Emily and Cassandra agreed it was worth trying, while Caroline was ambivalent, pointing out that the children would only continue to come if the school taught them more than Bible reading and hymns. Rebecca was completely in favour of the proposition and went so far as to say that she could garner the support of the community through her husband's newspapers if they undertook such a scheme.
“If we could raise some money from donations and persuade the council to help as well, we could improve the little parish school at Kympton. I am confident Mr Tate will support us through the Review and the Pioneer; he has long deplored the lack of public education for working-class children,” she said, and the rector was delighted.
“If you could ensure that we got the support of the Review and the Pioneer, Mrs Tate, I think we would be well on the way to achieving our goal. Mrs Fitzwilliam, when I last spoke with your husband, he promised to ask Mr Jonathan Bingley to lobby the government in Westminster for funds to help parish schools expand their activities. If that could be achieved, we would be well placed indeed.”
Caroline promised to ask her husband what progress had been made and, shortly afterwards, having prayed with them and asked for the Lord's blessing upon their endeavours, the rector left to call on a sick parishioner in the village.
The ladies then broke for their customary tea and cake and Becky had more news about the Hendersons.
“Well,” she said, as they sat together, “who do you suppose I met this morning, taking a quiet walk in the woods around Newland Hall?”
None of the others could even guess, though Caroline suggested mischievously that it might have been Mr Henderson and his bulldog! The tenants of Newland Hall were reputed to have a number of dogs on the premises; one in particular, a pugnacious bulldog, was said to be the master's favourite. An ill-tempered animal, it had no friends in the village.
“That creature is getting quite a reputation in these parts, Becky, he chases the girls, bites the boys, and, I am told, almost ate Mrs Winslow's cat,” Caroline complained.
Becky Tate laughed with the rest, but was determined to tell them her story.
“No, of course it was not Mr Henderson and his dog—he would hardly pay any attention to me. It was in fact Mrs Henderson and her son Philip Bentley, for that was his father's name and hers before she married again,” Rebecca explained, gratified to note that the level of interest around the tea table had increased somewhat.
The Hendersons were her neighbours and she took a proprietory interest in their activities. None of the others had met Mr Philip Bentley and were curious to hear what he looked like.
“He cannot look like Mr Henderson,” said Emily, and Caroline was scathing.
“Of course not, he is only his stepfather. Is there much resemblance to his mother?” she asked, recalling that while Mr Henderson was a large, corpulent-looking man with a double chin and a very red complexion, his wife was a slight, frail-looking woman with a small bird-like face topped with a bunch of ginger-coloured curls.
Rebecca said no, he was not at all like his mother, being very handsome.
“Indeed, you would hardly believe they were mother and son—he is such a tall, upstanding young man and she is so plain and small in stature. Though there is little resemblance, it does seem there is a good deal of affection between them, judging by the very protective way in which Mr Bentley escorted his mother during their walk together. I was much impressed,” said Rebecca.
“Did she introduce him to you?” asked Emily and Rebecca replied with some pride, “Yes indeed, she did, and I might say he was most charming. I had heard, as I believe I have told you when we last met, that he was attached to a firm of lawyers in London, and I did expect he would be rather disdainful of us generally, as lawyers are wont to be; but he was exceedingly pleasant and asked about various matters as we walked, appearing quite interested in the entire district and its people.”
She was clearly very impressed with Mr Philip Bentley's manners and charm.
“Is he older than his stepsisters?” asked Cassy who had seen the two Misses Henderson in church; they had appeared to be young women in their early twenties.
Becky was sure he was. “I would say he is twenty-eight or thereabouts. He may be a year or two younger, but he conducts himself as a gentleman would. His clothes were elegant, though not those of a dandy, and there was not even a trace of a swagger about him. No, I think we are fortunate to have in our circle a family with three such agreeable young persons, do you not agree, ladies?”
Everyone did agree, and Caroline rose, preparing to leave.
She had heard rather more about the Hendersons than she wanted to hear. The others followed her out, having secured the parish hall and collected their belongings.
“Becky Tate is obsessed with them,” Caroline told her husband that evening. “We have heard all about their fortune, their looks, and the girls' extraordinary talents; truly, Fitzy, I am already tired of the Hendersons, even before we have met them all.
“We know the two daughters are pretty, and always very well gowned in the latest modes, and they are well taught and play and sing; there appears to be no end to their accomplishments. Now we are to hear all about Mr Bentley, their stepbrother—his wit, elegance, and charm. To listen to Becky, you'd think he was the Prince of Wales! Poor dear Emily, she must get bored with Becky's chatter.”
Fitzwilliam was amused by Caroline's remarks, understanding her impatience, but tried to make light of Mrs Tate's predilection for social climbing.
“Don't be too hard on her, my dear, I think Becky feels she must assiduously pursue each and every opportunity in society. Unlike Anthony, who is quite secure in his own estimation of himself and his family connections, Becky, like her unfortunate father Mr Collins, does tend to overdo her enthusiasm for the rich and famous. She obviously regards the Hendersons in that light and is making an early pitch for their friendship. I hope she is not going to be disappointed.”
Caroline sniffed, unconvinced.
“I'd rather have a few good friends who have little wealth and no fame at all but upon whom I could rely implicitly. Becky knows little of these people, except what she has heard from others or whatever they choose to tell her themselves; it may not all be true.”
“It very rarely is all true, my dear, and Becky is a grown woman who will have to look out for herself. However, I have some information for you too. I saw your father this afternoon, he was back from Derby, where he had gone on business, and would you like to guess who he had met at his club?”
Caroline looked puzzled at first and then as realisation dawned, she cried out, “Oh no, not Mr Henderson?”
Fitzwilliam laughed and nodded.
“Indeed, my love, none other than the man himself. He was introduced to Mr Gardiner as an entrepreneur from the Caribbean colonies. Your papa thought he heard it was in sugar that he had made his fortune.”
“In sugar?” Caroline exclaimed, apparently bewildered, and deciding that she had had quite enough of the Hendersons for one day, changed the conversation to a more appropriate subject: the raising of money for the parish school.
“We are of the opinion, Fitzy, that were the council to be persuaded to provide some of the funds, we could, with some private donations, greatly expand the education provided at the parish school. Furthermore, Reverend Courtney wishes to know if Jonathan Bingley has been at all successful in his lobbying for funds at Westminster.”
While Caroline had little interest in the Hendersons, others in the area seemed quite fascinated with the family that had recently moved into their midst. Not only was Mr Henderson reputedly wealthy, but his daughters were attractive young women, which accounted for the appreciative audience gathered to witness the crowning of the Queen of the May. This year, the chosen lady was Miss Frances Henderson.
The organisers had taken over the council hall and erected a large marquee on the lawn. Every family of any standing in the community had been invited to attend, and most did
, or so it seemed to Caroline and Isabella, who with Emily went along, despite a premonition that it would be all very dull.
Mrs Henderson was there of course, with the two Misses Henderson. The elder, Maria, was undoubtedly very pretty and exceedingly fashionably dressed and coifed.
“No doubt her maid spent hours on that coiffure” said Caroline, who had for many years worn her own pretty hair in a simple chignon, for which she needed no help at all.
As for Frances, the chosen May Queen, she had already informed everyone that she would under no circumstances allow herself to be called “Fanny.” Though not as handsome as her elder sister, Frances had the kind of youthful glow and vivacity that makes up for beauty in the young. She too was exquisitely gowned and had her long chestnut curls cascading down to her shoulders, all tied up with ribbons. It was no wonder, thought Caroline, that all the young men present were agreed that she was a fitting May Queen and were literally waiting in line to dance with her.
After the “coronation,” at which the mayor made a number of effusive remarks about Miss Frances Henderson and her family, whom he was proud to welcome into his shire, there was respite from formality, with food to eat in plenty and dancing, either on the green in country style or inside the hall, where a small orchestra provided appropriate music for more formal dancing.
Isabella Fitzwilliam was standing with her mother and aunt in front of a large bay window, which overlooked the garden, when Rebecca Tate approached them with a gentleman, whom she introduced as Mr Philip Bentley. She declared that Mr Bentley had specifically asked to meet Mrs Fitzwilliam and her sister, Emily, of whose remarkable work for charity he had heard so much. To which the gentleman added, “And of course I am delighted to meet Miss Fitzwilliam too. Indeed, I remarked to Mrs Tate how very charmingly grouped you were before this magnificent window; against the colour of the evening sky, you made a most picturesque group,” he said, and Emily noticed that he spoke, without any affectation, in a very well modulated voice.
Rebecca was quite carried away by his word picture, declaring it to be a most poetic description.
Even Caroline, who had decided she was not going to be influenced by Becky Tate's recommendation, could not help being impressed by Mr Bentley's gentlemanlike manners and easy charm.
He neither flattered them nor talked endlessly of himself and, unlike some young men about town, did not presume to remain silent in the belief that there was no topic on which he might have a worthwhile conversation with the ladies.
Instead, he alternately listened and spoke, asked sensible questions, and waited to hear their answers, giving every indication of being genuinely interested in what was being said.
He had heard a great deal, he said, of the valuable charity work done by the ladies of the district, and he hoped if the opportunity arose, he too would be able to assist them in some way. He sounded quite sincere, and Emily, touched by the kind offer, thanked him with a smile and was about to suggest something he could do, but at that very moment, the musicians, who had been taking a short rest, resumed their playing. Mr Bentley looked around and, seeing several couples preparing to take the floor, bowed briefly and addressed young Isabella. “Miss Fitzwilliam, if you are not already engaged for this dance, may I have the honour?”
Isabella took only a few seconds to glance at her mother and, seeing no disapproval in her eyes, accepted, and they moved to join the others.
As he escorted Isabella into the centre of the room and then led her in the dance, Caroline, like Rebecca, could not help admiring young Mr Bentley. He was indeed a very personable young man, and though not really handsome by conventional standards, there was something quite remarkably attractive about him, she had to concede.
