Woman of Influence (Pemberley Chronicles)

by Rebecca Ann Collins

"Jonathan and I had no wish to make much of our anniversary; we would have preferred to go away somewhere together rather than have a party, but Anne-Marie was keen, and its happy coincidence with a couple of other events, including the publication of Cathy's first little book of poems, persuaded us that we should agree," she explained.

  The mention of young Catherine Bingley's book of poems brought an exclamation of delight from Becky, who knew all too well the difficulties a woman might encounter in trying to get into print. She knew that Catherine, Jonathan's younger daughter from his marriage to Amelia-Jane, had a talent for writing but had no idea that she had written anything that was ready for publication.

  Anna revealed that the publication had been paid for by her father, as a gift to Cathy for her birthday. Becky could not help recalling with some poignancy her own daughter Josie's vain efforts to have her serious work accepted for publication.

  Her proud father would surely have financed any number of privately published volumes; indeed he had urged her to write regularly for his journals, but Josie had not been satisfied. Her ambition to be published in the great metropolitan newspapers and journals had never been fulfilled; consequently her young life had been blighted by unfulfilled dreams. Becky hoped for Jonathan's sake that Catherine would be less demanding.

  Considering her situation, that she should be invited to join in the celebration of the anniversary of Jonathan's wedding to her cousin Anna, seemed to Becky to be ironic indeed. Thankfully, she was confident that neither Jonathan nor Anna knew or would ever know what her own feelings had been. Feelings, she believed, she had at first concealed and then successfully subdued over the ensuing years.

  Yet, each time she encountered him and saw his innate goodness and nobility of character, memories of her adolescent adoration returned, and she would catch herself wondering how things might have been if young Amelia-Jane had not caught his eye and won his youthful heart. More recently, since her separation from Mr Tate, whenever she met Jonathan with Anna and saw the warmth of their mutual affection, she could not deny her feelings of simple envy. Not because she begrudged Anna her happiness with him, but because she longed to enjoy similar feelings of her own. And all this she had to conceal while maintaining an appearance of general bonhomie and familial friendliness.

  It had not always been easy.

  Although she would pride herself on being practical and resilient in most things, Becky remained at heart a hapless romantic, often reduced to tears at weddings by apparent manifestations of true love. Perhaps, she mused, it was because life had never afforded her the chance to inspire such love as she had seen between Mr Darcy and Elizabeth or Anna and Jonathan. Her marriage to Anthony Tate, though generally accepted to be a successful partnership, had left a void within her, which, after Josie's death, had become an abyss.

  However, this was not the occasion to dwell on it, which was why she seized with some relief upon the publication of young Catherine's book of poems and declared that she must purchase at least six copies and hoped Cathy would sign one for her.

  "I am quite sure she will be delighted to oblige," said Anna as they sat together taking tea.

  "And are Mr Darcy and Lizzie coming to London for the celebrations?" Becky asked.

  "Indeed, they are," Anna replied, "but they have quite another reason for being in London; their son-in-law Sir Richard Gardiner is being presented with an award from a distinguished body of scientists. It is a great honour, and Cassy writes that he has been overwhelmed by their recognition."

  When Becky seemed interested, Anna explained, "Jonathan has told me that it is to do with Richard's contribution to the application of standards of hygiene and sanitation in our hospitals—a cause pioneered by Florence Nightingale and pursued by Dr Gardiner for many years. His study and application of antisepsis are to be recognized with this award. Jonathan's son, Charles, who is himself a physician at the hospital at Bell's Field outside Netherfield, declares that Richard's work has saved thousands of lives."

  There was no doubt that this was going to be a significant family occasion,

  and Becky thanked Anna for inviting her to participate.

  "It was very kind of you, my dear. I know we are cousins, but I have to confess that due to circumstances quite outside my control, we have not been as close as we should have been for some years. Mr Tate's business interests and my own work in the community at Matlock meant that we did not meet as often as we should have done. So it was very generous of you to include me in your party…"

  Anna would have none of this.

  "My dear Becky, it is not a question of generosity at all—your name was one of the first on our list. Indeed, Jonathan wrote it in himself, and as the only published author in the family, there was never any question regarding your invitation. I am glad you could come; Cathy and Anne-Marie too will be delighted I know—so let's have no more talk of generosity. Your place is here with us."

  Anna's kind disposition and her sincerity reassured Becky. When they went upstairs to the room that had been prepared for her, she was overwhelmed by the efforts taken to ensure her comfort.

  Nelly was already there preparing her mistress's bath and laying out her clothes. After Anna left them, Becky lay on the day bed by the window and sank into a pleasant reverie, determined she was going to enjoy this visit.

  Dinner was at eight, and they were expected downstairs for drinks around half past seven; she was glad they had packed a few of her best gowns. Nelly had insisted, and Becky had agreed, albeit a little reluctantly.

