Chapter Nine
On returning to Edgewater, Becky Tate made notes in her diary, documenting her impressions of Blessington Manor and its mistress, Mrs Bancroft.
She concluded her record:
I am in two minds about what might be done to help Alice Grey, but I am in no doubt whatsoever that Mrs Bancroft is genuine in her concern for the girl and will assist our efforts in any way she can. If only there were some way to ascertain the facts about the parties who gave false witness against William Rickman, we would be at least halfway to achieving our goal.
…she wrote, feeling a distinct sense of excitement about the prospect. She decided to go over to the Dower House on the morrow and acquaint her sister with all she had learned.
On Sunday morning, Becky visited Catherine only to be told that in her absence, the stranger had been seen again in the woods, and this time, it appeared he was trying to contact someone. He had attempted to approach one of the young servants, who, having been forewarned, had deliberately avoided the man.
On this occasion, it was reported that the stranger had not looked like a tramp or a villain; it was said he appeared more like a fugitive, furtive and wary, rather than threatening.
Becky was deeply worried. Could it be someone trying to find Alice Grey?
She was concerned but did not know exactly what to do. There was no way of knowing what stratagem they might employ; she knew Danby was wealthy enough to pay someone to do his dirty work for him and lure the girl away. She worried that Alice and Tom might both be in jeopardy.
Uneasy, she decided to return at once to Edgewater and warn Alice of the possible danger. The stranger could well be connected to Danby, who, if Mrs Bancroft was to be believed, was still obsessed with the girl and perhaps determined to find her. Of his persistence, there was no doubt.
Promising Catherine that she would return the following day to tell her all about her visit to Blessington Manor, Becky left hastily, making her way through the grounds of Rosings and the churchyard at Hunsford.
As she approached the church, she saw in the distance two figures, one somewhat familiar, the other quite peculiar in its dress and gait.
Becky was certain that one of them was the stranger who had been frequenting the woods. The other she could not make out, because of a heavy cloak he wore, although she felt quite strongly that she had encountered him before—there was something familiar about his figure.
Apprehensive, for she was alone and on foot, Becky hung back as the pair walked on and disappeared into the trees behind the church.
Keeping out of sight, Becky took a path through the trees into the lane that formed the boundary between the properties, and it was with immense relief that she reached the gates of Edgewater and passed within.
Hurrying up to her room, she sent immediately for her maid to help her change out of her walking gown and boots. After she had taken tea, she felt calmer and asked for Mrs Bates to come upstairs. Becky had intended to tell Mrs Bates of the two men she had seen in the woods and impress upon her the need to warn the rest of the staff, especially the young women, that they should not wander outside the property alone.
To her astonishment, Mrs Bates confirmed the fact that two men had been seen within the churchyard at Hunsford that very day. Earlier, one of the maids had claimed she had seen a figure, most likely a man with an old coat and a battered hat, skulking among the trees in the spinney, and Mrs Bates had despatched a servant to investigate but to no avail. He had found not a trace of the stranger in the grounds, and the girl had been roundly scolded for wasting their time with fanciful tales.
But Becky was troubled and anxious. Obviously, it had not been some fanciful tale for she had seen the man herself, she said.
She knew not what course of action to follow, never having faced such a situation before. Her desire not to alarm the household and especially Alice Grey conflicted with her wish to protect them from whoever was out there, for she was convinced that the stranger or strangers in the woods had some connection to the girl.
It was while she was in this state of perplexity that a visitor arrived, and on going downstairs, she found to her absolute delight that it was Mr Jonathan Bingley. He was, he said, staying at Rosings for a few days, attending to some business of the trust on behalf of Mr Darcy, and was meeting with Mrs Catherine Burnett regarding the parish school.
Becky's warm welcome surprised him a little, but when he heard more of the events of the day, he was less so and, on being invited to stay to dinner, accepted readily. He could see she was nervous and could do with the company.
They spent most of the evening talking seriously about the situation that Becky had described, including the circumstances of her visit to Blessington Manor and her meeting with Mrs Bancroft, which she narrated in great detail. Becky was a good storyteller, and Jonathan found her account of events both absorbing and entertaining.
He too had some further information to add, he said, revealing that it had been confirmed that William Rickman was never transported, nor was he incarcerated in a prison in England as they had supposed.
Rather, having been held for some time on one of the prison hulks in the estuary, he had been later pressed into service on a merchant vessel transporting goods and livestock to New South Wales. It was said that he had been away for some eighteen months in the colony, but now he was back in England, had left the ship, and was trying to find his wife and child, of whom he had had no information at all.
Becky was immediately seized of the notion that Rickman was in fact the stranger in the woods.
"Do you suppose it is him?" she asked, but Jonathan Bingley was not so certain.
