A Woman of Influence (38 page)

As they approached the house, she looked around the front lawn but could not see him.

"Which way did he go, Nelly?" she asked, and Nelly, looking past her mistress, caught sight of a tall figure walking at some distance from them through the grove of trees on the far side of the lake. She pointed in the direction of the spinney; the poplars were bare, and one could see through them into the woods beyond. He had his back to them and could not have seen them as they came up the drive.

"Shall I go and tell him you are here, ma'am?" Nelly offered.

"No, Nelly, I will go to him, but do go in and ask Cook to have tea and refreshments made ready. You can bring them into the parlour later."

"Yes, ma'am," said Nelly, and as Becky turned to go, she added softly, "Please, ma'am, begging your pardon for saying this, but he's such a lovely gentleman; don't send him away again."

Leaving her mistress speechless, she rushed indoors as Becky walked around the lake and towards the figure, now moving even farther into the woods.

She hurried forward, and as she approached, hearing her footsteps, he turned and, seeing her, quickened his steps as he came towards her.

They met within a grove of elms whose leafless branches let the Winter sun through. He held out his hand to her, and she took it, letting him draw her into his arms. Neither said a word for several minutes as he held her very close. As they stood together, Becky felt the rising excitement of her own heart and knew he must surely feel it, too.

When he spoke, it was to say, "My dearest Becky, I love you so much, will you marry me, please?" and when she replied, "Yes, yes, I will, and I love you too, very dearly," his joy was so profound, impossible to contain, he held her in his arms and kissed her, quite oblivious of the curious glances of two young farmhands who had appeared behind them, making their way through the woods to the village, with a barrow-load of kindling.

Becky saw them as they passed and said softly, "There, now it will be all over the village that I have been seen kissing a stranger in the woods."

He threw back his head, and his laughter filled the air as he said, "Ah, that is very good; then they will all know that I love you, and when we tell them that we are to be married soon, they will be very happy for us."

Becky laughed too, and for the first time in weeks, her heart was filled with the same joy she had known two years ago, but with none of the guilt.

"Are we to be married soon?" she asked, a teasing note in her voice.

"As soon as you wish, my dearest; I feel as if I have waited for you for years. It has been too long."

Though she did not say it then, Becky's feelings were no different.

It was as though she had waited for him all her life.

As they returned to the house, her arm through his, Nelly came to the door, and seeing them thus, she smiled and ran back in again, confident that this time her mistress would not be sending Mr Contini away.

The rest of the day was spent in the sort of conversation that occupies most lovers who, having become engaged, find themselves released from the restraints previously placed upon them by demands of decorum.

Seated together on the sofa in the parlour, they found there were many questions to be asked and answers to be given. Some were lighthearted, others more serious.

Becky wanted to know why he had not written before leaving England for Italy. "I was very surprised and a little hurt; I had soon convinced myself that you had returned to Italy without a word to me, because you had decided our friendship was no longer worth pursuing," she said, and he was most apologetic, explaining his reasons.

He insisted she was mistaken.

"Not so, my love; in fact, I was recalled very suddenly because my mother, who is very old, had become ill and was asking for me," he said, adding with a distinct twinkle in his eye, "Of course, it was not serious; each time she becomes ill, they call the priest first and then send for me. Most often, neither of us is required to do more than hold her hand and recite a prayer, but I had not the time to call on you as I had hoped. I am sorry if I caused you pain, but I did leave a letter with my friend Mr Bingley, who gave me his word that he would deliver it on the earliest possible occasion."

Becky was reassured. "Which he did very well, and despite his protestations to the contrary, Jonathan was a most eloquent advocate for you. He began by insisting that he was a disinterested intermediary, merely conveying your message, but before long, he left me in no doubt of the value he placed upon your character and the sincerity of your feelings for me," she said.

"Dear Jonathan, he is a good friend; I have many reasons to be grateful to him," he said. "He persuaded me to write. I was very afraid you would consider it impertinent of me, presumptuous even. After all, you had given me no indication that you had any particular feelings for me when we were in London, and besides, I am not a very clever letter writer, especially in a foreign language. My English friends are amused by what they consider my 'bookish' style. You, Becky, are a real writer--I was afraid you would laugh at me, too."

Becky was determined to make it plain that she did not share the opinion of his friends.

"Laugh at you? You need not have feared any such thing. Your friends may laugh, but I certainly did not. I may not have said this before, but now we are decided upon our future, I can assure you it was one of the most charming letters I have ever received. It was certainly not impertinent or presumptuous-- indeed it was so well argued, so pleasing without being at all excessive, I think I shall preserve it forever."

He looked delighted.

"Forever? That is a very long time. I am flattered and relieved to hear you say so. I wished very much to see you and tell you how deeply I felt. It would have been easier than writing but, as I explained..."

She interrupted him with another question, "May I ask why, when we were in London, you did not give me any sign that you cared for me? You could have let me see that there were deeper feelings involved, could you not?" she asked, adding, "It would have spared me much heartache, when I thought you would not come."

He was immediately contrite.

"My dearest love, I am sorry to have hurt you; it was not my intention to do so, but I was reluctant to intrude upon you without knowing how you were likely to respond. Perhaps I was being too cautious. Forgive me, but you had lost your husband not very long ago, and in Italy, a widow and her family would be outraged if a man attempts too soon to woo her. I did not know if you would consider an approach by me indelicate. I decided to ask my friend Mr Bingley's advice on the matter before approaching you."