  A woman of excellent taste, Becky Tate always felt confident when she was well dressed and coiffured, and Nelly, who had been with her for many years, knew exactly what best suited her mistress.

  Becky recalled with a wry smile that her late husband had always commented upon her appearance when they were due to entertain or meet people of influence in the community.

  "You look just right tonight, my dear," he would say approvingly, as though she were part of a business presentation, and Becky remembered being pleased at first, even if he never complimented her upon her appearance at most other times. It had been much later that she had realised that she had indeed been part of his business, assisting him to win friends and extend his influence.

  By the time Becky came downstairs, some of the guests had already arrived.

  Among them, she was pleased to see Anne-Marie and Colin Elliott in conversation with a couple of distinguished-looking men.

  Seeing her enter the room, Anne-Marie came directly to her and, taking her across, introduced Becky to their friends, both members of Parliament and, like Mr Elliott, supporters of Mr Gladstone. To her enormous relief, both gentlemen were, unlike many MPs she had met, intelligent and quite knowledgeable about a subject that was dear to her heart—the Public Education Bill. Indeed, they confessed, it had been the subject of their discussion before she entered the room.

  "I hope you will accept our apologies, ma'am," said one. "We Members of Parliament are often accused of discourtesy in company, because we do talk so much shop! It makes us dull companions for the ladies I'm afraid."

  Anne-Marie laughed.

  "You have no need to apologise to Mrs Tate; indeed she would probably be exceedingly disappointed were you not to discuss the Education Bill. It is a matter very dear to her heart."

  On discovering that Becky was the widow of the late Anthony Tate, a publisher who had wielded remarkable power and influence, they seemed a good deal more interested to hear what she had to say, and Becky was especially glad of the distraction they provided. It had been some time since she had been so occupied with such weighty matters.

  As she found herself engaged in a lively discourse, she discovered she was actually enjoying the experience. It was like old times, when the cut and thrust of political debate had been an important part of their lives and had given her marriage the excitement that had held it together as they strove to achieve a common goal. Sadly, after Josie's death, that excitement had all
but evaporated as Mr Tate had lost interest in everything save his business.

  Later, as other guests arrived, she moved away, albeit somewhat reluctantly, to join the ladies and participate in the social chatter that flowed around the room. Becky had very little interest in their trivial conversation but had no wish to upset her hostess, who was eager to introduce her to the others.

  Some of the women had attended one of Mr Dickens's farewell readings, and one claimed to have been deeply affected—"moved to weep" she said, "by his rendition of passages from Nicholas Nickleby"—while another, somewhat younger lady declared she had been "petrified" by Mr Dickens's melodramatic

  reading of the murder of Nancy by Bill Sykes.

  "It was too terrible to witness," she complained. "I thought someone in the audience of a more delicate sensibility than most may well have screamed or burst into tears! For my part, I vowed never to read Oliver Twist."

  "Would not such an extreme response defeat the purpose of Mr Dickens's readings?" asked Becky, who had heard Mr Dickens read many times, and while she agreed his performances were occasionally melodramatic, she declared they could never have stopped her reading his books. Indeed, she would contend that they had whetted her appetite for the novels.

  To this remark both ladies reacted with shock.

  "Oh surely not, there are so many long and tiresome passages and such a deal of description in the books, I should be bored or tired or both. No, I do believe I am definitely partial to the readings, even if they do frighten me sometimes," said the younger of the two, and her friend agreed with her at once, giving her decided opinion: "Reading it all would be much too tedious," she declared in a languid tone, taking out her fan, as though that was the last word on the subject.

  Becky did not bother to contradict them, and as they then proceeded to a discussion of Mr Dickens's private life and the inevitable speculation about his relationship with Miss Ellen Ternan, she grew bored and looked around for a means of escape.

  Seeing that Emma and James Wilson had just arrived, she made her way across the room to the bay window, where they stood together with Jonathan and Anna Bingley.

  Emma was apologising for their late arrival, caused, she explained, by her receipt of a letter from her mother, Mrs Jane Bingley, who had written to say they would not be coming to London because Mr Bingley had suffered another bout of bronchitis, which made travel in Winter very hazardous.

  Emma's love for her parents was such that it would have been quite impossible for her to enjoy herself at the party, unless she could be reassured about her father's condition. To this end, she had persuaded her husband to despatch a message by electric telegraph to Mr Darcy, asking if her aunt Lizzie could ascertain the seriousness of Mr Bingley's indisposition before leaving Derbyshire for London.

  She was naturally disappointed to hear from her brother Jonathan that Mr and Mrs Darcy would only arrive in London on the morrow and she would have to spend another anxious evening without the information she craved.

  When Becky greeted her, Emma still wore a worried expression, but she was unfailingly courteous.

  "Dear Becky, how good it is to see you here. I wish Mama and Papa could have come too, but it would appear that Papa is too ill to travel… Forgive me, but I cannot help worrying about him…" she said and looked close to tears.

