A Woman of Influence (31 page)

When Becky smiled and looked relieved, she added, "Oh, if only Bingley could be persuaded to follow Mr Darcy's example and give up this insane habit of riding out every morning in all weathers. Jane is convinced it is the exposure to mist and damp that causes this condition; I do hope Richard will speak severely to him and advise against it, at least until the warmer weather returns."

Listening to her, Becky thought how confident Elizabeth sounded; how very well she had fitted into her role as the Mistress of Pemberley, expressing her opinions and giving advice without hesitation.

Poor Josie, she remembered, had always been a little intimidated by Mrs Darcy's elegance and self-assurance. As Mr Darcy joined them and the couple said their farewells and went out to their carriage, thoughts of Josie brought her back to reality.

Aldo Contini was standing a little apart from the family members in the hall.

He approached her and spoke softly, "Then it is arranged, I shall call for you on Monday? At what time will you be ready to leave?"

Suddenly, Becky became a little confused and said, "May I send you a note, once I know what arrangements the family have made? I should prefer it to be after they have left for the ceremony, only because I have no wish to answer too many questions."

He understood immediately.

"Of course, certainly. Send me a note on Sunday afternoon. I will be at my uncle's apartment in Belgrave Square, at this address," he said, handing her a card. Then, meeting her eyes, he said, "I am looking forward to it."

She thanked him and, as if to reassure, him said quickly, "I am too, very much."

She did not wish him to think that she had changed her mind and was trying to back away from the arrangement.

After he had said good night, Becky moved away and saw him standing in the doorway with Jonathan as she went upstairs to her room.

There, having completed her toilette, she took out her diary. She would not sleep until she had recorded the events of this evening. She did so, meticulously as always, noting Mr Contini's appearance at the opera.

I suppose it could be argued that when he said he had wanted to meet
me and had come round to our box at the opera, I should have been less
flattered, more censorious. But I was not, and for good reason, because I
did not wish to be. I confess I was pleased he had come especially to see me
and delighted he had been prepared to miss most of Act Two to do so, even
if he is familiar with
Figaro!

Becky was not unaware of the delicacy of the situation in which she had placed herself. Equally, she had done so with a degree of deliberation from which she did not resile. She had wondered whether the Bingleys, Jonathan and her cousin Anna, would disapprove but had swiftly dismissed the idea as being rather jejeune.

By ten o'clock on Monday morning, the Bingleys had left to join the Darcys and accompany Cassy and Richard Gardiner to the reception, where he would be presented with his award.

On the previous afternoon, Becky had sent a note to Mr Contini explaining that half past ten would be an appropriate time for their drive into the country. She was dressed and waiting upstairs, and he arrived promptly at half past the hour in the Continis' brougham. Becky went downstairs to meet him. Nelly, loyal and discreet, was the only person who knew of their intended journey.

It was a cool, pleasant morning redolent of late Summer rather than Autumn. After he had helped her into the vehicle, she asked, "And where exactly are we going today?"

He turned to look at her and smiled.

"Will you not trust me to take you somewhere and surprise you with my choice?" he asked.

Becky had no desire to make a fuss, nor was she inclined to be arch, so she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Very well then, I am perfectly happy to be surprised, just so long as it is a pleasant surprise."

"That I can certainly promise you," he said, and Becky nodded, aware only that they appeared to be travelling north out of London.

It transpired later that they were bound for the county of Essex, a distance of some fourteen miles and a part of the country with which Becky was not at all familiar. However, that information came much later, and in the meantime, contrary to her expectations, for she had felt some apprehension that this was the reason for his wishing to see her alone, he made no mention of any matters from the past. It was a subject she was certain must be in the forefront of his mind, as it was in hers.

Surprising her further, he talked chiefly of his present visit to England and some of the work he had undertaken in Italy during his time there, before asking her about her own plans for the future.

"I understand from Mr Bingley that you have invested much time and effort in setting up a parish school in Kent," he said.

"I have," she replied. "My main concern was to help my sister Catherine achieve her dearest ambition of establishing a school for the young women of the parish, who receive no instruction at all. They can neither read nor write. She had been frustrated in her original intention by her first husband's redoubtable patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who had opposed any such proposal on the grounds that it would give the girls of the parish ideas above their humble station in life."

Mr Contini chuckled, "I have heard of this Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Jonathan Bingley has told me she was a most formidable woman, not to be crossed, on pain of death!" he said, and Becky agreed.

"Indeed, socially speaking at least! My sister's first husband was not the sort of man who would have wished to do so. Her Ladyship's patronage was very useful to him."

Mention of Catherine's first husband served to remind him of something he had been ignorant of until her letter had reached him in Italy.

"You did say in your letter that your sister is married again recently; I trust she is happily married?"

