becoming too involved in this matter, he assured them this was not the case at all.
"Please do not be concerned on that score, Mr Bingley; I certainly wish to know more about it. I had no idea of the extent of the problem we have with childhood diseases. I am sorry, but I have been away in India for some time and I am not as familiar as I should be with conditions in England. It is essential that I learn all I can so I may press for the right policies and, if Mrs Bradshaw wishes to acquaint me with the facts, I shall be most grateful," he said and turning to Anne-Marie, added, "Pray, do go on, Mrs Bradshaw. This is clearly a matter on which I am very ill-informed."
Anne-Marie did not require any further persuasion. Later, when he was leaving, having accepted an invitation to dine with them on Saturday, it was clear to Anna that, while their new MP was interested in the children's hospital, he was even more fascinated by its charming advocate.
Throughout Autumn, Anne-Marie poured most of her energies into gathering information to put before the Council, whose approval was essential, if her dream of a hospital was to be realised. Her brother had arrived with information on the large numbers of deaths he was seeing, of young children from croup and whooping cough in a small part of East London, which when presented to Mr Elliott, worried him greatly. Charles did well, impressing upon their new Member how vital it was that these afflictions were diagnosed and treated early, if the victims were to have a chance of survival.
"Only in a hospital or a clinic can the poor receive decent care. Without it, they will most likely die; the children certainly will, after several ineffective remedies have been tried, only because their parents are too poor to afford a doctor. I see them every day," he had declared.
Colin Elliott had been sufficiently concerned to ask if he could visit the practice in East London and see for himself, a request to which Charles Bingley was happy to agree, glad to have secured his interest, at least.

A pleasant interlude in their busy lives was provided by a visit from their cousin Caroline Fitzwilliam and her youngest daughter, Rachel. Since her father Mr Gardiner's illness, Caroline had taken over running much of his business together with her brother Robert. On this occasion, she was on her way to London to meet with his lawyers. She expected to be joined in town by Robert and Mr Darcy, who was a partner in the business. Her husband, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was unable to attend, being kept busy with harvest home on the farm.

En route to London, she had accepted a long-standing invitation from the Bingleys to spend some time at Netherfield Park. She brought them happy news of the forthcoming wedding of her daughter Amy to Mr Frank Grantley, nephew of Mr Darcy.

"They plan to wed in the Spring at the church at Pemberley; Lizzie and Mr Darcy have most kindly offered to host the wedding breakfast, afterwards," she said, adding, "Of course, we look forward to seeing all of you there."

Caroline was a popular guest, lively and interesting with plenty of stories to tell. She was generous with her advice and praise for Anne-Marie in her campaign for her children's hospital. She had the benefit of many years of active campaigning for several political and social causes, both in Derbyshire in her local community and at Westminster, when her husband was a member of the Commons. Her recollections of the long and difficult struggles leading to the passage of the great Reform Bills of that period, which had abolished rotten boroughs, extended voting rights, and improved conditions of work for women and children, made gripping anecdotes and were recounted in detail to Anne-Marie's delight. She regarded Caroline Fitzwilliam as the very epitome of what an enlightened woman should be.

"I think Cousin Caroline is a wonderful example of someone whose desire to help people is so strong that it overwhelms all obstacles," she had declared to her father, who had to agree.

"She has certainly come a very long way from her quiet, comfortable life in the village of Lambton," said Jonathan. "She knew little of politics before they were engaged, but I know from Colonel Fitzwilliam that she enjoys the excitement of campaigning for her causes and is very popular with the people of the dales, because she has worked tirelessly for them, long after he retired from the Commons."

Anne-Marie was disappointed that Caroline had not been able to meet with Mr Elliott, who was away at Westminster. She was confident that he could not fail to be impressed by a woman as energetic and vivacious as Mrs Fitzwilliam.

"Papa, I do wish Mr Elliott had been able to meet Cousin Caroline; it would prove to him that women can be just as interested as men in politics and ought be able to vote in elections," she said ruefully, after Caroline had left for London. Her father was cautious. "Anne-Marie, you are not seriously suggesting that you can convert a conservative like Mr Elliott to supporting Votes for Women, are you?"

