Welcome to the future of Janeicillin! Some may remember my serialized stories, extending the ending chapters of Austen's novel, but anyone might read these musing in their original forms by going to the Janeicillin page of this blog, at least for now. I am in the process of editing the tales for ebook publication this spring under the new title "And Who Can Be In Doubt Of What Followed?": The Novels of Jane Austen Expanded (Persuasion reference ... get it?). To that end, I thought I would share the revised stories as I finish them, eventually replacing the old versions with the new.
Today I give you Northanger Abbey. This is perhaps my favorite in this series of short stories, and I hope you find it to your liking.
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It is, sadly, not always the fate of two lovers to
hasten together towards perfect felicity. Some unfortunates must instead endure
the torment and heartache of doubt and separation. Such sad circumstances are all
the more to be bemoaned when brought upon a couple by the capriciousness of a
misguided parent, but a blissful Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney had no
notion that they were soon to be so imposed upon. As they entered the parsonage
at Fullerton, intent on requesting of Mr. and Mrs. Morland their permission to
marry, neither had any notion how near disappointment loomed. Do not suppose
that it was this eminently kind and practical couple that was so ill-natured as
to needlessly barricade their daughter's path to happiness, but it was their very
abundance of said qualities that dictated General Tilney’s interests, no matter
how perverse, must be considered.
Yet before such objections could be taken into
account, the Morlands had first to overcome the shock of Mr. Tilney's most
unexpected proposal. One might think that Mrs. Allen would have been so good as
to mention Catherine’s forming of a very decided attachment to this young man,
but that lady not being the most perceptive, and the Morlands themselves not
being ones to indulge in speculation, they were taken entirely by surprise.
Indeed, when Mr. Tilney first requested a private conference with Mr. Morland,
only recently returned to the house, it seemed his purpose must undoubtedly be
to provide the sort of explanation for Catherine's ejection from Northanger
Abbey that had best be spoken in private, and the rector braced himself to hear
a very disagreeable account. Imagine his surprise when presented with a most
wonderful request for his daughter’s hand! After taking the few needed moments
to compose his thoughts, he responded thusly: “Forgive me, Mr. Tilney, for my
prolonged silence, but I am afraid I had no notion that you and Catherine had
such a decided partiality for one another. Has my daughter accepted your
proposal?”
“Yes, sir. I have been so fortunate as to win her affections.”
“Following her abrupt removal from your ancestral home, I was
rather of the belief that we would not be hearing from any member of your family
again. This request, under the circumstances, is most unexpected.”
Henry nodded in understanding, “I fully comprehend what your
feelings must be, Mr. Morland. Believe me when I say my father' s precipitate
actions drastically accelerated my intended courtship. As Miss Morland was always
viewed by my father in a most agreeable light, actively courting her favor and
encouraging our association, I hardly expected his inclinations to take such a
decided turn.”
Mr. Morland raised a quizzical brow. “And might I ask what caused
such a sudden change of heart?”
“It seems that the mischief must be laid at the door of one Mr.
John Thorpe, with whose family you are unfortunately already familiar. What you
may not be aware of, sir, is that this man also had pretensions towards your
daughter, apparently born out of a quite mistaken notion regarding her fortune.
Indeed, I believe it is this misconception regarding the affluence of your
family that influenced his sister's behavior towards your son. The selfishness
of both has caused enormous grief and sorrow.” Mr. Morland showed his
agreement, causing Henry to pause before continuing: “Mr. Thorpe, while in
Bath, had occasion to regale my father with a massively exaggerated account of
Miss Morland's worldly expectations, including a quite unfounded presumption
regarding her relationship with Mr. and Mrs. Allen, and it was this,
unbeknownst to myself, that persuaded the General to invite her to Northanger.
I am sorry to say my father would not be inclined to show such condescension if
possessed with a true notion of her expectations.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Tilney, but being so perceptive regarding General
Tilney's values, did you not question this surprising kindness towards one
whom, I suspect you knew, was not as well dowered as your father expected?”
A pained look crossed Henry's face. “His unusual behavior did
indeed take me by surprise, I confess. I even discussed it with my sister, and
she too could provide no explanation for his unaccountable overtures. All I can
plead in excuse is that I was very taken with Miss Morland, as was Miss Tilney,
who lives an isolated life, and we were both too pleased with our good fortune
in securing such an agreeable companion to question my father's motives. It is
rare that one meets with such innate goodness and unaffected behavior as your
daughter possesses, Mr. Morland. She is a credit to both you and Mrs. Morland,
and I naively hoped that it was these qualities that influenced my father's
hospitality.”
“I thank you, Mr. Tilney, for the acknowledgment, particularly as
it is no easy one to make. We are very proud of Catherine, especially
considering the presence of mind and fortitude she displayed upon her recent
adventure, which I admit to being something of a revelation to my wife and myself.
I assume you are about to explain why such attributes were called into action?
As pleased as we are to know that they exist, I would not have had them make
their debut under such circumstances.”
“No indeed, Mr. Morland, and nor would I! My father again
encountered Mr. Thorpe in London. Now speaking under the influence of both his
and his sister's disappointed hopes, he exaggerated the extent of your family's
poverty to a similar extent that he had previously proclaimed your wealth. My
father, angry that he had been misled, and blaming Miss Morland rather than the
creature truly responsible for his misconception, took his rage out upon her.
He hastened homeward and with all expediency withdrew his hospitality. Thus was
she forced to travel in such a decidedly unsuitable manner. As soon as I
learned of the circumstances, I rushed here, eager to insure myself of her wellbeing.
I can only be thankful my sister had the forethought to make sure Miss Morland
had the funds on hand to pay for her journey, else I know not what might have
befallen her at my father's hands.”
“Yes, Mr. Tilney. I cannot but feel a similar degree of gratitude
towards Miss Tilney, yet I am afraid that this account poses some problems in
regards to your request. It is not to be supposed, considering his late
position, that General Tilney will be prevailed upon to condone such a union as
you seek, and I am afraid that I cannot, in good conscious, bless an engagement
that is so disagreeable to your parent.”
Though Henry's face fell, he proceeded with firm determination. “I
understand your perspective, Mr. Morland, but let me assure you my own fortunes
are in no way dependent upon my father. I am in possession of a very
comfortable living and will inherit a considerable sum secured upon me through
marriage settlements. Though my father may withhold these for the duration of
his life, which I trust and hope will last for many years, I am fully able to
support a wife on my own.”
“That is all very well, Mr. Tilney, but money is not my chief consideration.
You have shown yourself a considerate and feeling young man. Even in this time
of conflict, you maintain a becoming degree of paternal respect, which speaks
very well of your character. Could you really countenance marrying so decidedly
against your father's will?”
Henry nodded his head sadly, “I certainly would rather not be in
such a situation, sir, but I cannot be hopeful that anything will alter my
father's opinion.”
“What of your report? You have now seen with your own eyes that we
are not quite destitute, as the General seems to believe. Would not your word
sway him?”
“I fear that in matters of matrimony, my father’s dominant
concerns are rather mercenary,” he blushingly acknowledged.
“Well, we must hope that circumstances intervene to change his
mind. In the meantime, while I welcome your overtures towards Miss Morland, I
am afraid I must withhold my consent to an engagement.”
“I understand your position, Mr. Morland, and while I respect it,
I do not deny myself extremely disappointed.”
“These things have a way of working themselves towards an
agreeable conclusion, Mr. Tilney. Do not despair. What is meant to be, will
be.”
“Thank you, Mr. Morland. I hope you prove correct.”
They shook hands, a formal gesture which Mr. Morland familiarized
by patting the younger man on the shoulder comfortingly. “Let us speak to the
ladies. I am sure Catherine has shared your news with Mrs. Morland, and they
must be anxious to learn the outcome of our conference.”
In case there was any doubt, both Mrs. Morland and Catherine rose
in a most expectant manner upon the return of the gentlemen, and the absence of
any of the many other Morlands indicated that mother and daughter had been
engaged in private discourse. Catherine stepped forward in anticipation, but
upon seeing the serious turn of Henry's demeanor, she held back, a crestfallen
look overtaking her expression. Having explained the circumstances to Mrs.
Morland, she was duly warned by that sage matron not to be overly hopeful of a
positive outcome to Mr. Tilney's request, but youthful spirits lead her,
nevertheless, to be most sanguine in her expectations. Surely Mr. Tilney, with
his able and eloquent tongue, could convince her father to give his consent.
Mr. Morland, seeing the angst in the young people’s eyes, took it
upon himself to convey the bad news. “Well, my dears, I have had the very great
honor of receiving a request for your hand, Catherine, from this very fine
young man. Though I would be pleased to bestow you upon such a gentleman as he
has proven himself to be, I am afraid that the current opposition of his father
to must presently hinder my consent. However, should the General have a change
of heart, I see no objection to such a desirable connection. I congratulate
you, my dear, for securing such a worthy man’s affections.”
Though her father tried to soften the blow, his words seemed to
Catherine the loss of all hope. Her mother, as might be expected, took them rather
differently. She greeted her husband's announcement as only the mildest set
back, her own style of parental care not comprehending how anyone could long
oppose the wishes of a beloved child, and while her innate honesty forced her
to acknowledge that, "Catherine would make a sad, heedless young
housekeeper," she was quick to supply the consolation of there being
nothing like practice for improvement. A delay of formal engagement provided an
opportunity to better prepare for the matrimonial state.
As the young people were not engaged, they were not allowed the
luxury of a private parting. Catherine was denied the solace of bemoaning their
lot in Henry’s sympathetic ear, but the Morlands were not so unreasonable as to
not prohibit the couple from exchanging a few words out of reach of chaperoning
ears.
“I will speak with my father, Catherine. Somehow he must be
brought to reason.”
“But how is he to be swayed when all his prejudices are so
decidedly against me?”
“I do not presently know, but we will somehow find a way to
prevail. I know it.” He spoke to reassure not just Catherine, as he was in need
of some fortification himself. “I will write to you and let you know how all
proceeds.”
“Oh, please do! I will look for your letter daily.”
At this heartfelt declaration, Henry's smile returned. This is why
he fell in love with Catherine Morland: she made no attempt to feign
nonchalance, as a more worldly woman might, or tease him into a state of
uncertainty. Here was all honesty. “And I shall as eagerly await your
response.” Reluctantly they parted, Henry returning to what was now his only
home, to watch over his young plantations, and extend his improvements for her
sake, to whose share in them he looked anxiously forward, while Catherine
remained at Fullerton to cry.
**********
After allowing her
daughter what Mrs. Morland considered an excessive amount of emotional
indulgence, Catherine was called upon to leave the false comfort of her now tear
sodden pillow and resume her normal activities around the parsonage. Her work
progressed to a degree, for her mother's gentle reminders of the importance of
good housekeeping kept her diligent in trying
to complete Richard's cravats, but she did not make much more progress than she
had before Mr. Tilney's visit. A fanciful mind, under the influence of the joys
and heartbreaks a near engagement simultaneously bestows, will understandably
wander. Catherine could not decide what held greater sway: the felicity of
knowing that her love was returned, or the disappointments attendant upon
indefinite delay. No matter how she pondered, no scheme revealed itself with
which to work upon General Tilney. Mrs. Morland remained insistent that he
would, inevitably, allow his son to marry where he chose, but Catherine, with
her better knowledge of the General's character, could not bring herself to such
an optimistic perspective.
It was with great relief that Mrs. Morland welcomed a
letter, not many days later, addressed from Glocestershire. A brief consul with
her husband proving both to be of like minds in thinking no harm could come
from the correspondence, particularly if they did not inquire too closely into
the matter, she passed the missive onto her daughter and was notably relieved
to see her sullen aspect cheered by its sight. While we can honor the good
sense that drove the Morlands to respect their daughter's privacy in this manner,
I feel no such scruples:
My dear Catherine,
In the few days that have passed since I was last in
your company, life at Woodston has become nonsensically dull. The house craves
your enlivening presence just as much as I. Though you were only ever here
once, I see you wherever I look. The parlor you so admired will be furnished
posthaste, so that it is ready to welcome you on that happy day I bring you to
your new home. In the meantime, there are several improvements I think might be
enacted on the grounds, and though I have no notion if you should approve of my
taste, I find I care little as the occupation is a welcome distraction from our
unhappy separation. Once you are installed as mistress, replacing the phantom that
currently haunts the parsonage in your place, you may make any alterations you
choose. See what you have done to me, dear Catherine? I, who have always
fancied myself a sensible man, have adopted the same sort of fantastic notions
usually reserved for the heroines you so admire. At least my ghost is a happy
one. If I cannot have the real Miss Morland, I shall have to make do, for the
time being, with her shade.
And how do you pass your time, my love? Please write
to me with all the little details of your daily life. I promise not to take the
Allens in dislike just because they enjoy your visits while I languish in
deprivation. Indeed, I must ever be thankful for their bringing you to Bath and
into my life, and can begrudge them no pleasure. You must commend Mrs. Allen on
the extraordinary value derived from that particular muslin she wore to the
Lower Rooms on the night of our introduction, for I am sure it was my extensive
understanding of ladies' fashions that made you look favorably upon me, as it
certainly could not have been the trivial conversation that I insisted on
imposing upon you. Perhaps I should not inquire, but did the gown you wore on
that particular evening – the sprigged muslin with blue trimmings – fray as I
then predicted? I do recall seeing you in it again, and though I noticed no
unusual wear at that time, you must understand the great joy I would derive
from having my prediction proved accurate. Not that I wish such a fetching
garment be lost to you, my dear, but if I may distinguish myself in one area of
taste, I shall feel more assured of my triumph in the theater of home
decorating. Tell me, do you favor blue or green damask for a sofa? I shall not
inquire if you prefer yellow, for I know such a violation to be inconceivable
on your part. My estrangement from Northanger means that I cannot call upon
Eleanor's good judgment on such matters. I must worry for my sister at this
time, as she must be fearfully lonely. Perhaps, in the dark of night, I can
smuggle her some new books to enjoy. As I already know your very strong
feelings against History, may I inquire which novels you would recommend? Has
that something shocking you predicted yet been released upon unsuspecting
London Town? I am sure it would perfectly suit my present purpose.
Until we meet again, which I pray will be at no
distant time, I am faithfully yours,
Henry
P.S. If you truly prefer yellow, I suppose I can
learn to tolerate it.
Such a letter could only bring smiles to Catherine's
face. References to past happiness and future felicity combined to make her
perfectly cheerful for the remainder of the day. Between writing her response,
walking to the post office to mail it, and visiting with Mrs. Allen to discuss
Mr. Tilney's surprising knowledge of fabrics, Catherine even found the
attention to finish one of Richard's cravats! The morrow might bring about a
renewal of melancholy, but with more such letters to look forward to, Catherine
began to feel she might bear the separation tolerably well.
When compared to the plight of others, Catherine had
good reason to be thankful for her present happy state. The schism that Henry
Tilney's insistent pursuit of the unacceptable Miss Morland enacted between
himself and his father caused no greater suffering than that endured by their
sister and daughter, Eleanor. These were sad and lonely days for Miss Tilney,
abandoned at Northanger Abbey with little company other than that of servants.
Following Catherine's eviction from the house, General Tilney was not long in
returning to London, thereby depriving his daughter of even his dictatorial
companionship. Eleanor was no stranger to hardship, and in these trying times
she turned to those same occupations and diversions that had helped her weather
all the disappointments of her life. The loss of Henry was no small disadvantage
to her circumstances. In both her mother's death and her forced separation from
one young Captain Johnson, a companion in arms of Captain Tilney's, it was the
presence of this most sympathetic brother that lifted her spirits. Now that his
comforting attention was denied her, Eleanor found her lot hard indeed. While proud
of her brother's defiance of their father, as asking Catherine to leave
Northanger had been one of the most difficult tasks she had ever been called
upon to perform, she could not help the jealousy she felt that he was free to
pursue his own path, while she remained under the total command of their father.
The future appeared bleak, with the only possible means of escape being
marriage to a gentleman of the General's choosing, selected for his wealth and
position rather than the likelihood that he would make her happy. The substitution
of one form of tyranny for another was not a prospect Eleanor could take
comfort in, so she diligently applied herself to the demands of the household,
plied her needle, and studied her books, all in attempt to drive despair from
her soul, and all the time unaware of the events unfolding to decidedly improve
her fortunes.
**********
Captain Tilney was
following his father’s example by amusing himself in London. Little concern to
him was an estranged brother and languishing sister: it was his pleasure to
pursue the same style of occupation that Isabella Thorpe had been so accommodating
as to provide in Bath. Several of his companions in arms were likewise enjoying
the season, as their fashionable regiment was often at leave to do. However,
not all equated pleasure with dissipation, and still others found it completely
elusive. One young and worthy member of this band of brothers had the particular
misfortune to receive word of a terrible misfortune. A beloved brother was
dead, rendering Captain Johnson the sole living representative of his line. If
other members of the regiment thought a noble title and fruitful estate ample compensation
for his loss, it was not deemed sufficient by the only person whose sentiments
mattered, and he would remain Captain Johnson forever if it meant his brother
still lived. The only aspect of his new status in which he could find any
solace was the notion that his increased fortune just might, someday, allow him
to marry where he chose, a freedom previously denied.
The new viscount took himself off to his ancestral
home, there to oversea the burial and execute the will, while Captain Tilney
repaired to his father’s fashionable home in Mount. He found the General still
consuming an ample breakfast, the proportions of which were in keeping with
that gentleman's notions of a proper buffet. Knowing that such abundance was
not laid out for the purpose of sustaining its sole partaker, but rather for the
luxury of wastefulness, the Captain helped himself to a generous plate and
joined his father’s table.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this unaccountably
early visit, Frederick? Had I known of your intentions, I would have ordered a
more worthy repast.”
Frederick smiled at his father's inhospitable tone,
it being precisely what he was accustomed to, and with no hesitation launched
into the disclosure that was sure to make him a far more welcome guest. “I come
bearing important news for you, sir, the like of which is sure to overcome any
inconvenience my presence may cause.”
General Tilney looked up skeptically from his plate,
a mere lift of an eyebrow serving as invitation for his son to proceed.
“Lord Seagry is dead.”
The General paused in his consumption, taking a
moment to finish his mouthful and put down fork and knife before replying
succinctly, “Indeed?”
“Johnson received word last night. His brother was
traveling homeward when the carriage overturned, breaking the sorry man’s neck.”
“How unfortunate! Does the new viscount remain in
town?”
“He’s off to attend family and estate matters.
Assuming that in his haste and grief he does not meet with the same fate as
poor Richard, he should be installed as master of Gravenly Hall no later than
tomorrow.”
The General rose from the table to look out the
window, breakfast momentarily forgotten, and clasped his hands behind his back
contemplatively, “I think it only appropriate we pay our respects. What say
you, Frederick?”
“I am at your disposal, sir.”
“We will leave in the morning. Nine o'clock sharp. I
want to share this news with Eleanor before she hears of it through other
means.”
“Very good, sir.”
And so it was that Eleanor's isolation came to an
abrupt end. With great surprise did she witness the return of her father, let
alone her brother, weeks before she had any notion of seeing either. Like the
dutiful daughter she was, her greeting was one of sincere welcome, but upon
hearing the reason for their appearance, she was overcome with dismay at the
tragedy of this unforeseen event.
“Poor Lord Seagry! Captain Johnson must feel it
acutely, for he loved his brother so!”
“Is that all you have to say?” demanded Frederick.
“I suppose that we must be grateful that death was
swift,” she replied. “Lord Seagry is unlikely to have suffered.” Such words, while
conveying her very real sorrow, concealed a longing for one more dear to her
than life itself: a degree of attachment understandable for one declared, by a
most reliable source, the most charming man in the world. Yet while Eleanor’s
natural modesty guarded her feelings, her family could still penetrate her
heart.
“I declare you are as bad as Johnson! They certainly
deserve each other, Father.”
“You will forgive your brother’s lack of grace, my
dear,” admonished the General, “but you must see that this unexpected event,
tragic though it undoubtedly is, must prove greatly to your advantage.”
Eleanor blushed. In her confusion, she prevaricated:
“I do not know how you can suppose so.”
“Am I wrong in my surmise that you continue to care
for the new Lord Seagry, in the same manner you once professed to regard
Captain Johnson?”
Hanging her head to hide the mounting redness of her
complexion, Eleanor uttered a quiet, “No, sir.”
“Very well then. Frederick assures me that he
continues to feel the same for you as he once so prematurely declared.”
Unable to restrain herself, Eleanor rose from her
chair and proclaimed passionately, “I have no reason to suppose that he has any
lasting intentions towards me, if that is what you suggest, sir, and I think
such a conversation entirely premature considering the very recent nature of
his bereavement!”
“Come now, Eleanor!” cried an exasperated Frederick.
“Surely you cannot be so totally blind to your own best interests!”
“Enough, sir!” barked the General. “Eleanor's
delicacy and respect for the mourning period is exactly what I like to see in
my daughter. Anything else would be unbecoming in her, but her father need not
be slave to such scruples. It is my duty to position my children
advantageously, and towards that end, I intend to pay my respects to Lord
Seagry and invite him to dine at his earliest convenience. I assume, Miss
Tilney, that you are not adverse to seeing him?”
“No, sir.”
“Very well then. I see no reason to dwell upon this
sad matter further. I shall know how to proceed.”
Eleanor was thus left alone to explore the contrary
sensations of sympathetic misery and hopeful flutterings that this conversation
had aroused, while the gentlemen repaired to their respective quarters. Before
parting, Frederick questioned his father, “Do not you believe a full morning
must be endured before an engagement might be arranged?”
“I think that we must not be the ones to suggest
anything less. However, if Seagry's feelings are as you describe, combined with
the obvious duty he has, as the very last of his family, to secure the
succession, I think he may find it pragmatic to overlook such protocol.”
Frederick smiled before taking himself off to make
the acquaintance of a new claret his father recently procured.
**********
Unaccountable as it may seem to those of more
elevated hearts and minds, sometimes callous avarice proves remarkably
effective in securing the happiness of not just those who would stoop to its
employment, but also of those truly deserving. Such was the case for Eleanor
Tilney and Daniel Johnson, Viscount of Seagry. General Tilney, master
strategist, quickly secured both young people in the assurance of their mutual
affections, and, as he predicted, the confines of mourning were easily set
aside by a young man in love. As society’s dictates proved remarkable flexible
when the future of a noble house was at stake, no more than three months saw
the banns read and vows exchanged, and nary a whisper of censure was to be
heard on the matter.
General Tilney had many reasons to find satisfaction
in the arrangement, but by far the most prominent was the elevation of his
daughter to the peerage. So elated was he when he first hailed Eleanor “Your
Ladyship!” that she, the master strategist’s daughter, saw an opportunity to
turn his extraordinary good humor to good account, and obtained forgiveness for
Henry. So generous was the General in his triumph as to grant his second son
permission to be a fool if he liked, thus bestowing upon Henry and Catherine
all the acceptance they required to guarantee their own happiness.
Henry was not surprised
to receive an invitation to Abbey. Eleanor's marriage having freed her to correspond
as readily as she chose with her disgraced brother, he was well informed
regarding the General's softened sentiments. When General Tilney's summons
arrived, Henry had only to be pleased, not astonished. A the given date and
time he dutifully appeared, and the welcome he received from his father leaving
nothing to be desired, he was quickly reestablished in his customary quarters
of the ancestral home.
It was not until the evening
meal that the General broached the subject of his son's desired marriage. “Her
ladyship tells me the Morlands are not as necessitous as previously believed.”
“Eleanor, as usual, is perfectly correct in her
understanding, sir.”
“Hmm,” replied the General, redoubling his attention
to his food before choosing to proceed. “I understand you have been to
Fullerton, a freehold property, and there made the family's acquaintance.”
“Yes I have, sir, upon the occasion of my requesting
Miss Morland's hand in matrimony.”
“But the Morlands would not consent to the match. I
admit to being rather surprised by that news.”
“Again, sir, you prove yourself in full command of
the circumstances. Though disappointed by his stance, I cannot blame Mr.
Morland for being uncomfortable with an engagement while you stood in
opposition.”
“No. Nor can I.” For several minutes father and son
ate in silence before the General plunged further into the matter at hand.
“Miss Morland is the eldest daughter of the house?”
“Yes sir.”
“And her elder brother, so Frederick reports, is not
of robust constitution.”
“I certainly would not describe him so. He seems hale
and healthy to me, though his personality is not one which could be described
as forceful.”
“You dispute your brother's opinion?”
“I think Frederick, living the life of a soldier,
might be misled by the more subdued mannerism of one destined for the clergy.”
“I assume he is his father’s heir?”
“No sir. There are two brothers before him. If I
understand the situation correctly, he will be the recipient of a living
currently in Mr. Morland's possession, as well as a portion of equal value.”
“Miss Morland has three elder brothers, does she?” he
confirmed disgruntledly, privately lamenting their existence before asking,
“And what do the other two do with themselves?”
“I have never met either, sir, but I understand the
eldest is interested in politics, having studied the law, while the next
pursues a military career.”
“A military man, eh?”
Perceiving his father's thoughts, Henry clarified,
“As you have found the occupation suitable for your own son, sir, you must know
that an active parent, such as Mr. Morland, would see his child placed in a
good regiment. I think he is unlikely to face heavy combat.”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” replied the General, striving
to hide any disappointment he felt. “And in regards to the Allens, they continue
to take great interest in Miss Morland, do they not, though she is not their
godchild?”
“The Allens have been good friends to Miss Morland,
but she does not have any expectation of being favored by them in Mr. Allen's
will, if that is your implication, sir.”
“She must cultivate their friendship.”
“As her nearest neighbors, she is a great deal in
their company.”
“That is as it should be. I suppose time will tell. I
wonder if they have any nephews or nieces?”
“I cannot say, sir.”
“Very well. Let's get to the heart of the matter.
What can Miss Morland expect in way of a dowry?”
“Three thousand pounds.”
“It is certainly not a handsome portion, but it is
something to secure her future, and perhaps time will increase her fortunes. You
are you own man, sir, and I will not obstruct your chosen path, but I do ask you
to consider carefully before acting imprudently. You could do a great deal
better with your family and advantages than some obscure clergyman’s daughter.”
“I assure you I have given the matter a great deal of
thought, sir. Miss Morland is precisely the kind of unaffected young lady to
suit my tastes. I have known far too many society women, putting on airs and
false pretenses in order to attract, and I have found none appealing. Miss
Morland is all candor and affection. She will make me very happy.”
“I do not comprehend your inclinations, but I admit
she is a pleasing young lady, and her prospects, as I said, may very well
improve. I imagine you require some proof of my consent to show to the
Morlands?”
“A letter would do very nicely, sir.”
“I cannot say it is the match I would have liked for
you, but you will have your letter by morning. I expect you are in rather a
hurry to deliver the news?”
“Yes, sir. If you find it convenient, I shall leave
for Fullerton after breakfast.”
The General emitted a caustic chuckle. “Yes, that is
the way with young love. I just hope your enthusiasm outlasts countless
children and fading bloom.”
“As you said before, sir, time will tell.”
**********
No one who had ever seen
Henry Tilney in his infancy would have supposed him born to be a hero, but when
he came riding into the parsonage grounds two days later, he seemed every bit a
Valencourt to Catherine's mind, though happily more effective and less
inconvenient than Emily’s hapless lover. For these merits and more, the
Morlands warmly welcomed him, and the letter from General Tilney, whose courteously
worded yet empty professions were easily seen through, was greeted with glee. While
Catherine, courtesy of a secret correspondence, had good reason to suspect the moment
of triumph near at hand, she nevertheless received news of her engagement with
all the excitement and enthusiasm one might expect, the sight of which
reaffirmed in Henry's heart all his best beliefs in her character. What young
man would not be moved by a lovely young lady's profession that he has made her
the happiest of all creatures? Mr. Tilney had little choice but to object,
insisting the title belonged to him, and a great deal of enjoyment was derived
in arguing the point, an occupation to which the rest of the family was happy
to abandon them.
Henry Tilney remained at Fullerton for one week,
getting to know his new brothers and sisters, enjoying the unfeigned
hospitality of the Morland family, and relishing his time with Catherine, until
his father summoned him homeward. Though the General was very well able to part
with his younger son for the months during which he was in disgrace, now that
amends had been made, he found him quite necessary to his comfort. Even had his
father not written to bring him back to the Abbey, Henry would not neglect his
parish any longer, his absence being both extended and unplanned. Yet while
their week of pleasure lasted, the engaged couple was able to make all the
needed decisions attending their impending marriage, as well as enjoying many a
casual, and one highly formal, evening of entertainment with the Allens. Mrs.
Allen took just as much pleasure in the match – perhaps even more so – than the
Morlands. After all, it was she who had the good sense to require a pleasant
young companion in Bath, and had she not been gifted with such foresight, the
acquaintance could never have come about. Mrs. Allen also took it upon herself to
contribute to Catherine’s wedding clothes, an act of generosity which, when he
learned of it, did much to increase the General's hope of a future bequest.
The wedding was planned for the end of the year. The
young couple would have liked to marry as soon as the banns might be read, but
Mrs. Morland insisted she still had far too much household information to drill
into Catherine's whimsical head for the wedding to take place so very soon. Mr.
Tilney, being so disobliging as to see Catherine's deficiencies as well as her
charms, found his future mother's purpose rather worthy, and while expressing
his disappointment at the delay, could also find humor in her characterization.
The lady in question, however, took umbrage at such slander, and if Mr. Tilney had
not been infallible in her eyes, his amusement might have precipitated their
first real argument. Fortunately, as Henry’s opinion was with Mrs. Morland,
there could be no question to the contrary, thus diverting disaster.
The couple parted tenderly, renewing their promises
to correspond, happy that concealment was at an end. “I shall write to you
every day,” Catherine promised with fervor.
Henry smiled in his sardonic way. “If you insist, I
shall relish each letter, but please do not take it as a waning of my
affections if you do not receive such rapid responses. There is much to do at
Woodston, and I am afraid that such superficial missives, which is all you
would receive if I set myself to writing daily, would not be to your liking. Will
it not be far more satisfying to receive two or three truly heartfelt letters a
week instead? Besides, if you must express yourself each day, you had far
better put those thoughts and feelings into that journal I still have been
unable get you to admit to keeping.”
“But I truly do not keep a journal, Henry! I am not
such a diligent creature as to be able to maintain such a practice.”
“Then perhaps you should start. It would certainly be
an aid to Mrs. Morland's attempts to reform your sadly lacking character.”
“Oh! You do not mean what you say, surely?”
“Not in regards to what matters. But if you do start
keeping a journal, I might have the pleasure of seeking it out once we are
married and reading all your best-kept secrets. Is not such a violation of
privacy romantic? Besides, you may even find the practice helpful, once you
have all a wife's household cares of which to keep track.”
“If I am only keeping it in lieu of writing to you, I
shall gladly show it to you, as it can contain nothing I would not readily profess.”
“And are you so certain that such an attitude will
survive marriage? The time may come when your feelings are very different.”
“Never! I shall only keep a journal if you promise
most faithfully to read it.”
“In that case, how can I do anything but concede to
your wishes? In return, I shall begin a journal as well, one destined for your
eyes. It may not be a thrilling as Mrs. Radcliffe's tales, but perhaps you will
find it a bit more edifying than history?”
“Will you? Truly?” He nodded in response. “Now that
is romantic! When we are married, we can set aside a time each evening to
record and share our thoughts. Will we not be cozy in your lovely drawing room,
side by side on the yellow sofa?”
“No as cozy as if it were green,” he laughed. “So you
had rather indulge in such domestic comforts than be confined to a dank tower?
You have changed these few months, have you not, my Catherine?”
She blushed becomingly, “I think I have learned to
judge at least a bit better than to crave such adventures for myself. I shall
continue to enjoy reading about them, but I much prefer the honest, modern
comforts of England to the dizzying emotions of Gothic adventure.”
“Well put, my love, and will it offend you if I profess
myself glad?”
“Not a bit!”
“Excellent,” he smiled, “for the honest, modern
comforts to be had in a well-proportioned, English parsonage are all I have to
offer.”
Catherine only returned to the house several minutes
after Henry rode away, having watched him long after the very last glimpse of
his retreating form could be distinguished, staring longingly in the direction
that he had disappeared. Mrs. Morland, who had observed much of this behavior
from the parlor window, shook her head at her daughter's quixotic absurdities
but did not interfere. When Catherine entered the parlor and lethargically
picked up her work, her mother refrained from scolding her into better
behavior. Ten children might have robbed Mrs. Morland of much of her own
whimsicality, but they had not deprived her of the memories of youth, and she
could still vividly recall her own sensations when being courted by Mr. Morland.
Catherine, therefore, would be granted some degree of lenience, but after two
hours of sighing in her chair, or, conversely, pacing the room, Mrs. Morland lost
her patience.
“Really, Catherine, what an example you set for your
sisters! You should be celebrating your upcoming nuptials, now that they are
guaranteed, rather than moping about in this feeble manner. Do you not have a
great deal of plans to make and work to accomplish? If you cannot find
productive occupation, I would be very gratified if you made an inventory of
the storeroom. We shall have many causes to entertain in the near future, and
we must not find ourselves unprepared.”
“I'm sorry, Mama, and I am indeed grateful that
General Tilney has bestowed his blessing, but the past week has been so lovely
with Henry here, and the house just feels empty without him.”
“Empty? That would be novel.” Catherine looked hurt,
and her mother said in softened tones, “It isn’t that I don’t understand your
feelings, my dear, but they will not be assuaged by such indulgence. Healthy
distraction is what you require. Keep your mind busy, and the time until you
next see Mr. Tilney will soon pass, I assure you.”
“I had hoped to write to him everyday, but he
encouraged me to begin a journal instead.” At this recollection, Catherine's
spirits rose. “He says he shall read it, and in turn, he will keep one himself
for my perusal. Is it not a happy thought?”
“Rather impractical, I should say. What use is it to
a lady to record her private thoughts if they are only to be aired before her
husband?”
“I think it is a lovely idea, Mama, and Henry says
that such a practice will prove useful once I have a household to run, as it
will give me a place to keep track of the tasks in need of doing.”
“Did he?” Mrs. Morland asked with interest. “I knew I
liked your young man. That is a notion of which I can thoroughly approve, and
it begins to make sense that he would want to read it. Taking on such a young,
flighty thing as yourself, he will be able to provide much useful advise on how
to best get on.”
“I shall begin at once,”
cried Catherine enthusiastically, ignoring this critique and hastily making her
way to the door.
“Not so fast, young lady,” her mother called. “I
think you had best start with the storeroom. It will give you something
concrete to record, rather than just your romantic professions.”
“Yes, ma'am,” replied Catherine, a bit downcast.
“And tomorrow you may oversee the commencement of the
laundry!” were the matron's parting words, spoken while suppressing a chuckle
as her eldest daughter exited the room.
“Why do you smile so, Mama?” Sally asked, having
listened to the exchange between her sister and mother with no small degree of
interest. “I cannot imagine anything humorous to be found in the wash. It is a
horrid task.”
“It is not the activity I find amusing, my dear, but
my own vision of the content such occupation will provide your sister's nascent
journal.”
“Oh! I understand,” nodded Sally. “Catherine will
write something along the lines of, 'My love for you, dear Henry, is like the
store closet, endless in its bounty!' Will she not?”
Mrs. Morland allowed her laughter free rein, “Perhaps
not quite the style I had imagined her composing in, but you have captured the
essence of my mirth, dear. Well done!”
**********
In keeping with her mother’s prediction, and in spite
of her own conviction that the following months would prove the longest she had
ever endured, Catherine was surprised to discover how very quickly her wedding
day approached. Between visits from Henry, shopping excursions with Mrs. Allen,
Mrs. Morland's not so subtle determination to keep her daughter constantly
occupied, and Catherine's own faithful letter and diary writing, the days had a
way of slipping rapidly by. Soon her constant question became not, “How much
longer must I wait?” but, “How am I to accomplish all that must be done?” Both inquiries
found satisfaction in the end, and not only was the day of her marriage
imminent, but Catherine was as thoroughly prepared for it as an innocent girl
of eighteen could possibly be. As she prepared to spend her last night in the
bedroom of her youth, Sally, with whom she shared the room, kept up a steady
stream of conversation.
“Are you not a bit frightened, Catherine? Mr. Tilney
seems a very fine man, but how well do you really know him, having spent only
intermittent time together this past year?”
“These are daunting questions to be asking me now, my
dear, but be assured that I have no fears. I may not have spent endless hours
in Mr. Tilney's company, but those I have revealed his character most
thoroughly. He is not some creature from a novel, come to sweep me off my feet
and then betray a dark internal nature only after marriage,” she said sagely, “and
if he were, what would be his motivation to conceive such a deception? I am no
heiress, and his willingness to thwart his father's wishes in proposing to me
proves the sincerity of his feelings.”
“But James thought that Miss Thorpe was so disinterested,
and you saw first hand how that sad affair came to an end.”
“Sally, do not even begin to compare Isabella
Thorpe's character to that of Mr. Tilney's! There can be no two more different
creatures, one making constant protestations that her behavior negated, while
the other has ever been consistent and true. I have no false notions that
everything will always be perfect. Mama has been most insistent that we, like
all couples, will have our trials to bear, but there is no one in this world with
whom I would rather spend this life with, throughout its triumphs and
tribulations, than Henry Tilney. When you fall in love, you will understand
exactly what I mean.”
True to her word, when Catherine walked down the aisle
the next morning on her father’s arm, she exuded confidence and radiant
happiness. Her loving gaze brought a fervent prayer of thanks to Henry’s heart,
already overflowing with the pure contentment a true gentleman deserves upon achieving
his heart's desire.
The bells rang and
everybody smiled, though none more so than the bride and groom themselves. To
begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen is to
do pretty well. Some interested in the young couple might suggest that the
General’s unjust interference, so far from being really injurious Henry and
Catherine’s felicity, was rather conducive to it, improving their knowledge of
each other and adding strength to their attachment. Whether the tendency of
this work be to recommend parental tyranny or reward filial disobedience is a
question I leave to the philosophers amongst you. I, like another author, am
content to set aside moral undertones in favor of romantic gratification.
The End
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Like me, I'm sure many of you do not have time for as much Austen as you want. It is as big of a problem as not having enough Austen to read in the first place. Often I only have a few minutes to spare, and craving the company of my dear friend, I turn to her shorter writings. I hope my Selected Verses by Jane Austen may be counted on for a quick smile during a hectic day.
