With her intimate knowledge of the distress and embarrassment Becky had endured when Mr Tate had abandoned her to move to the United States, Emily had always had far more sympathy and understanding for Becky than had many other members of the Pemberley clan. With their judgment distorted by the shock of Julian and Josie's shattered marriage and Josie's subsequent death, for which they had inexplicably blamed only Becky, none of them, save perhaps Cassandra, had understood Becky's grief. Emily alone had witnessed the pain she had suffered at the death of a beloved daughter in such dishonourable circumstances and had enfolded her with friendship and affection.
Consequently, she appreciated the particular partiality Becky had felt for Mr Contini, who by his warmth and sincerity had won first Becky's friendship and then her heart.
"He is, without exception, the kindest man I have ever met, Emily," Becky had said. "He loves me, and when I tell you that I feel fortunate and deeply happy at the prospect of being his wife, I know you will believe me."
Emily patted the hand that she held in hers.
"You do not have to convince me of that, my dear, I can recognise true affection when I see it, and I am in no doubt whatsoever that he loves you. If you love him just as well…"
"Oh I do," said Becky softly, "passionately."
"Well then, what more is there to say, except be happy together. You deserve some happiness, Becky, I know how long you have waited for it."
Becky knew this was no idle remark, for Emily in her youth had known deep love and happiness when she had married her brother's friend, Paul Antoine; happiness she had enjoyed but briefly. So sincere had been that love that not even the certainty of his early death had shaken her resolve.
Becky thanked her friend. "Thank you, Emily; I knew in my heart that you would understand and approve," she said, and the two friends embraced.
"You have no need of my approval, Becky; if you have made your choice because he is a good man and you love him, you will be happy. Nothing is more certain," said Emily.
Emily's maid entered the room; it was time to dress for dinner, and she had to assist her mistress to the room prepared for her downstairs.
Becky realised with a shock that Emily was too weak to walk up and down the stairs any longer, and as she went to her own room, she was filled with sadness for her friend. It was plain to her that Emily was very ill indeed.
Nelly, who had prepared Becky's bath and waited to assist her, revealed what she had learned from the servants.
"They are all very sad, ma'am; they love Mrs Courtney dearly, but they fear she is past saving. It seems she has been sick for a while, but as she nursed Mr Courtney, she hid her own illness from her family," she said.
"They say that one afternoon, Mr Mancini brought in some logs for the fire in the sitting room and found Mrs Courtney collapsed on the floor. It was he raised the alarm, called her maid, and carried Mrs Courtney to her room. Had he not found her, she may well have died, ma'am."
Nelly's eyes were wide and tearful as she told how young Jude Courtney had ridden hard to fetch Dr Gardiner, who had come at once to attend upon Emily, and when he had heard the tale, he had gone out to the farm to seek out Mr Mancini and thank him for saving his sister's life.
Becky was badly shaken. Mr Mancini was an Italian flower farmer who leased a part of the farm at Oakleigh; to think that Emily owed her life to his fortuitous intervention was truly appalling and indicated to Becky a serious dereliction of familial duty on the part of Emily's older children. Jude alone remained to care for his mother, with the help of a few loyal servants and Mr Mancini.
When they all met for dinner, which was a simple, wholesome meal, it was the company rather than the food that provided the greatest pleasure; it was clear to everyone that both Jessica and her mother were happier that night than they had been for many weeks. Becky's arrival and the delight it had brought Emily had lifted all their spirits.
Afterwards, Emily was tired and retired early to her room. The gentlemen continued with their discussions, assisted by the appearance of port and cheese, while Becky and Jessica repaired to the privacy of the sitting room upstairs.
They had a great deal to talk about. There was much Becky wanted to know, and Jessica had no desire to conceal anything from her mother's dearest friend. As they talked into the night, Becky learned much of what had gone before and could scarce believe what she heard. Emily, it seemed, had developed a form of tuberculosis, which had been slow to manifest itself but was no less deadly. No doctor could say for certain, but she had probably not many more months to live and needed constant care and medication, which clearly Jessica, in her present condition, nursing a new baby, was unable to provide.
"Julian and I wanted to move to Oakleigh, because it means that I can at least be aware of her condition and see she is cared for, but both Dr Gardiner and Mrs Darcy advise against it, and Julian is inclined to agree with them. They believe that my little daughter and I are at risk if we stay.
"I am very disappointed. The servants are devoted to her, but they are not able to give her the care she needs, and Mama will not move to Pemberley, as Mrs Darcy has suggested. She could be well looked after there, but Mama fears it will mean abandoning Oakleigh and the staff here. She will not do it."
As Becky shook her head sadly, Jessica added, "Mama is more concerned with the staff and what will happen to them once she is gone than with her own health."
"She has spoken of it to me, too. She is anxious that they should not be abandoned by the family," said Becky.
"Indeed, many of them have been here for most of her life, and she is determined that they will not be deserted. She has made Julian promise not to retrench any of them and has personally assured them of this," said Jessica.
