Netherfield Park Revisited (30 page)

“‘He's probably a collector' he told me,” she said to their general amusement, then turning to Jonathan, expressed her heartfelt thanks, “Mr Bingley, this is one of the loveliest gifts I have ever received. I thank you and your daughters from the bottom of my heart. I adored it when it was in Monsieur Armande's collection. Now, it shall hang in my room, where I can see it at any time of the day or night. Thank you.”

Both Dr Faulkner and his wife were very impressed with the beautiful gift and Mr Bingley's excellent taste.

While admiring their various gifts, no one heard the knock at the door until Anne-Marie, alerted by the sound of a neighing horse outside, ran to the window and, seeing the Rector's pony cart in the driveway, rushed to open the door and let the man in.

“Oh my goodness, Mr Griffin, there you are,” she cried, “please do come in, you must be freezing, come in and sit by the fire. Papa, I think Mr Griffin would like a sherry,” she said, as she took his coat and handed it to the servant, but her father and Dr Faulkner were both quite sure that a large brandy was what the frozen Rector needed “to thaw him out.”

It transpired that he had been an hour or more in his pony cart, traversing the country in the cold, until a passing farmer set him on the right road to Netherfield Park.

Anne-Marie's kind heart was touched by the unfortunate man's plight and she rushed around to make sure he was warm and then was plied with food and drink, until gradually, the frozen Rector began to look normal again.

Mr Griffin was not by any means a man one would call personable or good looking, being rather gaunt with unfortunate features that in repose took on a somewhat lugubrious expression.

Cathy had already decided that he resembled a character from her favourite tale by Charles Dickens,
A Christmas Carol.

“Which one?” teased Tess. “Ebenezer Scrooge—or was it Marley's ghost?”

“He has such a doleful face,” said Anna, and Jonathan, who had joined them at the piano, agreed.

“Not the kind of face you expect to see spreading the good news at Christmas! But I did note that he does have a strong voice, of a somewhat disembodied kind. It does not seem to proceed from that slight frame!” he said, and Anna could not contain her laughter.

Finally Anne-Marie came over and begged them not to make fun of the poor man.

“He's frozen half to death and he is our guest,” she reminded them in a tone of mock severity, which both her father and Anna Faulkner took to heart. But even Anne-Marie could not resist a smile when he was heard to declare to Mrs Faulkner, who had suggested that he ought to return to his home and go directly to bed to avoid catching a bad cold, “Your concern is appreciated, ma'am, but I believe I must set aside my own comfort and attend to my flock; the shepherd cannot take account of the weather.”

The vision of Mr Griffin as an intrepid shepherd was too much even for Anne-Marie's kind heart.

Meanwhile, a man servant had taken the unfortunate horse and its cart into the shelter of the stables, and Mrs Perrot had the Rector served with plenty of hot food. Clearly pleased with all the attention he was getting, Mr Griffin stayed much longer than expected.

Anne-Marie, feeling that her duty as hostess required her to be attentive to him while the rest sang, played, or simply listened, seated herself beside him and listened while he talked endlessly of his parish concerns.

Mr Griffin, having told Anne-Marie how much he enjoyed church music, proceeded to urge her to join the choir, and it was with the greatest difficulty that she succeeded in convincing him that it would be of very little use, since she would soon be returning to London.

At this piece of news, he looked dismayed and sank back into his rather mournful mood until it was time to leave.

Anna, who had been observing Anne-Marie, found herself standing beside Jonathan as they took tea. She said, softly, “Is it not remarkable how Anne-Marie has helped comfort her sisters? Both Tess and Cathy seem a good deal calmer.”

Jonathan agreed. “Indeed they do,” he said. “Anne-Marie has been wonderful. I cannot tell you how strong she has been, nor how much I have depended upon her. I was very apprehensive about bringing all three of them down to Netherfield, and in truth, my mother did offer to have Tess at Ashford Park over Christmas. But I decided that if the children were going to live at Netherfield, it was best that they come down together, at Christmas.”

