A Woman of Influence (21 page)

Becky nodded; she did not trust herself to speak.

"Well then, what is there to be concerned about?" asked her sister.

"I shall need to send a response--a letter acknowledging his kind sentiments. Would I not?" Becky asked tentatively.

"Of course, it would be the right thing to do after such a courteous message of condolence. But there need be no awkwardness about that," Catherine argued quite reasonably.

"Will you help me compose it, Cathy?" Becky's voice was low and Catherine appeared amazed at her request.

That Becky, whose chief talent was her ability to write lucidly and with conviction, should ask for her assistance was astonishing. Catherine stared at her in disbelief. Yet she said, "Of course, if you wish, but I cannot think it would be a difficult task. His note to you is couched in such genteel terms, it should be easy for you to respond in like manner."

"And if I were to compose such a response, and ask Jonathan Bingley for Mr Contini's address in Italy, do you think he would deem it to be an unusual request?"

"And why should he? Surely, Becky, having delivered Mr Contini's letter himself, Mr Bingley is hardly likely to be surprised that you should wish to respond. I cannot see it, honestly I cannot."

Reassured, Becky, with a little help from her sister, composed a brief, polite, and very acceptable response to be sent to Mr Contini.

In it, she thanked him for his kind sentiments and sent her regards and best wishes, while deftly ignoring his suggestion that they might meet when he was next in England. Catherine had been of the opinion that it was a formal suggestion best left unanswered at this stage.

When it was done, Becky thanked her sister for her kindness and her sensible counsel, apologising at the same time for bringing her out to Edgewater for what must have seemed to her a trivial reason.

Catherine dismissed her concerns. "Do not apologise, Becky dear, I am glad I could help. You must feel able to call on me, if you need me, at any time. We are sisters after all, and now, with Mama gone, you and I have only each other to confide in."

As Catherine prepared to leave and return home, Becky could not help wondering what her sister would have said had she been made aware of all the circumstances of her association with Mr Contini.

After Catherine had left, Becky returned to her room and read again both Mr Contini's note to her and her own response.

She was far from content, feeling there was something missing. His note had expressed genuine concern and a warm friendliness; hers seemed formal and cold.

On impulse, she tore it up and began again.

This time, she adopted a more informal, cordial tone, thanking him for his kind sentiments and saying she took great comfort from them and others she

had received from family and friends since her husband's death.

She mentioned, in passing, that Mr Tate had died in America, where he had lived for the last two years of his life, but quite deliberately omitted to mention their separation. It was possible that Jonathan Bingley may have told him, she thought, seeing no reason to enlighten him herself.

However, she did, in agreeing that she had enjoyed moving to Kent and living very close to her sister Catherine, advise him that her sister was no longer Mrs Harrison as he had supposed. She explained that Dr Harrison had died some time ago from recurring heart disease, and Catherine had since married a Mr Frank Burnett, with whom she had been acquainted for many years when she lived at Rosings.

Noting that her letter was getting somewhat longer than she had intended, she decided to conclude it, which she did with a much friendlier salutation than before, wishing him health and happiness and then adding a significant postscript.

And she signed it--
Becky Tate.

When it was complete, Becky read it through and proceeded to seal it, lest she should change her mind again.

No one, certainly not Catherine, would ever know that she had torn up the polite little note and sent a warm, convivial letter instead, she thought with a little pang of guilt at having misled her sister.

But at least, she was now content, especially as she contemplated how he would respond on receiving it. It was the certainty of his disappointment on opening her formal acknowledgment that had led her to tear it up and try again.

There was no need at all for Catherine to know, Becky decided.

enchant them all.

Becky was charmed as first Lilian and Mr Adams and then later Catherine and Frank Burnett played and sang for them. Only Jonathan stood apart, and when she took the opportunity to speak with him during a break in the entertainment, he confessed to her that he had often wished he too could sing or play as well as the rest of the family.

"My wife and daughters and all my sisters and their children are such proficient performers, I feel quite bereft of talent or skill when I see how wonderfully well they all do," he said, and Becky agreed that she too suffered the same sense of inadequacy in the face of such remarkable natural ability as they had enjoyed that evening.

Echoing his sentiments, she said, "Both Anna and your sister Emma are exceptional performers, but I do wish I had at least learnt how to entertain myself with music, if not others. I fear my time was spent mostly scribbling, as Mama used to say."

Surprised by her remarks, Jonathan urged her not to undervalue her own talents. "Well, Becky, your scribbling, as you call it, has opened up a quite remarkable world for you, has it not? I should not belittle your achievements; the literary world seems to be taking a lot of notice of women writers. They are at least assured of fame if not fortune."

He was clearly referring to Marianne Lawrence, the pen name she had used for her contributions to the
Matlock Review.
Surprised that he had noticed her work, Becky made light of his comments, assuring him that she would gladly exchange her small quantum of fame for the happiness her sister had found in life.

"Catherine is so happy and content, I envy her," she said, and the comment caused Mr Bingley to raise his eyebrows and look quickly at her face as if to check if she was being serious.

But, by then, Becky, taking advantage of a lull in the proceedings while everyone took more tea or coffee, had asked if he could provide her with an address for Mr Aldo Contini, in order that she might thank him for his kind note of condolence.

Jonathan provided it gladly, taking from his pocket book a card, which he gave to Becky.

