I mentioned the offer to Mr Griffin the Rector this morning after church and he, the dear old thing, can only see the advantage of it for his precious choir! “If they can learn to read, Mrs Elliott, they will learn to sing even better,” was all he could say. So, it seems all we need is Papa’s approval.
Dear Aunt, is this really a stroke of good fortune? Or is it just too good to be true? I shall wait eagerly for your answer.
I trust you and my dear Uncle Wilson are well and look forward to seeing you when we are next in London.
Your loving niece,
Anne-Marie Elliott.
Emma Wilson’s reply was predictable; she wrote,
My dearest Anne-Marie,
What excellent news! If, as you have described, Miss Wilcox is genuinely interested in endowing the parish school, your Uncle James and I believe you should grasp the opportunity for the sake of the children, who will undoubtedly benefit from the scheme.
We think it will be a great advantage to the district and will do equally as well as your children’s hospital. Your uncle agrees that there is no greater need for the children today than health and schooling, and since the government, to its shame, still spends a mere pittance on their education, the children of the poor, who never learn to read and write, are denied a decent chance in life. Should you and Miss Wilcox succeed in getting this school started at Netherfield, you will be helping to change that.
Believe me, my dear, nothing can be more worthy of your attention. We wish you every success and look forward to hearing more about it soon.
God bless you,
Your loving Aunt,
Emma Wilson.
P.S. Mr Elliott dined with us at Grosvenor Street last week, in between the debates on Lord Russell’s Reform Bill. I must say he sounded very optimistic about the chances for reform, now Lord Russell leads the Whigs.
My dear Anne-Marie, he told us also of your other piece of good news, though he made us promise to keep your secret for now. Congratulations to you both, my dearest niece. Words cannot express how happy we are, your uncle and I, for you. Your dear father must be overjoyed.
A child at Christmas! What a wonderful blessing!
EW.
Her aunt’s delight was appropriate and timely. Anna and Jonathan Bingley had only just been informed of the news that the Elliotts were expecting their first child. It provided Jonathan with another reason to hasten the conclusion of the refurbishments undertaken at Longbourn, while Mrs Collins was away in Derbyshire, visiting her daughter Rebecca Tate and the Darcys at Pemberley. He was quite determined that all the work should be finished in order that the Elliott’s may move to Longbourn, well in time for the arrival of his first grandchild.
No expense would be spared and Anna was urged to select and have made all the necessary accessories and accoutrements that a young family may require to live in comfort. Indeed, it was Anne-Marie, whose taste for simplicity had not changed, who had to counsel restraint and curb her father’s generosity.
The following week, Miss Laura Wilcox called again to press her case. She had hoped to enthuse them with the idea of providing free schooling to all the children of the parish and she had certainly succeeded. With the encouragement of her aunt, her husband and her brother, Anne-Marie agreed to approach her father. He, after some discussion with his wife and his lawyers, set aside his reservations about the Wilcoxes, whose record of greed and selfishness he deplored, and agreed to permit the endowment and extension of the little parish school at Netherfield.
“I agree only on condition that the parish council of Netherfield keeps control of the school and Anne-Marie or her representative is on the council at all times, with the power to disallow anything that goes against the spirit of this agreement,” he had said.
Miss Wilcox had been delighted and gladly accepted Mr Bingley’s conditions. Later both she and Anne-Marie worked together on the plans for the school, which was to open in the New Year, and so began the remarkable association between two families who had hitherto travelled on opposite sides of the road, which was to lead to the establishment of one of the best primary schools in the county.
Incidentally and not surprisingly, the choir at Netherfield Church was so much improved by the infusion of new talent, with healthier and better taught choristers, that their reputation and that of their rector and choir master soon spread far outside the limits of his parish. So much so, they were in demand to sing at weddings and other functions around the district, which they did very creditably.
By which means, Mr Griffin, who, sadly, having failed in his quest for love, had at least found a compensatory degree of fame and satisfaction. Justly proud of the reputation of his choir, he naturally attributed this success almost wholly to the inspiration and encouragement provided by their beloved patron, Mrs Colin Elliott.
