“I cannot take the risk of her catching a chill or even a bad cold,” he explained to Anna and Jonathan. “Miss Teresa is a delicate young lady and, if she were to get pneumonia, there could be serious complications and she might not recover quickly. I think it best that she remain at Longbourn, where I am close at hand in the event of an emergency. Mrs Collins had indicated that she is happy for her to stay on as long as need be and Mrs Bradshaw is a wonderful nurse.”
So it was settled.
Both girls stayed on at Longbourn and, as Tess recovered, Anne-Marie found more things to interest them in the old place. Mr Bennet’s library, which was now a music room as well, was full of memories of the family that had lived for many years at Longbourn. There were dozens of books, in both the classical and modern style, learned and lighthearted, for Mr Bennet had been an avid reader, spending many hours in his library, where he had found sanctuary from domestic tribulation.
Anne-Marie selected a few and took them upstairs, where she and Tess would read to each other, sampling everything from the satires of Pope to the political writings of Cobbett and the poems of Wordsworth.
Anna and Jonathan, who came to visit, found them very comfortably settled in and Tess well on the way to a complete recovery.
They learned that Charlotte had lately received a letter from Harriet requesting that she be allowed to extend her stay with her mother by a fortnight, until she was fully recovered. Charlotte had no words to express her appreciation of her two dear granddaughters.
“I cannot tell you how good they have been to me,” she said. “Anne-Marie has been a veritable tower of strength; I truly do not know how I would have coped without her, and my dear Tessie, she is an angel. She never complains and takes all the potions and pills that Dr Faulkner prescribes without a murmur! She reminds me so much of dear Jane Bennet, when she was a young girl, so sweet and kind, with never a harsh word for anyone.” Clearly, Mrs Collins was completely happy with her present situation and the Bingleys departed, confident that all was well at Longbourn.
Teresa grew stronger and was soon able to sit out in the garden, while her sister and grandmother pruned and weeded away to their hearts’ content. In the last year, she had grown closer to her older sister, whom she admired and loved dearly. As for Anne-Marie, with her grandmother gladly surrendering her authority to her, she was virtually the Mistress of Longbourn and found she was enjoying herself very much indeed.
One mild morning, in the third week of their stay at Longbourn, Anne-Marie was reading to Tess, who was reclining upon a wicker couch in the shade of an old elm that stood to one side of the lawn. Indeed, she had noticed that with the combined soporific effect of balmy weather and the plangent quality of the poetry of Keats, her sister was finding it difficult to stay awake. Seeing her dozing off again, Anne-Marie put down her book and decided to take a turn in the shrubbery. She had not had much time to spend on her own during the last two weeks and resolved to take some exercise while she let her thoughts wander.
She had not been occupied thus for very long, when the sound of horse’s hoofs on gravel reached her. Walking towards the lawn, she was expecting to see her father, who frequently rode round to see them when he was inspecting the estate. To her complete surprise, she saw alighting from his horse, Mr Colin Elliott.
It was clear from his smile and cheerful demeanour that he was very happy to see her. He explained that he had been to Netherfield to call on them and, on being informed by her father that she and Teresa were staying at Longbourn for a while, he’d ridden over to see them.
“Mrs Bradshaw, I am happy to see you. I hope you are well and I trust your sister is quite recovered now,” he said, and Anne-Marie assured him that she was very well, adding, “And Tessie is much better too; indeed, we are still at Longbourn only because my grandmother Mrs Collins is without her companion Harriet and we are reluctant to leave her bereft of all company.”
Colin Elliott looked most impressed.
“That is uncommonly kind of you, Mrs Bradshaw. I know of few other young ladies who would give up so much time for such a purpose. For my part, I am delighted to find you here. I have brought you a report from your brother on the plight of hundreds of orphans in the city, who live on the streets and often die on the streets. They have no schooling and no medical attention at all,” he said, clearly concerned.