"I am. My Uncle James says it must come and probably sooner than we think. But my purpose is not to convert him; rather I would hope that he would come to his own understanding of its value, as he has about the need for the children's hospital. Cousin Caroline would be a fine example of what a determined woman of conviction can achieve."

"And am I now hearing another determined woman of conviction?" asked Jonathan, wondering whether his daughter had considered what such a commitment would involve. Anne-Marie smiled. "Indeed you are, Papa," she replied with a subtle smile. Her father, while he had some reservations, was happy to see her so engaged and excited by a worthy cause.

Some days later, Mr and Mrs Bingley together with Anne-Marie travelled to London themselves, where Jonathan Bingley and James Wilson were due to attend a meeting of their party at Westminster.

James had indicated in a letter to Jonathan that matters arising out of the American Civil War, which had been raging for over two years in the former colonies, were causing problems within the government.

Some members of the government are surreptitiously supportive of the Southern Confederate cause, mainly because of pressure from the English textile manufacturers, who wish to ensure that they have a continuing source of cheap raw cotton produced by slave labour,

he wrote and as Jonathan read it out, the ladies had been horrified and AnneMarie had expressed her revulsion. "Is there no limit to their greed, Papa?" she asked bitterly. "Have they no humanity at all?"

"Apparently not," said her father, adding that many of the more principled members of Parliament had insisted that the British government express its support for the North and President Lincoln's bid to free the slaves. Charles, who had joined them in London, pointed out that the old Tories were quite opposed to Abraham Lincoln and the whole idea of freedom for the slaves. "They contend that Lincoln is an upstart Republican, who ought not be supported at all," he said, with a wry smile and neither Anna nor Anne-Marie knew whether to take him at his word. They could scarcely believe it to be true.

They dined, later that week, with the Wilsons at their London residence in Grosvenor Street. On arriving, Anne-Marie was pleasantly surprised to find that her brother Charles had brought Colin Elliott along to the party and he appeared to be quite at ease in the company.
Here was an excellent opportunity for him to meet their cousin Caroline. She was eager to discover how they would get on and what they thought of

one another. The introductions being made, Mr Elliott was soon enjoying a quite lively conversation with Caroline and Charles. Caroline was complaining at the condition of the Thames. She had been very shocked to see the river in its present sorry state.

"When we were children, we lived in London at Gracechurch Street and, often on Sundays, we would go to Richmond, where we had friends who had a house overlooking the river. I have such delightful memories of the place and the river that I almost wept when I saw it yesterday, all choked with rubbish. As for the streets, I cannot ever remember them being so dirty," she said.

"It is the dreadful price we have paid for the industrial and commercial success we boast about," said Charles Bingley, a hint of sarcasm in his tone, and Mr Elliott agreed, but added that sometimes he wondered whether the price demanded was not too high.

"I realise it is heresy to question the value of progress," he said, with a selfdeprecating grimace. "I may well be drummed out of my party, if I make much of it, but I do wonder at the untrammelled march of industry in Britain. Do we have to sacrifice everything for commercial success?"

"Of course not," replied Caroline, in a spirited voice, which caught the attention of a few other guests standing nearby. "I am glad to hear you question it, Mr Elliott, and if the Tories do threaten you, I am sure the Reformists will welcome you with open arms."

He laughed, a little embarrassed at having drawn attention to himself, but he had spent much of the day with Charles, and his response to what he had seen at the practice and on the streets of London had been one of disbelief. Anne-Marie was delighted. Joining them, she heard him express his horror at the state of the dwellings in which hundreds of London's poor lived. Returning from India, where there was much poverty, he had not expected to find these levels of hardship and destitution in what he remembered as a prosperous and modern England.

Mr Elliott had heard something of the Fitzwilliams from Charles Bingley and so was prepared for Caroline's frankness. She was curious to discover more about this handsome and personable, yet modestly soft-spoken gentleman. Having heard he was a Tory MP, son of the diehard Sir Paul Elliott, whose name her husband could scarcely mention without flying into a rage, Caroline was intrigued to find him speaking with some degree of concern and even compassion for the poor.