Postscript
BY THE AUTUMN OF 1865, Mr Colin Elliott had been invited by Mr Gladstone to join him and his party in their campaign for reform, arguing persuasively that “we cannot fail because the great social forces which move us onward, are all marshalled on our side.”
With his popularity among the people rising every day, Mr Gladstone seemed to be moving inevitably towards victory, and several promising young Reformist parliamentarians were ready to support him.
Colin Elliott had revealed to his wife the solemn promise he had received, that the extension of the vote to working men would be delivered in the next Reform Bill. “He has given me his word, my love, and he was most insistent upon it, even though I cannot believe my support would be of great significance to his campaign,” he had said modestly, but Anne-Marie was delighted, quite unsurprised that her husband had been courted by the popular Mr Gladstone. “You are too modest, dearest,” she had replied. “It is a sign of the recognition you deserve. Clearly, Mr Gladstone knows you for a man of principle and values your support.”
Later that same month, as the trees in the woods around Netherfield put on their Autumn colours, young Teresa Bingley returned from Standish Park, where she had spent most of the Summer. She was accompanied by her uncle, aunt, and their two young sons.
With them came also Mr Frederick Fairfax, the architect, who had been working on the Wilson’s new conservatory all Summer. The gentleman was not unknown to them, having done some work for Mr Bingley at Netherfield a year or two ago. Anne-Marie remembered that he had seemed very taken with her sister at the time, but after he had left the area, having completed his work, the association had gone no further.
When the pair had met again in Kent, however, they had renewed their friendship and this time Teresa, grown up and very much the accomplished young lady, had proved irresistible to the amiable young architect with a talent for making pen-portraits. It appeared that Mr Fairfax, having ascertained the lady’s own wishes, had come to Netherfield to ask her father’s permission to marry her.
That his elder brother was happily married to Victoria, the daughter of Mr and Mrs Wilson, may well have counted in his favour with Mr Bingley.
His blessing obtained, the pair were engaged, and a wedding was planned for Spring.
To see her young sister happy afforded Anne-Marie great satisfaction and she remarked to Anna that there was little more she could ask for, except the safe delivery of her child. The move to Longbourn satisfactorily accomplished, her loyal maids Jenny Dawkins and Rosie went with her to her new home. With the new household now well organised by Mr Bowles and Harriet, Anne-Marie had very little to trouble her.
Barely a fortnight before Christmas, Mr Elliott was urgently summoned home from a meeting of his constituency council, because his wife had been brought to bed a week before her time and been delivered of a son. He returned to her side with great haste, so beset with anxiety that it took Anna much time and effort to reassure him that all was well.
The little boy, universally agreed to be the image of his grandfather, was named Jonathan Charles, and his parents, their friends complained, could no longer be counted upon to s
peak on any subject for longer than five minutes without introducing the topic of their son.
Some weeks into the New Year, sitting at her desk in her room overlooking the grounds of Longbourn, while young Jonathan Elliott slept, Anne-Marie wrote in her diary.
“Nothing can compare with this, the deepest, sweetest joy I have ever known. So intense, so pervasive are these feelings, as to have wiped out all the bitter residue of the past. Indeed, so deeply do I love my dear Colin and our son, and with such fondness does he care for us, that no other cause, no matter how significant, will ever engage my feelings as passionately, again.
I am truly blessed to have such happiness, as I might once only have dreamed of.”
There is no written record of Colin Elliott’s feelings, for he kept no personal diary, but it has been said, by members of the household, that he frequently and openly demonstrated his love for his wife and son in the most tender and affectionate terms.
Furthermore, no one who knew him was left in any doubt, that the serious young MP, who rose to support Mr Gladstone on the floor of the House, who was imbued with a strong sense of social justice, was also a deeply happy and contented man. It was clear from his general disposition as from the pleasure he obviously felt, as he glanced towards his wife in the gallery, when she attended to hear him speak in the House of Commons.
While there may have been some speculation about the direction in which the political career of the young MP may proceed, dependent as such matters are upon many unpredictable factors, there was certainly none about the happiness of Mr and Mrs Colin Elliott, whose personal lives were clearly completely satisfactory.
Appendix
A list of the main characters in The Ladies of Longbourn:
Anne-Marie Bradshaw (née Bingley)—eldest daughter of Jonathan Bingley and his first wife, Amelia Jane Collins (deceased)
Rev. John Bradshaw—husband of Anne-Marie
Jonathan Bingley, son of Charles and Jane Bingley—now the master of Netherfield Park
Anna Bingley (née Faulkner)—second wife of Jonathan Bingley
Teresa and Cathy Bingley—daughters of Jonathan Bingley by his first wife
Dr Charles Bingley—son of Jonathan Bingley by his first wife
Nicholas and Simon Bingley—young sons of Jonathan and Anna Bingley
Colin Elliott—the new Member of Parliament for the Netherfield district
Mr Griffin—rector of Netherfield Church
Eliza Harwood—daughter of Emily Courtney and friend of Anne-Marie
Emma and James Wilson—sister and brother-in-law of Jonathan Bingley; (Victoria, Stephanie, Charles, and Colin Wilson—Emma’s children)
Dr and Mrs John Faulkner—parents of Mrs Anna Bingley
Caroline Fitzwilliam (née Gardiner)—cousin of the Bennet girls, married Colonel Fitzwilliam
Dr Richard Gardiner and Cassandra—son-in-law and daughter of Mr and Mrs Darcy of Pemberley
Julian Darcy—son of Mr and Mrs Darcy of Pemberley, married Josie Tate, daughter of Anthony and Rebecca Tate of Matlock. (Rebecca, née Collins—daughter of Charlotte Collins)
And from the annals of Pride and Prejudice:
Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy of Pemberley
Charles and Jane Bingley—parents of Jonathan Bingley and Emma Wilson
Colonel Fitzwilliam—cousin of Mr Darcy (married Caroline Gardiner)
Charlotte Collins—wife of Mr Collins (deceased), grandmother of Anne-Marie
Mr and Mrs Edward Gardiner—uncle and aunt of Jane and Elizabeth Bennet, parents of Richard and Robert Gardiner, Emily Courtney, and Caroline Fitzwilliam
Acknowledgements
The author wishes to thank Ms Claudia Taylor, librarian, and the graphic artist, Ms Marissa O’Donnell, for their excellent work and Ms Jenny Scott of Langtoft, England, for her interest and help with obtaining information on local government in Hertfordshire in the nineteenth century.
Thanks, too, to Ben and Robert for help with the computer system and to Ms Natalie Collins for her work in organising the original production of this book.
A debt of gratitude is, of course, due also to that most loved of writers, Miss Jane Austen, chief source of inspiration for this series.
May 2000.
About the Author
A lifelong fan of Jane Austen, Rebecca Ann Collins first read Pride and Prejudice at the tender age of twelve. She fell in love with the characters and since then has devoted years of research and study to the life and works of her favorite author. As a teacher of literature and a librarian, she has gathered a wealth of information about Miss Austen and the period in which she lived and wrote, which became the basis of her books about the Pemberley families. The popularity of the Pemberley novels with Jane Austen fans has been her reward.
With a love of reading, music, art, and gardening, Ms Collins claims she is very comfortable in the period about which she writes, and feels great empathy with the characters she portrays. While she enjoys the convenience of modern life, she finds much to admire in the values and worldview of Jane Austen.
A SNEAK PEAK AT
Mr Darcy’s Daughter
THE PEMBERLEY CHRONICLES:
BOOK FIVE
EXCERPT FROM PART ONE OF
Mr Darcy’s Daughter
THE INCLEMENT WEATHER INTO WHICH the Gardiners drove as they left the boundaries of Pemberley did nothing to improve Cassandra’s apprehensive mood.
Travelling South through Leicestershire, they had hoped to reach Northhampton before nightfall, but the driving rain rendered that prospect more hazardous and less likely with every mile.
Forced to break journey at the small town of Market Harborough, they took rooms at the local hostelry, only to find Rebecca Tate and her maid Nelly ensconced next door. They had met at the top of the stairs, going down to dinner, and soon discovered that Julian Darcy had also written to his motherin-law, though not, it appeared, in the same desperate terms that he had used in his letter to Richard Gardiner.
Rebecca apologised to Cassy for her non-attendance at their meeting on the previous afternoon, confessing that Julian’s note had driven all else from her mind, leaving her time only to make hurried preparations for their journey to Cambridge.
“With Mr Tate already in London, I decided that Nelly and I would go to Cambridge on our own,” she declared, adding, “I felt I could not wait one more day, when there may have been something I could do to help. Oh, my poor Josie, I cannot imagine what has afflicted her. Why Cassy, you must remember what a bright, happy girl she used to be when she lived at home in Matlock. It must be the house—I am sure of it. It’s cold and badly ventilated, quite unhealthy, especially in Winter. I said when they moved in, it was most unsuitable,” she declared.
Both Richard and Cassy held their peace, not wishing to alarm her by revealing what they already knew. It was becoming clear to them that Julian had not been as candid with his mother-in-law as he had been with them. Cassy knew her husband would reveal nothing, nor would she.
At dinner, Richard enquired politely as to how Mrs Tate and her maid had travelled to Market Harborough from Matlock. It transpired that they were using one of the Tates’ smaller vehicles. Mr Tate, they were told, had taken the carriage to London. Cassy was immensely relieved. It dispensed with the obligation for Richard to offer them seats in his carriage for the rest of the journey, which he would surely have done had they been travelling by coach. As it happened, they were well accommodated and, before retiring to their respective rooms, they agreed to leave for Cambridge after an early breakfast.
When they set out on the following morning, Cassy confessed to her husband, “I doubt if I could have concealed for much longer what we know of Josie’s condition, if Becky Tate had been travelling with us to Cambridge.”
He agreed. “It would certainly have been difficult to pretend that we knew no more than she does,” he said.
The streets were wet as they drove into Cambridge.
The air was cold,
and a sharp wind whipped the branches of the trees in the park and penetrated the carriage. Cassandra drew her wrap close around her, and yet she was cold and uncomfortable. The rain, though not as hard as before, was falling steadily as they approached the modest house that Julian and Josie rented in a quiet close not far from his college. It was not an unattractive dwelling, from an architectural point of view, but the garden appeared neglected, with sprouting bulbs and weeds competing for attention, and the house, with its blinds closed, seemed dark and unwelcoming. Once indoors, the aspect improved a little. Mrs Tate was at pains to explain how she had, on a previous visit, attempted to brighten up the parlour with new drapes and a few items of modern furniture, banishing an old horsehair sofa and two worn armchairs to the attic.
Julian met them in the hall, into which they were admitted by an anxiouslooking young maidservant. While Mrs Tate insisted upon going upstairs to her daughter immediately, Richard and Cassy were ushered into the large but rather untidy parlour to the right of the hallway, where tea was to be taken.
Despite the best efforts of Mrs Tate, there was no disguising the general drabness of the room. Dark wood frames and striped wallpaper did little to help, while piles of books and journals lying on tables and strewn on the floor beside the chairs added clutter to a cheerless environment.
Only the fire burned brightly, keeping them warm, while the rain continued outside. How on earth, Cassy wondered, was anyone to recover from depression in surroundings such as these?
Writing later to her mother, she said:
Mama, everything is in such a state of disarray; it would drive me insane to live here. I cannot believe that Josie has been so ill as not to notice the disorderly condition of the house and the neglected garden. As for my poor brother, how anyone who has spent most of his life at Pemberley could possibly endure such wretched surroundings, not from poverty or privation, but by choice, I cannot imagine. Yet Julian does not appear to notice. His study, if it could be called that, so untidy and disorganised does it seem, is his chief retreat, when he is not with Josie or at work in his beloved laboratory.
The Ladies of Longbourn Page 36
