Becky waited a few minutes, watching the girl take the path out of the grounds of Rosings Park, before resuming her walk towards the Dower House. Being keen to see her sister as soon as possible, she took a shorter route, cutting across a meadow, rather than following the footpath through Rosings woods.
Arriving at her destination, she found Catherine and some members of her household in an unusual state of high anxiety.
Two of the maids, returning from a visit to Hunsford village, had taken the familiar path through the woods. Not far from the boundary of Rosings Park, they had encountered a man, a stranger whom they had never seen before, who in dress and general aspect had appeared quite frightening to them.
"His clothes were very odd, ma'am, ragged and foreign, like a gypsy, and his face, which was half covered by his hat, was very strange—pinched and desperate looking," said one of the maids, while the other, a quieter younger girl, was still shaking from the encounter.
"I was very afraid, ma'am," she said, and Catherine had to put her arms around her and reassure her that whoever he was, the stranger could not harm her now.
Both girls had been very distressed by the experience, Catherine explained to Becky, whose thoughts went immediately to Alice Grey, who had been walking alone in exactly that part of the woods. She determined, on returning to Edgewater, to draw the attention of all her servants, and especially the women, to the need for caution; alerting them to the presence of a stranger lurking in Rosings woods. It occurred to her that, had she not been in a hurry and decided to walk across the meadow rather than stroll through the woods, she may well have encountered the man herself.
Catherine, having pacified her maids, turned belatedly to her sister, embraced and welcomed her, inviting her into the parlour to partake of tea and cake, but Becky had more pressing matters on her mind.
Her unexpected arrival on the very day she had returned from Derbyshire had surprised Catherine, who had no idea that Becky had received more significant information about Alice Grey and her husband. When Becky produced the material received from Jonathan, Catherine was astonished by the amount of detail the notes contained.
Reading through them, she shook her head, unable to comprehend it all.
"Becky, this is very strange indeed. Why has Alice Grey been so reluctant to reveal the truth about what happened to her husband? If she is keen to find him or even to learn of his fate, would she not have spoken earlier and told you more about it? I cannot make it out," she said.
Becky nodded. "Indeed, in ordinary circumstances, one would have thought so, Cathy, unless of course, she fears that some other party may discover it too and may try to harm him in some way. Remember that William Rickman is still a convicted felon, and if it is true, as Alice swears it is, that he was indeed innocent, then should the man who informed against him discover his present whereabouts, is it not understandable that Alice would have fears that her husband may be in some danger from him?"
Catherine was not always inclined to accept her sister's more dramatic interpretations of situations; Becky's creative imagination could often eclipse her judgment of the facts of a case.
Catherine could recall occasions when Becky, with little material evidence to support her contention, had mounted a case that, when looked at more logically, did not stand up to scrutiny. She remembered teasing her sister and urging her to "go away and write a novella," but this time, she had to admit that Becky was being particularly persuasive.
She could not dismiss her arguments as exaggeration or flights of fancy, nor could she find some more mundane explanation to put in their place.
Both the behaviour of the girl, Alice Grey, and the information contained in Mr Elliott's notes did suggest that something quite extraordinary was afoot.
"I do wish Frank were here," she said. "I should have liked to have the benefit of his opinion on this matter. He has had much more experience of such matters and should be able to advise us. You would have no objection, would you, Becky, if we were to lay this information before him and ask his opinion?" asked Catherine, and Becky indicated immediately that she would not.
She had a good deal of respect for her brother-in-law's knowledge and understanding of legal matters, as well as his sound common sense.
"It is such a pity that he has had to go up to London and does not return until tomorrow. If you would leave these with me, I could let him read them, and perhaps we could bring them back to you at Edgewater," Catherine suggested, and Becky agreed, inviting both Catherine and her husband to dine with her on Sunday.
"I should very much like to hear Mr Burnett's opinion," she said, adding, "Meanwhile, I intend to question Alice Grey again; I am keen to discover more about the circumstances of Rickman's arrest and conviction, especially the identity of his employer and the informant upon whose evidence he was convicted. I cannot help thinking there must have been some connection between them."
"Do you mean they may have colluded to have him sent down?"
"It is possible, but I have no proof, nor will I have, unless Alice can give me more information. Oh Cathy, it is frustrating not to have the pieces of the puzzle, especially when I know she can give them to me. I cannot understand why she will not. I have given her my word that I will not reveal the information to anyone who can use it to harm her or her husband."
The sound of rolling thunder in the mountains and a bolt of lightning that lit up the sky alerted them to the lateness of the hour, and Becky rose from her seat. "It is time I was going," she said, but Catherine would not hear of it. "You cannot leave now; the rain is just minutes away, and you will be soaked through, long before you reach Edgewater. Besides, Becky, do you not think it unwise to walk home alone? I know I shall be worried sick."