"And what about your older brother and sister? Have you any expectation of assistance from them?" asked Becky.
Jessica looked down at her hands, clearly unwilling to blame her siblings, who, by all reports, had shown little inclination to help their parents.
"I have no knowledge of what they may have said to Mama, but I do know Mrs Darcy has spoken to William when he was here for Papa's funeral, and she was not satisfied with his response. Mama will not ask them for help, yet there is little enough money left to keep her in comfort. Julian has been very helpful, and my uncle Dr Gardiner is exceedingly generous with his time and money," she explained.
"But Elizabeth and William?"
"We have had no word from them since Papa's funeral," Jessica replied softly, "though I do know that William writes to Mama occasionally."
Becky was astounded; it was the future she was most concerned with, and even as she listened, her mind was working on a plan that might help her friend. That Emily had little money left and no prospect of increased income from the farm was her greatest concern, and having sworn Jessica to secrecy, she revealed her intention to use some of her own inheritance to alleviate the problem.
"I shall write to Jonathan Bingley tomorrow and propose that a fund be set up in Josie's memory, which may be used to help Emily and others like her who suffer from this dreadful affliction. To begin with, I want you to engage a good nurse with proper training, who will live at Oakleigh and look after your mama for as long as she needs her care. I shall pay her wages; I will give you a sum of money in advance and send you more later, but you must ask Cassy or Caroline to help you find the right person. She must be a kind and amiable woman as well as a good nurse."
Jessica, astonished at her generosity, was somewhat reluctant to accept without question everything Becky had offered.
She asked, "Are you quite certain, Becky? Mama may not wish me to take your money."
But Becky insisted. "My dear Jessica, your mama is the dearest friend I have. There is no need at all to be concerned about accepting this money. I am certainly not likely to go hungry without it," she said lightly and then proceeded to explain.
"My late husband, Mr Tate, left me the entire proceeds of his American business, held in
trust and administered for me by Jonathan Bingley. I am permitted to use it for special purposes, if I am able to convince Mr Bingley of their value. I do not, even for a moment, anticipate any difficulty on that score. If helping to care for Emily is not a deserving cause, I do not know what is. So you must have no qualms about this at all. I shall write to Jonathan tomorrow and have it all arranged before we leave for Italy."
Jessica, somewhat reassured by this explanation, turned eagerly to the subject of Becky's wedding.
"Are you to be married in Italy?" she asked, expecting that Mr Contini would wish to be married in his native country.
"Oh no," Becky replied, "it is to be only a very simple ceremony—at the little church in Hunsford, which is my parish church. I had my big wedding many years ago, Jessica, when I married Mr Tate—there were hundreds of guests. I am sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but this will be a very different wedding."
Jessica smiled; she had learned from her mother, some years ago, of the circumstances of Becky's marriage to Mr Tate and her consequent life of considerable influence but little felicity.
"But it will be a happier marriage, I think?" she asked simply, and Becky put her arms around her. "My dear Jessica, that I can absolutely promise you. Now, I think I must get some sleep, and so must you. Julian will be worried that I am keeping you awake too long. Tomorrow, I shall want to meet your daughter. Your mama assures me she is very beautiful."
A few days later, when they were taking tea in the parlour, a message arrived from Mr and Mrs Darcy, inviting everyone at Oakleigh, and in particular Becky and Mr Contini, to a dinner party at Pemberley on the Saturday following. The invitation was accepted with pleasure.
Jessica, with Becky's permission, had informed Elizabeth of the engagement between Becky Tate and Mr Contini.
"Of course you may tell Mrs Darcy," Becky had said. "I was intending to write to her before the wedding, but the arrival of your letter, with news of your mama's illness, threw all my plans into disarray," and when Jessica had carried the news to Pemberley, it had been received with some surprise and a good deal of curiosity.
At first, Mr Darcy had said very little, except to remark that he remembered Mr Aldo Contini well.
"He was Jonathan's friend—a very handsome and accomplished young fellow as I recall. I understand he had to leave Italy in something of a hurry, because his family had supported Mr Garibaldi."
Jessica replied that Becky had said the Contini family were back in favour,
now that Mr Garibaldi had won the day.
"Indeed," Mr Darcy had said, nodding sagely, "but I believe Aldo Contini prefers to reside in England."
Elizabeth was curious to know more; the Continis had been good friends of the Darcys and Grantleys for many years, but she had little knowledge of this particular member of the family and even less of his connection with the Tates.
"And how did Becky Tate meet Mr Contini? I was not aware she was intimate with the family, were you?" she asked. Her husband replied, "I confess I was not; but I understand Anthony Tate did some business in Italy some years ago, and they met in Florence and then again in London more recently. Jonathan Bingley knew that they were rather well acquainted, I think."
"Clearly, they must have made quite an impression upon one another at their previous meeting. Darcy, have you known about this romance and kept it from me?" asked his wife, feigning outrage at the extent of his knowledge and her own ignorance.
Her husband laughed and ignored the implication of her question.
