He looked delighted.
"Forever? That is a very long time. I am flattered and relieved to hear you say so. I wished very much to see you and tell you how deeply I felt. It would have been easier than writing but, as I explained…"
She interrupted him with another question, "May I ask why, when we were in London, you did not give me any sign that you cared for me? You could have let me see that there were deeper feelings involved, could you not?" she asked, adding, "It would have spared me much heartache, when I thought you would not come."
He was immediately contrite.
"My dearest love, I am sorry to have hurt you; it was not my intention to do so, but I was reluctant to intrude upon you without knowing how you were likely to respond. Perhaps I was being too cautious. Forgive me, but you had lost your husband not very long ago, and in Italy, a widow and her family would be outraged if a man attempts too soon to woo her. I did not know if you would consider an approach by me indelicate. I decided to ask my friend Mr Bingley's advice on the matter before approaching you."
"Indeed? And what was his advice?" asked Becky, curious to know what guidance Jonathan may have given him.
Mr Contini smiled, "He assured me that widows in England, unless they were the Queen, did not generally go into deep mourning for many years and that in any event, Mr Tate and you had lived apart by mutual consent for some time before his death. It was something I was unaware of. He told me you were unlikely to be offended and wished me success."
Becky looked quite solemn, and he asked, "Forgive me, am I causing you more pain by speaking of this?"
"No, no indeed, you have answered my question exactly; I was puzzled that you had not spoken earlier, when we were so happy together in London, but now I do understand. And you are not to apologise, because there is nothing to apologise for and nothing to forgive," she said, realizing as she spoke that she too owed Jonathan Bingley a debt of gratitude.
Becky was very much moved by what she saw as his genuine modesty.
There were few men in her circle of acquaintances, whom she could credit with similar sensibility and integrity of character.
Her serious expression troubled him a little, and fearing he had reawakened painful memories, he sought to change the subject and, adopting a lighter tone, asked, "And the keepsake I sent you, you liked it a little, yes?"
"Oh yes, I did," she said, smiling. "More than a little; it was a delightful surprise. I must ask you now, was it all done from memory? I cannot recall a time when you could have caught me in that mood for long enough to make a sketch."
He looked somewhat abashed as he admitted that he had covertly made a little pencil sketch of her as she had sat with Anna Bingley in the sitting room on the afternoon before her return to Kent.
"You seemed deep in contemplation, listening, as Mrs Bingley read from a book of poems. It made such a perfect picture, I had to make a quick sketch. Later, I worked on it from memory, and I was not sure I had caught your expression, but I am glad you like it," he explained, clearly keen to have her approval.
"I like it very well; it has pride of place on my dressing table. Nelly thinks it is an excellent likeness, and so does Jonathan. Would you like to know what I was thinking on that afternoon?"
He was eager to know, and she told him, this time without any reservation, that she had been contemplating the possibility that perhaps he would give her some hint of his feelings, before she left London for Kent.
"By then I had begun to realise that my own feelings were much deeper than I had believed them to be, but I was afraid to acknowledge them even to myself, lest yours were not similarly engaged; I was afraid of being hurt," she said.
This admission brought such expressions of contrition and warm affection that Becky could no longer have any doubt at all of being deeply loved. Both acknowledged that they owed much to the generosity and wise counsel of Jonathan Bingley.
"He is an exceptional man, Becky; I have known him since our schooldays, and I can say quite truthfully that I do not know a better man."
Becky had to agree, aware once again of the ironic circumstances by which the man she had once loved and lost to her younger sister Amelia-Jane had been instrumental in bringing them together.
Mr Contini was keen to talk about their plans for the future, but Becky had a few more questions for him, and like most lovers, he was at that stage of their relationship when he was happy to indulge her.
"Will you tell me something about our visit to the house of Mr Adrian Hart?" she asked.
"Of course, what is it you wish to know?"
"Was it prearranged with Mr Hart that he would not be present, perhaps to let us have the place to ourselves that afternoon? Did you know before we reached the house that he would not be there?"
His countenance betrayed his surprise at her question.
"Becky, there are two matters in your question. Let me answer them thus— first, no, it was not prearranged that Adrian Hart should not be there, not by me at any rate. I was very surprised. But, second, I did learn later from Jonathan Bingley that he had suggested to Mr Hart that they meet for lunch at Whitehall on that very day to discuss urgent political matters."
"And he did not warn you?" she asked.
"He did not; indeed he confessed to me only after I expressed some concern that you may have been embarrassed by the absence of our host. Doubtless, Jonathan decided to let us have the afternoon together and arranged it, but I was afraid you might have suspected me of conniving at it, which I see now you did. Did you not?" he asked, challenging her playfully, and Becky smiled.