By the time the evening drew to a close, he had twice danced with Isabella. He had very correctly asked Emily too, but she had begged to be excused. Then she had noted with approval that, instead of turning to another of the young ladies in the room, Mr Bentley had sought out his stepsisters and danced with them.
Going home in the carriage, all three ladies had reached the conclusion that Mr Philip Bentley was indeed one of the most agreeable gentlemen they had met in a very long while.
Emily was most open in her approval. “He has none of the affectations and pretensions that I find so tiresome,” she said and added, “I do believe him to be a thoroughly decent young man. Becky is probably right: Mr Bentley and his stepsisters will be an asset to the community.”
Caroline was more cautious. While she agreed Mr Bentley had turned out a good deal more acceptable than she had expected, she could wish, she said, that Becky Tate would stop bragging about them, as though she were personally responsible for them being here.
Isabella alone was quite silent on the subject of the Hendersons and Mr Bentley; though both her mother and her aunt could see she had enjoyed the evening. Indeed, Isabella could not remember when she had last enjoyed herself so much.
A rather solitary young woman since the death of her brother Edward, Isabella would not often speak of her thoughts and feelings. Very occasionally, she would confide in her Aunt Emily, to whom she was very close. But, on this occasion, she said nothing at all.
Not long afterwards, the Hendersons gave a dinner party, to which all persons of note in the area were invited, as well as some from as far afield as Derby, where Mr Henderson had business connections.
Newland Hall had neither the handsome proportions nor the architectural appeal of Pemberley, but as houses go, it was spacious and lent itself well to the occasion. Mr Henderson had spared no expense in the preparations for the function; it was their first opportunity to simultaneously entertain and impress the local community, and he clearly intended that they should be so impressed.
Food and drink were plentiful and of good quality, the general atmosphere appropriately convivial, even merry, with everything available that was necessary for good entertainment.
There were fiddlers playing in a gazebo, jugglers performing on the lawn, and a very fine three-piece ensemble playing indoors during dinner. For those who wished to dance afterwards, there was a large hall with musicians ready to play seated on a low dais at one end, while others, who preferred to idle away their time in less energetic ways, could lounge and talk in one of the spacious reception rooms or watch the fireworks from the terrace.
It was there that Caroline and Colonel Fitzwilliam were seated, during an interlude in the entertainment, when they were joined by Mr Philip Bentley. They had been introduced earlier and he appeared to be well-informed about Colonel Fitzwilliam's politics and professed himself honoured to meet him, referring to his career in the Commons and his reputation as a Reformist.
“I believe you have been instrumental in making some very important reforms, Colonel. I envy you,” he said.
Fitzwilliam was flattered, though Caroline, believing he had obtained all his information from one convenient source—Becky Tate—was somewhat less impressed.
“No doubt,” she said later to her sister, “he had informed himself well and proceeded to speak in glowing terms of Fitzy's achievements in the Commons with an air of genuine authority, merely to flatter him.”
Emily was a little puzzled. “But why do you suppose he would want to flatter Colonel Fitzwilliam, even if he had some political ambitions, knowing he is no longer active in political life? Do you not think, Caroline, that he may be genuine?”
Caroline was sceptical. “Emily, you are so good yourself, you will believe good of everyone you meet. I am not so sure, although I must confess I cannot fault his behaviour, I do harbour some suspicions about his intentions.”
“Do you mean he may want to ask Fitzwilliam a favour?” asked her sister, still bewildered by Caroline's line of argument. Caroline nodded. “Indeed, though I have no proof as yet, I do believe he is strongly attracted to my Isabella and is building up credit with her father for the future.”
Emily's eyes widened. “Do you think he intends to make her an offer?”
Caroline, eyes dancing with mischief, replied, “Emily, I should be very surprised if he does not. I have said nothing to Fitzy, though. He is sure to think Isabella is too young!” and the sisters laughed, recalling that Caroline had been married at sixteen.
“And Isabella, do you suppose she will accept him? Have you any indication of her feelings?” asked Emily.
This time, Caroline was not so certain.
Her daughter, though a gentle, lovely girl, had a mind of her own, not unlike her mother, and her feelings were rarely openly expressed.
“Well, that I cannot say for certain. Isabella will do exactly as she pleases, but I have noticed she seems to find his company very agreeable. Why just tonight, I noted that she had just come back from dancing two dances with Captain Danvers and had barely been seated five minutes, when Mr Bentley approached, and before he could even complete his bow, which he does so well, she rose with some enthusiasm and was gone with him to dance some more.”
Emily almost began to point out that a girl may enjoy dancing with a gentleman, especially if he was an accomplished dancer and an interesting companion (a combination rare enough these days), but she may not view a proposal of marriage from the gentleman with the same degree of eagerness.
My Cousin Caroline: The acclaimed Pride and Prejudice sequel series The Pemberley Chronicles Book 6 Page 20