The sights he had witnessed in the East End and in the grimy hovels that lined the rutted streets where Charles Bingley's patients lived had engendered strong feelings of abhorrence. He declared that it was a travesty that the people whose hard work contributed to the immense wealth of Britain were expected to live in such appalling conditions.

"What is much worse, their children are condemned to grow up, those that survive, in unimaginable circumstances, while their parents' work enriches those who are already rich beyond their wildest dreams," he complained bitterly.

"When did you return to England, Mr Elliott?" Caroline asked. "Not much more than a year ago," he replied and she persisted, "You were in India during the Mutiny, then?" and her eyes were wide with astonishment, recalling the unspeakable horrors that had been committed by both sides of that dreadful conflict. How much of that, she wondered, had he seen and how had it affected him?
Colin Elliott shook his head, "No, ma'am, I was, by sheer chance, spared that awful debacle. Early in the Spring of '57, I had asked for leave of absence, in order that I might travel to England for my brother's wedding," he explained. "At the time I left India, there were rumours of trouble brewing in the Meerut district, but by the time I arrived home, the Mutiny was in full swing, with attacks on Delhi and the upper Ganges region. Chilling tales were told and retold by all and sundry, and after my brother's wedding, I felt no inclination to return. My father, who was looking to retire soon, used the imminent election to try to keep me here, but when the government abolished the East India Company, I was asked by the Colonial Office to return to India with the new administrators, who were civil servants, of course, and assist with the transition."
Mr Elliott paused to accept a drink from a footman, and the ladies who had been listening with bated breath, expecting to hear hair-raising tales of his exploits, relaxed for a moment.
Anne-Marie noted with approval that he had not sought in any way to make a hero of himself, choosing instead to point out that much of the responsibility for the Mutiny could have been sheeted home to the poor administration and mismanagement of the colony by the company, which had failed to understand the traditions of the Indian people.
"The East India Company had no inkling that they were dealing with people who were part of an ancient traditional culture, averse to being pushed to accept Western ways. They treated the native people with scant respect," he said.
Charles did not let this go unchallenged. "Elliott, you are surely not suggesting that all that carnage was the result of poor administration?"
"Indeed no, Bingley, I am not. But the resentment had built up over years. If some attention had been paid to the grievances of the Indian people, and in particular the sepoys, if we had a less inept administration, which was directly accountable to Whitehall, the bloodbath would not have been so terrible nor so widespread. I am not alone in holding this opinion; the East India Company cared nothing for the people and everything for profit and the people, both British and Indian, paid the price," he declared, sounding more radical than any of the Whigs and Liberals in the room.
"I take it you have no intention of returning to India?" asked Caroline.
"No, ma'am, I have done my time in the colonies; I am committed to effecting some change and reform in England," he declared, with a degree of determination and firmness that left no one in any doubt of his intentions.
Caroline, her eyebrows raised in mock astonishment, teased him, "What? A reforming Tory? Now there is a most unusual combination. Do you not agree, Mr Wilson?"
James Wilson, very much the elder statesman in this gathering, laughed, but only gently, and said, "Oh, I don't know about that. They're not all diehards, Mrs Fitzwilliam. I must remind you that it was Lord Shaftesbury who was responsible for the Mines Act by which the underground employment of women and children was forbidden; and it is he who is still fighting to stop the chimney sweeps sending babes with brushes up the smoke stacks.
"Now they are significant reforms, with which he persisted in spite of entrenched opposition from the Lords. If Mr Elliott wants to be a Reformer, he should look to our side of the house for support," he said, and to make it quite clear that he bore him no ill will, James made a point of addressing Colin Elliott directly.
"I know you have made some important speeches in the Commons already, Mr Elliott, on Health and Education; if you intend to pursue these matters, I can promise you our support," he said, and Mr Elliott expressed his gratitude, acknowledging the experience and influence of his host. At dinner, seated next to Anne-Marie, Colin Elliott was quizzed once more about his time in India. Anne-Marie was eager to know more about a country of which she had very little knowledge and he was happy to satisfy her curiosity.
