A Woman of Influence (2 page)

As Nelly arrived with the tea, Becky's tears returned. The news had hit her like a thunderbolt. She had never been especially close to her mother, unlike Catherine, but she'd had great affection and respect for her. Her sense of shock was all the greater because the invitation from the Bingleys to Catherine and Mr Burnett to visit Netherfield had been extended to her, too. They had at first made plans to travel together to Hertfordshire and visit their mother at Longbourn, but Becky had changed her mind, deciding to return to Edgewater and supervise some of the work being done around the house and grounds. She was keen to get it done right.

She had written to her mother making her excuses and promising to visit her in the Spring. Now that promise would never be kept.

Jonathan Bingley had helped himself to a glass of sherry and waited to one side of the fireplace, while Nelly handed her mistress a cup of tea.

Becky dabbed at her eyes and apologized. "I am sorry, Jonathan, you must think me weak and silly, but I had not expected this. Had I known Mama was ill, I should never have postponed my visit. I feel so guilty..."

Her voice broke and, setting down his glass, Jonathan went to sit beside her on the sofa, attempting to reassure her, offering her his large pocket handkerchief, which she accepted with gratitude.

"My dear Becky, there is no need for you to feel any guilt whatsoever; you could not have known, no one knew Mrs Collins was seriously ill. Her companion, Harriet, assured us that when she went to bed after the doctor had seen her, she was comfortable, cheerful even, looking forward to the dinner party she had planned for Catherine and Frank. None of us could have predicted it. You must not blame yourself."

But she would not be consoled. "But I do; Jonathan, can you not see that had I thought more of Mama and less of the need to supervise the renovations to this house, I would have been there, with her? It was thoughtless of me, and I feel quite wretched!" she confessed as her tears fell again.

Jonathan could only hope that she would presently recover her composure and, despite her grief, would be ready to undertake their journey. He had a hired vehicle waiting to take them to the railway station.

They set off an hour later travelling by train to London, where they broke journey, staying overnight at the Bingleys' town house in Grosvenor Street.

Jonathan Bingley, considerate at all times, mindful of Becky's need for rest and privacy, had, during the journey, left her and Nelly together in their private compartment. Upon reaching their destination, he had instructed the housekeeper to attend to all her requirements, while he went out to his club, returning only after Becky had retired to her room for the night. He had indicated to her that they would be leaving on the following day for Netherfield, having ascertained first that Becky would be fit to make an early start.

Becky was acutely aware of the kindness and generosity of her host. Since they were children, their mothers being lifelong friends, Becky and her sisters had been close companions of the Bingleys, knowing Jonathan and his sisters well. With Cassy and William Darcy, they had played together as children at Pemberley and Ashford Park, where they had always been welcome visitors, especially after the death of Reverend Collins, when their mother had moved to open a school for girls at Mansfield.

On the long journey by train to London, Becky had remembered those days. There was some irony, she thought, in the fact that it was Jonathan Bingley who had arrived at Edgewater with news of her mother's death and had tried to comfort her. She recalled how he, as a young boy, had accompanied his parents to her father's funeral, and when, after the service was over, she had disappeared into the garden, it was Jonathan who had been sent by his mother Jane to look for her. He had found her red-eyed and tearful, behind the garden shed, among the beehives, and been sufficiently concerned to try to console her.

On that occasion too, he had offered her his pristine white pocket handkerchief, having assumed that she was grieving for her father. When she had confessed that she was not--indeed she was weeping because she was confused, unable, unlike her sisters Catherine and Amelia-Jane, to weep as they had done at the news, his response had surprised her.

"I am sorry," she had cried. "I wanted to feel sad, but all I could think of was how wonderful it was that we would have to leave Hunsford and Rosings Park, now Papa was dead. Jonathan, I feel wicked and terrible!"

She had expected him to look shocked, even to reproach her for such a callous thought, but he had done nothing of the sort. As she had haltingly explained how she longed to leave the stifling atmosphere of Hunsford parsonage and escape the constant scrutiny of the meddlesome Lady Catherine de Bourgh, he had looked neither surprised nor censorious.

She had insisted, sobbing, "I do not mean that I did not love Papa," and he had smiled.

"Of course not. I quite understand, Becky. It is not at all unusual to feel relief in such situations," he had said in the calmest, most grown-up voice. "You must not feel guilty; it is not your fault that Lady Catherine aroused such feelings in you. I believe it is quite natural."

He had persuaded her to dry her eyes and accompany him indoors. "Now, you must come in, else your mama will begin to worry about you, and that will not do."

He had sounded so confident, so reassuring, she had been immensely grateful, as she had written some time later in her diary:

And now, once again, here he was, reassuring and comforting her, urging her again not to feel guilty. He was being considerate and kind just as he had been those many years ago. As the train had rattled and swung through the Kentish countryside, it had been easy to slip into a reverie of reminiscences. Remembering their youthful association, her mind toyed with memories of Jonathan Bingley.

"He has not changed," Becky thought. "He has always been one of the best men I have ever known."

Approaching London, the train seemed to gather pace, and as it clanked and screeched over the points, she had been jolted out of her daydream. The gritty ugliness of the town had replaced the idyllic scenes of pastoral life outside. They were almost at the end of their journey, when Jonathan rejoined them to ask if all was well, and in that moment, Becky understood clearly why it was she had fallen in love with Jonathan Bingley all those years ago.

It was not just that he had been the best looking man she knew--he had an air of gravity that often made him look rather solemn--but there was also his remarkable gift of knowing exactly what to do and say when one was distressed or upset, without any trace of superiority or arrogance. After the insufferable rudeness of Lady Catherine and the obsequious manners of her father, Jonathan had been to Becky the very model of what a young gentleman should be.

