The Ladies of Longbourn (34 page)

At long last, when the celebrations were over and most of the guests had departed, Colin Elliott and Anne-Marie retreated to Mr Wilson's study to say their farewells and in those few loving moments made up for their many hours apart. Reluctantly, he left her then; promising to return early the following day, when they would be journeying with the Wilsons to Standish Park, where they had been invited to spend a week or two. It was something they both looked forward to with much pleasure.

Anne-Marie knew all about the enchantment of Standish Park, where Anna had assured her, lovers were guaranteed to fall even deeper in love. "There is something almost magical, about the place" she had said, recalling the days when she and Jonathan had found so much delight and contentment there. Seeing the felicity of Emma and James, Anne-Marie had no reason to doubt it. She knew its many pleasures and looked forward to sharing them with Colin Elliott.

Since their engagement, she had been delighted to find many subjects upon which they agreed; the world of books and music, of which she knew she had a good deal to learn from him, was only just opening up to her. He was an interested and patient teacher and she looked forward to further discoveries in fields where she had not ventured before.

One more important matter remained to be settled, however, before she could face the future with serenity; even though it was a matter of which she had not been much aware in recent times.

After they'd been at Standish Park some two or three days, a carriage arrived bearing Emily Courtney and her daughter Eliza Harwood, once Anne-Marie's confidante and dearest friend. They had, however, not met one another since the funeral of Mr Bradshaw. Eliza had been spending some time with her parents in Derbyshire, following the sad loss of a child, stillborn before its time. Grief stricken and unable to cope alone, she had written to her mother, who had arrived and taken her home to Kympton.

During her time there, Eliza had expressed her desire to meet Anne-Marie and be reconciled with her. Her mother Emily, whose warm friendship with her cousin Emma had continued over many years, had written asking if it might be arranged. Emma Wilson having considered the request and discussed it with her mother, and her Aunt Lizzie had decided to do something about it. The invitation to Anne-Marie and Mr Elliott had gone out on the very day she had received news of their engagement. It was a clever piece of manipulation but, as Emma had explained to her husband, it had been done in a good cause.

"I know Anne-Marie will not begrudge Eliza the consolation of reconciliation with her, now she has found true happiness herself," she had said, as they sat together at breakfast and James, though a little wary of such contrivances, had agreed that she was probably right. He thought Anne-Marie was not the type of young woman who would bear a grudge.

"But, do you not think you ought to warn her that they are expected tomorrow? And what do you suppose Elliott will make of it all?" he had asked, practical and thoughtful, as ever.

Emma smiled and pressed his hand, gently, "Now, that's where I need your help, my dear," she had said, "Do you suppose you could find a reason to invite Colin Elliott to accompany you on your journey to Maidstone tomorrow?"

James laughed; he never failed to be surprised at the ingenious ways by which his wife could draw him into her plans. She made the endearing excuse that she did not want him to feel left out and he almost always acquiesced.

"Well, my dear, since you mention it, it may well be a good idea for him to come along. We are convening a branch of the Reform Group in the area, to press the government for a national public education policy. I know it is a subject Elliott is keenly interested in; he may benefit from attending and may even choose to follow our example in his own constituency. I shall ask him later today. I could do with the company on the journey there and back, anyway," he said and was rewarded by his wife with a warm embrace.

So it happened that when Emily Courtney and her daughter arrived at Standish Park the following day, the gentlemen had already left for Maidstone. Aunt and niece were sitting together upstairs and Emma had only just told Anne-Marie that they were expecting visitors.

"From London?" she asked, surprised.
"No, from Derbyshire; Kympton to be exact," Emma replied. "Let me guess, it's Aunt Emily and Mr Courtney. No?" Seeing her aunt

Emma smiled and hearing a carriage coming up the drive, she rose and moved to the window. Anne-Marie followed her and the speculation ended, as she saw the two women alight.

Emma noticed that Anne-Marie had become very pale.
She took her hands in hers, "Now, my dearest, you are not going to be upset, are you? Eliza has been very ill after losing her baby and Emily has been looking after her. They are here only for a few days, en route to Ramsgate, and they have come especially to see you."
"Me? Why me?" Anne-Marie seemed confused.
"Because, my love, Eliza blames herself for having persuaded you to accept Mr Bradshaw. She believes that you blame her, too, and wishes to be reconciled with you before your wedding to Mr Elliott. Surely, you cannot refuse?" Emma pleaded.
Anne-Marie was silent and bit her lip hard, as they went downstairs to meet the visitors, who had been shown into the saloon. They found the ladies looking very tired and drawn, after their long journey by rail and coach. When they rose to greet them, it was quite obvious that Eliza was still far from well. She was thin and pale and her eyes filled with tears, as she came forward with some trepidation, her hand outstretched, to greet them.
Despite her pain, Anne-Marie had never blamed Eliza for her own misfortune; it had been more a question of avoiding the memories of those dreadful two years, which meeting Eliza would surely stir up. Yet her tender heart was so moved, seeing her thus, she ignored her hand and embraced her. As both women wept, Emily and Emma exchanged glances and slipped out of the room, leaving them together.
Nothing in Anne-Marie's character would have permitted her to turn her face away from Eliza Harwood in her present condition. As for Eliza, she had long blamed herself for ever having encouraged her friend to accept Mr Bradshaw, realising now that no amount of rectitude and Christian morality could make up for the desolation of a marriage devoid of the warmth of love. That she had persuaded her dearest friend into such a bleak relationship had left her feeling guilty and miserable.
Long months of separation had taken their toll and it was a while before the two women could converse easily, as they had done when Eliza had been the young girl's confidante and best friend. They had grown apart and it would take time to bridge the divide. When Emma and Emily returned, however, they had recovered their composure and were talking more easily together. Later, it became clear they had overcome their inhibitions and though they may never be as close as they'd been before, they could at least be companions again. Emily could tell from her daughter's demeanour that she had made her peace with Anne-Marie and blessed Emma for affording her the opportunity to do so. "It will go a long way towards healing her spirit, Emma," she said. "She has been desolated all year, believing Anne-Marie was lost to her as a friend. I cannot tell you how grateful I am. God bless you, Emma."

Writing later to her father and Anna, Anne-Marie took up most of her letter with poetic descriptions of the park and woodlands in their Autumn splendour and the many delightful activities they were involved in at Standish Park.

Each day, we are able to enjoy the beauty of this place in one way or another, walks in the woods or picnics by the river, followed by evenings filled with exquisite music and excellent company. I have not mentioned the library or the gallery, both of which hold such treasures that I am sure I would not usually see in a lifetime. Both Aunt Emma and Mr Elliott have been taking me in hand and teaching me to appreciate them and I am very grateful indeed.

You will be surprised, perhaps, to hear that Mrs Courtney and Eliza were here for a few days, on their way to Ramsgate, where Eliza is to spend the rest of the Summer. She is very poorly and needs to recover her health; Mr Harwood is to join them later.

Dear Papa and Anna, I know you will be happy to learn that Eliza and I have talked over our unhappy memories and are now quite reconciled. Eliza was relieved to discover that I had never held her responsible for my own sorrow, and she was especially pleased to know, that being engaged to Mr Elliott, memories of my earlier mistake no longer troubled me and I looked forward to our marriage, confident of happiness. Aunt Emily was happy, too, and said she had heard very good reports of my Mr Elliott from Aunt Caroline, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and others. She said she was sure we would be happy together. Poor Eliza has been very ill and miserable; I hope I have done something to help her recover. It must be dreadful to lose a little baby and not even have had the joy of holding it in your arms for a little while. I could not imagine such sorrow!

Anne-Marie's compassion and genuine kindness had clearly triumphed over any lingering bitterness she may have carried in her heart.
Her father was not surprised. "I was sure my sister would not rest until she had brought about some reconciliation between those two young women," said Jonathan, as he handed the letter back to his wife. Anna smiled but said nothing. She had had no intimation of Emma's plans, but had always believed that her sister-in-law, being a compassionate and loving woman, would find some way to bring Eliza Harwood and Anne-Marie together, convinced that Anne-Marie would be the better for it.