"Indeed? And what was his advice?" asked Becky, curious to know what guidance Jonathan may have given him.

Mr Contini smiled, "He assured me that widows in England, unless they were the Queen, did not generally go into deep mourning for many years and that in any event, Mr Tate and you had lived apart by mutual consent for some time before his death. It was something I was unaware of. He told me you were unlikely to be offended and wished me success."

Becky looked quite solemn, and he asked, "Forgive me, am I causing you more pain by speaking of this?"

"No, no indeed, you have answered my question exactly; I was puzzled that you had not spoken earlier, when we were so happy together in London, but now I do understand. And you are not to apologise, because there is nothing to apologise for and nothing to forgive," she said, realizing as she spoke that she too owed Jonathan Bingley a debt of gratitude.

Becky was very much moved by what she saw as his genuine modesty.

There were few men in her circle of acquaintances, whom she could credit with similar sensibility and integrity of character.

Her serious expression troubled him a little, and fearing he had reawakened painful memories, he sought to change the subject and, adopting a lighter tone, asked, "And the keepsake I sent you, you liked it a little, yes?"

"Oh yes, I did," she said, smiling. "More than a little; it was a delightful surprise. I must ask you now, was it all done from memory? I cannot recall a time when you could have caught me in that mood for long enough to make a sketch."

He looked somewhat abashed as he admitted that he had covertly made a little pencil sketch of her as she had sat with Anna Bingley in the sitting room on the afternoon before her return to Kent.

"You seemed deep in contemplation, listening, as Mrs Bingley read from a book of poems. It made such a perfect picture, I had to make a quick sketch. Later, I worked on it from memory, and I was not sure I had caught your expression, but I am glad you like it," he explained, clearly keen to have her approval.

"I like it very well; it has pride of place on my dressing table. Nelly thinks it is an excellent likeness, and so does Jonathan. Would you like to know what I was thinking on that afternoon?"

He was eager to know, and she told him, this time without any reservation, that she had been contemplating the possibility that perhaps he would give her some hint of his feelings, before she left London for Kent.

"By then I had begun to realise that my own feelings were much deeper than I had believed them to be, but I was afraid to acknowledge them even to myself, lest yours were not similarly engaged; I was afraid of being hurt," she said.

This admission brought such expressions of contrition and warm affection that Becky could no longer have any doubt at all of being deeply loved. Both acknowledged that they owed much to the generosity and wise counsel of Jonathan Bingley.

"He is an exceptional man, Becky; I have known him since our schooldays, and I can say quite truthfully that I do not know a better man."

Becky had to agree, aware once again of the ironic circumstances by which the man she had once loved and lost to her younger sister Amelia-Jane had been instrumental in bringing them together.

Mr Contini was keen to talk about their plans for the future, but Becky had a few more questions for him, and like most lovers, he was at that stage of their relationship when he was happy to indulge her.

"Will you tell me something about our visit to the house of Mr Adrian Hart?" she asked.

"Of course, what is it you wish to know?"

"Was it prearranged with Mr Hart that he would not be present, perhaps to let us have the place to ourselves that afternoon? Did you know before we reached the house that he would not be there?"

His countenance betrayed his surprise at her question.

"Becky, there are two matters in your question. Let me answer them thus-- first, no, it was not prearranged that Adrian Hart should not be there, not by me at any rate. I was very surprised. But, second, I did learn later from Jonathan Bingley that he had suggested to Mr Hart that they meet for lunch at Whitehall on that very day to discuss urgent political matters."

"And he did not warn you?" she asked.

"He did not; indeed he confessed to me only after I expressed some concern that you may have been embarrassed by the absence of our host. Doubtless, Jonathan decided to let us have the afternoon together and arranged it, but I was afraid you might have suspected me of conniving at it, which I see now you did. Did you not?" he asked, challenging her playfully, and Becky smiled.

"The thought did cross my mind, but I am happy to believe you were quite innocent. I asked not because I was annoyed or embarrassed but only out of curiosity; I had never thought of Jonathan Bingley as a matchmaker!"

He laughed again and she remembered how she had enjoyed his big, uninhibited laugh when they had first met in Italy many years ago. It had filled the room like music, as it did now, and she loved hearing it again.

"Have you any more questions for me?" he asked patiently, and she, thinking to tease him a little, replied, "Not now, but there may be others later; will you answer them as willingly?"

"But of course, my love, it will be my pleasure. You must feel free to ask me anything you wish. It will mean that we are both open and trusting with each other," he said and, wishing to reassure her, continued earnestly. "My dear Becky, there is nothing in my life I wish to conceal from you."

There was no doubting his sincerity, and almost in spite of herself, she said, aware even as she spoke that it was not the whole truth, "Nor I from you," which led to an exchange of loving reassurances between them that brought an end to questions and answers for some considerable time as they reaffirmed their love.

It was late, and Mr Contini had to return to the village, where he had taken a room at the local inn, which, he assured her, was clean and comfortable, if not particularly luxurious. There being no other means of transport available, Becky asked for her modest carriage to be brought round, to convey him thither. They parted reluctantly; he would return on the morrow, when she would take him to meet her sister and brother-in-law.

After he had left, Becky retired to her study to write a note to Catherine, which she despatched almost immediately, asking if she may bring a visitor to tea at the Dower House around mid-morning of the following day.

When the servant returned with the reply, it was clear Catherine had guessed who the favoured visitor might be.

She wrote: