Woman of Influence (Pemberley Chronicles)

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  She had insisted, sobbing, "I do not mean that I did not love Papa," and he had smiled.

  "Of course not. I quite understand, Becky. It is not at all unusual to feel relief in such situations," he had said in the calmest, most grown-up voice. "You must not feel guilty; it is not your fault that Lady Catherine aroused such feelings in you. I believe it is quite natural."

  He had persuaded her to dry her eyes and accompany him indoors. "Now, you must come in, else your mama will begin to worry about you, and that will not do."

  He had sounded so confident, so reassuring, she had been immensely grateful, as she had written some time later in her diary:

  Jonathan Bingley must be the best, kindest person in the world. No one, not one single person, has said anything as kind and comforting to me, ever. I wish I was Emma Bingley and Jonathan was my brother.

  And now, once again, here he was, reassuring and comforting her, urging her again not to feel guilty. He was being considerate and kind just as he had been those many years ago. As the train had rattled and swung through the Kentish countryside, it had been easy to slip into a reverie of reminiscences. Remembering their youthful association, her mind toyed with memories of Jonathan Bingley.

  "He has not changed," Becky thought. "He has always been one of the best men I have ever known."

  Approaching London, the train seemed to gather pace, and as it clanked and screeched over the points, she had been jolted out of her daydream. The gritty ugliness of the town had replaced the idyllic scenes of pastoral life outside. They were almost at the end of their journey, when Jonathan rejoined them to ask if all was well, and in that moment, Becky understood clearly why it was she had fallen in love with Jonathan Bingley all those years ago.

  It was not just that he had been the best looking man she knew—he had an air of gravity that often made him look rather solemn—but there was also his remarkable gift of knowing exactly what to do and say when one was distressed or upset, without any trace of superiority or arrogance. After the insufferable rudeness of Lady Catherine and the obsequious manners of her father, Jonathan had been to Becky the very model of what a young gentleman should be.

  ***

  After a comfortable night at Grosvenor Street, Becky was awakened at daybreak by her maid, Nelly, who brought her mistress tea and helped with her toilette, while relating for her benefit the latest news she had gathered in the servants' quarters.

  She was very well informed.

  "They say, ma'am, that Mr and Mrs Darcy and her sister Mrs Bingley have arrived in London and are staying at the Darcys' house in Portman Square. Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley are said to be very distraught, ma'am, at the sudden death of Mrs Collins. She was a very dear friend to both of them. Mr Bingley is unwell and did not accompany them, but the rest are to join Mr Jonathan Bingley's party on the journey to Netherfield," Nelly explained.

  Becky appreciated Elizabeth Darcy's feelings; she had been one of Charlotte's closest friends, and Jane Bingley, tender-hearted and well-meaning, could not possibly have stayed away. Becky hoped her husband Charles Bingley's illness was not a serious one. Nelly thought not.

  But, eager to be gone as early as possible, wild to see her sister Catherine and to look upon her late mother's face, no matter how much she dreaded the encounter, Becky was a little impatient.

  "Oh dear, I trust we will not be delayed by having to wait for all these people," she grumbled. "I had hoped to make an early start."

  Nelly was quick to reassure her mistress. "Oh no, ma'am. Mr Bingley has given strict instructions that we are to be ready to leave within the hour. He is very anxious to get you to Longbourn as soon as possible, ma'am."

  "Indeed?" said Becky. "That is very considerate of him. I don't suppose he has mentioned if we are to travel with the party from Derbyshire?"

  This time, Nelly answered confidently, "Indeed no, ma'am, but the footman says we are to travel in Mr Bingley's private vehicle. The Darcys and Mrs Bingley are travelling in one of the grand carriages come all the way from Pemberley. He says Mrs Darcy will not use the railway, ma'am."

  Becky smiled wryly. "That is exactly like Mrs Darcy," she thought. Her mother had said as much on another occasion.

  "Eliza will not travel by train; she cannot bear the noise and the soot and the crowds at the stations!" Charlotte had said with a smile, pointing out that it was just as well Mr Darcy had several fine vehicles and many good horses in his stables at Pemberley, else Elizabeth would not travel anywhere at all.

  Becky recalled how, after her father's death at Hunsford, they, having no private carriage, had travelled everywhere on the railway. Her mother had been quite comfortable on the trains, until more recently when her painful rheumatism had made train travel difficult.

  Yet, when Becky's husband Mr Tate had died and their son Walter had travelled to the United States to bring his ashes back to England for burial, Mrs Collins had braved the long journey to Matlock for the funeral.

  Becky remembered again that it had been Jonathan Bingley who had arranged to have Mrs Collins conveyed to and from Derbyshire in his own carriage. Charlotte, who had been determined to be there to support her daughter, had been full of praise for the generosity and consideration shown her.