"No, my dear, I have not. I will admit, however, that when we were in London, his aunt, Signora Contini, did ask rather a lot of questions about Mrs Tate; I thought she appeared unusually interested in her, and of course, I did see Aldo Contini with Becky at the opera and again at the Bingleys' dinner party; they did appear to be well acquainted, but I had no idea there was romance in the air."
"Jonathan must have known; did he not mention anything to you?" his wife persisted.
Mr Darcy shook his head, "He did not and I would not expect him to. Contini is an intimate friend of his; he may have confided in him, and Jonathan is unlikely to betray such a trust."
Elizabeth looked sceptical, but Jessica ventured to suggest that it was not entirely surprising that they should have become engaged, since the pair had been friends for some years now.
"Have they?" said Elizabeth. "Well, I suppose it is not an unsuitable match."
"No indeed," said Mr Darcy. "They are both persons of independent means and, I daresay, mature enough to know their own minds."
"Which is certainly more than could be said for Becky when she married Anthony Tate in such a precipitate fashion," Elizabeth remarked, recalling the day she had heard the news from her sister Jane.
"Why, Becky was scarcely seventeen. When Jane told me of their engagement, you could have knocked me down with a feather. It had all happened so suddenly, I was afraid it would end in tears, and it did. Tate was only interested in business and politics, and poor Becky, for all her hard work, was treated rather shabbily when he left everything to Walter and that dreadful wife of his. Everybody knows she is a grasping, unpleasant sort of person."
Mr Darcy then reminded his wife that Mr Tate had also left the entire proceeds of his American estate in trust for Becky's use and she did get the house in London. To which Elizabeth had to add that it was no more than she deserved, considering all the hard work Becky had done, lobbying for her husband's favourite causes and promoting his business ventures.
"It beggars belief that he could be so unfeeling as to leave their family home to Walter, suggesting that he reach some accommodation with his mother. It was a callous, heartless thing to do, and I am sure Becky was very hurt," she said.
Amidst all this discussion of marriage and money, Jessica felt compelled to offer the opinion that it had appeared to her and her mother that in Mr Contini, Becky had at last found someone who genuinely loved her.
"Mama is confident they will be happy together and what is even more hopeful for their future felicity, they seem like good friends, too," she said, to which her mother-in-law, feeling a little chastened, replied, "Now that is certainly an advantage, Jessica. No one could pretend that Anthony Tate had many friends; business partners and political allies, yes, but genuine friends were few and far between, I think. No, I am truly pleased that Becky is happy with her Mr Contini. I know Emily will be delighted for her; they were always particular friends."
Jessica was perplexed by Elizabeth's attitude to Becky Tate. She wished that Mrs Darcy, who had herself known the desolation of losing a much loved child, could feel more empathy for Becky. It had always puzzled her that Elizabeth, a woman of intelligence and strong feelings, had seemed incapable of sharing that particular emotion with Becky, as though she saw her loss of William as being different in depth and quality to the death of Becky's daughter Josie.
Jessica, whose heart was easily moved, found that difficult to reconcile with Elizabeth's kind and generous nature. Naturally, it was not a subject she could discuss with Julian; his anguish at the death of Josie had been plain to see. When she had asked her own mother, Emily had said lightly that it was Lizzie's "blind spot."
"Cousin Lizzie is loving and kind, but I am afraid it does seem she has no understanding of Becky's situation," Emily had said. "It has puzzled me, but I love them both dearly and do not have to choose between them."
***
The Pemberley dinner party was a fortnight before Christmas. Becky and Mr Contini were to leave for Kent on the following day.
Becky dressed with care for the occasion, glad that Nelly had packed a new silk gown and fur-lined cape, in which she could grace the halls of Pemberley with confidence. As for Mr Contini, she noted that he looked his usual distinguished self; indeed, she thought, they made a rather handsome couple.
Sadly, Emily could not travel to Pemberley—she hardly left the house at all these days. Becky was loathe to leave her on their last evening, but Emily had in
sisted.
"You must go, Becky, I insist. I know how very important it is to you that you maintain your friendship with Lizzie. Besides, Pemberley dinner parties are always superb—I have been at many of them. You must go and enjoy yourselves. I think I need an early night; we shall talk after breakfast tomorrow, and you can tell me all about it."
The dinner party, as Emily had predicted, was a triumph; fine food and wine, excellent company, and music provided by a small chamber orchestra combined to produce a perfect evening.
The Darcys, excellent hosts as always, greeted Becky and Mr Contini and made them very welcome. They were joined by Mr Bingley and Jane, Elizabeth's daughter Cassandra and her husband Dr Richard Gardiner, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Caroline, all of whom congratulated Becky and Mr Contini and wished them every happiness.
Jane was particularly kind, seeking Becky out and expressing her good wishes in the sincerest way, assuring her that everything she had ever heard from her son Jonathan about Aldo Contini had been in his favour.
Woman of Influence (Pemberley Chronicles) Page 33