A Woman of Influence (26 page)

Once again, Frank Burnett tried to persuade his wife that she should not be too concerned, for not only was Becky unlikely to become so involved, it was equally improbable that Mr Harding would be available for such a liaison.

"A respected lawyer and a Member of Parliament, I doubt that he would be so inclined. He may even be committed already. No, my dearest, I do believe you are being too anxious; your sister will probably negotiate this situation quite successfully and avoid the obvious pitfalls."

His confidence did bring her some comfort, but Catherine knew enough of Becky's past life and general disposition not to be entirely reassured.

Some weeks later, Becky did travel to London, taking only her maid Nelly with her, ostensibly to attend another meeting with Mr John Harding and receive further information relating to the case of William Rickman.

On her return, she reported that an application for a pardon had been lodged and was being assiduously pursued. However, Catherine did note that while her sister was still hopeful of success, there was not as much fulsome praise for Mr Harding as before.

Trying to discover what had eventuated, without appearing to pry, Catherine found that Becky would say very little except that Mr Harding had promised the matter of William Rickman would be pursued most assiduously, but could give her no assurance of success at this stage.

"Did he indicate how long it might be before he would have an answer?" Catherine asked.

Becky answered in a voice that did not hide her disappointment. "No, Cathy, it does seem it will be many months, if not longer. Meanwhile, Alice and her husband must live apart. I feel for poor Alice and Tom and wish I could do something to help. It seems so cruel that they should be parted from Rickman, while lawyers and politicians argue about the merits of his case. It's so unfair."

Catherine could see that her sister was unhappy that matters had not moved faster. Becky was unused to procrastination and was impatient with the snail's pace at which the processes of the law seemed to move.

Later, Catherine was to discover from her own maid, whose friendship with Nelly was an advantage, that Mr Harding had called on Becky at the hotel and invited her to a dinner party at his town house in Mayfair, but Becky had declined the invitation.

Nelly's loyal version was that her mistress was "much too proper" to go to dinner at his house, but Catherine reckoned that it had less to do with propriety than with Becky's disappointment that Mr Harding had not been as successful as she had expected him to be.

She knew her sister well enough to understand that her frustration must have tarnished some of his brilliant reputation and probably diminished her enthusiasm for him.

Still, it was better that she should be disappointed than that her elation with his success should fire her admiration to the point where she believed herself in love with him, Catherine thought.

She had not suspected at the time it was announced that Becky's sudden acceptance of Anthony Tate's offer had been on the rebound, resulting from her disappointment when Jonathan Bingley became engaged to their sister AmeliaJane. But she
had
wondered at the speed with which the pair had married a few months later. She hoped with all her heart that something similar wasn't happening all over again.

Unwilling to intrude upon her sister's privacy, Catherine maintained her silence, saying nothing for fear she might exacerbate the situation or, worse, distress Becky to the extent she might stop confiding in her altogether.

Meanwhile, it seemed that Alice Grey had accepted that she would have a long wait before she knew what fate was in store for her husband. She continued working at Edgewater, uncomplaining, grateful for the shelter and protection it offered her and her child, aware that her mistress and benefactor was determined to help them.

Neither the ex-convict nor any other stranger intruded upon their lives for some weeks, until one mild afternoon when Tom, who was playing in the yard, came racing in to his mother, crying out and pointing to a strange man coming up the drive.

His cries alerted Mrs Bates, who went outside to investigate, while Nelly rushed into Becky's study, where she found her mistress reading a book.

"Ma'am, please, ma'am, look, there's a man in the yard, and I think it's Tom's father..." she cried, and Becky going to the window, looked out in time to see Alice and little Tom rush out into the arms of a tall, gaunt man who gathered them up and held them both in a close embrace.

Lean and dark, his arms and neck brown with working out of doors, he looked older than his years. His clothes were old but clean, and on his head was a battered hat such as farm labourers wore. Becky had no doubt the stranger was indeed the husband and father that Alice Grey and her son had longed for. The warmth of their reunion was proof enough.

As they watched, both Becky and Nelly with tears in their eyes, the three sat down on a rough bench beside the stable door, in silence, as if unable to believe they were together at last. The man had one arm around his wife and hugged the boy to him with the other before releasing him to play.

Having waited awhile to allow the pair time alone, Becky sent Nelly out to ask Alice to invite her husband into the kitchen and to tell Mrs Bates to ensure he was given food and drink.

"He has probably walked miles to get here; he must be exhausted and hungry," she said, and Nelly raced away to do her bidding.

Later, Becky sent for Alice Grey and asked, "How did he get here?"

"He got a ride with a traveller, ma'am; there was no more work for him on the farm, and he decided to leave, but he wanted to see us before he moved elsewhere," Alice replied, quite unable to keep the delight out of her voice.

"What will he do now?" Becky asked, and Alice answered, "He means to look for work in the district, ma'am. He hopes to find lodgings in the village and maybe ask around the hop fields; there's always laboring work to be done after the harvest."

