A Woman of Influence (16 page)

It was clearly difficult for Becky to conceal her feelings as she described the domestic bliss she sensed at Standish Park. Her own life had been very different. In Becky's marriage to Mr Tate, there had been little closeness of the kind she could sense between Emma and her husband, while the warmth of the Wilsons' bonds with their children contrasted with the sorry state of her own relationship with her son Walter and his wife, Pauline.

Becky wrote:

She recorded the salient points for future reference.

Becky had been amazed at the hostility expressed towards Mr Bancroft. She mused:

Becky could not decide how to deal with a situation that clearly she had not anticipated. She was determined, however, to be circumspect and diplomatic in her approach to Mrs Bancroft, as her main aim was to gain her confidence and assistance for the benefit of Alice Grey and her husband.

Awaking early on the following morning and looking out on the exquisite prospect that stretched across the river away into the distance, Becky felt an urge to be dressed quickly and walk in the garden before breakfast. The scents and colours of Autumn were all around her, filling her senses as she made her way through the grounds and out towards the orchard. Becky had never experienced such a delightful ambience in her life.

Returning to the house, she entered the breakfast room to find Emma Wilson already at the table. Greeting her cordially, Emma moved to offer Becky tea and toast and a range of delicacies, kept warm in silver dishes upon the sideboard. Becky was in the middle of her meal when James Wilson came into the room, a letter in his hand. Delivered very early that morning, he said, it had been sent from Pemberley by Mr Darcy.

He spoke gently to his wife. "Emma dearest, we have some grave news: Mr Darcy writes that Mrs Emily Courtney is unwell; she has apparently been sick for some considerable time..."

Emma rose from her seat at the table, clearly alarmed. "Mr Darcy has written? What does he say about Emily?"

"He does not give much detail, except to say that Jessica and Julian are gone to Oakleigh to see what needs to be done. He says also that Emily's brother Dr Richard Gardiner is attending upon her."

Emma, obviously distressed, tearful, and concerned, asked, "Does he say how she is progressing?"

"No, but she cannot be in any immediate danger, although it can be assumed that it is a serious condition, else Mr Darcy is not likely to have written with such urgency," her husband replied.

Emma moved to leave the table, asking to be excused. "James, I would very much wish to go to her. Jessica is unlikely to be able to do very much--she has only recently had a child... Do you think I could... Would you...?"

James Wilson did not wait for her to finish before putting an arm around her and reassuring her, "Of course, my dear, I will send for the steward and ask that the carriage be prepared to take us to Rochester. We had best take the train north from there."

Becky had been close to Emily Courtney for many years, but sadly could not offer to accompany them to Derbyshire. Reluctantly, she asked Emma to take her best wishes to Emily, her longtime friend, and promised she would see her very soon.

Later she would write of her sadness at the news.

As preparations for the Wilsons' departure proceeded apace, Becky made ready to return to Edgewater. Hers would be a much shorter journey, but she would leave with as heavy a heart as Emma Wilson's, with the added sorrow of being unable to see or assist her friend in any way at this time.

Shortly before leaving, she sought out Emma, who confessed that she had been concerned about Emily Courtney for some time.

"Things have not gone well for Emily ever since Reverend Courtney's illness," she explained. "It was only last month that I received from my mother, who had herself been poorly but thankfully is now on the mend, a most worrying letter, in which she wrote that Mr and Mrs Darcy had been made aware that the Courtneys had very little savings left and their youngest daughter Jessica was concerned, lest her mother should not have sufficient to live on, now she is a widow with no fixed income."

Becky understood Jessica's anxiety; she knew that despite her straitened circumstances, Emily would neither increase the rents paid by her tenants on Oakleigh Manor, nor would she consider retrenching any of her servants. When she pointed this out, Emma agreed and added, "And of course, she supports many of the poor families in the village as she has done for years. I do not mean to suggest that she should not, God bless her, she has the most generous heart in the world, but she will not consider that she must make some allowance for herself too."

Becky expressed her regrets once again at being unable to accompany the Wilsons on their journey, offering her assistance in any way that was necessary.

"If it is a question of money, Emma, please do not hesitate to call on me, because I should be honoured to assist. Emily is the closest friend I have in the family, and it would be my great pleasure to do anything to help. I find it very bewildering that things should have come to this unhappy pass."

It was a circumstance Becky was bound to ponder as she bade farewell to her friends and returned home to Edgewater that afternoon.

Becky Tate, having spent a week of nervous anxiety preparing for her visit to Blessington Manor, was within an hour of reaching her destination.

They had left Edgewater early and had made good time, travelling at an easy pace through some of the prettiest countryside in southern England; Becky had to remind herself that this friendly, welcoming county was now, once more, her home.

Having spent most of her adult life in Derbyshire, where the rugged magnificence of the landscape was of such a scale as to awe a young person who had been born and raised in the south, hearing its praises sung constantly by those who lived there, Becky had almost forgotten how engaging and attractive was her own home county, Kent.

With its gentle cultivated slopes bounded by friendly hedgerows, its wide swathes of thick but tidy woodland and verdant pasture surrounding prosperous farms and orchards, Kent had a uniquely pleasing quality that appealed to her present mood.

Much as she had enjoyed her earlier days at Matlock, where with Emily, Caroline, and Cassandra she had been eager to challenge the petty bureaucracies of the councils in order to improve the lives of people in their community, Becky had grown weary of public life, and more recently, she had found her interests centred upon more personal concerns. It was a mood that was more comfortably accommodated within the boundaries of the subtler, gentler environs of the southern counties than the rough-hewn contours of the North.

However, even here, Becky noted, not every prospect was equally pleasing.

As they approached the district in which the village of Blessington was situated, Becky noticed that the countryside had not the sense of spaciousness and prosperity that characterised the surroundings of Standish Park or Rosings. The roads on which they travelled, leaving the main highway, were rutted and uneven, while the lowly farm dwellings that could be seen across the fields were rough and deficient by any standard. They were nothing like the neat cottages of the tenants of Standish Park or Pemberley, and the women and children on the street and in the hedgerows looked much poorer than those she was accustomed to seeing. Clearly, not all landlords were equally concerned with the welfare of the rural poor, thought Becky as they journeyed closer to their destination.

The landscape around Blessington Manor was flat and uninspiring; it had just missed being situated at the point where the river, on its way to Canterbury, broke through the Downs, creating a graceful vista. Instead, it seemed to have been set down at random, without plan or purpose, a dull house in a broad featureless meadow, with neither woodland nor park to attract the eye or soften the aspect.

An orchard of mainly gnarled apple trees was all that clothed the bare surrounding grounds around the manor house. Compared with the simple elegance of Standish Park, Becky judged the building to be rather overdone, with too many windows glinting like pairs of spectacles on the plain brick facade and several nondescript farm buildings clustered around the main edifice.

Becky was disappointed; she had expected better.

"I hope the interior is rather more tasteful than its exterior," she thought as they drew up at the porch.

A manservant appeared and assisted her to alight, while a maid waited at the door to escort her into the house, along a large but unprepossessing hall, lined with trophies of several hunts, into the sitting room, where she was greeted by Mrs Bancroft.

A tall, lean woman with a dignified but kindly countenance, Mrs Bancroft was surprisingly friendly and agreeable.
At the very least
, Becky thought,
she is
unlikely to throw me out when she discovers the chief purpose of my visit.

Indeed, Mrs Bancroft's hospitality was unexceptionable; she had the