"You were fortunate, indeed, not to have witnessed the horrors of the Mutiny, Mr Elliott," she said and he replied quickly, "Indeed I was, Mrs Bradshaw, and in my own defence, I have to say that I did not participate in the gruesome national pastime of those days of retelling, in great detail, accounts of murder and mayhem, some so excessive that they bore scant relation to reality, as I discovered on my return to the subcontinent the following year."
"Did you not mind having to go back there?" she asked. He shrugged his shoulders. "No, there was an important job to be done, and I suppose it was easier to go, knowing I would soon be home again for good. I returned to England just in time to see Lord Derby's government voted out of office and Palmerston back in power. I have recently discovered, Mrs Bradshaw, that your father had a great deal to do with the negotiations that brought about that particular catastrophe."
The tone of his voice and the half smile on his face made it plain he was teasing her, but Anne-Marie pretended not to notice.
"Oh dear," she said, "I am sorry; that must have been very inconvenient for you." He had to laugh. "Not as inconvenient as it was for my father, I assure you. He was furious. He had just been through the business of winning an election only to find himself back in opposition! It hardened his resolve to retire from the Commons, which gave me my opportunity, of course. So in the end, it might even be said, if I were to be very magnanimous, that your papa did me a favour! How's that for a nice piece of sophistry?"
This time, she stopped pretending and giggled at his logic. He appeared to enjoy amusing her and was unprepared for her next question, which was a serious one.
"And, do you mind being in opposition?" she asked.
"Yes I do, because I should like to get things done. I know that as a new boy on the backbench, I do not have much influence, but at least it would have been less frustrating. It is impossible to get anyone to listen, especially if you are trying to change a policy or make a new one; I've been trying to get them interested in schools and housing . . ."
"...And hospitals?" she prompted.
"Exactly. I have really tried hard, but no one wants to listen."
He sounded suddenly, despondent, and apologetic. She relented and said in a kind voice, "I am sure you have and I am quite confident we will succeed. Papa and my Uncle James have always said that in politics, it is the timing that counts; you must wait for the right moment and then everything falls into place."
She went on, as he listened, somewhat surprised, "My heroine Florence Nightingale did exactly that. No one was interested in the welfare of wounded soldiers when they were dying like flies in the Crimea, not from their wounds alone, but from cholera and typhoid, and the conditions were appalling. Then, when the nation demanded action, they asked for her help and you know the rest. She asked for and got everything she needed to reform the military medical service. It was the right moment," she explained and once more Colin Elliott was astonished at her wisdom and sound common sense. She could not be more than four or five and twenty at most, he thought and was about to respond to her comments, when someone laughing across the table distracted their attention and the moment was lost.
There was, no longer, in Anne-Marie's mind, any doubt about Mr Elliott's support for her children's hospital. Even though, he was, as he pointed out, not a member of the Liberal-Whig alliance, which was in government, he promised to do his best again when he returned to Westminster to press her concerns upon those members with influence, who could get something done.
As they moved to the drawing room for coffee, she said, "I cannot believe that Members of Parliament do not understand that it is in their interest to ensure that their constituents are looked after." She was baffled by the lack of interest shown by most MPs.
Colin Elliott explained gently, "Mrs Bradshaw, I share your frustration and distress but not your surprise; Members of Parliament tend to count the votes in the causes they support. Most are unwilling to advocate the expenditure of much money unless they can see political advantage in it."
Anne-Marie was instantly up in arms. "I am quite sure that was not true of my papa, and I am absolutely certain it is not the case with my uncle, Mr Wilson." As Colin Elliott listened, she defended Mr James Wilson.
"Why, I know that he has frequently supported causes like the abolition of slavery and better working conditions for women and children, at the risk of losing votes," she said, outraged by the suggestion, and Mr Elliott was immediately apologetic.
"My dear Mrs Bradshaw, I do beg your pardon," he said, trying desperately to correct his indiscretion. "I am certain, too, that neither Mr Bingley nor Mr Wilson, both distinguished Members of Parliament, could ever be so accused. Please believe me, I had not intended to cast any aspersions upon either of them. I was only speaking generally and did not make myself clear; forgive me."