Becky thought a while and said, "There is work to be had on the Rosings estate; they are demolishing the burnt-out sections of the house and some of the old outbuildings. Will he do such work?"

Alice was sure he would. "I think he would do anything, ma'am. He works very hard."

Becky promised to ask her brother-in-law, Mr Burnett, who was in charge of the work at Rosings, if they had any suitable work for Rickman--but meanwhile, she urged Alice to be cautious about speaking too openly about their plans.

"And it is best that he stays out of the village for some time. There may be talk of a stranger seeking lodgings, and the police may become curious.

"It will not do to draw their attention to your husband, while Mr Harding is still trying to obtain a pardon for him."

Alice agreed at once. "Oh yes indeed, ma'am, I understand. I will tell him."

"Well, you may also tell him he can bed down in one of the unused stables. I shall ask Mrs Bates to provide him with some bedding and blankets. Now, Alice, I trust you to be very discreet and careful in everything you do. I know you are overjoyed to have him back, but it is important that both of you take very great care not to do anything that will draw undue attention to yourselves. You do not want people to be gossiping, do you?" Becky warned.

"Oh no, ma'am. I will be very careful, thank you, ma'am," said Alice, her eyes shining, and went away to break the news to her husband. If he could find work at Rosings and stay over at Edgewater, at least their family would be together.

It was almost impossible for her to comprehend what had transpired in the last few months to change her life, and though there were still many obstacles in their path and they had been warned not to be too optimistic, Alice Grey could not help humming to herself as she ran downstairs.

Watching her go, Becky's tears fell freely. Each time she saw the girl, she felt a sharp stab of pain, as she recalled the child she had lost. She was glad indeed that no one, not even her loyal Nelly, was there to see her weep.

It was the middle of Autumn, and Becky was becoming restive.

There had been no news from either Mr Harding or Colin Elliott about the progress of the application for a pardon for William Rickman. She had considered writing to Mr Elliott but had decided against it; he was a busy and diligent member of Parliament, and they were approaching the end of the sessions. He may not have welcomed an approach from her.

She wished desperately that she had the means to discover whether the appeal had travelled upward through the ranks of the bureaucracy or had stalled upon the desk of some procrastinating or pernickety official. More than once she had wondered if a letter to Colin Elliott's wife, Anne-Marie, might not help, but had decided against it, unwilling to draw more people into the small group who knew the details of the matter.

Rising from her desk, Becky walked restlessly about her study, playing first with one idea and then another but unable to fix upon any one of them. Looking out on the garden, she could see Tom playing on the lawn, while farther afield his father, wearing his battered old hat, was raking up the leaves and clearing away the debris left by the storm that had blown in from the northeast, keeping her awake most of the previous night.

Following her appeal to Mr Burnett, Rickman had been found some work at Rosings, but whenever he returned to Edgewater, he seemed to feel the need to make himself useful, working industriously at a variety of jobs around the grounds. Obliging and polite, he was generally well liked by the rest of the staff. Mrs Bates in particular could not praise him enough.

Becky smiled as she saw Alice come out of the kitchen and take him a mug of tea, which he drank, while she stood beside him and the boy raced back and forth between his parents. Having drained the mug, Rickman scooped the child up in his arms, and it seemed the boy whispered in his father's ear. Indeed, Nelly had already reported that the child had been trying to speak a few words again and that Alice was overjoyed. It was a picture of simple, warm affection that belied the anxiety they must feel about the future. It affected Becky deeply.

Recounting the incident, she wrote in her diary that night:

On the morrow, the post brought Becky some letters, one from Emily Courtney, thanking her for her concern and kind offers of help, and another from Jonathan Bingley's wife, Anna. The latter contained a surprise invitation to join them in London for an evening at the theatre. Anna wrote:

It certainly could, thought Becky, recalling previous visits to the opera in London; she had always been partial to the theatre. Besides, this visit would have the added benefit of affording her an opportunity to meet with Mr Elliott and enquire if he had any news of the progress of Rickman's pardon.

"Perhaps if I am very diplomatic," she said to Catherine, when she showed her Anna's letter, "he may not mind my asking."

Catherine encouraged her to accept the invitation. "Of course, you must go, Becky; write to Anna and say you will come. Just think, you could combine business with pleasure. I know you will enjoy yourself, you love the theatre, and will it not be fun to have both Lizzie and Caroline there?"

Becky agreed and, allowing herself to be persuaded, she wrote that night to Anna Bingley, thanking her for the kind invitation, which she was happy to accept. She had been in two minds, but Catherine's encouragement had made her decision easier.

She took the letter to the post herself, together with another, which she had written and kept awhile, re-reading and re-writing it many times before deciding to seal and send it.

It was a response to a letter that had arrived a fortnight ago from Mr Harding, which Becky had opened with much hope, expecting it to contain good news for the Rickmans. But disappointingly, it had contained no information at all about William Rickman's case; instead she had found within a formal proposal of marriage.