A Woman of Influence (29 page)

"I am sure, Emma, if a clever physician like Dr Gardiner were to see your father, he would recommend some treatment that would hasten his recovery. Why do you not ask Cassy when you see her tomorrow?" she suggested.

Emma thanked her for her concern and promised she would ask Dr Gardiner himself. "I do believe you are right, Becky. I cannot think why Mama has not approached him already. I know she relies on old Dr Robson, but a second opinion would not be a bad thing, would it? I shall speak to Richard myself and suggest it to my aunt Lizzie," she said, looking a little happier.

More guests had arrived, and the room, now quite full, was, with the candles and the fire, almost too warm for comfort. Becky went out into the vestibule and thence into the open morning room to get some air.

It was there that Jonathan followed her and said, "There you are, Becky. I have been meaning to speak with you privately; I have a message for you."

Wondering what message he could possibly have for her, Becky turned to face him, when he took from his inner pocket a sealed letter and presented it to her with the merest hint of a knowing smile. As she accepted it, he returned to the parlour, as though not wishing to stay and intrude upon her privacy as she read it.

Puzzled, Becky opened the letter and read it with increasing surprise.

It was brief but quite clear. After the customary salutation, the writer

Becky's hand shook as she put the note in her reticule.

This was a most unexpected development; she had been caught completely unawares and did not know how she was going to respond.

When she went back into the parlour, feeling warmer than ever, having gained no relief at all from being away from the room, she sought to catch Jonathan's eye, but he was busy with some of his guests. She wondered how she was to convey the message, as Mr Contini had requested. She wondered also if Anna knew and hoped she did not.

For a moment she panicked and wished she had not come at all, but then dinner was announced and all the guests were moving towards the dining room. Jonathan appeared at her side, offered her his arm, and took her to her place at the long dining table, glittering with fine porcelain, silver, and crystal.

Becky noticed that ahead of her was Anna with young Dr Charles Bingley, Jonathan's eldest son, who had come up to London from Hertfordshire for the occasion.

As he helped her into her place, Jonathan asked softly, "And do you have an answer for my friend, Becky?"

Momentarily taken aback, she stammered and seemed uncertain but succeeded in indicating her consent. "Yes, the answer is yes, that is, if it can be

arranged conveniently and without too much fuss..."

Jonathan smiled, clearly pleased. "Thank you, Becky; I shall send a note round in the morning, and may I say, I believe your answer will be received with much pleasure."

He moved away then to his usual seat at the head of the table, leaving Becky puzzled and unable to concentrate upon anything. Not the delectable array of food and wine presented for their pleasure, nor the witty speeches that followed, congratulating both couples on their felicitous unions; not even the excellent musical entertainment Anna had arranged when they withdrew to the drawing room could capture her attention for long.

Seated next to her, one of the MPs she'd been introduced to earlier in the evening tried once more to engage her in conversation on the subject of compulsory schooling for girls, but Becky was far too distracted to contribute more than a cursory comment or two, leaving the man puzzled.

When at last the guests began to leave, she escaped upstairs to her room, where she read and re-read her letter, and though she made every effort to quiet her mind and get some sleep, she could not, and lay awake into the small hours of the morning.

Becky awoke the following morning feeling much less well than she had been the previous night. Having slept only fitfully and for a very few hours, she had a dull headache. It provided her with an excuse to remain in her room until after breakfast, which she did, having asked Nelly to bring her a pot of tea. While the rest of the party planned to go out to the shops or drive in the park, Becky begged to be allowed to stay home.

Anna was concerned. "Are you sure you will not join us, Becky? The fresh air will do you good. I was afraid the rooms were too warm last night; we were such a big party."

Becky shook her head. "No, my dear, I think all I need is a quiet morning indoors. I am still a little tired from yesterday. Nelly will bring me more tea and some toast, and I shall read quietly and rest until you return from the shops. After all, we do have a busy evening ahead," she said and Anna agreed.

"We certainly do; I am sure we shall all enjoy
The Marriage of Figaro
. Jonathan has seen it before in Paris, but it's the first time for me," she confessed.

"It is for me, too, and I am looking forward to it very much. Now, don't let me keep you from your guests, my dear, believe me, I am perfectly happy staying in," said Becky.

Anna went, having urged her cousin to ask the servants for anything she needed and promising to be back in a couple of hours. But Becky knew better; ladies shopping, especially in a group, never returned in a couple of hours. She expected to have most of the morning to herself, unless she had a caller, of course.

However, although she waited in all day, knowing that Jonathan had said he would send a note round in the morning, Aldo Contini neither came nor was there any written acknowledgement of her response. It was quite disconcerting.

By the time the ladies returned, it was afternoon, and Becky had begun to wonder if Mr Contini had changed his mind. She considered whether she should ask Jonathan in what manner he had conveyed her answer, but decided against it. She hoped she had not seemed too eager and worried that he may have misunderstood her answer.

But, if he had, there was little she could do to remedy it, which led her to shrug off her disappointment and decide to enjoy the rest of the evening.

After tea, which was served downstairs, Anna came upstairs to Becky's room to say that their party would leave for the theatre at seven.