His contrition was so sincere and his manner so gentlemanlike, that she would have found it difficult not to pardon him, but it had let him see how deeply she felt and how swiftly she could be moved to defend those she loved. It did not, in any way, reduce her in his estimation. Quite the contrary.
For her part, Anne-Marie seemed to pay little attention to any other aspect of their association, except that which could be directed towards what was now their common goal, her precious children's hospital.
They parted without rancour; he was too gentlemanly and she too kindhearted for that. They spoke amicably of meeting again in a fortnight when he returned to Hertfordshire at the recess, by which time, he expressed the strongest hope that they may have some good news.
"I shall do my very best, Mrs Bradshaw," he promised, solemnly. "If need be, I shall speak with my father, I promise," he said, as he kissed her hand before bidding the rest of the party goodnight.
As he went out into the night, the ladies of the party were all agreed that Mr Elliott was a very agreeable gentleman indeed.
They returned on the morrow to Netherfield, and Anna and Jonathan noticed that Anne-Marie seemed more than usually cheerful. She was clearly more confident now of achieving her goal and talked avidly of plans to be made and funds sought for the hospital.
"Has Mr Elliott spoken with his father yet, regarding his support for the hospital?" Jonathan asked.
"I do not know for sure, Papa, but I think he intends to. But does it really signify? He is the Member now, not Sir Paul. He surely does not require his father's permission to lend his support to each and every project in the area?"
Her father smiled but said nothing, not wishing to disillusion her. Sir Paul Elliott was one of the most domineering Tories in the Parliament.
She shrugged her slight shoulders and said, "Ah well, we shall see if he has the fortitude to persevere, like Lord Shaftesbury and the little chimney sweeps." She sounded very determined indeed, and Anna could not help feeling some sympathy for Mr Elliott. Anne-Marie was very single-minded. If he disappointed her, he would probably get short shrift, she thought.
Late that night, on her way to her own bedroom, she looked in on Anne-Marie. She had been tired when they returned and had begged to be excused from coming down to dinner, claiming she wanted no more than a bath and some tea, which Jenny had been requested to provide. When Anna opened the door of Anna-Marie's room and looked in, she was fast asleep.
Finding her husband reading in bed, Anna leaned over and took his book out of his hand; she had urged him on many occasions not to ruin his eyesight by reading in poor light. He surrendered the book without complaint, but kept hold of her hand, making her sit beside him on the bed. They enjoyed a remarkable degree of intimate understanding. When she asked, "Do you think Colin Elliott is in some danger, dearest?" he understood her drift immediately.
"He may well be, I doubt that Anne-Marie is, though. She sounds and looks well in control of her feelings," he replied and was about to draw her closer, when she resisted him gently, and said, "Are you sure? I do wonder sometimes, whether she is as controlled as we think she is or just a very good actress. At the moment, it seems that nothing will deflect her from her purpose, but it cannot be denied that Mr Elliott is far more personable than poor John Bradshaw was and, for all her wisdom, Anne-Marie is young and impressionable; she may well end up falling in love with him. Caroline has hinted to me that she thought he appears to be rather partial to her already."
Despite her earnest tone, Jonathan was not inclined to take her concerns seriously tonight, teasing her with the warning that Caroline Fitzwilliam was herself an arch romantic and prone to such fantasies.
"Colin Elliott strikes me as a sensible fellow," said Jonathan, trying to convince his wife there was no cause for concern. "Since I informed him, before they met, that Anne-Marie had been recently widowed, I have noticed that he is very respectful of her feelings."
"But dearest, that is because he believes her to be grieving for her husband," Anna interrupted, adding that her own observation, while it had confirmed her good opinion of him, had also noted signs of interest and a distinct partiality towards Anne-Marie.
"He is very particular not to take any liberties and is never familiar in any way, yet, I cannot help feeling that he is attracted to her and quite clearly admires her. When she is in the room, he hardly leaves her side."
This time, her husband, pointed out that Anne-Marie was a beautiful young woman and it would be surprising if she did not attract some admiration; then clearly seeking to divert her, he said, "Trust me, my love, I am confident neither of them will do anything imprudent or foolish, not sufficient to warrant your anxiety anyway; whereas, your poor neglected husband would give his entire fortune to be the subject of your undivided attention at the moment."
She had to laugh, but it was a strategy that never failed and she turned willingly into his arms.