Recollections of Rosings (34 page)

    Later, when they were both sufficiently composed, he suggested that they take a walk in Rosings Park, where many years ago they had often met as friends. "It is such a fine day, perhaps we might walk in the direction of the rose garden; I have a very clear and happy recollection of you there. It is quite deserted now; we will not be disturbed or overheard, so you may ask me anything you like," he said and she, taking him at his word, agreed, upon one condition.

    "I know you said we must not dwell upon the past and I agree; but while there are some matters that are best left alone, I do not think I could be satisfied unless I knew the answers to certain questions."

    He was quite amenable. "Certainly, ask away, and I will answer every one as best I can. However, I can only give an account of matters which lie within my personal knowledge. I cannot provide explanations, nor will it be right to speculate about the actions and motives of others," he cautioned.

    Catherine agreed and soon, having fetched her bonnet and wrap and told Mrs Giles they intended to walk to Hunsford, she left the house with him and took the path that led through the grounds to the rose garden that had once been the pride of Rosings Park.

    Catherine was eager to discover what Lady Catherine de Bourgh had told Frank Burnett in her most unjustifiable, but successful campaign to end their friendship.

    "Tell me everything; only then will I understand it all. It is not because I wish to increase my vexation against Lady Catherine—I do not and it would be of no use to do so—but I wish to understand how it came about and what harm was done in the accomplishment of it. If you were deliberately misled about me, I want the opportunity to set it right."

    Over the next hour or two, as they walked through the lovely groves and gardens of Rosings Park, he told her all she wished to know.

    Ranging over a few years, he explained his increasing interest in her, which he suspected Mrs Jenkinson had noted and reported upon to his employer.

    "I had only regarded you at first as I would a schoolgirl, a younger sister or cousin of Miss de Bourgh, whom I would meet but occasionally and forget soon afterwards. But over the months, it was not that easy to ignore you. I enjoyed our conversations and looked forward more and more to your visits to the library and our discussions about books. I began to believe, perhaps because I wished it were so, that you had some affection for me."

    Catherine smiled. "I felt exactly the same, except I did not, even for one moment, believe you were partial to me in a romantic sense, but I did hope you liked me sufficiently to wish to continue our friendship," she said.

    He did not deny this. "I did, but it soon became obvious to me that in addition to keeping Miss Anne de Bourgh company and providing Her Ladyship with a compliant and admiring audience, Mrs Jenkinson was a source of intelligence on the activities of other members of the staff at Rosings."

    "No doubt she hoped to advantage herself by keeping Lady Catherine well informed," said Catherine, a supposition with which he was inclined to agree.

    "She suspected my interest in you quite early, I think—perhaps even before I was aware of it myself," he said, with a wry smile.

    "Yet, Lady Catherine continued to invite you to dinner and introduce you to her fine friends?" said Catherine, puzzled by this apparent anomaly, but he explained it quite candidly.

    "I had no illusions on that score. I was useful to Her Ladyship—not all the guests who dined at Rosings were eager to hear her rattling on about her own family and their accomplishments; they were generally men of intellect and learning, from one of the universities or the church, and since she could not trouble herself to become acquainted with their interests, I was a convenient stopgap guest, who could carry a conversation. I was always glad of the dinner and the company, as well as the chance to see you there. It was a special pleasure, one that made the rest of the evening worthwhile. However, when Lady Catherine made it quite clear to me that I had no chance with you, I decided to move on elsewhere. It would have been too painful for me to continue at Rosings."

    He had hitherto made few criticisms of his former employer, and this confused Catherine. "I cannot comprehend how you are so charitable towards her. You gave up your position and put your life's work and your happiness in jeopardy. May I ask, in all the years that followed, did you not wish to marry at all? Was there no one who could tempt you to settle down?"

    He smiled, somewhat abashed, and confessed that some ten years ago, he had proposed marriage to a lady, a schoolteacher in whose parents' house he had been a lodger for a year.

    "She was a good woman: kind, intelligent, and amiable. I had hoped we would be good companions together. But she changed her mind and married someone else instead."

    "But why?" asked Catherine, astonished that he could be displaced by another.

    "Because, she said, she believed that while I had offered her my hand, my heart was not altogether hers. I would have to admit that she was not entirely wrong in that judgment," he said. "As you now know, my heart had long been given to another, who was by then out of my reach."

    This confession brought another moment of tenderness, which so concentrated their attention that they had to stop awhile to reassure each other, before proceeding even more slowly on their walk.

    Still surprised by his acceptance of Lady Catherine's dictates, she asked, "Did you not think to speak to me of your feelings before you decided to leave Rosings and travel to Europe?"

    "I dare say I could have, but I had given my word. Lady Catherine had extracted from me a promise not to approach you," he replied, adding, "She said, and quite correctly, that you were not yet nineteen, untutored in the ways of the world and likely to be tempted by the prospect of romance into making a mistake you would regret for the rest of your life. Besides, she declared that you had been spoken for already—a fine young clergyman, who was keen to apply for a living on the Rosings estate, was the fortunate man. Lady Catherine had approved his appointment and she was convinced he would be right for you."

    Amazed by these revelations, Catherine asked, "Did she tell you who this clergyman was?"

    He answered directly, "She did not, but when, on returning to England several years later, I met Mr Jonathan Bingley in London, I asked after you and was told you were recently married to a Dr Harrison, the rector at Hunsford, I naturally assumed that he was indeed the lucky man."

