Woman of Influence (Pemberley Chronicles)

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  "And were they both pardoned?" Catherine asked.

  "They were, one by the Governor of New South Wales under the power granted to him by King George the Third, and the other was released much later, my recollection is that it was around 1850 or thereabouts."

  Catherine was delighted.

  "Does that mean William Rickman may be granted a pardon too?" she asked, but her husband was loathe to raise her hopes too high.

  "Not necessarily, my dear, but to the lawyers, the existence of a precedent means there is a good chance of success. Well, these cases can certainly be termed precedents. I made a few notes, which Becky may wish to pass on to her friend Mr Harding," he explained.

  So pleased was Catherine with the information her husband had uncovered that she was less inclined to spend the time until Becky's return in a state of anxiety. Instead she could now look forward to her sister's arrival with some hope, thanks mainly to Mr Burnett's discovery, and for this she felt particularly loving and appreciative of him.

  "You are such a comfort to me, dearest," she said, settling in beside her husband, and for her subtle change of mood Frank Burnett was grateful indeed. Together, they had discovered the pleasures of love, which had been cruelly denied them in youth, and having done so, they cherished one another with singular warmth and devotion.

  ***

  Becky returned with Alice on the Saturday as advised and went directly to the Dower House. Alice was eager to be reunited with her son and Becky had some good news for Catherine and Frank. She revealed that Mr Harding's enquiries had confirmed that a credible case could indeed be made that William Rickman had been a victim of false witness and he intended to lodge an application for a pardon immediately. His hopes for a successful outcome were high, she said.

  It was excellent news, and Catherine congratulated her sister on her success. "I am so proud of you, Becky; if Rickman is pardoned, it will be all due to you," she said.

  But Becky would not accept all of the credit for it; she was careful to point out that success was not guaranteed by any means. "We shall have to wait awhile. Mr Harding has warned us it could take many months; if he does succeed, it will be due not to me but to his skill and persistence. Cathy, he is a truly remarkable gentleman. I have to confess that I have not met any person that I have admired so much in years. He is both principled and clever, a rare combination, I think you will admit," she continued, eyes bright with enthusiasm.

  "Mr Elliott informs me that Mr Harding, though not much over forty, is so well thought of by the Prime Minister, he is to advise the government of Mr Gladstone on his new legislation."

  Catherine and Frank exchanged glances; this was high praise indeed. They had no recollection of Becky being so exhilarated by meeting anyone else.

  "And when will you know if he has been successful in obtaining a pardon for Rickman?" Mr Burnett asked.

  "Not for a while, I fear, but he has promised to write and keep me informed of his progress in the case. Indeed, I may even have to go back to London; I shall not have to take Alice with me again though. She has made a full statement to Mr Harding with which he was very satisfied."

  "Will you take Nelly then?" asked Catherine.

  "I may," said Becky, sounding uncertain, and once again Catherine and Frank looked at one another. Becky's enthusiasm was certainly high, and they could not help wondering at the reason for it.

  However, neither said anything at all.

  After Becky had returned to Edgewater, taking Nelly, Alice, and Tom with her, Mr and Mrs Burnett went upstairs. After Catherine's maid had left the room, Frank Burnett entered their bedroom. Catherine, still seated before her mirror, was trying on a pair of earrings he had bought on his visit to London. Standing behind her, he admired them, but she seemed rather preoccupied.

  "Do you not like them, my love? I thought they suited you rather well."

  His voice interrupted her musing, and she was quick to reassure him.

  "Of course I like them, Frank. I love them; they are beautiful. I am sorry, my dear, I think my mind was wandering… I cannot help worrying about Becky…"

  "And her sudden enthusiasm for Mr Harding?" he concluded her sentence. Catherine turned to look up at him, disbelieving.

  "Was it obvious to you too?"

  He nodded, "One would have had to be very unobservant not to notice that she showed a certain partiality for the man; he must be a very personable fellow indeed."

  "Perhaps he is, but to be so impressed on such short acquaintance, Frank, I cannot deny that I am somewhat apprehensive for her. After all, we know very little about this Mr Harding other than that he is a clever lawyer. Of his character, his family, we know nothing," said Catherine, and her voice told him that she was at least considerably perturbed by these latest developments in her sister's life.

  "Frank, I should hate to think that Becky might make a mistake again, attracted to a man who is clever, handsome, and successful, just as she was to Anthony Tate," she said, and he was struck by the depth of her concern.

  Their light-hearted banter had deepened in tone. There was no doubt that Catherine was anxious, and Frank felt he had to reassure his wife.

  "You must not leap to conclusions, my love; your sister clearly admires him— perhaps he appeals to her sense of adventure—but she is not an impressionable young girl anymore, and I cannot believe she will allow her sound judgment to be overthrown by first impressions, however remarkable."

