Recollections of Rosings

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Recollections of Rosings Page 18

by Rebecca Ann Collins


  As Lilian smiled, feeling more confident now, her mother added, "There is, however, one matter on which I must speak with young Mr Adams before I can finally give you my blessing. If I am satisfied on that score, you need have no more concerns."

  Lilian tried very hard to discover what her mother had in mind, but Catherine was determined that it was a matter to be settled between herself and the gentleman alone.

  "Have patience, my love, he will soon be here and everything will be settled then," she said, and with that Lilian had to be satisfied.

  ***

  John Adams arrived a few days later, on a fine morning, when the woods around Rosings were so full of the sounds and scents of Spring that Lilian had been unable to resist their allure. She had been gone but a few minutes, on one of her favourite walks into the village of Hunsford, when Catherine, sitting in the parlour, saw Mr Adams alight from his horse at the gate.

  When he was admitted, she greeted him cordially and invited him to partake of tea or a glass of sherry, both of which he politely refused.

  Clearly, he was nervous and had hoped for an expeditious interview. On learning that Lilian was out walking in the woods, he looked disappointed, but Catherine, feeling some sympathy for him, urged him to be seated. After the usual courtesies of condolence and inquiries about his journey from France, she told him also of their own visit to London.

  He revealed then that he had already met Mr Burnett that morning and had learned from him of their visit to Westminster and their meeting with Mr and Mrs Jonathan Bingley and the Elliotts.

  "I understand Mr Elliott is strongly in favour of the establishment of a national system of education, as is Mr Bingley. This must augur well for your plans for a parish school, Mrs Harrison," he said and Catherine agreed that it certainly did.

  Though he spoke politely and answered every enquiry courteously, it was quite plain to Catherine that he was eager to get to the point of their meeting and she finally obliged. Noting that he was sitting somewhat stiffly in a very straight chair, she invited him to move closer to the fire and indicated a more comfortable armchair, placed to the left of the sofa on which she was seated.

  The sunlight coming in at the bay windows played upon his hair, which was of a deep chestnut brown. It was, Catherine thought, a handsome, strong face, with a degree of sensitivity that was quite pleasing.

  She spoke, slowly at first, choosing her words carefully.

  "Mr Adams, I have no wish to harass you with a number of exasperating questions about your family, nor do I wish to offend you by my enquiries, but I must ask you, please, to understand that as Lilian's only living parent, I have to be satisfied on certain matters before I can confidently accept your proposal. Will you be so kind, then, to bear with me in this?'

  John Adams looked directly at her and responded without the slightest embarrassment. "Mrs Harrison, please do not feel you must apologise or explain; it is no more than I would have expected you to do as Miss Lilian's mother. It would be unthinkable that you would consent to her engagement to me without satisfying yourself on every particular. I will attempt to answer any question you put to me."

  Catherine smiled, pleased that he had taken no offence. "That is very good of you, Mr Adams, and I can say that on most matters that concern me as a mother, I am entirely satisfied. You have told me of your deep love for my daughter, and Lilian assures me she returns your affections in full measure. On that score I have no further concerns. As to your character, both Mr Jonathan Bingley and your friend and colleague Mr Burnett have spoken very highly of your industry, honesty, and good nature. I am inclined to trust their judgment in this, especially since it accords with my own observation."

  By now Mr Adams was clearly pleased but a little anxious as well. With all these favourable reports, he wondered, what further questions did she have for him?

  Catherine continued, "My only reservations arise from a circumstance that only you can explain. I have little information about your family and cannot work out how it is that you were settled and brought up in France and yet your father was an Englishman. I have heard that your father moved to France following a falling-out with his family; I should very much wish to understand the reason for this unhappy breach in your family. Surely, it cannot have been occasioned by a simple misunderstanding; such squabbles, though they may cause temporary discord, rarely result in a permanent rupture. Is it true that your father never returned to England?"

  Mr Adams had sat very still while she spoke and when he answered her, did so without hesitation. "It is, with one exception—he returned uninvited to attend his mother's funeral. Indeed, ma'am, I should tell you that he never corresponded with his family at all, save for a single letter to my grandmother, informing her of his marriage to my mother."

  "And did you ever discuss the cause of this terrible rift?" her voice was softer now. She could tell that it pained him to speak of it, but she had to know the truth.

  Mr Adams shook his head and looked rather distressed. "My father never spoke of it; he was very bitter about the manner in which he had been treated by his family. But after his death, my mother told me everything."

  "And would you be willing to reveal some of it to me—only that I might understand your situation and defend you when others with less knowledge of the facts revile you to me? I can assure you that it will be a matter of the strictest confidence, no one will ever hear any of it from me, not even Lilian."

