A Woman of Influence (6 page)

But it had not been long before it became clear that the heir to the Pemberley estate was in love with Josie. When the inevitable proposal came, Josie, despite some misgivings, had been persuaded by her mother that her future could be secured by marrying Julian Darcy. Accentuating every advantage while denying any hindrance, including Josie's aversion to the entire prospect of becoming the Mistress of Pemberley in the future, Becky had promoted the match with enthusiasm.

Sadly, it was a decision that every person involved in making it would, within a few years, deeply regret. It transformed not only Josie's young life but that of her mother forever.

On receiving Becky Tate's letter, Jonathan Bingley carried it upstairs to his wife's sitting room, where Anna was teaching her youngest son, Simon, to paint. The child, who was not five years old, was already displaying something of his mother's artistic talent.

As Jonathan entered, Anna looked up and knew from his countenance that he had pleasant news for them.

"Are we free to travel to Kent next week, my love?" he asked, holding out Becky's letter, "because if we are, there is an invitation to spend a week or two at Edgewater, which we might all enjoy."

Anna looked surprised, "What? All of us?"

"Yes indeed, look, here it is," he said, handing her the letter. "As I have explained earlier, the late Mr Tate has asked that I be the principal trustee of his American estate. Well, Becky has agreed and asked us all down to Edgewater, which, she assures us, is perfect at this time of year."

"I think it might be fun--the boys would certainly enjoy it, and while you and Becky discuss matters of business, I would have the opportunity to see Catherine and Lilian again," said Anna cheerfully.

And so it was decided they would travel to Kent.

Becky had thought their visit would allow her to demonstrate to herself, and incidentally to her sister Catherine, that she was now able to deal with her youthful disappointment in a mature manner.

Much had happened in both her life and that of Jonathan Bingley in the intervening years. The sad disintegration of his marriage to Amelia-Jane, who had in time tired of her husband's seriousness and yearned for the fun of an active social life, had reached its disastrous conclusion when she and her companions had been killed in a dreadful accident on the road to Bath. Becky Tate, having lost the man she loved to her younger sister, had then seen him, a young widower, find consolation in a truly happy union with her cousin Anna Faulkner, recently returned from Europe, whose sweet disposition and artistic talents were far more conducive to contentment in marriage with Jonathan than the more willful vivacity of Amelia-Jane.

Despite her earlier reservations, Becky was determined not to allow the memories of her previous attachment to Jonathan to interfere with what was clearly an important enterprise.

"It is imperative that I make the very best use of this opportunity, Cathy," she had said, explaining her decision to invite Jonathan's entire family to Edgewater. "If Mr Tate believed that Jonathan Bingley was the best person to administer the trust fund and oversee the use of the money, then I must agree to work with him," she had said with resolution.

Catherine had not seen fit to question her decision, being herself convinced that Becky was now far calmer and more self-possessed than she had ever been.

"It is not only in my own interest to do so; it would also advantage those whom I wish to help with this money that my husband has so fortuitously made available to me. Were I to oppose Jonathan's role as trustee, it may delay the work I wish to embark upon and perhaps create some untoward embarrassment between us, which I would greatly regret. Do you not agree, Cathy?" Becky asked, clearly seeking her sister's approval.

Catherine was happy to agree. "I most certainly do, my dear Becky; I can see no reason why you and Mr Bingley cannot work together on the trust, as Mr Tate had envisaged. He is a gentleman of great integrity and sincerity, and since there has never been any ill-feeling between you, I cannot foresee any problems at all."

Becky smiled. "Indeed, and there may even be some advantage in it, since I, wishing to retain his good opinion, am unlikely to try his patience, whilst he, not wanting to appear disagreeable and contentious, may be more amenable than some fusty old lawyer might have been," she quipped, convincing Catherine that her sister had quite recovered her composure, even if she had not entirely forgotten her disappointment.

The Bingleys arrived and were welcomed at Edgewater with great warmth and courtesy and provided with every comfort. Jonathan had been here before, but Anna, who had a penchant for interior decoration and refurbishment, was enchanted by the tasteful work that had been carried out at Edgewater under Becky's supervision. Then, as her artist's eye caught sight of the lovely vistas the grounds afforded, she declared herself impatient to sketch and paint them.

"Do look at that group of poplars across the water; it is so appealing," she said as they went out to admire the prospect from the terrace, and Becky agreed.

"I do wish you would paint the poplars in the spinney; it is quite my favourite spot on the property," said Becky. "There is something truly enchanting about it. I was there yesterday gathering the last of the bluebells and forget-menots, which have been particularly profuse this year, and I was most reluctant to tear myself away and return to the house," she confessed.

"I can see why," said Anna. "It is indeed an intriguing place. The dappled effect of sunlight and shadows among the poplars creates an atmosphere of mystery; it would be a pleasure to paint the scene."

As Anna moved to admire the view from another part of the terrace, her son Simon had wandered away from them in the direction of an old gazebo beside the lake and caught sight of a little boy emerging from within.

Before any of the adults had seen him, Simon, believing he had found a new playmate, had begun to run across the grass towards the child, who, clad in an oversize blue smock and breeches, stood as if petrified beside a clump of wild irises by the lake's edge.

Hearing Simon's voice, laughing as he ran, Anna turned and, seeing him so close to the water, hitched up her skirts and raced over to him, obviously scaring the little boy, who ran stumbling through the long grass towards the gazebo and disappeared into its shadowy interior.

Simon had to be restrained by his mother from following his mysterious new friend, while Becky and Jonathan had only just become aware of the child's presence.

"Who is the boy?" asked Jonathan, and Becky, who was not as yet familiar with all of the servants and labourers she employed, assumed he was the child of one of the women who worked on the property.