    Realising how easily she had been manipulated and how cruelly Frank Burnett had been tricked into abandoning his interest in her, Catherine was so angry, she wept. Only his gentle persuasion and the reassurance of his continuing affection, as he put his arms around her and held her awhile, could comfort her.

    In the end, because he was a man of sensibility and wisdom, he did succeed in convincing her that the deep and genuine feelings they now shared were even more worth having than the youthful affection they had been forbidden to declare, and while Lady Catherine had, by her devious machinations, denied them the pleasures of young love, she had probably contributed to the enhancement of their present happiness.

    While Catherine was not yet ready to forgive Lady Catherine her arrogant interference in their lives, she could not fail to smile when he said, with just a hint of sarcasm, "If Lady Catherine could see us now and understand how very well suited we are and how dearly we love each other, I do not doubt that even she would suspend her disapproval. After all, wherever she may now be, it is unlikely that matters of rank and wealth will have the same importance as they had for her when she presided over Rosings Park. Am I not right?"

    "Of course you are," said Catherine, smiling. "It is also quite clear to me that you do not intend to let me sink into an orgy of regret and recrimination. Am I right?"

    "Indeed you are," he replied. "Do not believe, dearest Catherine, that I have not felt deeply the injustice I suffered, for indeed it was many years before I could accept that you were not for me. But what would be the benefit to us of spending more time in contemplating the past, excoriating Lady Catherine or nursing our resentment?"

    Determined they should waste no more time bemoaning past grievances, he spoke from the heart. "So much time has been lost already, is it not far better to use what remains to celebrate our present felicity?"

    This was said with such warmth and sincerity that she could offer no other response but agreement. In all her life, Catherine had not experienced such feelings as she did now and she knew intuitively that it would be foolish to waste the chance for happiness that life had so fortuitously offered her by indulging in futile recriminations.

    Sitting in the rose garden, in the shadow of the ruins of the West Wing, they spent the best part of an hour in conversation, speaking of those things that lovers suddenly discover they must tell one another without delay. They talked of the future with confidence, anticipating keenly the delights of living and working together. She reminded him of her commitment to the parish school.

    "You do know I shall have to spend a good portion of my day at the school. I shall have to work hard to make a success of it, I owe it to the children and the trustees," she cautioned and he promised her his wholehearted support for her work, making only one condition.

    "Catherine, I know what this school means to you and will never begrudge the children of the parish your time. I have but one request—that when you return home to me each day, your attention will be mine alone."

    It was a promise she gave without reservation and was rewarded with a warm embrace.

    Enjoying the warmth of the sun and the pleasure of each other's company, the time slipped by without their noticing it at all, until Frank Burnett consulted his watch and announced that it was almost four o'clock, whereupon Catherine exclaimed that it was time she was home.

    "Lilian will have returned; shall I tell her tonight, do you think?" she asked and he smiled at her eagerness.

    "Certainly, if you so wish; do you think she will be pleased?" he asked and to his surprise, she said in a most determined voice, "She had better be, for I have decided that this time I shall please myself first and give my love where I choose."

    He laughed then and congratulated her upon her wisdom; then to her astonishment and delight, he kissed her.

    They decided that for the moment, only Lilian and Mr Adams would be told of their engagement. The rest would have to wait until she had written to inform her mother, Mrs Charlotte Collins, and her sister Becky.

    "I shall inform Mama that we do not intend to marry until after Lilian and Mr Adams have left on their wedding journey to France. That should allay her fears of my being censured for undue haste," said Catherine, only to be assured that surely, no one would deny them the right to find happiness together after all these years.

    Of this, Frank Burnett was quite certain. "Were you to tell your mother that, if not for the unwelcome meddling by Lady Catherine, we might have been a happily married couple these many years, I have no doubt she would raise no objection to our marrying tomorrow!"

    Despite the lightness of his tone, the logic of his argument so convinced her, she was immediately and warmly appreciative. "Thank you for being such a comfort to me," she said, pressing his hand and looking up at his face to assure herself he was being serious as well. "You have a reasonable argument to support my every wish and allay all my fears. If we continue thus in future years, I am perfectly confident of our lasting felicity," said she, teasing him and provoking him to insist that he had already reached the very same conclusion.

    They returned taking a shorter route through the groves, and Catherine, growing a little tired, was grateful for the support of his arm. She did not object when he drew her closer to his side as they walked, believing that their mutual pleasure in being together was sufficient reason and enjoying the secure warmth of his closeness to her.

    Having been robbed in her youth of such simple joys as these—for Dr Harrison, being a very proper clergyman, had never walked alone with her in the woods before they were married, nor had he ever kissed her in the rose garden—Catherine enjoyed them with a special pleasure.

    When they reached the boundary of the park, he helped her over the stile and they took the road leading to the Dower House, arriving at the gates by half past the hour. There was still plenty of light in the sky and some hours before dinner.

    "You will come in and take some tea?" she asked and he was only too happy to accept.

    However, as they reached the front door, it was not Lilian, but Mr Adams who met them, plainly in a state of some anxiety.

    Behind him, in the vestibule, Mrs Giles appeared and Catherine could see instantly from her expression that something was wrong.

    As she moved indoors, she asked, "Mrs Giles, what is it… is something…?" but before she could frame the inevitable question, the housekeeper blurted out her news.

    "Oh ma'am, it's Miss Lilian and Sally, they are not home yet and we cannot discover what has become of them."

RECOLLECTIONS OF ROSINGS