To her surprise, on arrival at the house in a hired vehicle, she found no arrangements had been made; the new housekeeper, Mrs Stoker, advised that Mr and Mrs Tate were away at the coastal resort of Scarborough and were not expected back until the end of the month.
Astonished, Becky enquired who was running the business and the household in their absence.
"Mrs Tate's brother Mr Hartley Pratt is managing the business, ma'am," the woman replied, explaining that he had been appointed recently to the position. "And I am in charge here," she added, in a voice that suggested she resented being asked at all.
Becky knew better than to pursue the matter of Hartley Pratt, whom she remembered as a self-important young man with little talent, few achievements, and no style at all. How he had come to be appointed to manage the business was beyond her understanding. Clearly Walter's wife must wield a high degree of influence, Becky thought.
The revelation served only to increase her unease, but this being neither the time nor the occasion to comment upon such matters, she explained she was there for Dr Courtney's funeral and requested politely that the rooms she had occupied before the death of her husband should be made ready for her use over the next fortnight.
Whereupon Mrs Stoker informed her, with a degree of hauteur, that the rooms in that part of the house were no longer available to be used, since Mrs Walter Tate had decided to have them redecorated and refurbished for special guests.
Becky's patience was at an end.
Ignoring the housekeeper's shocked expression, she asked Nelly to take her bags up to the room and said quietly but firmly, "My dear woman, this happens to be the house in which Mr Tate and I lived for nigh on thirty years. My son lives here now under the terms of my husband's will, and by agreement with me.
"I am here to attend the funeral of Reverend Courtney, and I do not care if the rooms are to be refurbished for royalty; if they are vacant now, I am asking you to open them up and have them aired and readied for my use within the hour. I shall leave my things in the charge of my maid, Nelly, while I travel to Lambton to call on Mrs Courtney. When I return, I expect to see all the appropriate arrangements in place, including a room for my maid, and please do not pretend that you must have my daughter-in-law's permission to accommodate me in what was my home for thirty years."
So saying, Becky swept out of the house and down the steps into the waiting vehicle that was to take her to Lambton, confident that everything would be as she had asked, but unhappy at having had to ask at all.
***
Arriving at Oakleigh, she found that several members of the family had gathered to support Emily Courtney.
Her brother Richard and his wife, Cassandra, greeted Becky and escorted her into the parlour, where Emily, her eyes red and her face pale with weariness, embraced her friend with warmth and gratitude.
"It is so good of you to come all this way, Becky; it is such a long journey," she said, and Becky hushed her at once.
"My dear Emily, did you think for one moment that I would not come?"
Their close friendship had meant a lot to Becky, but Emily had never presumed upon it. Her generous heart asked for very little in return for all she gave in affection and concern to anyone, family or friend.
Throughout the years when Becky had been persona non grata with Mrs Darcy and many in her family, Emily had persisted with their friendship, knowing full well that Elizabeth disapproved of it.
Later, they would sit together and speak of the difficult days and hours before her husband's death, and Becky would marvel at the calmness of this remarkable woman, who in one lifetime had loved and lost not one but two fine men, yet bore no signs of bitterness or self-pity.
The loss of Emily's first husband had left her deeply saddened, but with a determination to immerse herself in such a volume of work as to leave her little time for grieving.
Paul Antoine had been the love of Emily's young life; she had married him in the full knowledge that he was dying of tuberculosis, confounding her family and friends. She had travelled with him to Italy and nursed him devotedly until his death, following which she had spent much of her time supporting and comforting her cousin Mrs Darcy after the recent loss of her son William.
A young girl at the time, Becky had admired Emily's courage and singleminded devotion. Her mother, Charlotte Collins, had upheld Emily as an example of everything a woman could and should be, making Becky feel wholly inadequate. Yet as she grew older and confronted the vicissitudes of life herself, Becky had learned to value Emily's strength, and the two had become close friends.
Now, years later, here she was, once again bereft yet unembittered.
"I do not question God's will, Becky, but after all these years of shared dedication, I must admit to a terrible loneliness," she had said, and Becky had tried unsuccessfully to hide her tears, as Emily recalled her husband.
A modest, though distinguished, theologian, a scholar of repute and a hardworking parish priest, James Courtney had been loved most of all for his great compassion. He had worked all his days to help the poor, and Emily had supported him without question in all his endeavours.
"His sincerity and love for those who needed his help was an inspiration, which I shall miss most profoundly," she had said, "yet I must accept that my present sorrow, however dismal, would have been ten times greater had I been compelled to witness his painful lingering death. We have all been spared that anguish at least."
Becky could not help but recall her own dull response to the death of Mr Tate, whose every action had been motivated by his search for power or profit. She remembered feeling only a sense of resentful numbness on learning the news. Emily's honesty had left her feeling mortified.