"I doubt very much that it is," he replied. "Rickman is unlikely to be showing himself in this part of the country; he would surely be aware that were he to be apprehended and arraigned again, he would have no hope—he'd be back in prison for life."
"But why?" asked Becky, bewildered by this proposition. "Is he not a free man now?"
"Indeed no, as you see, he has not served the sentence passed on him for his original offence; he was forcibly taken on board a merchant ship and made to sail to Australia, where his crime and sentence would have been unknown except to his employers. It is quite likely that he worked well and made money and has returned to find his wife and child, but the law has not finished with him."
"Oh, that is so unfair!" cried Becky, and Jonathan agreed.
"Indeed, in this case perhaps, and it is evidence of the corruption of the system of justice that it happens; but if he were a man guilty of a much more horrific crime, murder perhaps, the same law would apply. Which is why I do not believe Rickman is the man whom you and others have seen in the woods. It is much more likely to be a friend or emissary of his, trying to discover the whereabouts of his wife. Unless, of course," and at this point his voice was serious, "unless it is a spy sent by the man Danby. One never can tell, and it pays to be exceedingly cautious in these matters. You must ensure that Alice Grey is never out in the woods alone. She is likely to be in grave danger."
Jonathan, Becky thought, was being his usual prudent self, circumspect and discreet as always.
After dinner, they withdrew to the drawing room and were taking coffee when he said, apropos of nothing at all, "Becky, I do apologise. With all of this excitement, I very nearly forgot the original reason for my visit; I have two messages for you. Anna would never have forgiven me had I returned to Netherfield without delivering hers. She was most particular that you should have it as soon as possible."
He was about to reach inside his coat when there came an urgent, loud, insistent knocking on the front door.
Becky was startled, for no other visitors were expected that evening; minutes later, a familiar voice was heard, and Mr Jamison, the parson, having divested himself of his coat and hat in the hall, entered the room.
So relieved was Becky that she looked as though she could have hugged him, but she restrained herself and invited him to take te
a or coffee with them instead.
Mr Jamison accepted gladly. He had walked through a thin drizzle to get there and was grateful for the warm welcome he had received as well as the lively blaze in the fireplace.
Standing in front of it, he revealed that he had had a visit from a man, an ex-convict lately returned from New South Wales.
"Who is he?" asked Becky at once, eager and anxious.
Mr Jamison gravely refused to reveal the man's name; he had given him his word, but it would not signify anyway, because they would not know him, he said.
"Then it is not William Rickman?" asked Becky again, her anxiety written all over her face.
"Indeed no, it is not—but I could say that he is acting on behalf of Rickman and wishes to discover the whereabouts of his wife and child."
Becky gasped.
Terrified that Mr Jamison may have inadvertently betrayed Alice Grey's secret, she questioned him keenly on what he had said to the man.
But Mr Jamison reassured her.
"Mrs Tate, you may rest assured that being aware of the situation with the young woman Alice Grey, I was totally discreet, revealing nothing at all about her being in this neighbourhood. Indeed, the man was asking about a Mrs Rickman, so it was much less difficult for me to deny all knowledge of her.
"'I have met no one of that name,' I said, 'not in this parish.' He told me he was making enquiries for a shipmate, one William Rickman, whom he met and served with aboard a ship returning from New South Wales.
"I must say I judged him to be genuine, but the information was not mine to divulge, so I promised to make enquiries and sent him away, having given him some food and a little money. The reason for my visit to you, Mrs Tate, at this late hour, is because I felt the need to warn you of his presence in the area. He intends to travel around the county and has promised to return next week, in case I uncover some useful information. I thought you should know that he is looking for Alice Grey, even though he knows her as Mrs Rickman."
Mr Jamison was clearly convinced the man was not dangerous, but Jonathan Bingley was not so sanguine. He cautioned both the parson and Becky against trusting strangers asking questions about Alice or Annabel Grey. He urged them to be wary and watchful.
"There is no knowing what this man may be about or who he is working for. He may well be, as he has told you, a friend of Rickman, or he could be a paid agent of his enemies. As an ex-convict he may need the help and protection of men like Danby, who could use him to find Alice Grey.
"But," warned Jonathan, "he could then destroy Rickman by betraying him to the police. It is possible that no one in authority knows that Rickman is back in England—he may be living under an assumed name; all these things are possible. You must take nothing for granted and, above all, provide no information at all, none whatsoever, to a stranger. Remember at all times that he or she may be working for the police or Danby or others of his ilk."
The prospect horrified Becky, who wondered how she would have dealt with this situation had Jonathan not been present. Would Mr Jamison have taken her advice?
Following upon Jonathan's sage words, Mr Jamison agreed that it would be best to reveal nothing of the girl or her son if the stranger returned.