Returning to Netherfield, Anne-Marie and Mr Elliott were plunged back into preparations for the wedding, now fixed for December. The bridesmaids, Teresa and Cathy, had to be measured for their gowns and trained for their roles, while the choir was rehearsed until they were singing like angels!

Mr Griffin, who was to perform the ceremony, which Teresa said, must have been for him, the next best thing to marrying Anne-Marie himself, wore a perpetual smile. He seemed so pleased and was so excited, that Anna feared he would forget his words in the order of service, when he saw the bride standing before him.

"Poor Mr Griffin, he has long given up hope, but I am sure he still has a corner of his heart filled with love for Anne-Marie," she said, as she helped Teresa with her gown, warning her to say nothing to Cathy, who would surely giggle and spoil everything. Teresa promised, adding that she had no doubt everything would turn out well, since their grandmother was arriving from Ashford Park to supervise it all.

Meanwhile, plans for Longbourn and the hospital were well advanced. Mrs Collins, who had been rather lonely since the death of her friend and companion Mary Bennet, looked forward to a house that no longer fell silent once the students went home. She had always been fond of Anne-Marie and welcomed her company at Longbourn. As for Mr Elliott, his unfailing courtesy and attention to herself had won him her esteem long before he became engaged to her granddaughter.

Harriet Greene and Mr Bowles were married and, after they returned from a visit to her family, he moved to live at Longbourn, replaced at Netherfield by a man who had served Jonathan when he had been a member of the House of Commons, a Mr Alfred Dobson.

Everything appeared to be moving smoothly, when something they could have neither foreseen nor prevented occurred. On a fine, calm, Autumn afternoon, news came by telegraph of the death of Mr Edward Gardiner. Jonathan and Anna Bingley left immediately for Derbyshire to attend the funeral. Mr Gardiner, uncle of Jane and Elizabeth, was a much loved and respected member of the family and Jonathan knew his death would cause great grief among their cousins. At Pemberley, the Darcys were desolated.

Mr Darcy's close friendship with Mr Gardiner over many years had been of immense value to him, broadening his outlook, drawing him out of the close, rather dull circle of the country gentry into which he had been born, into the more enterprising, cosmopolitan world of Commerce. It had compelled him to meet new people and confront ideas, which he had either ignored or knew nothing of in his youth. Mrs Gardiner, one of the finest ladies Darcy had known, was Lizzie's friend and confidante, while their son Richard Gardiner, who had married Cassy Darcy, was closer to Mr Darcy than his own son Julian.

The two couples had been intimate for many years. Having been instrumental in bringing their favourite niece and Mr Darcy together, the Gardiners held a special place in their hearts.

Though his death had been long expected after several bouts of heart disease, when it came, it had been a shock which left both Darcy and Elizabeth grief stricken. When Jonathan and Anna arrived at Pemberley, it was Cassandra Gardiner who greeted them and made arrangements for their stay.

"My father has gone to Oakleigh with Richard; Mama and Aunt Jane are with Caroline, who is inconsolable," she explained, as she accompanied them indoors and rang for refreshments. While her parents had gone to offer comfort to the Gardiners, Jonathan and Anna found it was Cassy, not Julian, who was in charge at Pemberley. When her husband Richard returned, he revealed that Julian's wife Josie was unwell and unable to travel from Cambridge for the funeral. "Julian is expected tomorrow; I believe he has already left Cambridge," Richard explained, adding that "Cassy knows everything that needed doing, anyway."

Mr Darcy, at Mrs Gardiner's request, had arranged for the funeral to take place at the church at Pemberley, so her husband may be laid to rest in the churchyard there, close to his friends and beside the two young boys, William Darcy and Edward Fitzwilliam, whom he had loved so dearly and whose untimely deaths had filled him with great sadness. It had been his dying wish.

Cassandra followed all her father's instructions minutely, knowing how much Mr Gardiner had meant to him. Cassy knew the people of the estate well, far better than Julian, who spent very little time at Pemberley. Anna, who offered to help, was astonished at Cassy's strength and capacity for hard work. Later, she took her place beside her husband as he supported his mother and stood with her parents, whose own grief was so heavy that Anna noticed for the first time that Mr Darcy looked weary and strained.