"You may keep it; I have all his details in my diary at Netherfield," he said,

When Becky returned home, having despatched her letter and stopped to purchase some buttons from the haberdasher in the village, she was feeling especially elated. In her response to Mr Contini, she had accomplished something that she had not thought possible: she had, quite deliberately, set aside her sister's reasonable and proper advice and acted according to the dictates of her heart.

She arrived at the entrance with a lightness of step reflecting perhaps the lightness of spirit she felt, but sadly, it was not to last very long, for she was met by the housekeeper, Mrs Bates, who was in such a state of disquiet that Becky could scarcely comprehend a word she was saying.

The poor woman was simultaneously bewailing some misfortune and apologising for her own failure to prevent it, leaving Becky completely confused and quite alarmed. She had never seen Mrs Bates so agitated before.

Fearing that something serious had occurred, perhaps some dreadful accident had befallen one of the staff, Becky took Mrs Bates into the study and asked her directly for an explanation.

"Mrs Bates, would you please tell me what exactly has happened?" she asked, and Mrs Bates, by now a little calmer, began to speak more coherently, but what she said brought Becky no comfort at all.

It appeared that in the two hours that Becky had been away from the house, Alice Grey and her son, Tom, had disappeared.

Mrs Bates was determined to shoulder all the blame, even though Becky tried to console her by arguing that she could not have known what Alice planned to do.

"But, ma'am, it is my fault; I should have kept a closer watch on the girl, I am to blame, ma'am, I know I am." She wailed again, and nothing Becky could say would shake her resolve to be miserable.

Realising that it was a very serious state of affairs, Becky asked, "When did you discover they were gone?"

"Scarcely an hour ago, ma'am," said Mrs Bates. "Cook had baked a batch of biscuits and wished to give some to the boy--she is very partial to him, ma'am--but when Maggie went to find him, they were nowhere to be found. She told me, and I sent the maids to look for Alice in the rooms upstairs, but she was gone."

"And what have you done since? Has anyone tried to find them? Have you searched the grounds?"

"Oh yes, ma'am, the lads have looked in all the barns and outhouses, and we have searched the attics and the cellar as well, but they are gone, ma'am. I cannot think what can have happened to them, and I blame myself," she cried, about to start all over again.

Becky interrupted her to ask, "What about the woods? Has anyone been out to search the woods?"

Mrs Bates confessed that no one had thought to go into the woods.

Becky stood up and said, "I think you should have a look around the house again, Mrs Bates; send the maids into all the rooms, and I will take one of the men and search the grounds and the woods around the churchyard."

Becky believed they were exactly the places where Alice and her son might be found, unless they had been abducted, of course. It was a possibility she was not prepared to contemplate at this stage--it was too terrible, and she thrust it out of her mind.

She decided to take James, one of the older servants who'd been with her for many years, and her own maid, Nelly, who had made a friend of Alice Grey. Soon afterwards, the three of them set out, not knowing quite where to look and afraid that they may not find anything at all.

As they searched the grounds, Becky could not help wondering whether the convict who had approached Mr Jamison had returned and found Alice and the boy. The possibility that he may have succeeded in persuading her to go with him weighed upon her mind as they looked in all the available hiding places and drew a blank everywhere.

Once, Nelly thought she saw someone moving deep among the poplars in the spinney, and Becky immediately sent James to take a look, but when he returned shaking his head and saying it was probably just a trick of the light, she began to think the worst had happened.

Determined to discover whether the convict had been seen again, Becky decided to approach Mr Jamison. They went across the meadow and along the lane leading to the church, and as they entered the church yard, Mr Jamison came out to meet them.

"Mrs Tate, how very nice to see you," he began but soon realised from Becky's troubled countenance that something was amiss.

It did not take Becky long to explain the predicament in which they were placed, and Mr Jamison was completely sympathetic.

"My dear Mrs Tate," he said, clasping his hands together, "where on earth could the young woman have gone? One moment she is safe and well in your care, and the next she has disappeared and taken the boy too. I cannot make it out."

Becky wanted to know if he had seen the man, the convict who had approached him on behalf of William Rickman again.

"Do you know if he is still in these parts?" she asked, "Because I am beginning to fear that he may have abducted them... or..."

"Abducted them?" Mr Jamison appeared shaken to the core. "Oh no, Mrs Tate, not abducted, surely? He was seeking to discover if they were here; I do not believe he had the intention or the means to abduct them."

"Well then, has he persuaded her to go with him to meet Rickman, do you think?" she asked.

When Mr Jamison, still wearing a look of complete bewilderment, said nothing, she added reasonably, "It has to be one thing or the other, do you not agree, Mr Jamison? Alice Grey and young Thomas cannot have disappeared into thin air."

Realising that Mrs Tate was becoming somewhat distressed, Mr Jamison attempted to reassure her by offering to go into the village and ask if the girl had been seen there, at which suggestion Becky almost screamed.

"No, no, Mr Jamison, that will not do. We do not want to proclaim her presence here to the world, lest others, who may have even more malicious intentions towards her than your convict friend, should learn the truth. No, I beg you, please do nothing of the sort. It is possible, however, that either Alice or the convict may try to get in touch with you. If they do, would you bring us word directly please? You must not procrastinate, since any delay could be catastrophic. It could be a matter of life or death, so please remember that I am responsible for their welfare and I shall count on you to assist me in this," she pleaded, and he promised to do exactly as she asked.