“I’ve read your brother’s report; it contains some powerful evidence, which may well help your case for a children’s hospital,” he said, his countenance suddenly grave. Anne-Marie was pleased indeed and thanked him with all her heart. She was very relieved to learn that her brother had not forgotten her cause.
Charlotte, coming out and seeing Mr Elliott, invited him to take tea with them, while Teresa, waking from her sleep, went indoors to help her grandmother.
Left together, Anne-Marie and Mr Elliott spent only a very few minutes in what might have seemed an awkward silence, before they both started to speak at once and having thus broken the silence with laughter, their conversation flowed happily thereafter.
Colin Elliott proved to be a diverting guest, relating stories of his experiences in the Parliament. His irreverent tales of drowsy old Tories snoring in the middle of the Prime Minister’s speech and recalcitrant Lords who would filibuster until dawn to deny a bill passage, kept the ladies entertained. Neither their father nor their Uncle Wilson had revealed this side of Parliamentary life to them.
“I never knew they had this much fun,” said Teresa.
After a pleasant hour of refreshment and conversation, he rose to leave, but before he did, suggested that he could bring his curricle round if the mild weather held, and perhaps they could take Miss Teresa for a drive.
Before anyone could say anything, Teresa’s delight was so enthusiastically expressed that it was settled immediately and he took his leave, promising to see them on the morrow.
Charlotte Collins was particularly impressed by his generosity and personal charm. “There are not many young men of his consequence who would be content to spend his time with us. Most of them, these days, seem to want to be racing around town, being seen with people in high places,” she said, as they retired upstairs.
“Is Mr Elliott a very important person?” Teresa asked, “Because he certainly does not behave like one.”
Anne-Marie laughed at her sister’s naiveté, but Mrs Collins answered her seriously.
“That is principally because he gives himself no high and mighty airs,” she declared, “but I understand from Dr Faulkner that he is the younger son of one of the wealthiest men in the county, Sir Paul Elliott. Their family is a distinguished one, and while the elder son is likely to inherit the lion share of the estate, I dare say Mr Colin Elliott will not be left without a reasonable fortune.”
Anne-Marie smiled, thinking as she listened to her grandmother’s words that, at least, Mr Elliott would not lack support at Longbourn. His pleasing manners had clearly won him an influential friend in the family.
On the following day, he returned in his curricle, and taking advantage of the fine Spring sunshine, they drove from Longbourn in the direction of Hatfield, stopping once or twice to alight and enjoy the prospect of meadows filled with Spring flowers.
Teresa wished to pick some and Anne-Marie noted, with approval, how gently Mr Elliott helped her out and led her down the bank and into the meadow where she gathered wild flowers until her arms would hold no more.
Waiting for her, Anne-Marie thanked him. “Mr Elliott, please let me say how much I appreciate this kindness to my sister. Tessie is rather shy and may not express her thanks in such a way as to convey her true feelings, but I know she is very grateful, and so indeed, am I. It is very thoughtful of you to do this,” she said.
At first, he looked rather uncomfortable at her words and moved quickly to deny that there was any need for gratitude.
“Mrs Bradshaw, please do not think that I expected gratitude for this, it is such a trifling thing; I have been happy to be
of service. I have greatly enjoyed the drive myself as well as your company and that of your sister, so there is no need for you to feel any gratitude at all. The pleasure has been entirely mine.”
But his companion was adamant. “But it is not a trifling thing, Mr Elliott, here you are spending time with us when you could be doing many other things; I wish you to know how much we appreciate it.”
Colin Elliott wished he, too, could speak of his feelings, but Teresa was returning and he went to help her up the bank and very carefully into the vehicle; there was no opportunity to say more until they reached Longbourn.
As Teresa went indoors to put her flowers in water, he said, “The pleasure is mine, Mrs Bradshaw; I can see your sister is very precious to you,” and he saw the tears in her eyes as she said, “She certainly is; we almost lost her at birth, she was so tiny and frail. My grandmother Mrs Bingley says they did not know for days if she would survive. Each time she falls ill, we panic, afraid she will not recover. I would much rather we were back at Netherfield now; it would hasten her recovery. The house is more comfortable, having been recently refurbished, and our rooms are warmer, looking out on the sunniest aspect in the park.”