Anna's face had been grave, but she smiled, reassuring him, as she said, “I think you have done the right thing; you have given them a beautiful home here and, most of all, a sense of belonging to a family, which they must have longed for. There is no better way to heal their hearts.”

He turned to her as though she had said exactly the right words.

“Do you really think so? I am very glad to hear it, Anna, I am grateful to you for your kindness to them. As for your advice and help with redecorating this place, it has made a world of difference,” he said with great sincerity. With equal candour she assured him that it had brought her much pleasure, too.

“And you do not think they will find life in Hertfordshire dull?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she replied, her eyes sparkling. “I have lived most of my life here and I would not like it to be thought that it had been a dull life.”

Jonathan assured her that he had not meant that at all, and she laughed as she said, “I know you did not, but I must affirm that dullness is more a state of one's mind than a condition of the county,” a proposition with which he agreed completely.

Shortly afterwards, the Faulkners, who had another call to make at Lucas Lodge, left, having invited Mr Bingley and his daughters to dine at Haye Park the following evening.

Mr Griffin, who was then the very last to leave, rose to make his farewells and took so long over them, especially with Miss Bingley, trying again to persuade her to join his choir, that Cathy asked Mrs Perrot if he was staying to dinner, a prospect that appeared to horrify young Teresa!

Grateful when he had finally gone, the family came together for their own little celebration in the cosy upstairs sitting room, which was fast becoming their favourite room in the house.

It had been a very special day, and later that night, when the girls had gone to bed, Jonathan found time to write to his sister.

Would you be astonished, my dear Emma, if I were to say that this has been the best Christmas I have had in many years? I realise it may sound unfeeling to say so, but there was nothing contrary to spoil a simple family occasion.

The girls have taken over their home with great enthusiasm, and Anne-Marie has surprised us all with her poise and sensibility as she played hostess today. You would have been proud of her, Emma; I certainly was.

Miss Faulkner, who was here with Dr and Mrs Faulkner, remarked on her amazing ability to help her younger sisters recover, and yet it was Anne-Marie who seemed most distraught when it all happened last Summer.

I can scarcely believe it is less than seven months ago since that dreadful day, and yet, so much has happened since then, it seems as if years have passed. While my memory is clear enough, the painful consequences of that day have been diluted by many small pleasures, especially since moving to Netherfield.

I sincerely wish you and James the very best of health and look forward to seeing you in the New Year.

God bless you all

He was about to put his pen down and fold up the letter when, hearing a sound in the corridor, he went to the door and opened it.

Standing there, wrapped in her coverlet, was young Cathy.

“Why Cathy, my dear, what's wrong?” he asked.

She looked up at him and said softly, “I wish Mama was here too, Papa. I miss her.” Sensing her sorrow, Jonathan scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her room, where Anne-Marie, awakened by the sounds, came swiftly to his aid and took her young sister to bed, comforting her and staying with her until she fell asleep.

Some days later, she wrote to her friend Eliza Harwood:

My dear Eliza,

If you had told me a month ago that I would be writing to you from Netherfield, at Christmas, in a mood that is for the most part happy and content, I would probably have declared you to be a cruel, unfeeling creature, even though I know you to have a heart of gold!

Yet, here am I, a few days after Christmas with Papa and my two young sisters, and hardly a care in the world. I am being rather selfish, I confess, for I have at Netherfield not only a lovely home, but, for the moment at least, I am the lady of the house and may give whatever orders I please and entertain who I choose.

Not that we are doing much in the way of entertaining this year.

On Christmas Day, we had some friends and relations over after church and then on Boxing Day, there was the party for the children of the tenants and servants of the estate. This was a very jolly occasion organised by Mrs Perrot—our wonderfully capable housekeeper and Papa's steward. A very good time was had by all.

That night, we dined with the Faulkners at Haye Park and after an excellent meal, we were treated to a feast of music. Miss Faulkner plays the pianoforte and the harp. I must admit to being completely fascinated by Anna Faulkner's harp. It is a beautiful, statuesque instrument, and she plays it with such ease and sweetness, we were just spell bound.