Becky intervened to beg him to try his best to elicit some information from the man, to discover, if possible, where William Rickman might be.
Jonathan agreed, suggesting that perhaps Mr Jamison might use his special position in the parish to discover the truth, offering to ask around the parish of Hunsford for a Mrs Rickman, but only if he could be certain that it was a genuine request from her husband.
"You should ask the man for proof that Rickman is in England," he advised. "That would help to ascertain the truth."
Mr Jamison, at first rather reluctant to become embroiled in the matter, later agreed that it was perhaps something he could consider in the next day or two; then, since it was well past his bedtime and he had to be awake early for matins, he declared he would take leave of them.
The rain outside was heavier, and Jonathan Bingley, who had risen to shake Mr Jamison's hand, offered him a ride in his vehicle, which Mr Jamison accepted with alacrity.
"That is uncommonly kind of you, Mr Bingley—I know it is only a short walk, but I shall be quite wet in this rain. I hope it will not take you too far out of your way," he said, and Jonathan assured him it would not.
Becky accompanied the two men into the hall, and there, when the manservant appeared with their coats and hats, she was quite taken aback by what she saw. As Mr Jamison put on his long cloak and weatherproof hat, seeing him from behind, Becky knew at once it was Mr Jamison she had seen that morning, walking in the churchyard with the stranger.
It was clear to her that there were not two strange men in the neighbourhood; just one—an ex-convict, who claimed to be a friend of William Rickman—and the parson Mr Jamison, whom he had approached.
She decided to say nothing more about it at this time, but relieved beyond measure, she bade both men a very good night and retired to her room.
She was determined to speak with Alice Grey on the morrow and, while counselling her to be careful, reassure her that there was now a good chance they could trace her husband.
Still pondering in her mind if she should reveal to the girl the information she had had from Jonathan Bingley, wondering if the knowledge that he was in England and free for the moment might lead Alice to take even more risks to find her husband, she regretted that she had not had time to ask Jonathan's opinion on the matter and decided she would try to do so before he left Rosings in a day or two.
This posed for her an unusual problem.
It would not be seemly for her to visit Mr Bingley at Rosings, she thought, and wondered if her sister might not be prevailed upon to invite him to dine at the Dower House, where they could meet and discuss the matter without undue concern. She was sure Catherine would have no objection at all and determined to pay her a visit on the morrow to suggest it.
She was right. Catherine was happy to ask Mr Bingley to dinner.
"Of course, he can come to dinner, Becky; indeed he does so frequently when he is visiting Rosings Park. Frank and I both enjoy his company. He is a regular visitor and a welcome one. I shall send him a note inviting him to dine with us on the evening before he returns to London. Will that suit?"
"It certainly will," said Becky, pleased that her sister had agreed to her request. It would give her an opportunity to obtain his advice.
When Becky had related all of the information she had gathered at Blessington on Saturday and back at Edgewater last night, Catherine's countenance betrayed her deep concern.
"My dear Becky, are you sure this is the right thing to do? If Alice Grey's husband is absconding from the law, will there not be a great deal of trouble if he were caught and you were found to be assisting him to evade the police?"
Becky was determined.
"Oh no, Cathy dearest, I shall certainly not become involved in such an exercise. I wish only to ascertain if he is in fact back in England and seeking to be reunited with his family. I shall then pass the matter over to Mr Colin Elliott, Jonathan's son-in-law, who will advise if there is any way in which his case may be reconsidered. He did earlier hint at the possibility of applying for a pardon, if it can be proved that the man was convicted upon false evidence. If Mrs Bancroft provides us with any credible information to support such a case, it would be a great help. I must at least try, Cathy, for Alice's sake. I have grown fond of her… she puts me so much in mind of what my Josie used to be, it breaks my heart," she said, and Catherine could see the tears that filled her eyes as she struggled to hold them back.
Her sister knew it was of little use to try to dissuade her, and after Becky had left, Catherine went to her room and penned a note to Jonathan Bingley inviting him to dine with them at the Dower House on the evening before he left for London.
She took the opportunity to remind him that it was a long-standing practice of his to do so
and hoped he would accept. She added that her sister Becky would be one of the party too.
The note was despatched and the response came back very promptly—
Mr Bingley would be delighted, and yes, he did remember that it was a most pleasant practice, with which he was happy to comply.
Recalling as she read it some of her earlier conversations with her sister, regarding Becky's youthful fondness for Jonathan Bingley, Catherine could not help feeling a little pang of regret. If only it had been Becky and not AmeliaJane he had fallen in love with all those years ago, how very different might all their lives have been, she thought with a little sigh.
But it was not to be, and practical as ever, Catherine sighed, shrugged off those futile thoughts, and went downstairs to consult her housekeeper about the
Woman of Influence (Pemberley Chronicles) Page 14