Recollections of Rosings

by Rebecca Ann Collins

  I have no doubt whatsoever of the value of this school for the people of the parish and of the Rosings estate, and I believe quite firmly that Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had she been alive today and in possession of all the salient facts, would have concurred.

  I strongly support the scheme and propose that Mrs Harrison be permitted to list such items and moneys as may be required for the work to begin. I have instructed Mr Bingley as my representative to vote in favour, and I wish Mrs Harrison success in her most worthy enterprise.

  I might add that I have already arranged to have the rent on the Dower House paid for a further year, so she might continue to reside there while proceeding with plans for the school.

  Catherine's eyes filled with tears as she listened to the message. There was hardly any need for further discussion, but Jonathan proceeded to hand the second message, this from Sir James Fitzwilliam, to Rose Gardiner's attorney.

  It was short and to the point. It instructed his daughter as his representative to vote as she thought fit, according to the strength of the arguments put forward at the meeting for and against a parish school. It did not tell her how to vote, simply to settle the issue by agreeing to vote on it.

  And there was an end to it. Rose voted against, but with the support of both attorneys—the other had confessed to have been persuaded by Mr Darcy's eloquent letter—the matter was finally settled.

  Rose Gardiner, having cast the only vote against the school, left with her attorney, leaving the meeting in no doubt that she considered the entire project a waste of money. The ill grace with which she had responded to her loss did little to recommend her to the rest, who were far more concerned with congratulating Catherine on her success and assuring her of their support.

  Not long afterwards, relieved at having done their duty, they went their separate ways—Jonathan to visit his sister Emma Wilson at Standish Park in the same county and Caroline, who had expressed a wish to meet with a friend in Hunsford, went with Mr Jamison the rector, promising to return to the Dower House in time for dinner. This left Catherine to return home alone, this time in a much better frame of mind than she had been in on the previous day.

  It was not a great distance to the Dower House if she took the path through the grounds of Rosings Park and it being a fine, warm day, Catherine decided to walk rather than accept a ride in Mr Parker's gig.

  She had not gone very far, however, when the sun, which had been shining all morning, seemed to disappear behind heavy grey clouds, which had blown in out of nowhere. What had been glorious early Autumn weather threatened suddenly to bring down upon her a late Summer thunderstorm.

  Catherine hurried on, but having no umbrella and wearing only a light coat over her gown, she felt the heavy drops fall faster and, conscious of the documents she carried in her case, which may well be damaged by the rain, she decided to take shelter at Rosings.

  Leaving the path, she made for the East Wing, where most of the staff would by now be engaged in their chores. Rushing to avoid being drenched as the rain began to fall more heavily, she almost ran into Mr Burnett. Clearly taken aback by her appearance, he stopped, irresolute and not a little confused, then said, "Mrs Harrison, I was coming over to ask if the meeting had gone well this morning. I had just reached the vestibule when the storm broke and I turned back to fetch an umbrella from my room."

  Unable to hide her excitement and heedless of the discomfort of her damp shoes, Catherine blurted out the news.

  "It has all been agreed, thanks to dear Mr Darcy and Jonathan Bingley; Mrs Rose Gardiner was well stymied. We are to proceed with plans for the school with a view to opening next Spring and I am to continue at the Dower House for another year!" she said, openly enjoying her delayed moment of success.

  His delight was plain to see, and as they shared the pleasure of the moment, they almost forgot the rain that was still pouring down outside. Then, as if suddenly aware of the problem, Catherine said, "I must get home and change my shoes, I'm afraid they are wet through. Would you be so kind as to let me borrow that umbrella of yours?"

  With such a direct request, there was no possible way for Frank Burnett to refuse. He seemed startled but recovered quickly and said, "Yes, of course. Are you quite sure you do not wish to wait until the rain has ceased completely? I could take you down to the dining room and the housekeeper would get you some tea, while they dried out your shoes."

  It had been his last hope, but she shook her head.

  "No, I should not delay; were I to catch cold, that would be a dreadful way to celebrate our success. Thank you, but an umbrella will be quite enough to get me home; the rain seems to have eased already. However, there is another favour I must ask of you. I should be much obliged if you would keep these documents safe for me in your office. They include records of the meetings and decisions of the Trust. I should hate to have them ruined by carrying them around in this weather."

  This time he said, "Certainly," and led the way, as she walked with him towards the room in which he had left his umbrella; the very room she had been in just a few days ago. As they entered, he moved to the window to open the curtains and the room filled with light. Catherine's eyes were drawn instantly to the glass-fronted cabinet beside the desk and to her amazement, the framed picture was no longer there. She looked again, unable to believe her eyes, and her mind raced as she wondered how and why it might have disappeared.

  Meanwhile, Mr Burnett proceeded to light the fire, fanning it to a warm blaze, hoping perhaps to distract her with his attentions to her comfort. He then went to fetch the umbrella from the stand in the far corner of the room.