"Oh yes, very much so. She is married now to the man she fell in love with when she was a young girl and should have married twenty years ago. That she did not was yet another consequence of the arrogant meddling of Lady Catherine, who set out to prevent the match, with no respect for the feelings of the two people involved. But they are together now, and I have no doubt whatsoever of their complete happiness," she said with some satisfaction.

"A propitious conclusion then?" he remarked.

"Indeed, but sadly they were denied their felicity for too long," she said, and he glanced quickly at her, hearing a somewhat melancholy note in her voice.

He was silent awhile after that explanation, then asked without warning, "And what about yourself? Have you no similar plans?"

Becky, determined not to be disconcerted or coy, responded frankly, "If you mean matrimonial plans, I have not. But I do have plans of my own for the future; I mean to write and may venture into the publishing business if I can persuade Jonathan Bingley of the value of my project. There are too few good publishers who will accept a manuscript from a woman, however well written. If I could help more women have their work published, I should consider that I have done something truly worthwhile in my life."

He looked at her seriously and, as if taking her to task, said, "You cannot mean that? You have done many worthwhile things in your life. You have, for several years, been a woman of great influence."

"Only in my own small community and only because Mr Tate had the power of his newspapers, which he used to promote the causes we believed in. I very much doubt if he would have been as helpful if he did not agree with my aims, nor would I have been successful without his help. It was his position that enabled me to have my own work published in the
Review an
d other journals. I do not flatter myself that another publisher would have been as willing. I am no Charlotte Bronte, Mr Contini; I do not write romantic tales that sell like hotcakes!

"But now, I should like to do something on my own, something that would help other women, who have very little chance of success as writers."

"Do you mean to establish a printery then?" he asked.

"I most certainly do. I know how hard it is for women to achieve some measure of success; my daughter Josie was destroyed by it. I should like very much to do something about it."

At the mention of Josie, he looked across at her quickly, recalling the circumstances of her daughter's death, and anxious not to say anything to rekindle her grief, he returned to an earlier question.

"And why must Mr Bingley be persuaded?" he asked.

"Ah, that is a long story..."

"Which you cannot divulge to me?"

"Oh no, there is nothing secret about it," she said, adding, "but it is a rather complex story, revealing something about my husband's opinion of my capacity to use the money he left me in a sensible way. He appointed Jonathan as a sort of 'guardian' over me. I shall tell you about it later if you wish; it is too dull a tale for such a pretty drive as this. I have never been in this part of England before and was not aware there was so much beauty here."

They were indeed traversing some very appealing country and fell silent as Becky sought to feast her eyes upon it. To the left of the road lay woodland as far as she could see, where age-old trees stood, still clothed in their Autumn hues of russet and gold, and the air was cold, smokeless, and sweet. They were passing through Epping Forest, the last remnants of the great Waltham Forest, within which stood the ruins of Waltham Abbey, where it was said King Harold had been buried after the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Although neither knew of its historic significance, both admitted to feeling a sense of awe as they regarded the ancient trees and marvelled at their great age.

Later, they talked again of matters of mutual interest; he asked about the parish school in Kent, and she enquired if he had been to the recent concert at the Albert Hall, where the performance of a young Italian maestro had received high praise from the critics and Anna Bingley.

He laughed and said, "High praise from the critics would not inspire me to attend--they are always so contrary, I cannot take them seriously. Praise from Mrs Bingley is quite another matter; she is an artist herself and understands the quality of inspiration."

Becky concurred, "Indeed she does, and because I know very little of the arts, I confess I do value her judgement on such matters."

"Ah, on that matter we are as one, then," he said, and they laughed together, as she protested that they had agreed on many things, before lapsing into silence again.

They had reached the crossroads, at which Mr Contini paid particular attention to their route, consulting a piece of paper he had taken from the inside pocket of his coat, which appeared to have on it some sort of map.

As he put it away and concentrated upon the road ahead, Becky said nothing, her thoughts in some confusion, as she realised how easily she could enjoy his company. It was no different now, she thought, from the way it had been before, and yet their lives had changed considerably in the intervening years.

They made good time, reaching their destination--a country estate on the fringes of Epping Forest--soon after midday.

The gates were open, giving access to the grounds, with woods, paths, and gardens that were quite beautiful with a wild, natural quality that was very different from anything Becky had seen in Kent.

Intrigued, she asked, "Whose estate is this?" and was informed that it belonged to a friend of Mr Contini and Jonathan Bingley, a gentleman and a Member of Parliament, by the name of Adrian Hart, who had invited them to drive there and take lunch with him at the house.

The mention of Jonathan Bingley caused Becky to wonder if he had known of their journey here today, but she was reluctant to ask and prepared instead to enjoy the pleasures this extraordinary place afforded them.