The boy did not reappear, and they thought no more of him, when the maid arrived to say that tea was served and everyone repaired indoors to partake of it.

Later that evening, after the guests had rested and changed for dinner, they came downstairs to find that Catherine and Frank Burnett were to join them. The conversation was lively and varied all evening, ranging over their many interests. So much so, that there was no request for any musical entertainment until Frank Burnett mentioned that he had such excellent reports of Mrs Bingley's performance on the pianoforte, he would dearly like to hear her play. Becky hastened to open the instrument, which stood in an alcove, and Anna, who was truly an excellent pianist, was soon persuaded to take her place at the keyboard.

Her performance of a composition by Schubert was so compellingly lovely that no one moved or spoke, except to demand an encore, which Anna obligingly provided. Everyone in the room was enchanted.

Which is probably why no one saw the little boy outside peering in at the window behind the piano, until Anna, rising from the instrument at the conclusion of her piece, looked out into the darkening garden and exclaimed, "Good heavens! There he is again--it's the little boy by the lake; he was pressed right up against the window, looking in. Ooh! it made me jump!" she said as the others rushed to the window and peered out.

Jonathan made straight for the glass doors that opened onto the terrace and looked about, but there was no one in sight. The boy had vanished.

Becky sent for two of the servants and asked them to take a light and search the park around the house. "Mind you don't scare him; he may have wandered away from his mother," she warned, and the men went out to do her bidding.

While the guests turned their attention to tea, coffee, and sweets, the grounds were searched, but to no avail. No trace was found of the boy.

It was Jonathan Bingley, coming down early to breakfast on the morrow, who caught sight of his pinched little face pressed up against the cold glass of the bay window in the morning room. Hidden from the child's sight by an elegant chiffonier, Jonathan managed to steal out of the room and come up behind him without his being aware of it.

"Now, there you are," he said, placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Who are you and what on earth are you doing out here?"

He said not a word, but the look of sheer terror on the boy's face as he struggled to get free of him surprised Jonathan.

Keeping a firm hold on him, Jonathan attempted to take him, still struggling, into the house, when the boy turned and attempted to bite his hand.

"Oh no, you don't! Come on now, all I want to know is who you are and what you are doing here. Who sent you?" he asked in a voice that was somewhat louder and which alerted Becky, who had come down into the morning room for breakfast.

Rushing outside, she was in time to see a young woman in worn work clothes running across the park towards Jonathan and the boy, crying out, "Oh, please, sir, please don't arrest him; he's only a child... He doesn't know what he's doing, sir. Please don't hand him over to the police."

As she reached the pair, she grabbed the child's arm and shook him. "Oh Tom, you naughty little boy! How often have I told you not to go near the big house? Whatever have you done?"

Then turning to Jonathan again, she begged, "I am very sorry, sir. If he has done any harm I'll make it good. Please don't send for the police."

"Send for the police? I had no intention of doing anything of the sort," said Jonathan, sounding quite offended at the suggestion that he would hand a child over to the police. "He has been seen around the house last evening and again today--I simply wanted to know who he was and what he was doing here. He wouldn't answer me; he struggled and tried to bite my hand! Now why on earth would he do that?"

The woman held a hand to her mouth. "I do beg your pardon, sir. He couldn't answer you; he cannot speak; it isn't that he is dumb or anything... he could speak even as a baby, but he just stopped about two years ago after the police came and took his father away. They say he had a bad fright then, sir, and never spoke again."

Becky, who had come right up to them, still believing the young woman was a labourer working the grounds, asked, "Who is he? Is he your brother?"

The girl smiled and, looking no older than eighteen years of age, answered, "No, ma'am; he's my son, Tom. I am sorry he's given you so much trouble, ma'am, he's never done it before. I did tell him he must not go near the big house or approach any of the ladies or gentlemen. He was to sit quietly in the gazebo until I came for him, but he doesn't always understand, ma'am; he gets a little excited and runs about, but he means no harm, ma'am."

"And where in the grounds do you work while Tom stays in the gazebo?" asked Becky.

To their amazement, she replied, "I don't work here, ma'am, I work in the hop fields over on the other side of the river. They don't let you bring young children along, not unless they can work as well, and he can't; he doesn't understand enough--he would make a mess and then I'd lose my job as well."

"And how long has Tom been sitting quietly in the gazebo while you went to work in the hop fields?" asked Jonathan.

"About two weeks, sir," she replied, adding, "I am very sorry, ma'am; I understand it was wrong, but I had no other way. I had to get work to feed him and myself, and the work in the hop fields is better than road work, ma'am."

"What is your name?" asked Becky, who had noticed a ring on the finger of her left hand.

She answered quickly--almost too quickly, Jonathan thought--"Alice, ma'am, Alice Grey," she said.

"And are you expected at work today, Alice?" asked Becky.

The young woman bit her lip and appeared somewhat tongue-tied before saying, "No, ma'am, I asked for an hour or two to take Tom to the apothecary in the village. He's been coughing a lot lately. He needs some medicine."

"And where do you live?" asked Jonathan, beginning to be concerned that the child's sickness was probably a consequence of his living conditions.

This time the answer came much more slowly. "Here and there, sir." She looked down at her feet, and Becky, following her eyes, saw her rather dainty boots were scuffed and dusty from walking.

"What do you mean, here and there?" she asked. "Do you mean you have no place to stay? Where do you and Tom sleep at night?"

Again, Alice looked down and away as she answered, almost reluctantly, "In one of the barns over there, on the other side of the lake, beyond the spinney." She pointed in the direction of the out buildings. "I am truly sorry, ma'am, I should have asked, but I was afraid I would be refused and then where would I have gone? I didn't think it would do any harm, ma'am; I didn't take anything. It was the small barn where they keep the empty sacks and things. We just kept our bundle of things there and slept overnight."