  Catherine was not entirely convinced. "You are probably right, Frank, but Becky is impulsive and easily moved; if Mr Harding is as impressive as she says, and if he does succeed in getting Rickman a pardon, I fear her judgment will not stand in the way of her admiration for the man."

  "Dearest, you are not suggesting that your sister is in danger of falling in love with him?" her husband seemed incredulous.

  "No indeed," she replied and laughed as she did so. "If I thought that, my concerns would not be as serious. I do not believe my sister will fall in love so easily; my fear is that she will become entangled with a man she admires for his style and professional achievements, but does not love, just as she did with Mr Tate, and then she will be miserable all over again."

  Once again, Frank Burnett tried to persuade his wife that she should not be too concerned, for not only was Becky unlikely to become so involved, it was equally improbable that Mr Harding would be available for such a liaison.

  "A respected lawyer and a Member of Parliament, I doubt that he would be so inclined. He may even be committed already. No, my dearest, I do believe you are being too anxious; your sister will probably negotiate this situation quite successfully and avoid the obvious pitfalls."

  His confidence did bring her some comfort, but Catherine knew enough of Becky's past life and general disposition not to be entirely reassured.

  ***

  Some weeks later, Becky did travel to London, taking only her maid Nelly with her, ostensibly to attend another meeting with Mr John Harding and receive further information relating to the case of William Rickman.

  On her return, she reported that an application for a pardon had been lodged and was being assiduously pursued. However, Catherine did note that while her sister was still hopeful of success, there was not as much fulsome praise for Mr Harding as before.

  Trying to discover what had eventuated, without appearing to pry, Catherine found that Becky would say very little except that Mr Harding had promised the matter of William Rickman would be pursued most assiduously, but could give her no assurance of success at this stage.

  "Did he indicate how long it might be before he would have an answer?" Catherine asked.

  Becky answered in a voice that did not hide her disappointment. "No, Cathy, it does seem it will be many months, if not longer. Meanwhile, Alice and her husband must live apart. I feel for poor Alice and Tom and wish I could do something to help. It seems so cruel that they should be parted from Rickman, while lawyers and politicians argue about the merits of his case. It's s
o unfair."

  Catherine could see that her sister was unhappy that matters had not moved faster. Becky was unused to procrastination and was impatient with the snail's pace at which the processes of the law seemed to move.

  Later, Catherine was to discover from her own maid, whose friendship with Nelly was an advantage, that Mr Harding had called on Becky at the hotel and invited her to a dinner party at his town house in Mayfair, but Becky had declined the invitation.

  Nelly's loyal version was that her mistress was "much too proper" to go to dinner at his house, but Catherine reckoned that it had less to do with propriety than with Becky's disappointment that Mr Harding had not been as successful as she had expected him to be.

  She knew her sister well enough to understand that her frustration must have tarnished some of his brilliant reputation and probably diminished her enthusiasm for him.

  Still, it was better that she should be disappointed than that her elation with his success should fire her admiration to the point where she believed herself in love with him, Catherine thought.

  She had not suspected at the time it was announced that Becky's sudden acceptance of Anthony Tate's offer had been on the rebound, resulting from her disappointment when Jonathan Bingley became engaged to their sister AmeliaJane. But she had wondered at the speed with which the pair had married a few months later. She hoped with all her heart that something similar wasn't happening all over again.

  Unwilling to intrude upon her sister's privacy, Catherine maintained her silence, saying nothing for fear she might exacerbate the situation or, worse, distress Becky to the extent she might stop confiding in her altogether.

  Meanwhile, it seemed that Alice Grey had accepted that she would have a long wait before she knew what fate was in store for her husband. She continued working at Edgewater, uncomplaining, grateful for the shelter and protection it offered her and her child, aware that her mistress and benefactor was determined to help them.

  Neither the ex-convict nor any other stranger intruded upon their lives for some weeks, until one mild afternoon when Tom, who was playing in the yard, came racing in to his mother, crying out and pointing to a strange man coming up the drive.

  His cries alerted Mrs Bates, who went outside to investigate, while Nelly rushed into Becky's study, where she found her mistress reading a book.

  "Ma'am, please, ma'am, look, there's a man in the yard, and I think it's Tom's father…" she cried, and Becky going to the window, looked out in time to see Alice and little Tom rush out into the arms of a tall, gaunt man who gathered them up and held them both in a close embrace.

  Lean and dark, his arms and neck brown with working out of doors, he looked older than his years. His clothes were old but clean, and on his head was a battered hat such as farm labourers wore. Becky had no doubt the stranger was indeed the husband and father that Alice Grey and her son had longed for. The warmth of their reunion was proof enough.

  As they watched, both Becky and Nelly with tears in their eyes, the three sat down on a rough bench beside the stable door, in silence, as if unable to believe they were together at last. The man had one arm around his wife and hugged the boy to him with the other before releasing him to play.

