Recollections of Rosings (39 page)

    She was to be even more astonished by Becky's response, as she explained that she had not been so shocked herself, because their marriage had long been little more than a partnership of convenience.

    "It is many years now since we were anything more than partners in a successful enterprise. We worked well together and shared some interests, that is true, but since Josie's death, even that has not been as easy as it once was. My husband blamed me for Josie's problems. He always thought that Josie was too young to marry Julian Darcy and believes, with some justification, I must confess, that I was too eager to see her become the next Mistress of Pemberley. Josie was his life; losing her left him desolate and empty, and he has not forgiven me. It has not astonished me that he wishes us to live apart."

    Catherine listened, shaking her head.

    "But Becky, tell me truly, when you first read his letter, you cannot have been as sanguine as you are now. It must have saddened you?"

    Becky did not meet her eyes and her voice was almost a whisper. "It did, I cannot deny it, it was unexpected and it hurt my feelings to have it so coldly expressed. We have had some good times and whatever our troubles, I did not think he would wish to leave me. I most certainly would not have done so myself. But, there it is, Cathy, it is what he wants and I am almost recovered now," she said, trying to sound cheerful.

    Catherine, who had already moved to live at Rosings then, had not seen much of the courtship between her sister and the young Mr Anthony Tate. He was then a handsome and personable man of wealth and influence. He had inherited the Camden's newspaper and printing business and acquired a reputation in political circles as an active reformist. Catherine had always assumed they had loved each other; they had certainly worked very well together and supported several worthy causes with great enthusiasm.

    The many friends and colleagues whom they had gathered around them over the years must surely have known had there been a hint of a rupture as bad as this. Yet she had heard nothing and suspected nothing.

    "Did you not love him then, Becky?" she asked.

    Rebecca did not answer her question directly. But she did confess that while Anthony Tate had courted her with some degree of ardour, her own ambition to be a writer and her desire to have her work published in his journals had overwhelmed all other personal considerations when she had agreed to be his wife.

    "Indeed, you might say that, over a period of some weeks, realising that he was moving towards making me an offer of marriage, I had argued myself into a situation in which, when he proposed to me and I accepted him, it was his promise to let me write regularly for the
Review
that excited me more than his declaration of love. As I see it now, our marriage was more a consequence of youthful passion on his part and some reciprocal fondness on mine. He was attractive and eligible, certainly, but had he not been the heir to the Camden's publishing business, I doubt our friendship would have ended in matrimony."

    Catherine was very shaken. It was useless to try to hide her dismay. She could not imagine that her sister could have contrived such a proposition. It went against everything she believed in.

    But, surprisingly, Becky appeared somewhat less than desolated. She admitted that the early years of their marriage had been "fun"—sustained by the natural affection and desire of youth. Their two children had brought them much pleasure, especially Josie, who had soon become the very centre of her father's universe.

    "She was so full of fun and vitality, I do believe he loved her more than he has ever loved anyone in all his life, and she adored him. He would have given her anything she asked for," she said.

    Catherine was aware of this, and of the blow that Josie's death had been, but asked if they had not found sufficient reward in the good work they did together. Becky agreed that their dedication to the improvement of their community had provided opportunities to build a partnership, which had endured for many years; likewise, the excitement of their involvement in the politics of reform had afforded them much satisfaction.

    "But as the years passed, and more especially since Josie's death, I think our lives were emptied of all feeling save despair," she said and Catherine could not hold back the tears. "My husband came to hate London; he sees it as the place where Josie fell prey to those who destroyed her life, which is probably why he has decided to live permanently in the United States. He cannot forget the pain of losing her, and I fear I have become a constant reminder of that agony."

    There was such a profound sense of finality in her words, Catherine was deeply shocked. Taking her sister's hand in hers, she asked, "My dear Becky, what will you do?" It had never before occurred to her to feel this kind of protective concern for Rebecca, whose capacity to organise her own life and cope simultaneously with half a dozen other matters had never been in doubt. She was renowned for her hard work in pursuing successfully a number of causes, whether it was the extension of the franchise or the promotion of education for girls. Yet now, to Catherine, she seemed alone and vulnerable.

    But Becky Tate was not about to surrender to helplessness.

    She explained that she had already written to her husband to agree to the separation, on certain conditions.

    "At least it will show that I bear him no ill will, which I do not. We may not have much love and very little happiness left between us, but we have always had some respect for one another. I should not wish to lose that. If he is prepared to let me have a reasonable income and the house in London, as he has suggested, I think I could manage very well."

    "And will you live in London then?" asked Catherine.

    "Good God, no! It would drive me quite mad," Becky replied. "Besides, just think what a fine thing it would be for Lady Ashton and her circle of busybodies; I would become a subject of gossip and hilarity at every party. No, Cathy, I do not think I would like to live in London. Indeed, one of the conditions I have set down in my letter to Mr Tate is that the title of the house in London be transferred to me, because I should like to sell it and acquire a modest little property, somewhere in Kent, perhaps? What would you say to that?"

    Catherine, though delighted at the prospect of having her sister settled in the same county, was unprepared for such precipitate decisions. All her life she had given much thought to every situation before taking action.

    "Have you really thought it all out, Becky? Will you not miss your friends? Life in these parts is pretty quiet, especially now Rosings is no longer occupied. We see very few people except those who live and work here."

    "Cathy dear, I do believe I am ready for a quiet life. It would suit me very well to spend my days in writing and tending my garden and seeing you and my dear niece from time to time. If any of my friends miss me, they will be welcome to come and visit," Becky said cheerfully.

    When her sister looked a little doubtful, she added, "My dear Cathy, pray do not worry about me. I shall manage very well. Whatever my troubles, they are largely of my own making. I have no grievance, no other person to blame. It is you who must grasp the chance for happiness that you have been offered and look forward to a truly felicitous future with your Mr Burnett."

    Catherine blushed. "He is not my Mr Burnett yet, Becky," she cautioned.

    "Oh but he is, Cathy, I am sure of it. He is devoted to you, I could see that quite plainly, and now you have explained all the circumstances, I can see that his feelings for you must surely have been particularly deep and enduring," said Becky rather wistfully.

    Conscious of her sister's situation, Catherine tried in vain to suppress the pleasurable feelings of satisfaction that swept over her as Becky continued, "You are quite clearly well suited, and Lady Catherine had no right to interfere and keep you apart. It was hard-hearted and cruel, and she deserves to be censured most severely for it."

    Catherine protested gently, "That is not fair, Becky, Lady Catherine was, in most matters, very kind and generous to me. She probably thought she was doing the right thing for me…"

    "How? By forbidding you to enjoy his company? By precluding Mr Burnett's interest in you with threats and deception, pretending that you were already spoken for? You cannot believe that, Cathy; you are far too charitable to her. But we need not argue about it now. Destiny will not be denied, you know, and here you are, together at last, and I cannot tell you how pleased I am for you and how completely confident that yours will be a truly happy marriage."

    Despite the sadness she felt for her sister, Catherine could not hide her contentment. Becky had accepted without question her estimation of Frank Burnett and, if she had needed it, provided a complete confirmation of her decision. While Catherine had not doubted her own judgment, it was comforting to have such enthusiastic endorsement of her hopes for the future.

    Becky rose and embraced her sister. "Now, it really is time you were in bed. You've had a very long day, and remember, tomorrow we are to meet the rector and take a look at the plans for your school—it will be most exciting! So you must get some rest."

    So saying, she left Catherine, a little tearful and confused, but more certain than ever of the warmth and generosity of her sister's heart.

The following morning brought an unusual number of visitors to the Dower House.

    First, Mr Adams appeared at his usual early hour to take Lilian for a drive around the park. He had recently acquired a curricle and was very proud of being able to take her into the village or around the grounds until she was strong enough to walk long distances again.

    Then, there was the steward from Rosings, who had brought over a box of documents that had arrived from Mr Jonathan Bingley, all of them pertaining to the business of the parish school and the piece of land on which it was proposed to build it. They were to assist Catherine and the rector Mr Jamison in making their plans for the construction of the school.

    Finally, around mid-morning, Mr Frank Burnett arrived to accompany Catherine and Mrs Tate to Hunsford, where they were to meet with the rector and discuss the plans for the school, which had been prepared some years ago for Dr Harrison but sadly aborted by Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

    Upon entering the house, Mr Burnett was greeted by Becky, who was eager to offer her felicitations. Having first informed him that Catherine had told her of their engagement, she expressed her most sincere pleasure at the prospect of their marriage. They shook hands warmly and then became immediately engaged in a discussion of the exceptional qualities and sweet disposition of her sister. By both word and manner, Mr Burnett demonstrated how pleased he was to have been accepted by Catherine, and Rebecca agreed with his belief, quite passionately expressed, that they would be very happy together.

    "There has been no other woman of my acquaintance of whom I could have made such a claim with the same degree of confidence," he declared, and Becky had no doubt at all of his sincerity.

    "Mr Burnett, may I say with equal confidence that with you, I am certain my sister's happiness is in the best possible hands," she replied.

    Frank Burnett thanked her; he had been a little apprehensive of Mrs Tate's response to the news of his engagement to her sister. Aware of her previous association with some members of the London social set, he had wondered if she might not have objected to him on the grounds of his humble antecedents or perhaps his lack of any real estate or inheritance. He had thought she would regard this as a distinct disadvantage in a man in his fifties. He had wanted to speak of this possibility to Catherine, but there had been no opportunity to do so.

    It was, therefore, with a great sense of relief that he accepted her congratulations and good wishes, realising as he did so that Catherine had probably revealed to her sister some salient details of the history of their relationship.

    As they waited for Catherine to join them, Rebecca had added her own appreciation of his role in assisting her through what must surely have been a very trying period. Referring specifically to the business of convincing the trust to permit the establishment of a parish school for girls, she said, "My sister is something of an innocent at large when it comes to such matters, Mr Burnett. Catherine has not experienced, as I have, the excessive vexation and discouragement that accompanies the business of dealing with governments and councils. As for the duplicity and hypocrisy of certain individuals one may encounter, they are so far removed from her own standards of conduct that she is totally incapable of anticipating them. I am well aware of your role in helping her cope, and I thank you for it most sincerely."

    Frank Burnett was sufficiently modest to point out that the intervention of Mr Darcy and Jonathan Bingley had eased considerably his own task, but wise enough to allow her to praise him for his part in it. With Mrs Tate on his side, he was confident of gaining the general approval of the rest of Catherine's family, including her mother Mrs Collins.

    When Catherine came downstairs and saw them talking together, it was plain to her that she had been the subject of their conversation. It was an impression that was immediately confirmed when Frank Burnett greeted her with even more than usual affection and, taking her hand in his, raised it to his lips, thus openly acknowledging their relationship in a way he had not been able to do before. Then, as if to seal it with her blessing, Becky kissed her and wished them both every happiness.