A Woman of Influence (4 page)

His letter ended with the usual warm and sincere felicitations and good wishes for her health, regards to her sister, etc., concluding:

Reading the letter, Catherine was pleasantly surprised both by its tone and contents. Jonathan Bingley had long been a favourite of hers as he had been of her mother's, and if he had been selected by Mr Tate to assist his widow, then in Catherine's eyes, that was unarguably good news.

She could not understand why Becky was so obviously upset.

She glanced at the letter from Mr Sharpe the solicitor, but was disconcerted by the exceedingly legalistic language in which it was couched and appealed to Becky to interpret it for her.

The gist of the letter appeared to be an explanation of the terms of Mr Tate's instructions to him regarding his businesses in the United States. In an addendum to his will, added shortly before his death, Anthony Tate had instructed that the proceeds of his estate in America be held in trust and that Jonathan Bingley be asked to administer the income thereof.

The proceeds were to go to his wife, Rebecca Tate, to be used for any project she chose, so long as Mr Bingley believed it to be reasonable and worthy of support. Clearly Mr Tate had greatly valued Jonathan Bingley's judgment.

Becky laughed as she explained, "So you see, Cathy, he did not trust me to use his money wisely; fearing I might fritter it all away on something silly like gowns or jewels, no doubt, he arranges for Jonathan to be my guardian! Isn't that just like Mr Tate?"

Catherine had found it difficult to account for her sister's discomposure, until Becky made it clear she had been hurt by the proposition contained in the documents.

"You seem so distressed, Becky," she said a little lamely, not knowing quite how to respond.

"I am indeed," replied her sister, "very distressed. To think that my husband, after all these years, did not believe I could be trusted to use his bequest wisely. How would you have felt, Cathy?"

Catherine indicated that it was not a question she could competently answer, since Dr Harrison had had very little to leave to his widow--certainly nothing like the two thousand pounds a year which Jonathan predicted would flow from Mr Tate's estate.

"But, Becky," she said in a characteristically logical way, "can this not be seen as a prudent device, to ensure that the money from Mr Tate's American enterprise is made available to you, through a trust arrangement, thereby avoiding the possible unpleasantness for you, which might follow the disappointment of Walter's expectations? Just think, this way, there can be no pressure brought to bear upon you. If Walter and his wife wish to contest Mr Tate's wishes, they will have to deal with Jonathan and Mr Sharpe, who are disinterested parties, instead. I think your husband, far from not trusting you with the money, has by this means ensured that you will be able to use it for whatever projects you choose to support, without having to justify it to Walter and his wife."

Becky had listened to her sister with increasing astonishment.

"Cathy, you have an unerring instinct for making the very best of every situation, and no doubt there is some truth in what you say. I would not put it past Walter's wife to urge him to press me to part with some of this money on some pretext, despite the fact that he has inherited all of the printing business, the entire family estate in Derbyshire, and some properties elsewhere as well. They were very cross that I had been permitted to sell the house in London in order that I might purchase Edgewater--I have no doubt they had hopes of retaining it for their own use whenever they wished to come up to town."

"Well, then?" Catherine seemed unable to understand her continuing discomfort. "Surely the fact that you will now have the use of the money, without being burdened with administering the estate, since Jonathan as principal trustee will take on that responsibility, must please you. It seems a most convenient arrangement."

But, surprisingly, Becky shook her head.

"It may appear so to an observer, Cathy, but it is an arrangement that would make me exceedingly uncomfortable," she declared, and Catherine, uncomprehending, asked, "Why, Becky, do you not trust Mr Bingley?"

Becky blushed and looked anxious, but her response was immediate. "Trust Jonathan? Of course I do. I would trust him with my life."

"What is it then?" asked her sister, troubled by the apparent contradictions in Becky's attitude. "What possible objection could you have to him?"

Becky Tate sighed and sat down beside her sister. She had decided that the time had arrived when Catherine would have to learn the truth. And, in the course of a long afternoon, she told her story, prefaced by a poignant appeal.

"You must promise me, my dear sister, that no word of what I now tell you will be repeated by you to anyone. I cannot ask you to keep secrets from your husband, but if you must tell him, then I beg you to extract from him a similar promise. There are too many people who may be hurt should the truth become common knowledge, and others may use it to hurt me or Jonathan and his family for their own perverse ends. Will you promise me, Cathy?" she asked.

Still exceedingly concerned, Catherine gave her word. "Of course, my dear, if it concerns you alone, there may be no reason at all for me to divulge it even to Frank. If it is a matter of no consequence to anyone but yourself, I believe you are entitled to your privacy. There, it shall be our secret," she said, with no notion at all of what she was about to hear.

Becky Tate's story had its beginnings in the days after the death of her father Reverend William Collins, when her mother had decided that, rather than accept a paid position in the household of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, she would use the sum of money she had inherited from her husband and her own small income to make an independent living.

With the assistance and advice of her friends the Darcys and Mrs Darcy's uncle Mr Gardiner, Charlotte had set up a modest enterprise--a school for young ladies--whose parents wished them to learn to draw, paint, and read poetry, as well as acquire the social arts and graces that would enable them to take their place in polite society.