  Having waited awhile to allow the pair time alone, Becky sent Nelly out to ask Alice to invite her husband into the kitchen and to tell Mrs Bates to ensure he was given food and drink.

  "He has probably walked miles to get here; he must be exhausted and hungry," she said, and Nelly raced away to do her bidding.

  Later, Becky sent for Alice Grey and asked, "How did he get here?"

  "He got a ride with a traveller, ma'am; there was no more work for him on the farm, and he decided to leave, but he wanted to see us before he moved elsewhere," Alice replied, quite unable to keep the delight out of her voice.

  "What will he do now?" Becky asked, and Alice answered, "He means to look for work in the district, ma'am. He hopes to find lodgings in the village and maybe ask around the hop fields; there's always laboring work to be done after the harvest."

  Becky thought a while and said, "There is work to be had on the Rosings estate; they are demolishing the burnt-out sections of the house and some of the old outbuildings. Will he do such work?"

  Alice was sure he would. "I think he would do anything, ma'am. He works very hard."

  Becky promised to ask her brother-in-law, Mr Burnett, who was in charge of the work at Rosings, if they had any suitable work for Rickman—but meanwhile, she urged Alice to be cautious about speaking too openly about their plans.

  "And it is best that he stays out of the village for some time. There may be talk of a stranger seeking lodgings, and the police may become curious.

  "It will not do to draw their attention to your husband, while Mr Harding is still trying to obtain a pardon for him."

  Alice agreed at once. "Oh yes indeed, ma'am, I understand. I will tell him."

  "Well, you may also tell him he can bed down in one of the unused stables. I shall ask Mrs Bates to provide him with some bedding and blankets. Now, Alice, I trust you to be very discreet and careful in everything you do. I know you are overjoyed to have him back, but it is important that both of you take very great care not to do anything that will draw undue attention to yourselves. You do not want people to be gossiping, do you?" Becky warned.

  "Oh no, ma'am. I will be very careful, thank you, ma'am," said Alice, her eyes shining, and went away to break the news to her husband. If he could find work at Rosings and stay over at Edgewater, at least their family would be together.

  It was almost impossible for her to comprehend what had transpired in the last few months to change her life, and though there were still many obstacles in their path and they had been warned not to be too optimistic, Alice Grey could not help humming to herself as she ran downstairs.

  Watching her go, Becky's tears fell freely. Each time she saw the girl, she felt a sharp stab of pain, as she recalled the child she had lost. She was glad indeed that no one, not even her loyal Nelly, was there to see her weep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was the middle of Autumn, and Becky was becoming restive.

  There had been no news from either Mr Harding or Colin Elliott about the progress of the application for a pardon for William Rickman. She had considered writing to Mr Elliott but had decided against it; he was a busy and diligent member of Parliament, and they were approaching the end of the sessions. He may not have welcomed an approach from her.

  She wished desperately that she had the means to discover whether the appeal had travelled upward through the ranks of the bureaucracy or had stalled upon the desk of some procrastinating or pernickety official. More than once she had wondered if a letter to Colin Elliott's wife, Anne-Marie, might not help, but had decided against it, unwilling to draw more people into the small group who knew the details of the matter.

  Rising from her desk, Becky walked restlessly about her study, playing first with one idea and then another but unable to fix upon any one of them. Looking out on the garden, she could see Tom playing on the lawn, while farther afield his father, wearing his battered old hat, was raking up the leaves and clearing away the debris left by the storm that had blown in from the northeast, keeping her awake most of the previous night.

  Following her appeal to Mr Burnett, Rickman had been found some work at Rosings, but whenever he returned to Edgewater, he seemed to feel the need to make himself useful, working industriously at a variety of jobs around the grounds. Obliging and polite, he was generally well liked by the rest of the staff. Mrs Bates in particular could not praise him enough.

  Becky smiled as she saw Alice come out of the kitchen and take him a mug of tea, which he drank, while she stood beside him and the boy raced back and forth between his parents. Having drained the mug, Rickman scooped the child up in his arms, and it seemed the boy whispered in his father's ear. Indeed, Nelly had already reported that the child had been trying to speak a few words again and that Alice was o
verjoyed. It was a picture of simple, warm affection that belied the anxiety they must feel about the future. It affected Becky deeply.

  Recounting the incident, she wrote in her diary that night:

  I would have given anything—all of the influence and comforts I have enjoyed these many years—to have felt such warmth and known such tenderness in my marriage.

  I cannot tell for how long it will last, for much depends upon the pardon being granted. I can only pray that the appeal will succeed; if it does not and if the police come looking for him, I do not know what I will do. Perhaps, I should consult Frank and ask his advice so I may be prepared for such a situation.