She sings too and while I lay no claim to being a judge of these things, Papa has lived in London and travelled often to Europe, yet he says he has not heard so fine a voice as hers. I do hope you will come to Netherfield one day soon and hear her sing and play. It is a pleasure I can promise you with confidence.

My sisters and I have enjoyed our stay at Netherfield and Papa seems very happy too. In fact, his spirits have lifted considerably since he moved here and I am hopeful he has begun to recover from the dreadful depression he has suffered from since last Summer.

Meanwhile, my sisters will have me help them with a curious undertaking—a pantomime. Our local church hall is the venue and Miss Faulkner and the Rector, Mr Griffin (of whom you shall hear more when we meet!) are to direct the performance.

Our Teresa is to play the Sleeping Beauty, and since she discovered that the princess does more than sleep, indeed, she sings and dances, she has begun to worry about playing the part. Fortunately, Miss Faulkner, who is marvellous with all the children, has promised to help her. I am to be general factotum and help Papa with the stage business, while Cathy is to be Prince Charming's helper!! Prince Charming himself is a girl!—our steward's daughter, Alison.

Papa is very pleased to see us all involved.

I trust you and Mr Harwood had a happy and blessed Christmas, dear Eliza, and look forward to seeing you soon. I hope to return to you and my work at the hospital in the second week of January, if that is convenient

God bless you,

Anne-Marie Bingley.

***

When the pantomime was over, and it was generally agreed to be a success, Teresa Bingley, who had just made her debut in amateur theatricals, had to write to her grandmother.

She was very excited about her role in the pantomime:

I was the sleeping princess, but when I discovered I had to sing and dance as well as sleep on stage, I was rather anxious about doing the part, but Papa said I would be all right and Miss Faulkner taught me the songs and it was really fun after all. She has been very kind to all of us.

Papa says she is going to teach us to sing and play the piano as well as draw and paint in the new year. Cathy and I both think it will be good fun.

Grandmama, we have had a good Christmas. No one has quarrelled or wept as we did last year, when Mama was away in London and we were at Hunsford. Everyone is trying to be really good for Papa's sake and cheerful.

Anne-Marie believes that we will all be happier, now we are at Netherfield. She is certainly right about Papa, for we have not seen him so pleased in many months. He smiles more.

She concluded her letter with affectionate greetings to her grandparents and expressed a desire to see them soon.

It is far too long to wait until Easter. Could you not come to us sooner? I am longing to show you my room, for which Miss Faulkner chose the colours. She is very artistic and it is beautiful. Grandmama, I am sure you will like it too …

… and so on for a page or more.

When Jane Bingley received the letter, she did not know quite what to think. While they were only the words of a young girl, some of what Teresa wrote appeared to confirm her own impressions. It was clear the girls and their father shared the same opinion of Anna Faulkner.

On New Year's Eve, they were all expected at Pemberley for the customary end of year celebrations.

The Bingleys arrived well before nightfall and, as soon as Jane found a moment when her sister was free, she took her aside and showed her Teresa's letter.

“Lizzie, I want you to tell me, what do you make of this letter?” she asked.

Elizabeth, who had received a letter from Charlotte Collins covering most of the same ground, seemed unsurprised by the contents. This was due in part to her recent conversation with Mr Darcy on the same subject. She did not wish her sister to know that they had been discussing her son's private life and in order not to make too much of the hints in Teresa's innocent little note, she said casually, “I am very glad to see that it confirms what I have gathered from Charlotte's letters—the girls are clearly settling in well at Netherfield. Jonathan must be pleased.”

Jane looked at her sister as if she had not heard a word she had said.

“Lizzie, of course he must be pleased. So am I. What I want to know is, does he intend to marry Anna Faulkner?”

With the question so bluntly put, Elizabeth had no hope of avoiding it.

“Jane! How have you reached this conclusion?” she asked, quite astonished by her sister's words.

“I have not,” Jane protested. “But if you read Tessie's letter, you will have to agree that something is afoot.”