A Woman of Influence (5 page)

For Becky it had provided an opportunity to sharpen her skills and widen her horizons. She had accepted the position without delay. And so had begun an association that had changed completely the course of young Becky Collins' life.

Catherine was keen to ask a question. "And did Jonathan not write to you again, Becky?" her sister asked, growing curious about the connection with Mr Bingley, but Becky shook her head.

"No, never, nor did he ever mention it again, except one afternoon, when he was visiting Matlock to see Anthony Tate about some political matter. While Mother was spending some time with Mrs Darcy at Pemberley, Amelia-Jane and I had been invited over to take tea at home with Mrs Tate. We talked of Miss Jane Austen's book
Emma, which Mrs Tate and I had like
d very much and Amelia had not. She was too young to understand it anyway, but Jonathan, who had heard that the Prince Regent himself had admired Miss Austen's novel when it was published, said, 'And when do
you propos
e to write a novel, Becky? Now you are regularly published in the
Review, is i
t not time you turned your talents to something more weighty than a weekly column for young ladies? I look forward to seeing your name on the cover of a popular novel, even if you do not wish to dedicate it to the King.'"

Becky confessed she had thought at first that he spoke in jest. "But before I could answer, Amelia-Jane butted in," she said. "'But what would Becky write about? She has such a boring life! She never goes anywhere new nor meets any interesting people.'"

Even as she repeated the words, Becky blushed at the memory of her sister's cruel taunt.

"I was so mortified! I became completely tongue-tied. I think I was about to disgrace myself and burst into tears when Jonathan said, 'That does not signify at all. Miss Austen, I understand, wrote all her novels while living at home in a modest country parsonage. One does not have to lead the high life and travel the world to be a writer; all one needs is imagination and talent, and I am confident Becky has plenty of both.'

"That certainly silenced Amelia-Jane," said Becky, "then Anthony Tate came into the room and took Jonathan away, but I think, Cathy, at that moment I realised that I knew no kinder, better man than Jonathan Bingley, and I was convinced that I loved him with all of my foolish, young heart."

This candid confession so astonished her sister that she was silent, unable to respond for several minutes. While Catherine had once sensed that her sister had an interest in young Mr Bingley, she had had no notion it had become an absorbing passion. Becky had seemed too sensible, too preoccupied with her work and other interests for that.

Yet as her story unfolded, it became clear that Becky had cherished her affection for Jonathan for many years, despite the fact that he had at no time said or done anything to encourage her feelings. Indeed, it could be fairly said that he had been completely unaware of them.

Over the next few years, while Becky kept her feelings hidden, she had been given opportunities to use her talent as a writer, while working with Mrs Tate and producing regular pieces for the
Review
and the
Pioneer.

The work had stimulated her own interest in the lives of young rural girls, who lacked any opportunity to study or improve themselves except through domestic service or marriage. The need for schools and libraries in country areas had become almost an obsession with her, and as she had grown more confident, with the blessing of Mrs Therese Tate, Becky Collins had worked tirelessly to beg, bully, and cajole wealthy members of the community and councils to support their cause.

Yet, during all of this time, she had not abandoned hope. Not even when Anthony Tate, having returned to Matlock to become editor of the
Review, ha
d begun to show a particular partiality for her, had she given up on Mr Jonathan Bingley. Each time he had visited the Tates and occasionally when they had met to dine and dance at the splendid parties at Pemberley or Ashford Park, Becky had found even more to admire and esteem in young Mr Bingley.

Unaware of her interest, Jonathan had treated Becky Collins as he did all young women in his circle of acquaintances--with respect. In her case, he had a very good reason for doing so; his mother and hers were close friends. It was almost a family connection.

Becky admitted that she may well have mistaken his gentlemanly conduct for fondness, but insisted that she had no reason to blame him in any way for her misapprehension.

"He neither did nor said anything to encourage my feelings; if I was mistaken, it was entirely self-deception, on my part," she said.

Catherine's heart went out to her sister. "Oh my dear Becky," she said gently, "however did you bear it when Jonathan began courting Amelia-Jane?" she asked.

"Very badly; I think I was so deeply stricken, I wept for days. Only dear Emily Gardiner, in whom I confided, knew how wretched I felt."

Becky fought back tears. "I think we comforted each other. Emily had only just lost her beloved husband, Paul Antoine, and we were both still stunned by the deaths of young William and Edward earlier that year.

"As you would recall, Cathy, it had been a wretched year for all of us and Jonathan most of all, because he had suffered great remorse that he'd not been able to prevent William and Edward riding out on those horses and getting killed on that dreadful evening at Pemberley. Mama was convinced, and she says Mrs Bingley told her so, that Jonathan often blamed himself for their deaths.

"That same year, the Bingleys invited us to spend Christmas with them at Ashford Park, and later we travelled with them to London. At first, Jonathan was quiet and withdrawn, and when we spoke together, I confess I did believe that he appreciated my company; but by the time we went to London, his spirits seemed to lift, and when he took Amelia-Jane to the
Review
and the Richmond Ball, it became clear to me that she had won his heart. She was so vivacious and pretty, and I was always so sober and serious; perhaps he needed someone like her at the time, to take him out of his melancholy mood. Besides, his mother Mrs Bingley seemed captivated with our Amelia-Jane and hardly noticed my existence at all."

"And you, Becky? How did you feel?" asked Catherine gently.

"Bereft, desolated, I thought my little world had ended."

"Was it not very soon afterwards that you became engaged to Mr Tate?" Catherine recalled.