The Darcys had arrived at Portman Square, Anna said, and would be joining them at the opera. Boxes had been reserved for the entire party, she explained. "Emma, James, and you will be seated with us, while Cassy and Richard will join Lizzie and Mr Darcy," said Anna, who then expressed a wish to see Becky's gown.

Nelly had already laid it out, together with the selected accessories and jewels for the evening.

"Will it suit?" Becky asked, a little tentatively. It was some time since she had been to Covent Garden.

"It most certainly will, Becky; it is very elegant indeed," Anna replied, "and the colour is just perfect for you."

Anna's good taste in just about everything was well known, and Becky was pleased to have her approval.

The gown was of a deep blue velvet, with an overskirt of lace, a design that had been very fashionable a year ago. Becky had not worn the gown in a long while and had brought it to London at Nelly's insistence, with the theatre party in mind.

She bathed and dressed slowly, and when Nelly arrived to help her with her hair, she too was full of praise for the gown.

"Oh ma'am, it's grand... and you do look lovely," she said, and Becky, although she knew Nelly's judgment was not entirely impartial, could not help feeling pleased.

When she went downstairs, the others were waiting.

Arriving at Covent Garden, they were escorted to the reserved boxes in the magnificent new theatre.

Becky had not been to the opera since the old theatre had been destroyed by fire some years ago. The new edifice was a superbly designed structure, where everyone who was anyone attended the opera, not always to see and hear, but quite often to be seen and heard.

Seeing the elaborate gowns and splendid jewelry of the ladies preening themselves under the chandeliers, Becky felt a little underdressed.

"Upon my word, I have not seen so many diamonds in one place in all my life," she declared as they took their seats, and Jonathan's riposte was apt.

"I believe it is claimed, by those who know something of these matters, that a lady's knowledge of the opera is usually in inverse proportion to the value of the gems she wears to the performance."

Both Anna and Becky protested that he was being unfair, but were glad indeed that neither of them were overly decked with jewels.

They were soon joined by Emma and Mr Wilson, and moments later, the conductor entered to begin the overture. It was a very special moment, and there was a hush in the theatre. As the curtain rose, Becky saw Anna Bingley whisper something to her husband and point with her fan in the direction of a box some distance from theirs and one tier above them.

Jonathan looked and whispered something very quickly to his wife, just as the first act was starting.

Becky could not hear what he said; she thought she had heard the name "Contini" but could not be sure. From her seat she could not see out across to the other side of the vast hall, and in any event, the intoxicating power of Mozart's music and the fine voices soon swamped her senses.

At the end of Act One, Becky joined with enthusiasm in the applause. She was enjoying this far more than she had anticipated.

Between the acts, Anna and Becky left their seats to walk in the long, richly furbished vestibule, where many other patrons of the opera were parading, some rather volubly giving their companions the benefit of their opinions on the performance so far.

One woman thought the tenor was superb; another disagreed, he was not handsome enough to be right for the part. Still others had already decided that the maid Susanna was the star of the show.

A little bemused, Becky accompanied Anna as she walked towards the stairs, while Jonathan, having left the ladies to their own devices, went swiftly up the stairs and was soon out of sight.

When it was time to return to their seats and he had not reappeared, Becky was concerned, but Anna was not.

"He has probably gone round to the Darcys' box or the Continis'--he will be back soon enough, but we had better not wait for him, or we shall miss the opening of Act Two," she warned.

Becky knew then she had heard right; the Continis were at the opera, and Jonathan had gone round to their box. When Act Two began, she could not concentrate on the performance, and each time the curtains moved behind them, she was distracted, until finally, Jonathan returned to his seat.

Puzzled, she wondered what had occurred. Had he met Mr Contini?

The others of the party were clearly enjoying the opera, but Becky wished Act Two would end. When it did, it was she who rose quickly and went outside first, wanting to get away from the closeness of the box, hoping her disappointment did not show on her face.

Neither Jonathan nor Anna made to follow her.

As she stepped out into the vestibule, standing just outside their box was a tall, familiar figure who moved forward to greet her.

"Mrs Tate, good evening," he said, and Becky almost jumped, but caught herself in time to avoid the clear embarrassment of looking either too shocked or too pleased to see him there.

She responded quickly, "Mr Contini? I did not expect to see you here."

He smiled, a self-deprecating smile, just the sort of smile she remembered well, and said softly, "My aunt is here. She is totally devoted to the opera. Unfortunately, my uncle was unwell and could not come tonight, so it was my privilege to accompany her."

When Becky said nothing, he continued, "But then, my friend Jonathan Bingley told me that you were here with their party, and I thought I must seize the opportunity, so to speak, and see you; so here I am."

Becky raised her eyebrows and asked, "You did not wish to wait until the performance was over? You must have missed quite a lot of Act Two?"

His answer was unequivocal. "No, because then there would be a great crowd of people in the vestibule... I wished most particularly to see you alone. As for Act Two, I am familiar with
Figaro
. I have seen him many times."

Becky felt her face flush as the blood rose in her cheeks. He was exactly as she remembered him--direct, charming, open--exasperatingly so. No pretensions, no idle flattery; Aldo Contini had not changed at all, except there was a little more grey in his hair than she could recall. She said nothing at first, just nodded and smiled.

Then she decided to ask, "Did you receive my answer?"