A Woman of Influence (37 page)

In truth, however, Catherine's mock outrage suited Becky well, allowing her to let her sister believe that she and Mr Contini had indulged in a minor flirtation in the past, which had turned serious when they had met again, more recently in London after the death of Mr Tate.

It also helped confirm Becky in her determination not to reveal any more details about her previous association with him. Catherine, she decided, need never know of the brief but impassioned encounter that had created such turmoil in her life that she, unable to contain her feelings, had fled London and returned to Matlock, where the emotions that had been awakened continued to smoulder for many unhappy months, when she had swung between moods of euphoric recollection and guilt.

Catherine's voice broke in upon her thoughts.

"Do you mean to accept him?"

"I don't know yet," she replied. "I would like to, but I have to be sure it is right this time. I must not make another mistake, Cathy; I must know that this time it is the right decision, or I would rather remain single to the end of my days."

"Of course you must, but surely, Becky, there cannot be any doubt. He loves you and says so very clearly. Do you not love him?"

"I believe I do," said Becky, "but, Cathy, I am determined to be quite certain that what I feel
is love, not fondness or friendliness or regard. I hav
e known all these before, and they are good, honourable feelings, but love is quite a different matter, and I must be sure that I love him as deeply and as passionately as he claims he loves me. Else we might as well remain good friends, as we are now, and neither of us will be hurt. Do you not understand my feelings, Cathy?"

Catherine, whose life had been significantly altered by the return of Frank Burnett, understood exactly. "Of course I do, my dear Becky; never would I expect you to marry him without the certainty of love. I know it can change our lives as nothing else can. Of course, you must be certain, but how will you know? Do you intend to meet him?"

Becky nodded. "I do. I have sent him a brief reply; I have said I would be happy to see him at Edgewater, when he returns to England. I think, Cathy, that when we do meet, I will know," she replied.

Catherine rose and embraced her sister.

"Of course you will, and you will tell me, when you decide?"

"Most certainly, you shall be the first to know, apart from Mr Contini himself," she assured her.

As they parted, Becky knew she had been right.

There was no need to burden her sister with further information about matters from the past. She feared Catherine's exemplary goodness may be outraged without the benefit of all of the facts, and there were some things she was not prepared to reveal, even to a beloved sister.

After Catherine had left her, Becky had tried to sleep, but she could not; her mind was filled with thoughts and images she could not evade. She recalled vividly the day when, not long after Josie's death, Mr Tate had returned from Europe and announced soon afterwards that he would be travelling to the United States on business, leaving her at the house in London.

Grieving alone, unwilling to return to Derbyshire, where she had felt shunned by Julian's family, Becky had suffered many days and nights of anguish, with only Nelly for company. One afternoon, unable to find any consolation, afflicted with a headache, she had wandered out wearing only a light coat over her Summer gown, walking aimlessly until she had lost her way in the park. Drenched by a sudden Summer shower, she had sought shelter in an arcade across the road, where Mr Contini, coming out of a bookshop, had found her, clearly distressed and very wet.

Becky recalled the kindness and gentleness with which he had wrapped his overcoat around her, helped her into a hansom cab, and taken her home. There, he had urged Nelly to get her dry and warm and put her to bed while he went for a doctor. Becky had caught a chill, and the doctor had warned of the danger of pneumonia, but being both healthy and resilient, she had recovered more quickly than expected.

That week, Mr Contini had called at the house every day to ask after her progress, bringing books and flowers for her comfort. When she was well enough to come downstairs, he had sat with her, and when she was quite recovered, invited her to drive out with him in the park. The fresh air, he had said, would do her good, and Nelly had persuaded her he was right.

Thus had begun a brief interlude in the Summer of 1866, when Becky had found friendship and consolation that had pulled her back from the abyss of self-pity and remorse, which may well have destroyed her mind.

At his urging, she had let him take her out for drives in the countryside, at times spending all day out of doors in some little village or coastal town, and delaying their homeward journey until light had faded from the sky.

Always he had been careful not just of her comfort but of the need to maintain a degree of decorum, treating her with gentlemanly courtesy at all times and making allowance for her situation without ever referring to it.

Becky recalled how easily they had exchanged confidences as their friendship deepened. In him she had confided, as in no one else, her feelings of guilt over Josie's ill-fated marriage and subsequent death. She appreciated his understanding and his ability to share her feelings.

"I thought I was doing what was best for Josie, I was not just being ambitious for her; Julian Darcy loved her, and he was a fine young man as well as the heir to Pemberley. It never was my intention to push Josie into marrying him because of his heritage, and I did not. I did advise her, and she made her decision; yet when it all went so wrong and they were clearly miserable, I could not help feeling guilty. It was as if I had persuaded my own daughter into making an unsuitable marriage that finally destroyed her life. What was worse, everyone else seemed to blame me too."

Aldo Contini had said he had known of her loss but not the detail of the circumstances. He had begged her not to speak of it if it hurt her to do so, but when she had wept and told him some more, he had simply gathered her into his arms and held her, letting her weep until she had no more tears to shed. Thereafter, he had told her of his own loss--a young sister, Rosetta, taken by a dreaded disease at fourteen--his mother's last and most beloved child.

"So you see, Becky, I share your feelings because I too know what it is to lose someone much loved, someone young and beautiful. Nothing can compare with the sorrow of such a loss. For many years my mother could not look upon another little girl without weeping for Rosetta. She was jealous of every other mother she met who had a daughter, because she had lost hers. Which is why I understand exactly how you feel," he said.