  "I cannot say enough about Jonathan Bingley's kindness, Becky dear. He has not spared himself nor any expense to ensure that I had everything I needed and could make the journey comfortably," she had said. "He was most particular that we should be here to support you at this time. Even though Walter was going to be here, Jonathan felt it was important that we should be with you too. 'Mrs Collins,' he said, 'Becky needs us now,' and I agreed." Her mother had been unstinting in her praise of him.

  ***

  After Nelly had helped her mistress dress and packed her trunk, they went downstairs to find that Jonathan had breakfasted earlier and was making preparations for their departure. Their trunks had already been carried downstairs. Having enquired if Becky had slept well and was ready to travel, he informed her that they were awaiting word from the Darcys at Portman Square.

  "As soon as I have word from Mr Darcy, we will be on our way," he said.

  Becky thanked him and indicated that she was ready to leave whenever he wished. "I am very keen to see my sister before I proceed to Longbourn," she explained, and he concurred.

  "Of course, Becky, Catherine and Frank Burnett are staying at Netherfield, where we are bound first. I expect to reach our destination by early afternoon. You may then arrange to accompany your sister to Longbourn whenever you choose. I shall arrange to have a vehicle made available for you," he said and added, "I understand that Mrs Darcy is exceedingly distressed. Your mama was her oldest and dearest friend."

  Becky nodded, unable to speak, as she rose from the breakfast table.

  She had hoped she would not have to encounter Mr and Mrs Darcy, at least not until she had seen Catherine and they had reached Longbourn. She was apprehensive about meeting Elizabeth, in particular, being quite convinced that if she discovered that Becky had turned down an opportunity to see her mother a few weeks ago, Lizzie would be very censorious indeed. Mrs Darcy, whom she admired, had always intimidated her. Becky feared her judgment would be questioned once again, as it had been over the circumstances of her daughter's tragic marriage to young Julian Darcy.

  Turning to Jonathan, she asked rather tentatively, "Jonathan, may I ask if Lizzie… Mrs Darcy… is aware that you… what I mean is, have you or Anna told her or Jane of your invitation to me last month… to visit Netherfield?"

  Jonathan, aware of the strained relationship that had existed for many years between Becky Tate and his aunt Mrs Darcy, was not about to allow that particular demon to reappear. His answer was quite emphatic.

  "Certainly not. I can assure you, Becky, that neither Mrs Darcy nor any other member of the family will learn of it from me or my wife. We entirely understood the reasons for your decision—there was much to be settled after Mr Tate's death and later at Edgewater; it was not
a matter upon which there was any censure of you on our part. Nor will we contribute to criticism against you by any other person. I give you my word."

  Becky thanked him and left to complete her preparations for the journey, while he went to summon the servants who would accompany them to Netherfield Park. Soon afterwards, word arrived from Portman Square that Mr and Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley had just set out on their journey to Hertfordshire.

  Their luggage had been stowed in the carriage that stood waiting at the front door, and without further delay, Jonathan helped Becky in, and they were on the road to Netherfield.

  Unlike their journey on the railway, this time their close proximity to one another in the carriage made some level of conversation inevitable. Becky was glad of the presence of her maid, seated beside her, assuming this would limit the topics upon which they might converse. But Jonathan Bingley appeared not to be aware of any awkwardness, nor did he seem at all inhibited by Nelly's presence, and he made conversation quite naturally as they travelled. When they stopped briefly at Barnet to water the horses and take some refreshment, he was particular to ask after their comfort and ensure that Becky and her maid were looked after appropriately, and as they journeyed on, their conversation turned mostly to Becky's new home in Kent.

  Following the sudden death in America of her husband, Mr Anthony Tate, Becky had sold the house he had left her in London in order to purchase outright the property Edgewater, which she had leased the previous year.

  Both Jonathan and Mr Darcy had pronounced it to be an excellent investment at the time, which accounted for his astonishment when Becky revealed that her son Walter and his wife had been of the opposite opinion and had tried quite assiduously to dissuade her from proceeding with the purchase. But Becky had determined her course of action and had said so.

  "I did not intend to let Walter or his wife, who has no interest whatsoever in my existence, to influence me on a matter that was of vital importance to myself alone. I had settled upon it; indeed it was the first time in my life that I had had the opportunity to make such a decision, primarily because I wished it and not in consideration of the wishes of any other person," she said in a determined way that left Jonathan in no doubt of her feelings.

  Somewhat surprised, he said, "I am truly astonished to hear you say that, Becky. I would have thought, indeed I have always believed, that you, above anyone else I know, had made every choice in your life because you wished it to be so. At no stage would I have considered that you could be easily swayed by a contrary opinion or were likely to change your plans to suit another's purpose.

  "Why, Anna and I have always spoken with the greatest admiration of your independence; we have regarded you as a woman of considerable influence, who used that position to achieve much for others. Your most valuable work in the community, helping the poor, educating young women, providing for the sick and aged—in all these things as well as the active political campaigns in which you and Mr Tate were involved—I cannot accept that in all these matters, your decisions were not always your own.

  "I saw no evidence to the contrary and had no doubt whatsoever that your actions were the consequence of your own judgment and determination."