  John Adams stood up and walked to the bay window. The sunlight slanting into the room fell full upon his face, and Catherine could see the hurt etched upon his countenance as he spoke.

  "Mrs Harrison, whether you had asked me about these matters or not, if Miss Lilian accepts my offer of marriage, it is inconceivable that I would become engaged to her while concealing from her the truth about my family. It is therefore without any reservation, and indeed with some relief, that I am prepared to reveal it all to you."

  The tale he told was related simply, without undue histrionics or resort to melodrama. It was told as though he were detailing the story of some person wholly unconnected with himself.

  "My own beloved father was the youngest son of Sir Samuel Adams, whose properties and business interests in the north of England are both extensive and valuable. My father's two elder brothers were more inclined to work on the family estate, while my father preferred the study of literature and music. Encouraged and funded by his mother, who was herself an accomplished and artistic lady, he moved to London, where he found lodgings in the house of a wealthy gentleman, a patron of the arts, who shall here remain nameless. He spent much of his time in study and attending concerts and galleries and in this received encouragement from his host, who treated him almost as a member of his own family.

  "The children of the household had a governess, a young Frenchwoman, who was the daughter of an émigré family who had fled France when she was only a child, giving up everything to save their lives. Beautiful and very accomplished, she soon attracted the attention of my father, who was then a very young man. I need not go into too many details, but suffice it to say the two fell in love and subsequently became lovers.

  "When it was discovered, the young woman was dismissed from her position and had to leave the house. My father followed her, for she had by now nowhere to go and no one to turn to. They moved into a small apartment in a much less salubrious part of town, where they lived together for several months. It was, my dear mother told me, a difficult, hand-to-mouth existence, during which time he worked as a private tutor to foreign students."

  Catherine could see now why he had seemed so strained as he spoke. She felt great sympathy for him.

  "Later, my father gave up his artistic studies altogether and took work as a clerk in the warehouse of a trading firm, while my mother took in sewing and mending and other domestic chores for fine ladies. It was, she has told me, a very hard life and, if not for their deep devotion to one another, could have ended tragically."

  Already
shocked by his tale, Catherine asked, "How do you mean?"

  "Because, ma'am, many young women in similar circumstances have been deserted by gentlemen who, when the truth was revealed, could not face the opprobrium of their families and friends and abandoned the women; but my father did not. He loved my mother and after I was born, arranged to marry her and wrote to his mother to tell her so. It was the only time he communicated with any member of his family."

  The matter-of-fact way in which he had revealed the circumstances of his birth, with no attempt at concealment whatsoever, surprised Catherine; yet, she knew the manner of his telling it concealed the grief he must feel at having to speak of such intimate family matters.

  Adams was silent for a few moments, then continued, "Thereafter, fortuitously, circumstances in France had changed, allowing them to return, and my mother was able to reclaim a small portion of her family's properties, chiefly a farm and a vineyard. There they lived for the rest of their lives, and my father built a thriving wine merchandising business, which brings in good money to this day.

  "My two sisters were born later—they did not share my unhappy fate of being born out of wedlock, but it made little difference. My father and mother loved us all and indeed, if anything, I must confess, I was spoilt and petted and made much of, being the eldest and their only son. They also gave me the best education they could afford, insisting that I, being born in England, should pursue my studies in this country.

  "At the age of ten, I was sent to school in London and encouraged to acquire a good knowledge of the English language, culture, and manners. No doubt they hoped it would stand me in good stead in the future."

  Catherine intervened, "Which of course it has done, for here you are, for all the world an English gentleman. You have done well, Mr Adams, I am sure your parents were proud of you."

  He bowed briefly to acknowledge her remarks and said, "When my father died, I returned to France, intending to stay there and assist my mother and sisters on the family farm, but my mother persuaded me to return to England once more and continue my studies for a further year. She was most insistent and I did so, for I was loathe to disappoint her."

  After a moment's silence, he asked, "May I ask, ma'am, if I have answered your enquiries to your satisfaction?"

  Catherine had said little during his narration. Now, she found it difficult to respond immediately, not because she had not been satisfied but because she had begun to experience feelings of guilt at having subjected him to such an ordeal.

  When she spoke, her voice was very gentle. "Mr Adams, indeed you have. I should have spoken earlier—I did not need to hear all of your story—yet I thank you for your frankness and honesty. You have been more open with me than anyone could have asked of you. I am sorry to have caused you such pain as might have resulted from recounting these matters to a stranger. I hope you will forgive me."

  Mr Adams's countenance revealed that he felt no such forgiveness was needed, as Catherine continued, "As for my concerns, such as they were, I can see now that they are of no account at all. They no longer signify, because nothing that your father and mother did in their early youth can be held against you, especially considering that they, in raising you, appear to have done everything possible to instil in you the best standards of conduct and decorum and provide you with a good education. Whatever their youthful mistakes, quite clearly, in their subsequent marriage they made amends for them and it has left no scars upon you."