After a comfortable night at Grosvenor Street, Becky was awakened at daybreak by her maid, Nelly, who brought her mistress tea and helped with her toilette, while relating for her benefit the latest news she had gathered in the servants' quarters.

She was very well informed.

"They say, ma'am, that Mr and Mrs Darcy and her sister Mrs Bingley have arrived in London and are staying at the Darcys' house in Portman Square. Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley are said to be very distraught, ma'am, at the sudden death of Mrs Collins. She was a very dear friend to both of them. Mr Bingley is unwell and did not accompany them, but the rest are to join Mr Jonathan Bingley's party on the journey to Netherfield," Nelly explained.

Becky appreciated Elizabeth Darcy's feelings; she had been one of Charlotte's closest friends, and Jane Bingley, tender-hearted and well-meaning, could not possibly have stayed away. Becky hoped her husband Charles Bingley's illness was not a serious one. Nelly thought not.

But, eager to be gone as early as possible, wild to see her sister Catherine and to look upon her late mother's face, no matter how much she dreaded the encounter, Becky was a little impatient.

"Oh dear, I trust we will not be delayed by having to wait for all these people," she grumbled. "I had hoped to make an early start."

Nelly was quick to reassure her mistress. "Oh no, ma'am. Mr Bingley has given strict instructions that we are to be ready to leave within the hour. He is very anxious to get you to Longbourn as soon as possible, ma'am."

"Indeed?" said Becky. "That is very considerate of him. I don't suppose he has mentioned if we are to travel with the party from Derbyshire?"

This time, Nelly answered confidently, "Indeed no, ma'am, but the footman says we are to travel in Mr Bingley's private vehicle. The Darcys and Mrs Bingley are travelling in one of the grand carriages come all the way from Pemberley. He says Mrs Darcy will not use the railway, ma'am."

Becky smiled wryly. "That is exactly like Mrs Darcy," she thought. Her mother had said as much on another occasion.

"Eliza will
not
travel by train; she cannot bear the noise and the soot and the crowds at the stations!" Charlotte had said with a smile, pointing out that it was just as well Mr Darcy had several fine vehicles and many good horses in his stables at Pemberley, else Elizabeth would not travel anywhere at all.

Becky recalled how, after her father's death at Hunsford, they, having no private carriage, had travelled everywhere on the railway. Her mother had been quite comfortable on the trains, until more recently when her painful rheumatism had made train travel difficult.

Yet, when Becky's husband Mr Tate had died and their son Walter had travelled to the United States to bring his ashes back to England for burial, Mrs Collins had braved the long journey to Matlock for the funeral.

Becky remembered again that it had been Jonathan Bingley who had arranged to have Mrs Collins conveyed to and from Derbyshire in his own carriage. Charlotte, who had been determined to be there to support her daughter, had been full of praise for the generosity and consideration shown her.

"I cannot say enough about Jonathan Bingley's kindness, Becky dear. He has not spared himself nor any expense to ensure that I had everything I needed and could make the journey comfortably," she had said. "He was most particular that we should be here to support you at this time. Even though Walter was going to be here, Jonathan felt it was important that we should be with you too. 'Mrs Collins,' he said, 'Becky needs us now,' and I agreed." Her mother had been unstinting in her praise of him.

After Nelly had helped her mistress dress and packed her trunk, they went downstairs to find that Jonathan had breakfasted earlier and was making preparations for their departure. Their trunks had already been carried downstairs. Having enquired if Becky had slept well and was ready to travel, he informed her that they were awaiting word from the Darcys at Portman Square.

"As soon as I have word from Mr Darcy, we will be on our way," he said.

Becky thanked him and indicated that she was ready to leave whenever he wished. "I am very keen to see my sister before I proceed to Longbourn," she explained, and he concurred.

"Of course, Becky, Catherine and Frank Burnett are staying at Netherfield, where we are bound first. I expect to reach our destination by early afternoon. You may then arrange to accompany your sister to Longbourn whenever you choose. I shall arrange to have a vehicle made available for you," he said and added, "I understand that Mrs Darcy is exceedingly distressed. Your mama was her oldest and dearest friend."

Becky nodded, unable to speak, as she rose from the breakfast table.

She had hoped she would not have to encounter Mr and Mrs Darcy, at least not until she had seen Catherine and they had reached Longbourn. She was apprehensive about meeting Elizabeth, in particular, being quite convinced that if she discovered that Becky had turned down an opportunity to see her mother a few weeks ago, Lizzie would be very censorious indeed. Mrs Darcy, whom she admired, had always intimidated her. Becky feared her judgment would be questioned once again, as it had been over the circumstances of her daughter's tragic marriage to young Julian Darcy.

Turning to Jonathan, she asked rather tentatively, "Jonathan, may I ask if Lizzie... Mrs Darcy... is aware that you... what I mean is, have you or Anna told her or Jane of your invitation to me last month... to visit Netherfield?"

Jonathan, aware of the strained relationship that had existed for many years between Becky Tate and his aunt Mrs Darcy, was not about to allow that particular demon to reappear. His answer was quite emphatic.

"Certainly not. I can assure you, Becky, that neither Mrs Darcy nor any other member of the family will learn of it from me or my wife. We entirely understood the reasons for your decision--there was much to be settled after Mr Tate's death and later at Edgewater; it was not a matter upon which there was any censure of you on our part. Nor will we contribute to criticism against you by any other person. I give you my word."

Becky thanked him and left to complete her preparations for the journey, while he went to summon the servants who would accompany them to Netherfield Park. Soon afterwards, word arrived from Portman Square that Mr and Mrs Darcy and Mrs Bingley had just set out on their journey to Hertfordshire.