  Becky was not unaware of Mr Bingley's condition. The letter she had received from Emily Courtney had mentioned it, too. Emily, being unwell herself, had expressed her regret at being unable to go to Ashford Park to help her cousin Jane nurse her husband back to health.

  However, seeing the extent of Emma's distress, Becky decided it would be best not to add to her present anxiety. She sought, instead, to console her with prospects of his recovery with medications and potions being much improved these days.

  "I am sure, Emma, if a clever physician like Dr Gardiner were to see your father, he would recommend some treatment that would hasten his recovery. Why do you not ask Cassy when you see her tomorrow?" she suggested.

  Emma thanked her for her concern and promised she would ask Dr Gardiner himself. "I do believe you are right, Becky. I cannot think why Mama has not approached him already. I know she relies on old Dr Robson, but a second opinion would not be a bad thing, would it? I shall speak to Richard myself and suggest it to my aunt Lizzie," she said, looking a little happier.

  More guests had arrived, and the room, now quite full, was, with the candles and the fire, almost too warm for comfort. Becky went out into the vestibule and thence into the open morning room to get some air.

  It was there that Jonathan followed her and said, "There you are, Becky. I have been meaning to speak with you privately; I have a message for you."

  Wondering what message he could possibly have for her, Becky turned to face him, when he took from his inner pocket a sealed letter and presented it to her with the merest hint of a knowing smile. As she accepted it, he returned to the parlour, as though not wishing to stay and intrude upon her privacy as she read it.

  Puzzled, Becky opened the letter and read it with increasing surprise.

  It was brief but quite clear. After the customary salutation, the writer

  proceeded:

  I expect to be in London on business for a fortnight at least, and I understand from Jonathan Bingley that you are to be in town also. I should like very much to see you, and as you indicated in your note that you would have no objection to our meeting, I hope you will not find it difficult to do so on this occasion.

  If you are still of the same mind, would you be so kind as to send me word through Mr Bingley, and I will arrange to see you in the course of the week?

  I hope I am not presuming upon your kindness in making this request

  with so little notice, but my journey to London was arranged in some haste.

  I am,

  Yours most sincerely,

  Aldo Contini.

  Becky's hand shook as she put the note in her reticule.

  This was a most unexpected development; she had been caught completely unawares and did not know how she was going to respond.

  When she went back into the parlour, feeling warmer than ever, having gained no relief at all from being away from the room, she sought to catch Jonathan's eye, but he was busy with some of his guests. She wondered how she was to convey the message, as Mr Contini had requested. She wondered also if Anna knew and hoped she did not.

  For a moment she panicked and wished she had not come at all, but then dinner was announced and all the guests were moving towards the dining room. Jonathan appeared at her side, offered her his arm, and took her to her place at the long dining table, glittering with fine porcelain, silver, and crystal.

  Becky noticed that ahead of her was Anna with young Dr Charles Bingley, Jonathan's eldest son, who had come up to London from Hertfordshire for the occasion.

  As he helped her into her place, Jonathan asked softly, "And do you have an answer for my friend, Becky?"

  Momentarily taken aback, she stammered and seemed uncertain but succeeded in indicating her consent. "Yes, the answer is yes, that is, if it can be

  arranged conveniently and without too much fuss…"

  Jonathan smiled, clearly pleased. "Thank you, Becky; I shall send a note round in the morning, and may I say, I believe your answer will be received with much pleasure."

  He moved away then to his usual seat at the head of the table, leaving Becky puzzled and unable to concentrate upon anything. Not the delectable array of food and wine presented for their pleasure, nor the witty speeches that followed, congratulating both couples on their felicitous unions; not even the excellent musical entertainment Anna had arranged when they withdrew to the drawing room could capture her attention for long.

  Seated next to her, one of the MPs she'd been introduced to earlier in the evening tried once more to engage her in conversation on the subject of compulsory schooling for girls, but Becky was far too distracted to contribute more than a cursory comme
nt or two, leaving the man puzzled.

  When at last the guests began to leave, she escaped upstairs to her room, where she read and re-read her letter, and though she made every effort to quiet her mind and get some sleep, she could not, and lay awake into the small hours of the morning.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Becky awoke the following morning feeling much less well than she had been the previous night. Having slept only fitfully and for a very few hours, she had a dull headache. It provided her with an excuse to remain in her room until after breakfast, which she did, having asked Nelly to bring her a pot of tea. While the rest of the party planned to go out to the shops or drive in the park, Becky begged to be allowed to stay home.

  Anna was concerned. "Are you sure you will not join us, Becky? The fresh air will do you good. I was afraid the rooms were too warm last night; we were such a big party."

  Becky shook her head. "No, my dear, I think all I need is a quiet morning indoors. I am still a little tired from yesterday. Nelly will bring me more tea and some toast, and I shall read quietly and rest until you return from the shops. After all, we do have a busy evening ahead," she said and Anna agreed.