"Yes, it was. When we returned to Derbyshire, Anthony Tate proposed and I accepted him. I had known for a while of his interest but had not taken it seriously while ever there was a hope of Jonathan. When it was clear that I had no chance with him, Mr Tate's offer seemed a good deal more attractive than before. I am not very proud of my decision, Cathy; as you know well, there was more ambition than love in it; while I knew it would please his mother and Mama, I think if Jonathan had wanted me, I would not have given Mr Tate a second thought."

Becky's admission that her acceptance of Anthony Tate had been based more on practical reality than affection did not entirely surprise her sister, especially now she had learned of her unrequited love for Jonathan Bingley. Quite clearly, the realisation that he had chosen Amelia-Jane, whose youthful beauty had outshone her sister's attractions, had resulted in the kind of bitterness that could lead to such a contrary decision.

Catherine understood now why Becky might find a close association with Jonathan Bingley, even if it was many years later, uncomfortable. Not wishing to pry, but eager nevertheless to know the truth, she asked, "And Becky, forgive my asking, but did Mr Tate ever discover that you had once loved Jonathan?"

Becky was absolutely certain. "No, he never did; not just because I was careful to conceal my feelings, but because he truly believed that his offer was one I could not resist. And it was. Not only was I marrying into a distinguished and wealthy county family, I would be the wife and active partner of a man whose influence in both business and politics was rising every day! He was a personable gentleman of substance, and he was offering me not just a comfortable home but a partnership, with a good income and the chance to have my work printed in any one of six or seven journals, which his family owned."

Typically, Becky did not seek to spare herself. "How could I, a daughter of the widow of a country parson, turn down such an offer? Besides, he had declared openly to his mother that I was his choice because, as she told it, 'She is intelligent, independent, and hardworking, just the kind of wife I need. My Mrs Tate has to be much more than a pretty face.'

"His mother liked me, and Mama was happy for me to accept him; she said he was respectable and honest, as well as generous and amiable. How could I have possibly turned him down?"

Catherine remembered well her sister's wedding in the Spring of 1835.

None of the members of the Darcy or Fitzwilliam families had attended; they had been in deep mourning for their beloved children. Emily had been there, but only at the church, to lend support to her friend.

Becky, expensively gowned and wearing a diamond necklace, which was a Tate family heirloom--a gift from her mother-in-law--had looked happy if somewhat subdued, but Catherine had put that down to the general atmosphere of melancholy that had continued to hang over the families for most of that year. She had had no notion of the true nature of Becky's dilemma.

For her part, if Becky had needed to be convinced of the material wisdom of her choice, the death of her grandfather Sir William Lucas and the marriage not long afterwards of Jonathan Bingley to Amelia-Jane were sufficient to do so. That Charlotte Collins and her daughters were no longer very welcome at Lucas Lodge had become clear following the arrival of the new Mrs Frank Lucas, Charlotte's sister-in-law.

Furthermore, the ironic realisation that when Jonathan Bingley inherited Longbourn from his grandfather Mr Bennet, it was young Amelia-Jane who would be its future mistress had served to illustrate the parlous situation in which Becky and her mother would have been placed had she remained unwed. The prospect of having to seek a home with Mr and Mrs Jonathan Bingley at Longbourn or returning to Rosings Park to attend upon Lady Catherine had made her shudder.

It had not taken her long to convince herself that her decision to marry Anthony Tate, which would obviate the need for either her mother or herself to rely upon the reluctant charity of relatives or the dubious patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was a sound one.

In the years that followed, Becky Tate had fulfilled all the expectations of her husband and his family. Her son, Walter, was born, providing the Tates with an heir to their thriving business, and Becky had flung herself into every cause her ambitious husband had wished to champion.

Local councillors had learned to dread the approach of the popular and indefatigable Mrs Tate, who never took no for an answer, and businessmen could not pretend that they had left their wallets at home when Becky Tate opened the bidding to raise money for her favourite charity. Schools or soup kitchens, libraries or lying-in homes for the poor--it mattered not which cause she supported; with her enthusiasm, she carried all before her.

In matters political, too, the Tates had the power and the influence to make and unmake candidates, and they did.

When Therese Tate died, leaving her interest in the business and most of her personal assets to her daughter-in-law, Becky's role as a woman of influence in the community was confirmed.

Of Anthony Tate's commitment to his wife and family there had never been any doubt; he had shown not the slightest interest in any other woman, and his dedication to their joint prosperity could not be questioned. His portfolio of provincial journals and newspapers had grown rapidly until he was the head of a highly profitable and influential business empire.

Sought after for his influence by politicians and philanthropists alike, he was well aware of the contribution that his wife's charm and energy had made to his success.

While he had been proud of his son, Walter, who had demonstrated an early interest in the family business, it was the birth of their daughter, Josie, that had set the seal of contentment upon his life. Small, pretty, and precocious, she was, in his eyes, the perfect child, and he had encouraged, indeed some would say he had spoilt her, in every way possible. In her childhood, he had refused her nothing, going to great lengths to ensure that she had every comfort she could possibly need.

As she grew older, the little girl had learnt that she had only to ask her father nicely, and almost any wish would soon be granted, despite her mother's reservations.

Clearly displaced in her husband's affections by this tiny newcomer, well aware that Josie meant more to her father than almost anyone else in the world, Becky had devoted her time and energies to her work in the community, where she was much admired and loved.

Like her husband, Becky had loved her young daughter dearly and longed for her to enjoy life as well as succeed in her chosen field of endeavour. That Josie also wanted to be a writer, albeit of a more serious bent than her mother, had not surprised Becky, but she wanted more for her than literary achievement.

As Josie had developed into an intelligent and attractive young person and young Julian Darcy had begun to show an interest in her, Becky had seen a chance for a different type of success. She had encouraged the friendship, which had at first appeared to be mainly about Josie's writing. Julian clearly appreciated her work and wished to encourage and help her have it published.