Colin Elliott looked puzzled. “Well, why then are you…?” he began, and Anne-Marie intervened quickly to prevent him asking the obvious question. “We must still ensure that my grandmother is not left on her own, until Harriet Greene returns next week,” she explained, keeping her voice low.
Mr Elliott understood, but still thought there could be a way. “Is there no friend or relative who could stay a week or two with Mrs Collins?” he asked and was told that this had been considered and no one suitable had been found.
An idea occurred to him and he was about to speak, when there was a sound of a light vehicle arriving and Anna Bingley appeared, greeting them all with great affection. Seeing her, Mr Elliott decided that it might be best to acquaint her with his plan before suggesting it to Anne-Marie or Mrs Collins. When, after delivering a basket of fruit to her aunt and taking tea with the ladies, Anna rose to leave, he accompanied her to her carriage and helped her in. He began tentatively, unwilling to appear presumptuous, “Mrs Bingley, forgive me if this seems like impertinence on my part, but I gathered from my conversation with Mrs Bradshaw, that it would be better for Miss Teresa if she could return to Netherfield.”
Anna was taken aback and would certainly have considered his intervention impertinence, but seeing the concern reflected in his face, she did not. Instead, she explained, “Indeed, the house is warmer and there are more people to attend upon her; she would certainly regain her strength and her spirits quicker with her family around her. But both Teresa and Anne-Marie will not leave their grandmother alone with only two servants at Longbourn. They fear that she will become depressed on her own and be taken ill. I have to confess we have not, as yet, found a way to resolve the matter.”
Colin Elliott nodded. “I gathered as much, and it occurred to me that I may have a solution to your problem,” he said.
Anna was more than a little surprised, but succeeded in concealing her astonishment as she listened, curious to discover what he had in mind.
“Mrs Bingley, in a village a mile or two west of Meryton, on the boundary of my father’s estate, lives a Mrs Banks, a lady who used to be my sister’s governess many years ago. She is a very respectable, well-educated woman, a widow who lives now with her son and daughter-in-law. If you and Mrs Collins agree, she may be persuaded to come to Longbourn and help Mrs Collins until her companion returns.”
Seeing the still puzzled expression on Anna’s face, he added, “I can vouch for her character; she was almost one of the family and left our employ only after my sister was married. She is a very kind, honest, good sort of woman and I am sure she will suit Mrs Collins. But more importantly, she will enable Mrs Bradshaw to take her sister home and speed up her recovery. Do you think she may be useful to you?”
It had taken Anna some time to fully absorb and appreciate the implications of his words. That he had been sufficiently concerned about Teresa’s health and had decided to put forward a plan that would help in a very practical way to solve their problem had taken her totally by surprise. Hitherto, she had regarded him as a gentleman of intelligence, amiable, with pleasing manners and a sense of public duty. Her husband had also recognised these qualities and commended him to her, “even though he is a Tory!”
But now, he had revealed a far deeper sense of personal concern, a desire to help where he could. She was surprised, but pleasantly so. It must say something for his character, she thought, as well as his regard for their family. Realising suddenly that he was waiting for her response, she said, with some enthusiasm, “Mr Elliott, if, as you say, she is an honest and kind woman and can keep my aunt company, her usefulness will be unarguable. I have lent Mrs Collins a maid who will attend to the household tasks; indeed, your Mrs Banks, if she will come, sounds like just the person we need.”
He looked genuinely pleased and she added, “Mr Elliott, it is very kind of you to do this for us. I have no doubt that it will be very good for Teresa to return home. Your generosity and compassion are truly appreciated.” Begging her not to thank him, he promised to see Mrs Banks that very evening and have an answer for her tomorrow.
As he left her and returned to his curricle, Anna was still wondering at this new side of Mr Elliott that had been revealed. She could not as yet make out the reason behind it; perhaps he was just a genuinely compassionate man, who seeing their predicament with her aunt, was moved to help. There was also the possibility, she had to admit to herself, that his feelings were more deeply engaged than she had imagined. She had observed how he regarded Anne-Marie with a mixture of admiration and something more than ordinary friendliness and, though the lady herself gave no sign of noticing it, Anna was sure there was deeper affection there.
The following week saw Mrs Banks, a pleasant, friendly woman, comfortably settled at Longbourn and the two sisters return at last to Netherfield and the comfort and care of their loving family. Writing to her sister-in-law, Anna spoke of their relief.
Dearest Emma,
I do not have to tell you of our happiness and relief at having Tessie back at home. While I was sure that Anne-Marie could care for her, I could not help worrying that it was taking her longer than usual to regain her strength and her spirits.
There was also some anxiety about her accommodation at Longbourn, where her room was much less well appointed and colder than at Netherfield and was probably impeding her recovery.
Which is why I am so grateful to Mr Elliott for his intervention, helping to obtain the services of Mrs Banks, his sister’s former governess. She is a remarkably friendly and capable woman and my aunt Mrs Collins is already wondering how she ever got on without her. Indeed, Jonathan has suggested that she should be invited to stay on, if she is willing, even after Harriet returns.
At the end of the same week, Mr Frederick Fairfax, the architect’s assistant, returned as promised, with all his drawings and plans for the improvement of the cottages on the Netherfield estate.
This time, he was accommodated at Netherfield, in one of the bestmaintained cottages on the estate, only a short fifteen-minute walk from the main house, where he was invited to take his meals with the family.
This he did, gratefully, save for breakfast. He was, he claimed, an early riser, who liked to walk a mile or two before breakfast and was well able to get his own porridge or toast.
“My dear mother, a great believer in self sufficiency, taught us all to cook,” he declared.
“And do all your brothers cook their own breakfasts?” asked Anna.
“No, ma’am, but my sisters can and do cook very well. I was forced to learn or they would bully me unmercifully, being older than I was,” he replied. They laughed, enjoying his company, especially Teresa, whose recovery seemed to have sped up considerably with the sunshine, the loving care of her family, and coincidentally, the arrival of Mr Fairf
ax.
Meanwhile, Colin Elliott was endeavouring to discover more about Mrs Bradshaw and the nature of his own feelings towards her. It had not been simple or easy.
He had found, during the past fortnight when he had been away from Hertfordshire, that he had greatly missed her. Indeed, she had rarely been out of his thoughts. Yet, unlike most young women he knew, Anne-Marie had no mastery of the performing Arts. She hardly played the piano and did not sing with any distinction, often declaring that she could only sing in the church choir, because all the other good voices masked her own. She neither drew nor painted, and yet, she fascinated him.
He had told himself it was because he knew few women of such keen intelligence and independent views; but he had then been disturbed to find that, in his quieter moments, it had been her lovely face and graceful figure, rather than her opinions, that seemed to dominate his thoughts. Indeed, if he were to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that these feelings had little to do with her fine social conscience and humanity, nor was he particularly concerned that her political loyalties were rather more radical than her father’s or his own.
Having accepted the fact that she seemed to occupy his mind during most of his waking hours, he finally conceded that he was rapidly becoming bewitched by her. Her beauty and charm now appeared to him to be enhanced, while her character had acquired a peerless quality that placed her well above any other woman he had known.
Having contemplated all of this over a reasonable period of time, Colin Elliott had begun to wonder whether the lady was, even to the smallest extent, aware of his feelings. Of her affections, he was uncertain.
When they had met in the garden at Longbourn, after his absence at Westminster, he had been quite unable to conceal his pleasure at seeing her again, yet wondered if she had even noticed. If she had, she had given no indication of it and though she had greeted him with warmth and friendliness, he could not detect even a flicker of additional interest on her part, except, of course, when he mentioned the hospital or the activities of the Parliament. Of the latter, there was always plenty of interesting news, but of the former, he was beginning to despair.
The Ladies of Longbourn Page 10