Unlike her elder sister, Catherine, who had accepted an invitation from Her Ladyship to stay on at Rosings Park, Becky and young Amelia-Jane had accompanied their mother to Mansfield, where in a leased house on the estate of Lord Mansfield, Charlotte Collins had set up her school.

It had been something of a struggle at first, with only a few pupils and some of them being of such a poor quality as to defy the efforts of even the most dedicated teacher, but Mrs Collins had persevered, and in time, the school had become a modest success.

Becky had participated actively in her mother's work, enjoying the challenge of teaching young girls, for she was well-read and educated herself and enjoyed the chance to pass on some of her skills and knowledge to other young women.

But her heart had always been elsewhere, for Becky had dreamed all her young life of being a writer, and though she was a good teacher of poetry and enjoyed reading to her students from her favourite books, she yearned to have time for her own work.

Despite the long hours she spent on preparing lessons for the paying pupils who were their livelihood, she had still found time, often after dark, when everyone else had gone to bed, to sit at the kitchen table, scribbling on scraps of paper, filling old notebooks with the words and stories that filled her head.

Unlike her very practical mother, Charlotte, and her eminently sensible sister Catherine, Becky had had romantic tendencies, which had lain dormant for years. It was not that she craved some unattainable lover or longed for some passionate romance, but her desire to achieve that which had always fired her imagination, since childhood--to see her work in print--had burned bright. She was not particularly ambitious; she did not seek fame or fortune, merely the fulfillment of a dream, nourished chiefly by her imagination in the long periods of boredom at Hunsford and Rosings Park.

She had always hoped that one day, someone would be sufficiently interested in her work to read it and want to publish it. She was determined that whatever else she did in life, she would not abandon that particular hope. The notebooks she filled with her "scribbling," as Charlotte called it, she kept well hidden among the clothes in her trunk, afraid that they may draw adverse comment or ridicule from her sisters.

No one had read them or shown any interest in them, until, on a visit to Ashford Park, she had mentioned them to Jonathan Bingley, who was home on vacation from college. They had talked of hobbies, and he had praised his sister Emma's accomplishments in music and painting; on Becky's mentioning her love of writing, he had suggested that she send one or two pieces of her work to the editor of the
Matlock Review
in Derbyshire.

"It does no good to keep it hidden away, Becky," he had said, and when she had seemed surprised at the suggestion, he had assured her that the journal, with whose owners he was well acquainted, was keen to encourage local talent. He had gone so far as to offer to introduce her to the family that ran the business.

"The Tates are a distinguished family; they are friends of my aunt Lizzie and her husband, Mr Darcy," he had said, "and I have known Anthony Tate and his mother for some years. They are well regarded for their support of important projects in their community; the
Review
and the
Pioneer have both been use
d by the Tates to champion many worthy causes, and I am confident they will pay your work some attention, should you submit it. If you choose to do so, you may say that I encouraged you in that course, if you wish," he had added.

Grateful for his encouragement, though rather overwhelmed, Becky had asked, "But how can you be so sure, when you have not read any of my work?" only to be told that he did not need to read it, although he would be happy to do so, if she wished him to. He said he could judge from her conversation that her compositions would probably be sensible and well written, and editors were always looking for new talent, because their readers demanded it.

When Becky had rather nervously permitted him to read a recent composition of hers, Jonathan had claimed that while he was no judge of literary standards, he thought it was interesting, and besides, he had argued, it was the editor of the
Review
who would decide, so it was to him she should submit her work.

"Be assured, Becky, they will not reject it arbitrarily. If it is deemed good enough to print, they will print it," he had said, adding, "Their readers are always looking to read something new."

With such encouragement, Becky had needed no further prompting. Picking out two or three compositions, she had, with Jonathan's help, composed a brief letter and dispatched them to the
Matlock Review
, but with little hope of a favourable response.

She had been unsurprised when two of them were returned almost at once with a polite rejection slip, but then, to her astonishment, the third, a short piece about the tribulations of a farmer's daughter visiting her city relatives, was accepted. Not long afterwards, a letter had arrived, inviting her to submit another piece in a similar vein.

Delighted, she had written to thank Jonathan Bingley for his assistance and had received from him a short congratulatory note, which she had folded and put away in her pocket book, carrying it around with her for years like some miraculous talisman.

Jonathan had written:

This brief note had meant more to Becky than praise from any other source or the small payment she received from the
Review.

Her career as a writer, albeit under the pseudonym of Marianne Laurence, had progressed rapidly in the years that followed, when Mrs Therese Tate, who managed the printing business for her son, Anthony, had shown a particular interest in her work. A kindly and educated woman with an abiding concern for the welfare of rural women, she had seen in Becky someone who could be a useful ally.

Education for girls, the removal of women and children from underground mines, the provision of a hospital for women, these were all dear to her heart, and in Becky she had found a young person whose desire to write could be channelled into support for these important causes.

Having invited Becky to visit her at her home at Matlock, she had been so impressed by her enthusiasm and touched by her keenness to please, Mrs Tate had immediately offered her employment with the business and a regular column in the
Review.