  As he did so, Catherine moved towards the desk upon which she sought to place the folder of documents she carried, saying, "This folder holds all our plans, calculations, and proposals—it is very precious indeed. I hope it will not be too much trouble for you to keep them here. You do have a secure cabinet, do you not?"

  "Of course, they will be quite safe with me," he said as he came towards her on the other side of the desk and, taking a key from his pocket, turned to open the glass-fronted cabinet in which had stood her picture.

  At that very moment, as he stood with his back to her, she saw it lying face up on the desk. Quite clearly, he had taken it out of the cabinet himself. Catherine imagined him holding it as he sat at his desk and placing it flat on the desk before leaving the room. Perhaps, she thought, he had intended to put it back and was interrupted.

  Even as her mind wandered over the possible explanations, Frank Burnett turned and stood directly facing her; the picture lay between them.

  There was no avoiding it now.

  It took Catherine a few moments and some deliberate effort to look up at his face. Their eyes met instantly, and as they both looked down at the picture, their mutual discomposure was palpable. Though he said nothing at first, she could sense from his stance and the expression of absolute dismay that had suffused his countenance that this was an encounter for which he was utterly unprepared.

  Her face reddened as she realised the implications of this moment, yet because she felt cold and drew her scarf more closely around her, he was able to use the time to ameliorate the awkwardness of the moment with some practicality.

  "Forgive me, I am forgetting your wet shoes!" he said and, disappearing momentarily behind a screen at the back of the room, returned with a towel. Moving a chair closer to the fireplace, he invited her to be seated and said, "Please remove your shoes and dry your feet or you will catch cold. Your shoes will dry out quickly if we place them by the fire."

  He had produced also a long blue wool scarf, obviously a gentleman's—his own perhaps—which he placed around her shoulders, taking away her damp shawl and laying it over a chair to dry in front of the fire. Then, as she began to dry her feet, grateful indeed for the warmth and comfort of the fire, he drew up a chair and sat opposite her.

  He spoke slowly, with great deliberation.

  "Mrs Harrison, I can explain everything, about the p
icture, I mean. I took it from Dr Harrison's collection and had it framed in town last year along with all the others. I am sorry I did not ask your permission, as I should have, only because I was embarrassed—I did not know how to ask and what reason to give, nor did I wish to give offence or compromise you in any way. I am truly sorry if I have offended you. Of course I will put it away directly, though may I say in my defence, I have been very discreet. No one has seen it but myself, until today."

  His words did not come easily at all, and Catherine, who had been drying her feet with meticulous care, looked up at him and smiled.

  "Mr Burnett, I have a confession to make, too," she said quietly. "I was here in this room only a few days ago, when I called to see you and you were out. I saw it then in your cabinet over there. I too was unwilling to cause you embarrassment; I left the room, found the servant downstairs, and sent you a note. So you see, I have seen the picture here before."

  He stood up, shaking his head, as if in disbelief. "I would never have guessed; you did not question or reprimand me when we met. Were you not outraged, as you had every right to be?" he asked, amazed at her admission.

  "Should I be?" she asked. "Surely my outrage would depend upon your reason for taking the picture in the first place, would it not?"

  He looked very miserable indeed, conscious of his own culpability and unable to make any plausible defence of his actions.

  "I fear I have no excuses to offer. When I first saw the drawings, I thought they were charming. I wanted very much to have a picture of you but did not dare ask your permission—"

  "Why ever not?" she asked, interrupting him.

  "Because I was afraid, not just that you would refuse me but because it might have led you to accuse me of disrespect and withdraw your friendship, which I have cherished these many months."

  Catherine's voice was a little gentler; she could see his discomfiture and had no desire to torment him. "Why should I have done such a thing? Surely, you know how much I have appreciated your advice and assistance? Why would I be so outraged by such a request as to withdraw my friendship simply because of a picture? Did you think I valued our association so little?"

  Frank Burnett was astonished at the coolness of her response. He had expected her to be affronted, at the very least, sufficiently annoyed to demand some explanation for what might be considered a most high-handed and impertinent action on his part. To have secretly taken a drawing of herself, had it framed, and then displayed it in his rooms could well be cause for a lady's indignation. He would not have blamed her.

  Catherine's calmness also worried him somewhat. Did it, he wondered, signify indifference? He wanted an opportunity to explain, perhaps even to admit the true reason for his conduct, but she gave him none. When, soon afterwards, she put her shoes back on and rose to leave, he tried once more to apologise, but she was ahead of him again. Speaking quite casually, as if nothing untoward had occurred, she said, "Jonathan Bingley is unable to dine with us tonight—he is expected at the Wilsons in Standish Park and has already left, but Caroline will be there. She leaves for Derbyshire tomorrow. Would you care to join us? I think we deserve a celebration, do you not agree?"