Becky reassured her sister, recalling her instruction to Alice to ask Mrs Bates to send the carriage for her if it should rain. She was persuaded to take another cup of tea just as a drenching shower broke over the area.
Some half an hour later the carriage from Edgewater arrived, and Becky departed, leaving her packet of notes with Catherine, who could not entirely quell her anxiety as she watched her sister leave. Having led a quiet and mostly untroubled existence, free of contact with the sort of situation in which Becky was currently involved, Catherine Burnett could not help feeling apprehensive.
***
Becky's journey was for the most part uneventful, although she could not deny that her pulse raced as darkness fell and they had to make their way along winding, deserted roads. The fact that one could not see outside because of the heavy rain served only to heighten the feeling of unease, and she was glad indeed when they turned into the drive at Edgewater.
The housekeeper had been awaiting her return, and when Becky summoned her upstairs and urged her to warn the servants about the stranger in the woods, she was amazed to learn that Mrs Bates had a tale of her own to tell. Two of the servants had already reported seeing a strange man in the area around the property. A lad working in the lower meadow, binding up hay, had noticed someone lurking in the lane beyond the hedgerows and had gone to investigate, only to see a man clad in strange clothes and a large hat running away in the direction of the churchyard.
Another of the labourers had claimed to have been accosted on his way home the previous night, in the lane way behind the church, by a stranger who asked for food or money. Having neither in hand, he had offered him some fruit, green apples he had picked earlier in the day, and had watched as the man ate them greedily, as if he had not eaten in days. The lads believed the men were escaped convicts.
Both descriptions sounded very similar to that Becky had heard from the maids at the Dower House, and she had no doubt they had all seen the same man.
Disturbed, Becky asked Mrs Bates to call the servants together and went downstairs herself to impress upon them the need to take great care when they were outside the property.
"I would ask you especially to avoid going into the woods alone. Keep within the boundaries of Edgewater, where you are qui
te safe, and should you see any stranger at all, return to the house at once and report it to Mrs Bates or to me, and I shall send immediately for the constabulary. Indeed, I intend to inform them tomorrow of what has occurred already and ask that they keep a close watch on the area. If there is anyone up to mischief around here, they will soon be caught and locked up."
Becky sounded very serious, and most of the servants, particularly the women, looked anxious. Tales of escaped convicts troubled them. Trying to reassure them that there was no need to panic, she went on.
"Meanwhile, do try not to put yourselves in harm's way. We do not know who this man is—he may be just a harmless tramp or someone more dangerous. I shall rely on you to be watchful and report anything untoward to me immediately."
Later that night, after dinner, when most of the servants had retired to their rooms, Becky sent for Alice Grey.
She had noticed that the girl had been very quiet when she had addressed the servants warning them of the presence of the stranger in the woods. This time, she was quite determined to discover more about Alice's situation than she had revealed previously.
She had made up her mind to be frank.
"Tell me, Alice," she began as the girl entered the room, "why have you not been honest with me? All I have endeavoured to do is help you and your son, yet you have not been entirely truthful, Alice, or should I call you Annabel Grey?"
The astonishment upon the girl's countenance betrayed her total discomposure, even fear.
Becky went on, "I am informed that your husband William Rickman was convicted of stealing and reselling the stolen goods…"
The girl interrupted her, crying out, "Please, ma'am, I did say he was innocent, it was not true."
"Why should I believe you when you have not even told me truthfully who you are? You say your name is Alice Grey—my information is that before you married William Rickman you were Miss Annabel Grey, the daughter of a gentleman, a Mr Edward Grey of Maidstone. Is this true?"
The girl nodded and there were tears in her eyes.
Becky was touched, but, still determined to discover the truth, she persisted. "Why then did you lie to me, Alice? Why did you say your parents were dead?"
The girl spoke softly, "I am sorry, ma'am. It is not because I wished to deceive you—I am truly grateful for your help—but I was hoping to avoid trouble by keeping my past secret. I thought if I changed my name and moved away from Blessington, things would get easier for me. It seems I was wrong."
"What things? What trouble were you trying to avoid? Who were you trying to escape from when you left Blessington?"
The girl was silent. When she got no immediate answer, Becky pressed her further, though her tone was gentler.
"Was it the man who informed against your husband, or were you trying to get away from the man who pestered you at the Bancrofts' house?"
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. The girl blew her nose and looked up at Becky before answering, "Yes, ma'am."
Puzzled, Becky asked, "Which man was it?"
The girl replied in a low voice, as if she was afraid of being overheard, "It was the same man, ma'am; his name was Danby. He would not let me alone. His uncle managed the brewery at which my husband William worked. They were friends of Mr Bancroft, not Mrs Bancroft; she did not like them. She knew what they were after, and she protected me, and it was she helped me get away, else I might surely have been destroyed, ma'am."
This time it was Becky who said nothing, stunned into silence by what she had heard.
As the girl's story poured out, it seemed an incredible tale, yet Becky did not disbelieve her.
"Mr Danby's uncle, the manager at the brewery, gave William the job, ma'am, and it helped us to get married, even though my parents would not give us their blessing. We had a little place in the village, and Tom was born there. We were very happy together, ma'am. But after a while, Mr Danby arrived, and he was always picking on William. He thought there was something going on, but he did not want to be involved. He did nothing wrong, ma'am, but Mr Danby and his uncle, they wanted to be rid of him. Mr Danby had friends in the police, and they used them to make trouble for William."
"Do you mean he was falsely accused, and the police knew it was a false accusation but prosecuted him regardless?" asked Becky, horrified.
The girl insisted, "Yes, ma'am. No one who knew William believed he had done it. None of the men who worked with him would speak ill of him. The publican was bribed to give false evidence against him, and Mr Danby took it to the police. The police and the magistrate believed Mr Danby because they think he is a fine gentleman, always dressed up posh and with plenty of money to throw around; but in truth, he is no gentleman at all, ma'am. I reckon it was all done to get rid of William and get a hold of me."
Despite the shocking nature of her accusations, Becky found herself believing the girl's story. Nothing about it sounded false.
After a while, she asked, "And how much did Mrs Bancroft know of all this?"
"She did not know about the false witness, ma'am, I don't think. She found me when she came over to the workhouse looking to hire a kitchen maid. Seeing me with my boy, she took pity on us and gave me the job. She was very good to us, ma'am. I cannot tell what would have happened to us if she hadn't found us and taken us in. It's a dreadful place, the workhouse."
There was by now no doubt in Becky's mind that the girl was telling the truth. Clearly fear and lack of trust had prevented her speaking out before.
When Alice had finished, Becky felt enough had been said for the moment, and, reassuring her that she would speak of these matters to no one other than her own sister, Mrs Burnett, she sent the girl away, but not before cautioning her again about not wandering out into the woods alone.
"Alice, I shall continue to call you Alice if that is what you wish, and I will do all I can to help you. But you should be very careful. We do not know who this stranger might be. You may be in grave danger. Do remember what I have told you, and take great care."
The girl nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am, I will, and thank you, ma'am. May I ask how you came by this information, ma'am?"
Becky could give her no answer, except to say, "I cannot reveal that, Alice, but it is not anyone who will wish to harm you."
Alice nodded and went to her room, leaving Becky deeply troubled and confused.
In all her life, in all of her varied undertakings for the communities at Matlock, Becky had not become so intimately involved in the life of someone like Annabel Grey—a person wholly unconnected to herself or her family, yet for whom she was beginning to feel a particular affection.
While she had helped rehabilitate and educate many young women and, for their sakes, battled the councillors and parliamentarians who had stood in her way, it had been as part of her charitable activities, rather than a personal crusade.
What was it, she wondered, about the girl Annabel Grey that had been so different as to warrant such single-minded attention? How had she come to be drawn in so deeply, as though the girl and her child were her own flesh and blood?
The thought that Annabel (or Alice) brought back memories of Josie had pushed itself up once or twice, but she had swiftly thrust it away. She could not possibly be like Josie, she told herself. Josie had been young and independent, smart and ambitious, quite unlike poor Annabel Grey, clearly a victim of unhappy circumstances.
Yet, as she went upstairs to bed, it was the recollection of Josie that occupied her mind, recollections of a vivid and attractive young woman with a bright, promising future, who had been deceived and taken advantage of by callous and pitiless men.
These disturbing thoughts kept her awake into the small hours, until sheer weariness brought sleep.
Chapter Six
On Sunday evening, Catherine and Frank Burnett arrived to dine at Edgewater. Becky had waited impatiently all day to see them, more particularly now she had learnt so much more from Alice Grey, which could throw some light on the situation. She was espec
ially keen to have her brother-in-law's opinion, knowing he had a much wider knowledge of the ways of the world and matters pertaining to the law.
She had spent most of the day in a state of mind that ranged from bewilderment to agitation and anger. She hoped Catherine and more particularly Frank Burnett would help bring some clarity to her confused thoughts.
Assuming, as it happened correctly, that her sister would surely have apprised her husband of the salient facts of the matter and shown him Mr Elliot's notes, Becky waited until dinner was over and the servants had withdrawn downstairs to partake of their own meal to introduce the subject. She did so with not a little trepidation, for she was as yet uncertain of all the facts and had only the girl's word regarding the false accusation and conviction of William Rickman.
Becky could not be certain that Mr Burnett would be as willing as she had been to accept Alice Grey's story.
However, she was pleasantly surprised to discover that he was prepared to listen attentively, asking several pertinent questions, seeking to clarify a number of matters, before saying in a rather serious voice, "While it is impossible to vouch for the truth or otherwise of the young person's story, I have to admit that from your recital of it, it does ring true.
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