"I have seen many similar cases in the Midlands and the North Country where false witness was used against innocent men and women for quite malicious reasons. It is quite plausible that Rickman was a victim of the same pernicious practice, whereby the real criminals escape by having an innocent person convicted of their crime."
Becky expressed her disgust.
"Do you really mean to say that a perfectly innocent person would be convicted and punished while the real perpetrators got away?"
"Indeed, and often continued their careers of crime undeterred," Mr Burnett confirmed.
Both Catherine and Becky were outraged at such injustice. "And can nothing be done to protect these innocent people?" asked Catherine.
"Very little, my dear," her husband replied. "There have been a few instances where as a result of the intervention of some influential person or a charitable lawyer, who has taken up the cause of a particular prisoner, a pardon has been granted by the Crown."
"A pardon? But if he is innocent?" Catherine seemed confused.
"I fear it is generally far too difficult to prove that a miscarriage of justice had occurred, due to bribery or corruption or both. It is probably easier, just occasionally, to convince the Crown or a benevolent governor to grant a pardon on the grounds that the person maybe a victim of mistaken identity or malicious false witness."
"And would that help to get a prisoner pardoned and released?" asked Becky.
"It might do, in the right circumstances and if the prisoner has a record of good behaviour. However, I think it will be impossible to take any action to help Alice Grey and her husband, unless and until we can put together some material relating to the trial and conviction and, if it is at all possible, discover the present whereabouts of Rickman himself."
Turning to Becky, he said, "If the girl can be persuaded to give you some clue—and I venture to suggest that she may well know more than she is willing to reveal, probably out of fear of exposing him—then it should be easier to uncover some part of the truth at least."
Becky was delighted with Frank Burnett's response; not only had he taken her concerns seriously, but he had clearly thought about the possibility of discovering the truth, which was all Becky had aimed to do.
"And if we did find some useful information, how exactly would that help Rickman?" she asked. "If I could tell Alice how we might assist her husband, it may provide her with a strong motive to reveal more about his circumstances."
Frank Burnett shook his head as if puzzled by the question.
"What stronger motivation could she need than the prospect of seeing her husband free again? If she provides you with the information, it may well be possible to persuade someone in Parliament to take an appeal to the government; especially if sufficient evidence can be adduced to suggest that he was a victim of false witness. There are many honourable and ambitious young men in the Parliament today who are deeply concerned about such matters and are not afraid to speak out. However," and at this point, Frank Burnett looked exceedingly serious as he continued, "she should be made aware that only the truth and nothing but the truth will suffice. Were she to resort to lies, misleading rumours, or hearsay, she will not only jeopardise any chance of a successful appeal for a pardon, but she may well find herself in trouble too."
Becky nodded, realising the seriousness of this enterprise, but determined nevertheless to do whatever was necessary to achieve what had become something of a personal crusade. She thanked Mr Burnett for his sage advice.
"Thank you, Frank, I shall make that very clear to Alice," she promised.
When Catherine and Frank Burnett left Edgewater to return home, Becky went up to her room, feeling somewhat more hopeful than before.
Before retiring to bed, however, she composed a letter to Mrs Bancroft, introducing herself and requesting a meeting with her to discuss a charitable project concerning the rehabilitation of young women and their children.
I have recently become aware through my friend, Mrs Emma Wilson, of your work in helping these sad and unfortunate young persons, and while I hasten to say that I am not seeking any financial donations, I would very much appreciate your valuable advice in this regard,
…she wrote, hoping that Mrs Bancroft's kindly nature would be sufficiently moved to let her agree to a meeting.
If you are agreeable, we could arrange to meet at a place and time convenient to you. I would be prepared to travel to meet you wherever you propose.
Becky concluded with kind regards and expressed a hope they could meet soon.
Ideally, Becky would have liked to have discussed her plan with Catherine, but she had had no opportunity to do so. She was convinced that Mrs Bancroft must know something of what had occurred between the girl she had rescued from the workhouse and Mr Danby, her husband's friend.
It was, to her mind, not credible that Mrs Bancroft, who, if Alice was speaking the truth, had materially assisted the girl to get away from Danby, would not have known more of the circumstances under which Alice's husband had been convicted and sent to prison, when it was Danby and his uncle who had initiated the prosecution.
Becky did not think it likely that a woman of Mrs Bancroft's understanding would not have made it her business to discover the facts, unless she too had been deceived. If she had been the victim of such deception, then Becky was determined to disabuse her and ask for her help in uncovering the truth.
She was not without some reservations, in that she was concerned that Mrs Bancroft might rebuff her approach; however, the picture of the lady drawn by Alice Grey gave her reason to hope.
A woman as kind and generous as Mrs Bancroft had to be—to have taken a young girl and her child from the workhouse and afforded them protection—was unlikely to refuse to help them now, or so Becky argued. Even as she did so, she understood that she was indeed gambling on Mrs Bancroft's good nature. She could only hope that it would be justified.
***
Two letters arrived simultaneously at Edgewater a fortnight later.
The first, from Jonathan Bingley, was opened by Becky even before she reached her study.
It contained two short paragraphs.
Acknowledging hers, in which Becky had sent her compliments and thanks for his assistance with the case of William Rickman, Jonathan provided Becky with a piece of information that had been sent to him confidentially by his son-in-law, Mr Elliott.
It revealed the names of the complainant and witnesses, as well as the assizes at which a magistrate had tried and convicted William Rickman and sentenced him to be transported to Van Dieman's Land.
When it became apparent that this was no longer possible under the new law, the sentence had been changed to incarceration—temporarily upon a prison hulk in the estuary and subsequently in a jail somewhere on the Romney Marshes.
Mr Elliot stated briefly that despite his enquiries, he could find no further information about William Rickman on record.
I urge you, Becky, wrote Jonathan, to use this information with great discretion; it may assist you to progress the investigation you have undertaken, but it must be remembered, those who have provided it have taken a very great risk in making it available, and Colin Elliott has asked that you pay particular attention to the need to keep secret his identity as the source of the material.
Jonathan Bingley expressed his confidence that Becky would be responsible in her use of the information and offered her any further assistance it was in his power to provide.
Delighted, Becky turned quickly to her second letter.
Elegantly written on fine notepaper, in it, Mrs Bancroft thanked Becky for hers and expressed her pleasure at receiving it, before acceding to her request for a meeting. She wrote:
I should be happy to meet you to discuss the important subject of improving the lot of young women. Although it is not a matter on which I can claim any special knowledge, I have heard from Mrs Wilson, with whom I have been involved in some charitable work, that both you and the late Mr Tate
have worked assiduously to persuade parish and local councils in the Midlands to educate and protect young persons. This must surely be most rewarding work, and I congratulate you on your achievements. While my experience in this field is not extensive, I would be pleased to discuss with you any scheme that helps these unfortunate women and their unhappy children.
I am aware of some cases of young women who, through foolishness or
lack of knowledge, have been deceived and exploited by unscrupulous men, who will take advantage of them, and I would be interested to talk with you about them. If it were possible to find ways to rescue these unhappy women from what must be a dreadful fate, I should be most happy to assist.
There followed a most gracious invitation:
As to our meeting, should you wish to visit and stay to dinner, I would be delighted to see you at home, at the manor house in Blessington, Saturday week, if that would suit.
Becky could not believe her good fortune—this response was more than she had ever dreamed of. It would give her an excellent opportunity to discover how much Mrs Bancroft knew.
She set off immediately for the Dower House to acquaint her sister with her plans.
Catherine was as astonished as her sister had been, particularly because she had been ignorant of Becky's intention to approach Mrs Bancroft.
"Did you not tell me in case I advised against it, Becky?" she teased, but Becky was quick to deny this.
"Indeed no, my dear Catherine, how could you possibly think such a thing? I confess I had some doubts as to whether you would approve, but the letter was written on the spur of the moment—some time after Frank and you had left to return home—and sent away to the post the very next morning, before I had time to change my mind. I had spent so much time wondering how we might get some of the facts about this wretched matter, I could think of no other person to whom I might appeal.
"Mrs Bancroft, I thought, was bound to know something of what lay behind the conviction of William Rickman. Of course, I had not at that stage received Jonathan's letter with Mr Elliott's information, which means I am now even better placed to make the best of my meeting with Mrs Bancroft."
"You are indeed," replied her sister, adding with a smile, "Oh Becky, I can see why Mr Tate used to say you were like a terrier—you will not let go."
Becky smiled as she recalled the days when she had indeed played such a role for her husband, following up every lead that might spell success for one of his campaigns. They had made a good team then and had enjoyed some happy times.
But the nostalgic memory was quickly replaced by the urgent need to prepare for her meeting with Mrs Bancroft.
"Is it not a stroke of great good fortune that she already knows of my work through Emma Wilson?" she asked, and Catherine had to agree.
"Of course, I must say that was unexpected, though, Becky, it ought not be. After all, Standish Park is not far from Blessington, and the Wilsons are both well regarded in the county," said Catherine, who argued, "With James being a judge and Emma's long involvement in charitable activities, it is not at all surprising that the Bancrofts should know them."