Writing to her sister, Becky gave expression to her admiration of Emily as well as her frustration at the conduct of some of the Courtneys' children.
Eliza, her eldest girl, has arrived this very morning, with her husband Mr Harwood, who seems impatient to return to his business in London; but at least they are here. William, however, is still not here and no one, not even his mother, knows when he may be expected.
A message has been received by Dr Gardiner, in which he declares his intention to be present at his father's funeral and requests details of time and place, but I am reliably informed by Emily's sister, Caroline, that William is so busy with his career as a conductor, travelling often to Europe and America, that he has had little time to visit his parents and has seen them but once in the last year.
When one considers how much love and devotion Emily has invested in her children, Cathy, I confess I am quite unable to comprehend such behaviour. Only Jessica and young Jude appear to have the loyalty and warmth of feeling one might have expected. Jessica, who is very close to being brought to bed with her first child, can do little more than comfort her mother, but young Jude ensures that all the chores are done on the farm, with the help of the ubiquitous Mr Mancini, an Italian flower farmer, who leases a part of the property. Without his help, for there is but the cook and a maid to assist Emily, I really do not know how she would manage at all.
Caroline also tells me that Elizabeth and Mr Darcy were disappointed that William did not visit his father at Christmas as he had been expected to do, even though word had been sent through Georgiana and Dr Grantley that Reverend Courtney was unlikely to live very long after. Indeed, at one stage it had seemed that he would not survive the Winter! But William did not come, having written to say he had committed to a series of concerts in Vienna and Berlin and would try to visit in the New Year.
I am sure Emily is hurt, but she will not say a word against William. She has been single-minded about ensuring that he had everything he needed to pursue his musical career; it is a pity he does not reciprocate with a similar devotion to her.
The Darcys, who were generous in their assistance to William when he was a student, are understandably dismayed, and Caroline believes that Lizzie will have her say directly to William Courtney, when he does arri
ve.
Becky's letter related also the circumstances of her stay at the Tate family home, declaring:
Nothing would persuade me to return here. Mr Tate would have been appalled by the meanness of the establishment maintained by Walter's dear wife, Pauline. While Mr Tate abhorred extravagance and ostentation, he was nevertheless generous and always hospitable. Pauline's hospitality appears to extend only to her family; her brother, appointed to manage the business with no qualifications to do so, now occupies my late husband's study and anteroom and orders the servants around as though he owned the place. The new housekeeper, a Mrs Stoker, a rather haughty woman, obviously acting upon the instructions of her mistress, runs the household as though it were a boarding school, with a degree of severity that would have surprised even Mr Dickens, I think. The servants are uniformly cowed and meek; Nelly tells me they are frequently berated for all sorts of petty sins of commission and omission, with no allowance made for anything at all. If it were not that I have no wish to inconvenience dear Emily, I would have accepted her kind offer to accommodate us at Oakleigh Manor, but I am loathe to add to her burden and have decided to stay on at Matlock for the moment, although it irks me to do so.
…she wrote, leaving Catherine in no doubt of her opinion of her daughterin-law and her household arrangements.
Catherine had been aware that Walter Tate's marriage to Miss Pauline Pratt, the daughter of a wealthy manufacturer in the Midlands, had not met with his mother's approval, but she had not supposed it to be as bad as this.
"Poor Becky," she said, relating her sister's complaints to her husband, "it must be dreadful to return to her own house and find herself so unwelcome. How very fortunate we are to have this place, thanks to the generosity of Mr Darcy."
Frank Burnett could not but agree with his wife; however, he felt constrained to add, "But chiefly on account of your valuable work with the school, my dear, there is less obligation on your part than on your sisters; even though she may have some familial claim at Matlock, it is now legally her son's house."
Catherine had to accept the logic of his argument but felt her sister's grievance keenly. "I would have thought that Walter Tate would have ensured his mother would not have to endure such humiliation, don't you? What has become of the respect, if not the affection, that children gave their parents? From Becky's account of the manner in which Emily's elder children have behaved, it seems that they have neither warmth of feeling nor a sense of family obligation; self-interest appears to be their only motivation."
Seeing she was clearly disturbed by these revelations, Mr Burnett sought to comfort her by reminding her that she could have no such concern about her daughter Lilian.
"Indeed no, Lilian is a great consolation to me. Forgive me, Frank, if I seem unduly distressed, but it grieves me to hear of such matters. We grew up in a very different world," she said with a sigh.
***
An invitation to spend a few days at Pemberley after the funeral brought Becky some welcome relief from Mrs Stoker's abstemious regime and afforded her another opportunity to enjoy her restored relationship with Mrs Darcy. Elizabeth, who for many years had held Becky Tate responsible for the illadvised marriage of her daughter Josie to Julian Darcy, had begun to soften her attitude to Becky, chiefly influenced by her daughter-in-law, Jessica, whose sweetness of disposition could not accept the continuance of such a feud. There was also the fact that Becky was, after all, the daughter of Elizabeth's dearest and oldest friend, Charlotte Lucas.