"The thought did cross my mind, but I am happy to believe you were quite innocent. I asked not because I was annoyed or embarrassed but only out of curiosity; I had never thought of Jonathan Bingley as a matchmaker!"
He laughed again and she remembered how she had enjoyed his big, uninhibited laugh when they had first met in Italy many years ago. It had filled the room like music, as it did now, and she loved hearing it again.
"Have you any more questions for me?" he asked patiently, and she, thinking to tease him a little, replied, "Not now, but there may be others later; will you answer them as willingly?"
"But of course, my love, it will be my pleasure. You must feel free to ask me anything you wish. It will mean that we are both open and trusting with each other," he said and, wishing to reassure her, continued earnestly. "My dear Becky, there is nothing in my life I wish to conceal from you."
There was no doubting his sincerity, and almost in spite of herself, she said, aware even as she spoke that it was not the whole truth, "Nor I from you," which led to an exchange of loving reassurances between them that brought an end to questions and answers for some considerable time as they reaffirmed their love.
It was late, and Mr Contini had to return to the village, where he had taken a room at the local inn, which, he assured her, was clean and comfortable, if not particularly luxurious. There being no other means of transport available, Becky asked for her modest carriage to be brought round, to convey him thither. They parted reluctantly; he would return on the morrow, when she would take him to meet her sister and brother-in-law.
After he had left, Becky retired to her study to write a note to Catherine, which she despatched almost immediately, asking if she may bring a visitor to tea at the Dower House around mid-morning of the following day.
When the servant returned with the reply, it was clear Catherine had guessed who the favoured visitor might be.
She wrote:
Dearest Becky,
Of course you may bring your visitor to tea. If it is who I think it is, you are both very welcome to stay to dinner, unless you prefer to dine alone together at Edgewater. I shall tell Frank and warn him whom to expect—I hope you will not mind. Becky dear, I do hope this means good news; I look forward to seeing you both and meeting your Mr Contini. Afterwards, you must tell me everything.
That night, when Nelly came to assist her mistress in preparing fo
r bed, she found her seated at her dressing table, solemnly regarding her face in the mirror.
Having laid out her nightclothes and warmed the bed, Nelly stood behind her, ready to take down her hair as she always did. Becky favoured a somewhat old-fashioned style and had resisted her maid's attempts to change it.
She caught Nelly's eye in the mirror and said, "What do you think, Nelly? It's not such a bad face, is it?"
Taken aback by the question, Nelly said, "No, ma'am; I mean, it's a very handsome face, ma'am. I do believe if you would let me do your hair a little differently, like Mrs Bingley's perhaps, it would look even nicer, ma'am."
Anna Bingley was not just beautiful, she was always tastefully dressed and coiffured. Her hair was always elegantly styled.
Becky smiled. "Do you really think so?"
"Yes, ma'am," Nelly replied and, for good measure, revealed that when they had been in London with the Bingleys, she had learnt exactly how Mrs Bingley's maid dressed her mistress's hair and, having practised on the parlour maid, was quite ready to try it out on Becky.
"I think it will suit very well, ma'am," she said, persuasively.
Becky nodded and, having looked critically at her hair in the mirror, said, "Very well then, perhaps I shall let you try it out before the wedding."
Nelly, her eyes wide, bit her lip to keep from exclaiming too loudly. Eyes glistening, she clasped her hands in front of her and asked, "Oh ma'am, is there to be a wedding then?"
"Yes, Nelly, I think there is," Becky replied softly.
The girl held her mistress's hands and wept. "I knew it, ma'am; I told you he was a lovely gentleman, and I think he loves you very much. Oh ma'am, I am so happy."
Nelly knew more than anyone else what Becky's life had been, having shared her home and much of her life for many years. She had seen both the success and the sorrow, the disillusion and hurt, and had longed to see her mistress happy again.
Becky patted her hands. "There now, see what you have done! You've made me break my promise to my dear sister! I gave her my word that she would be the first to know, and now I have told you. Never mind, Nelly my dear, don't you fret; I do believe you've been through so much with me, you deserve to know, but you must not speak of it to anyone else yet, and remember, Mrs Burnett must never learn of this conversation," she cautioned.
Nelly nodded, thrilled to have the responsibility of keeping such a secret; she smiled like the sun breaking through a cloud and declared, "Oh yes, ma'am, certainly not, ma'am, my lips are sealed."
***
When the sisters met the following day, their meeting turned out exactly as Becky had hoped it would. She had had some misgivings, wondering how Catherine and her husband would respond to Mr Contini, but she need not have worried.
With Frank Burnett's extensive knowledge of Europe, his travels and studies in France and Italy, the two men had plenty to talk about and there was never an awkward moment between them.
The dinner proved to be so delectable and the company so convivial that they hardly noticed the passage of time. Indeed, afterwards, when Mr Burnett discovered that their guest was staying at the local inn, he applied immediately to his wife to ask if they might not accommodate him under their own roof more agreeably.