  He seemed confused, almost troubled, and Becky tried to make light of it.

  "Ah," she said, in a voice that suggested he ought not be too concerned, "that must surely be because I am so very good at concealment, by not letting you or anyone else see the truth about myself. I have not always been such an independent woman, Jonathan, but I am quite determined to be one now."

  Jonathan shook his head. "I should not think so at all. Concealment is surely not your way, Becky. Indeed, you are renowned for your openness and frankness. No, if what you say is true, then I must plead guilty to poor judgment myself. I would have said that your sister Catherine, Mrs Burnett, was more likely to be persuaded by others to adopt a particular course than you are. But I am happy that on the matter of Edgewater, at least, you have stood your ground and followed your heart," he said approvingly.

  Becky's face coloured with embarrassment; his words had been too close to the truth for comfort, but she would not betray herself.

  "Indeed I have," she said brightly, "my mind was quite made up. I fell in love with Edgewater—it is exactly where I wish to live and work for the rest of my life—and now I have no one else to please, I need only please myself."

  Jonathan left her in no doubt of his opinion. "That is unarguable, Becky; indeed, you are completely justified in doing so, and I for one would support your decision totally."

  Becky was delighted to have his approval and said as much. The displeasure of her son, whose annoyance at being deprived of the convenience of using his late father's town house in London lay at the root of his objections, paled into insignificance beside her immense satisfaction at Jonathan's words.

  Like her mother, Charlotte Collins, Becky had always trusted Jonathan Bingley's judgment in many things. It was no different on this occasion, except she was absolutely determined that he would never discover that it was her youthful affection for him that had been the source of her trust.

  Nothing had happened since to shake her belief in him. Yet that must remain forever her secret, for Jonathan Bingley had married first her younger sister Amelia-Jane and then, following her tragic death, their accomplished and beautiful cousin Anna Faulkner, with whom he had fallen deeply in love.

  He must never learn of her own youthful, unrequited feelings.

  They reached Netherfield sometime after midday and were met by Anna Bingley, who greeted Becky warmly before taking her upstairs to Catherine.

  As the sisters embraced, they wept.

  End of Prologue

  A WOMAN OF INFLUENCE

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Returning to Kent after the funeral, Becky and her maid travelled with her sister Catherine and her husband, Frank Burnett.

  Mr Burnett was a very capable man; he had organised and arranged everything about their journey to the last detail, thereby leaving Catherine and Becky with ample time on their hands, time they used to talk about everything and anything that related to their dear mother.

  It afforded Becky the opportunity for intimate conversations with her sister, to whom she had grown especially close in recent years. Still troubled by feelings of guilt, she wished to ascertain if Catherine regarded her conduct preceding her mother's death as contrary or selfish. There had been little time and less opportunity to do so at Netherfield and Longbourn before and after the funeral, what with the innumerable friends, relatives, and pupils who had gathered to farewell Mrs Charlotte Collins.

  Becky was anxious to discover her sister's opinion. It would not have surprised her if Catherine, always exemplary and proper in her ways, had expressed some disappointment at her decision to remain at Edgewater.

  But Catherine had no such criticism to make of her sister. Happy in her own marriage to Frank Burnett and well aware of the pain Becky had endured, Catherine had understood her need to make a place of her own where she could find the contentment that had eluded her for many years.

  Edgewater had provided her with just such a place, and Becky had wished to have the work of restoration and landscaping done right. Catherine had been disappointed but not surprised when her sister had changed her mind and decided not to join them on their visit to Hertfordshire.

  Still, Becky's sense of guilt had not abated, and Catherine tried hard to convince her sister that it was not justified.

  "Dearest Becky, why do you reproach yourself needlessly?" she asked, remonstrating as Becky confessed to feeling cold and callous.

  "No doubt you will feel some sorrow at having missed the opportunity to see Mama; you would not be human if you did not. But believe me, my dear sister, Mama was not angry—disappointed a little, perhaps, but she hoped as we did that you would visit at Easter, after the work at Edgewater was completed. She did not know and you could not have known what was to come; it was ver
y sudden," she said.

  Becky persisted, "Did you not consider my action selfish and unfeeling? I should not have blamed you if you had."

  Catherine was adamant. "Most certainly not, Becky; neither I nor Mr Burnett ever thought such a thing. I have not said this to you or anyone else before, but I know, my dear, what pain you have been through since Mr Tate moved to live in America."

  Becky's eyes filled with tears as Catherine continued.

  "It was a hard, unfeeling thing to do to you, after all those years of loyalty and hard work, when you had taken up every cause he championed and given so much of your time to furthering his ambitions. I do not mean to speak ill of your late husband, Becky, but I must admit that I have rarely seen such thoughtless conduct and nothing you have done can be considered in a similar light. I know you loved Mama and would have been with her more often, had not your life been seriously disrupted by Mr Tate's self-indulgent behaviour. I will not hear any criticism of you on that score, nor should you fear it."