They were meeting again for the first time since Charlotte's death, and Elizabeth was particular to treat Becky with a degree of gentleness and courtesy that took her quite by surprise. She had expected politeness at Pemberley, but found both Mr and Mrs Darcy as well as Jessica and Julian treating her with so much consideration and genuine warmth that she was astonished, albeit in the pleasantest way.
It was not difficult for Becky to understand the real reason behind Elizabeth's change of heart.
Her genuine pleasure at having her son Julian back, living at Pemberley with his second wife, Jessica, happily awaiting the birth of their first child, was plain to see. Her personal satisfaction seemed to increase her ability to treat Becky with greater consideration and respect.
Becky, to her credit, realising the truth of the situation, made every effort to enhance Elizabeth's contentment. Mr Darcy, who, while maintaining a degree of reserve, had never been overtly antagonistic towards Becky, even in the dark days leading up to Josie's death, was as hospitable and courteous as ever. All of which made her feel very much at home at Pemberley—more so, she told them frankly, than at the Tates' residence.
Elizabeth, learning of her experience, expressed her profound displeasure.
"Becky, that is unpardonable. Your tolerance is commendable indeed. I should not have had the patience to remain under that roof one night longer than necessary," she had said, on hearing of Mrs Stoker's rudeness.
Becky had responded lightly, "But, Lizzie, I do believe I shall have the last laugh, for I know now how very sensible was my decision to sell Mr Tate's London residence, despite Walter's objections, and acquire a property of my very own in Kent. To have done otherwise would have made my life quite intolerable."
Mrs Darcy agreed absolutely and went on to invite Becky to spend the remainder of her stay in Derbyshire at Pemberley, where she was assured she would be a welcome guest; a sentiment immediately echoed by her husband. Becky, genuinely surprised and exceedingly gratified, accepted and, having thanked her hosts, lost little time despatching her maid with a servant from Pemberley to pack her things and return with them forthwith.
Nelly was instructed privately to ensure that Mrs Stoker was made well aware of the invitation extended to her mistress by Mr and Mrs Darcy.
It was an instruction Nelly would take great pleasure in carrying out.
***
The rest of the week was filled with convivial activities, memories of which Becky would cherish for many years, as the Darcys extended to her the courtesy and hospitality for which Pemberley was renowned. It was, thought Becky, just like old times, when they had been friends together, as though the unhappiness that had come between them had never existed.
One evening, after a dinner party to which Richard and Cassy Gardiner had been invited, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room. Jessica had asked to be excused and retired upstairs; but Elizabeth and Cassy were both eager to talk of Emily Courtney's situation and in particular, the conduct of her two elder children, Eliza and William.
Eliza and her husband, whose desire to return to his business as expeditiously as possible had earned him the censure of most other members of the family, had left on the morning after the funeral.
William at least had stayed on for one more day, ostensibly to ensure that his mother was well and able to look after herself. It was not known to what extent he had satisfied himself on these questions, before deciding to depart a day after his sister and return to Europe, to resume a series of concerts.
Elizabeth, as ever, was not lost for words.
"I am astounded that both Emily's elder children could have so little concern and affection for their poor mother that they could so readily arrange to leave, knowing she is likely to be alone at Oakleigh, with only young Jude and the servants for company. I should have liked to have invited her to stay at Pemberley for a while, as she has done many times in the past, but Emily has made it quite clear to me and to both Julian and Jessica that it is her preference to remain at Oakleigh."
Becky had to concur. In her own conversations with Emily, her friend had said without any reservation that she had no intention of quitting her home.
On being asked if she would consider leaving Oakleigh, even temporarily, she had said with fervour, "Mama and Papa entrusted this place to me; I am not about to abandon it, Becky. Remember, this is Jude's home too. If I leave, what is to become of him? Would it not leave the door open for others to intervene in his life?"
Becky
had assumed that Emily had meant her brother Robert and his wife, whose outrage at being left out of Mrs Gardiner's will was well known.
"But how will she live and support the farm and staff?" asked Cassy.
"Richard knows that Emily has used up most of the money that their father left her, chiefly in supporting charitable causes in the parish. She has very little cash to spare, except what comes in from the tenants and Mr Mancini's lease," Cassy said.
Becky was completely confounded.
While she had been aware of the charitable activities of the Courtneys, she had not known all of the details that Cassy and Elizabeth revealed. That Emily and her husband had used up most of their funds helping the poor in the parish and especially a number of impoverished Irish families living on the fringes of the common came as a considerable shock to her.
Woman of Influence (Pemberley Chronicles) Page 8