Catherine agreed they could.
"There are two empty rooms, and you are very welcome to stay. It will not be luxurious, but I am sure it will be more comfortable and convenient than the inn," she said, and Mr Contini, after a little hesitation, for he was reluctant to impose upon them, was happy to be persuaded.
They arranged to send a servant for his things and had a room prepared for him, for which favour he was most grateful, recalling the rather cold accommodation at the inn.
Becky, seeing the generosity and warmth with which her sister and brother-in-law had accepted Mr Contini, was close to tears. Their hospitality and general friendliness towards him had exceeded all her expectations and convinced her that she had indeed made the right decision.
Later, as the gentlemen, both of whom had an abiding interest in Italian politics, settled down to drink port and talk of the Risorgimento and Mr Garibaldi's heroic struggle to unite Italy, the two sisters slipped away to Catherine's room to enjoy their own share of the happiness that Becky had finally found. Cognisant of the doubts that Becky had previously suffered, Catherine was determined to assure her sister of her pleasure at seeing her so happy, for it had become very clear to her that afternoon that the presence of Mr Contini had transformed Becky's life.
Becky had no reserve from her sister, knowing well that Catherine would set her happiness above any other consideration; she told her of the manner in which they had met again in London and of the part she suspected Jonathan Bingley had played in bringing them together.
Catherine was incredulous.
"Jonathan did that? Becky, I cannot believe it, he is such a proper gentleman, I cannot see him becoming involved in such a stratagem!"
"Well, neither could I," said Becky, "and while I did have my suspicions about his prior knowledge of the arrangement, I could not be certain until yesterday, when Mr Contini informed me himself. It seems Jonathan kept him in the dark as well! I was as surprised as you are."
Having heard all of the story, Catherine offered another view.
"It is possible of course, to see his actions in another light—not frivolous matchmaking at all, but as something done with the best of intentions—to help a friend, whom he knew to be in love with you, and give him the best opportunity to approach you," she argued.
"It might also be that Jonathan, aware of Mr Tate's conduct towards you, may have seen this as another chance for happiness for you too. Do you not think so, Becky?" she asked.
Becky laughed merrily.
"Indeed, Cathy, I am perfectly willing now, in my present state of felicity, to believe the very best of Jonathan Bingley and anyone else you care to name. Of course he wished to help his friend, who had confided in him and asked for his advice. Perhaps you are right that he also thought I deserved another chance at happiness. Whichever it was, and I am sure either or both were motivated only by the goodness of his heart, I have forgiven him completely for the tiny deception he practised, now that Mr Contini and I are so happily agreed upon our future."
She smiled and then was solemn again, as she took her sister's hand.
"Cathy, I can scarcely believe it. Can it really be that I am at last to be truly happy?"
Catherine was quick to respond.
"Of course it is, why must you be so dubious, so lacking in confidence, Becky? This is not like you at all; of all of us, you were the one with the most assurance, you were determined and bold."
"I was, and yet that self-assurance has deserted me often in the last few years," Becky admitted.
"Why, Becky? I know things have been difficult for you recently, but you have had courage and influence and have achieved so much in public life."
Catherine could not comprehend her sister's attitude, which seemed almost to suggest that she was undeserving of the happiness she was now offered. Determined to be direct, she asked, "Becky, you do love him? You are sure of that?"
Becky spoke candidly, with a degree of openness she could use with her sister, without the fear of being misconstrued.
"Yes, Cathy, I love him dearly and I want very much to marry him, but I am afraid. I know it must sound strange, but I cannot help being uneasy; you see, each time I took a chance or grasped some opportunity that life offered, hoping it would bring success or happiness for me or my family, it has turned to dust."
She was looking down at her hands; her voice was low, and Cathy strained to hear her.
"With Mr Tate, we had much in common; I had hoped we could help one another. I wanted to write, he sought success in business and politics, and I thought if I worked hard at promoting all his favourite causes, we would be successful and happy together. But, in the end, although I did work very hard for him, there was little happiness for either of us and e
ven less love between us."
Catherine was in no doubt of her sister's anguish as she continued.
"Then there was Josie. I doted on her, Cathy, and so did her father; we would have given our lives for her. All I wanted was the best for her; yet, when things went awry and we lost her, my husband, like Mrs Darcy, blamed me and turned away from me altogether. At the time I most needed him, he left me to grieve alone."
Her voice broke and Catherine embraced her, comforting her. "Dearest Becky, please do not upset yourself all over again. I know how hard it has been, but it is going to be different now, you must believe that. Mr Contini loves you very much, I can see it. He wants to make you happy and you must let him."
Woman of Influence (Pemberley Chronicles) Page 30