  He bowed, acknowledging the generosity of her words. Then, keen to be reassured, asked, "Then, you do not see these circumstances as an impediment to a marriage between Miss Lilian and myself?"

  "I do not; if anything, I imagine it has made you more circumspect, more sensible of your responsibilities and the demands of decorum in your general behaviour. Am I right?"

  "Indeed you are, ma'am; seeing the extent of suffering caused to so many persons by a single misdemeanour, I vowed never to place myself in such a situation, however innocently. I have been very particular in my general conduct towards all ladies," he said.

  Catherine smiled and nodded. She had noticed his exceedingly correct behaviour towards Lilian whenever they were together.

  "And you say you love my daughter?"

  "Devotedly and passionately, ma'am, and I give you my word that I shall not spare myself to secure her happiness. I cannot find words to express my joy, I have often dreamed of this happy day."

  "Well then, I can do no more than wish you success when you search for words to address Lilian herself. Should you walk through the woods towards Hunsford, it is very likely you will meet her returning from the village. When you do, you may tell her that you have my blessing."

  He rose and thanked her from the bottom of his heart, kissed her hand, and was gone in a trice, leaving his horse tethered at the gate, striding away towards the woods to find the lady of his dreams.

  Chapter Twelve

  That night, after Mr Adams had finally departed and Lilian had told her mother for the tenth time how very happy they were and thanked her effusively for "being such a wonderful mother," Catherine retired to her room.

  It had been a rather emotional and exhausting day, for when she had set out to test Mr Adams's frankness regarding his family, she had not dreamed that such a tale as he had told her would be revealed.

  It was not that she was shocked by the circumstances of his birth; she knew that such things happened, especially when young men lived away from home, and most often they were hushed up by their families. The prevailing attitude in society was that a man should extricate himself from the situation with as little inconvenience as possible, whilst the girl was, more often than not, left to fend for herself. She would suffer the consequences of their indiscretion, with, if she was lucky, some small sum of money provided chiefly to purchase her silence, and the child, if it survived, would be taken into an orphanage.

  That John Adams's father had voluntarily turned his back on his artistic ambitions and his family, to care for and marry the young woman he had loved and raise their child, had touched Catherine deeply. Clearly, she thought, his young son had drawn strength from the example, and though she had promised never to divulge their conversation to anyone, what she had learned would invest Mr Adams with a particular integrity in her mind. Consequently, it coloured her account of him when she wrote to her family of Lilian's engagement.

  Two letters had priority.

  The first to Jonathan Bingley and his wife, to whom she felt she owed a debt of gratitude for their kindness in helping her cope with her new responsibilities. The letter was written speedily and easily, since she knew that the news would cause no unhappiness at Netherfield; quite the contrary.

  She wrote:

  My dear Jonathan,

  Regarding the matter of Mr Adams's offer, which we have previously discussed, I am sure Anna and you will be happy to hear that he has called on me and has, in his conversations with me, completely satisfied all the concerns I had and is consequently now engaged to be married to Lilian with my blessing. While I am not at liberty to discuss the details of it, having given him my word that our conversation would remain confidential, I can say quite assuredly that there is nothing in his background that would cause me to have any further anxiety about my daughter's future security or happiness.

  They are both exceedingly happy and keen to be wed, but, being sensible of my feelings and the demands of decorum, will wait to be married until a few more months have elapsed since Mr Harrison's death.

  Because Mr Adams will continue in his work as curator of the Rosings estate, they plan to settle in the district when they are wed, which, as I am sure you will understand, is a source of great satisfaction to me.

  The second letter, addressed to her sister, presented some difficulty.

  Catherine knew that Rebecca had not seemed to approve of Mr Adams; she was anxious, therefore, not to exacerbate her prejudice by saying anything that she might seize upon and use against him.


  Mr Adams had called early that morning, and Lilian and he had gone out to take a turn about the grounds. Seeing them together, Catherine was quite convinced she had been right; they were clearly and unashamedly in love and having been apart for several weeks, were eager to talk about anything and everything, in the way that lovers often do.

  Catherine decided to tell her sister how things stood between the pair, emphasising their love for one another, his greatly improved prospects, and Lilian's unalloyed joy, as well as her own pleasure in having made the right decision for her daughter by giving her consent to the engagement.

  Having broken the news, she continued:

  It is too easy, when considering such matters, to get trammeled up in questions of prospects and income and forget that we are talking of two young people who love each other. I am sure, Becky, when you see how very happy my Lilian is and consider that Mr Adams's prospects and income have improved vastly since inheriting his family's wine merchandising business, you will share my confidence in their future.

 

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