  He did agree and accepted with pleasure. Her graciousness should have pleased him, but it did not; for he assumed that it signalled only her indifference to him. She was neither outraged by his conduct nor did she mean to avoid him in future. Clearly, he thought, she intended to continue as before—dealing with him as a useful employee of the Rosings Trust—no more—and he had only himself to blame. It was a wretched situation indeed.

  When Catherine had left with the borrowed umbrella, he returned to his room and, sitting at his desk with her picture before him, put his head in his hands. It was of no use to pretend; he knew now that he had to tell her of his true feelings and hope for her understanding and perhaps her forgiveness; he dared not hope she would reciprocate them.

  It was therefore with a very great deal of trepidation that Mr Burnett made his way to the Dower House later that day.

  The evening, following the afternoon's thunderstorm, was soft, with fresh scents in the air and a clear sky above. As he approached the house, he met Mr Adams who was just leaving. They greeted one another and stopped to exchange a few words.

  He had just left Lilian at home, he said; they had been into town all afternoon to look at wedding rings and other gifts and she was tired and wished to retire early.

  "I have some work to complete as well, so although I was invited to stay to dinner, I have most reluctantly declined," he explained.

  For some unaccountable reason, this information pleased Mr Burnett a great deal. Much as he liked John Adams and Lilian, it would be good to enjoy an evening at the Dower House free of their company, he thought.

  Caroline Fitzwilliam was in the parlour when Frank Burnett arrived at the house. He had heard a great deal about her remarkable life and indefatigable zest for work, but had been surprised on meeting her to find she was still a very handsome woman of remarkably youthful appearance.

  In earlier years, when the Colonel and his young wife had been regular and welcome visitors to Rosings, he had heard of their great love story and the amazing way in which Caroline had thrown her energy and enthusiasm behind the causes that had drawn her husband into politics.

  Lady Catherine may not always have agreed with her nephew's wife, but Mr Burnett had heard her say of Caroline, "She is the most determined young woman I have met; she has been the making of my nephew, who used to be a rather indecisive young man. He is a most fortunate fellow to have found her."

  Frank Burnett could see Caroline had not changed in the intervening years.

  Caroline greeted him graciously and, having invited him to help himself to a glass of wine, had informed him that Lilian was too tired after a day in town to join them and Catherine would be a little late coming down to dinner.

  "She had been caught in a heavy shower this afternoon and reached home quite sodden. I have instructed her maid to prepare a warm bath with camomile and lavender and let her rest awhile afterwards, so as to avoid catching a chill. So I am afraid you will have to put up with me for a while," she said.

  Mr Burnett indicated politely and quite sincerely that he would have no difficulty doing so, he was confident they would have much to discuss as they waited for Mrs Harrison to join them.

  "Indeed we do, because I dare say you are eager to hear what took place at the meeting of the Trust?"

  This indicated to him quite clearly that Catherine had not spoken to Mrs Fitzwilliam of their encounter at Rosings that afternoon. Relieved, he agreed immediately.

  "Yes, I most certainly am. I assume the matter of the school has been settled satisfactorily?" he asked.

  "It has indeed, thanks to the foresight of Jonathan Bingley and Catherine's absolute determination," said she and proceeded to give him a most entertaining and colourful commentary upon the events of the meeting.

  "You should have seen Rose Gardiner's face when Jonathan produced the message from Sir James, her father, sent by telegraph, urging her to vote as she saw fit to settle the matter once and for all. Consternation all round!"

  She laughed, clearly enjoying the discomfiture of her sister-in-law, in whom Caroline had been very disappointed.

  "Truly, Mr Burnett, Rose is married to my youngest brother, Robert, but I can find no sympathy in my heart for her position. She and my brother have followed for many years a life of selfishness and shameful disregard for the interest of anyone but themselves. Now my brother Dr Richard Gardiner is quite different—the very opposite, in fact. I don't suppose you have met him?" she asked and Mr Burnett admitted he had not had the pleasure recently, but when he worked at Rosings many years ago, he recalled meeting Richard Gardiner and Cassy Darcy when they were engaged.

  "I recall that they were a most handsome couple. I understand that he has since acquired a great reputation as a physician."

  "He certainly has," said Caroline, who was justly
proud of her distinguished brother. "He is Sir Richard Gardiner now. There is no greater contrast with the self-seeking ways of Robert and Rose than the lives of Richard and Cassy. It pains me greatly, Mr Burnett, to see how my young brother has strayed from the sound principles and generosity of our parents. My dear father was benevolent and charitable, and Mama—her kindness was at the heart of all her dealings with people, no matter who they were. Yet Robert seems to have turned his back on all of that. I have to say I mostly blame his wife and his mother-in-law Lady Fitzwilliam for the change in him. Although Mr Darcy is inclined to say that Robert must also accept some responsibility for it, and I daresay he is right, too. I am afraid I lay most of the blame on the two women."

  At this moment, the door opened and Catherine entered the room.

  Frank Burnett rose, noting how different was this elegantly dressed lady to the wet and windswept person of that afternoon. She held out her hand and he bowed politely over it.