That day, a special bond had been wrought between them, and Becky had known that, even if she never saw him again, she would not forget the kindness of Aldo Contini.

Thereafter, unhindered by family scrutiny, they had spent many delightful days together in an increasingly intimate mood, which had made it seem quite natural that they would fall in love. When it happened, nothing Becky had known before had prepared her for the emotions aroused by the discovery that, for the first time in her life, she was loved and desired by a man for whom her own feelings were as deeply and passionately engaged.

Like Summer sunshine, it had poured new warmth and energy into her cold life and illuminated every dreary corner of her existence. It had filled her days with such delight as she had never believed possible. If this was love, Becky had decided, she had never loved any man before.

But, at the moment of discovery, when after pretending to be just good friends, they had finally admitted their love to one another, the realisation of the impossibility of their situation had startled her as much as had the passion they felt for one another.

Despite her deepest feelings, despite longing for its continuance, she had pulled back from the relationship. Afraid of scandalising her family and friends, Becky had ended the association and retreated to her house in Derbyshire, while Mr Contini, bereft and despairing, unable to understand her flight, had returned to Italy.

Neither had denied their love, and both had taken with them exquisite memories of a time that had brought them great happiness but had ended in tears. Both had endured great anguish--Jonathan Bingley had vouched for his friend's distress--but Becky's had been the greater, for she had no close confidante to talk to, no sympathetic shoulder to cry on, indeed no one but Nelly, her loyal maid, who knew the truth but could offer little more than simple compassion.

For many months thereafter, Becky had agonised over her decision, and while there were days and nights when she had regretted having made it, never had she contemplated the possibility that there may come a day when life would present her with another chance to revive the relationship that had promised such felicity.

Now that such an opportunity was at hand, Becky knew she had to discover if that promise was as real today as it had been before. Only then would she know if she could marry Mr Contini. For his sake as much as for hers, Becky was determined to make the right decision.

The week following the dinner party provided few distractions for Becky Tate from her concentration upon the dilemma she faced. With the weather consistently bad, she could neither walk nor drive out anywhere during the day, nor could she sleep well at night, as the sounds of wind and incessant rain kept her awake.

To make matters worse, there had been not a word from either Mr Contini or Jonathan Bingley. She had no means of knowing even if he had received her letter, except she was certain that Jonathan was unlikely to have delayed the delivery of a message he knew his friend awaited with some impatience.

Occasionally, without any logical reason for doing so, she would take out her copy of the letter and brood over the words she had written, concerned that they may have sounded too distant and given him no encouragement to come to her; then at other times, she would torment herself with worrying that she might have seemed too eager to see him and so compromised herself.

After a week of miserable weather, on the Sunday following, Becky awoke to a morning miraculously transformed, as the sun shone out of a sky that had cleared to an almost cloudless blue. It was warmer too, quite unlike the depressing chill of the past week.

Becky decided she would go to church and had Nelly prepare her clothes.

Feeling the need for some fresh air, she walked to church, taking the route across the grounds and along the lane that lay between Edgewater and the church at Hunsford.

The service was dull, including a tedious sermon on the value of good neighbourliness, and Mr Jamison's eagerness to greet and chat with his parishioners afterwards delayed her departure, further adding to her vexation. As she made her way out of the church, she saw, to her surprise, Nelly standing outside the gate, clearly waiting for her mistress. The girl looked anxious enough to cause Becky to worry, and when she reached the gate, she asked, "Nelly, what is it? Why are you here? What has happened? Has there been bad news at the house?"

Nelly behaved oddly, as though she had been struck dumb, and stammered, "Yes, ma'am, I mean, no, ma'am... it's not bad news, but yes, something has happened."

Becky, her anxiety rising by the minute, was so exasperated, she seized her arm.

"Nelly, tell me at once, has there been an accident? Is anyone injured?" she demanded.

Nelly's voice was deliberately low, conscious of the departing congregation around them.

"No, ma'am, it's not an accident."

"Then what is it?" asked Becky, even more confused.

"He's here, ma'am; he has come," said Nelly softly.

"Who has come?"

"The gentleman from Italy, ma'am, Mr Contini. He has arrived; he is waiting for you. I told him you were gone to church, and he said he would wait."

Becky almost reeled back in surprise. This she had not expected. "When did he arrive?"

"About half an hour ago, ma'am, in a hired vehicle; I thought I should come and tell you, so you would be prepared, ma'am..."

By this time Becky was walking rather briskly, and Nelly was trotting fast to keep up with her.

"You did right to come, Nelly, thank you," said Becky, and as they approached the gates of Edgewater, she stopped and asked, "Nelly, is my gown all right and my hat? How do I look?"

Nelly looked at her mistress; her face was slightly flushed with the exertion of a brisk walk and the cold air, but her eyes were bright, her skin glowed, and her blue silk gown had been Nelly's choice that morning.

"You look lovely, ma'am; that blue gown really suits you, and the hat is very pretty," she replied and was rewarded with a special smile.

"Thank you, Nelly," she said, and they resumed walking.

Once within the gates of Edgewater, Becky asked, "And did you order some tea for Mr Contini? He must have been in need of refreshment after his long journey."

Nelly's reply was a further surprise.

"No, ma'am, he did not wish to come into the house; he said he would like to walk about the grounds while he waited for you to return."

Becky shook her head. She could not understand why he would wish to walk about the grounds. Admittedly, it was a fine day, but it seemed an odd thing to do, she thought.