"I daresay you are right, Cathy, but I do note that Mrs Bancroft does not mention her husband at all. Does that not strike you as unusual?" asked her sister, clearly implying she had some suspicions on that score.
Catherine shrugged her shoulders.
"Unusual perhaps, but then not all husbands become involved in their wives' charitable activities. Emma Wilson will tell you her first husband, David, had no interest whatsoever in hers."
Becky agreed, but could not entirely dismiss her misgivings.
Before her meeting with Mrs Bancroft, Becky decided she had to see Emma Wilson and, to that end, despatched a manservant with a letter, in which she asked if she might call on her on the Saturday following.
The letter arriving at Standish Park threw Emma Wilson into something of a quandary. She was much less intimately acquainted with Becky Tate than with her sister, Catherine, and was somewhat discomfited by the fact that she was not aware of the reason for Becky's request to see her.
But Emma Wilson was nothing if not polite and hospitable.
Her husband was in London and would not be home until Friday evening; but with the certainty that he could not possibly object to the visit, she responded immediately that she would be happy to have Becky visit, inviting her to dine with the family and stay overnight at Standish Park.
Emma could not help wondering, however, what it was that had caused Becky Tate to write with what was clearly an urgent request for a meeting.
They had met fairly often when Mr Wilson had been in Parliament and Mr Tate had been involved in a number of political campaigns, but most times it had been either at the Tates' residence or Mr Wilson's apartments in London. Emma could recall but one occasion, when the Tates had attended a celebratory dinner party at Standish Park, and that had been many years ago.
She had heard from her brother Jonathan that Becky had purchased a property in Kent after her husband's death and had assumed, that since they now lived in the same county, they would surely meet, but for a variety of reasons, a meeting had not come to pass.
Emma sighed and decided that perhaps it was better late than never.
When James Wilson returned from London, where the weather had been decidedly worse than it was in Kent, he found his beloved wife still puzzled by the request she had received from Becky Tate.
After they had dined and retired to their room, she brought out the note she had received and asked, "Dearest, do you suppose Becky is in some trouble? Could it be she is in need of some legal advice, perhaps?"
Mr Wilson, formerly an attorney at law and now a judge, smiled indulgently at his wife's anxious expression.
"If Mrs Tate was in need of legal advice, she could purchase the best in the land, my love. I understand from your brother Jonathan that Mr Tate has left her very well provided for. No, Emma, I do not believe it is a legal question that brings her to Standish Park; from my own knowledge of Mrs Tate, I would venture to suggest that she is probably seeking your support for some new scheme—a school for girls, a home for orphans, or some such worthy enterprise. Mrs Tate's enthusiasm for such activities does not seem to have abated at all," he said.
Happy indeed to have her dear husband home, for she missed his company when he was away, Emma had no wish to contradict him, but she was not so sure that he was entirely right.
***
Becky Tate, arriving around mid-morning at Standish Park, noted even as she alighted from her vehicle that the grounds were some of the finest she had seen anywhere in England.
She had visited Standish Park on a previous occasion, together with Mr Tate, but that had been in Winter, when the park and its environs could not be seen at their best. She stood for a moment at the entrance, her eyes taking in the beauty of vivid green lawns and trees clothed in the soft hues of early Autumn, before Emma Wilson herself came out to greet her and take her indoors.
The house was as she recalled it, a gracious building, whose elegant furnishings and accessories spoke of the excellent taste of its owners.
Friendly and hospitable, Emma Wilson made Becky welcome and conveyed her husband's excuses; he was attending a council meeting at Cranbrook and would join them at dinner, she said, and was interested to note that Becky did not appear at all discomposed by this information.
It suggested to her that Mr Wilson was right and Becky's visit was not designed to seek his advice on a legal matter.
After the initial courtesies, Emma led the way to a private sitting room upstairs, where they were served a light luncheon and tea, before Becky was finally afforded the opportunity to speak with Emma alone.
She began by apologising for her letter requesting a meeting.
"Emma, I must ask you to forgive my seeming impertinence in writing to you as I did. It must have looked as though I was fishing for an invitation to your home… Please let me explain why I—"
; But Emma Wilson, whose kindness of heart would not allow her to listen to such a recital, interrupted her.
"My dear Becky, there is no need to apologise. I most certainly did not regard your letter as an impertinence. Why would I? I confess I was a little puzzled as to the reason for such an urgent request, but I think I know you well enough to be certain that it would not have been made without a very good reason. Besides, we are neighbours now, since you have moved to live in Kent, and we ought be visiting one another. Indeed, I feel I have been remiss in not calling on you in your new home; Jonathan tells me you have acquired a most attractive property not far from Rosings Park."
Woman of Influence (Pemberley Chronicles) Page 11