He did not speak to her again, and they each shifted to other sides of the sofa. She longed to know what to say to ease him, but her decision was made. Philip was not more lost to her than he had been before—they had always known her father would never consent to their marrying—but her only means to escape Northanger would mean hurting the person she held most dear.
The other men came in, and Philip soon stood, saying, “Sir Charles, you must like this seat here by the fire.” He gestured to the sofa, and without meeting Eleanor’s eye, moved away. Chagrin, confusion, unease—whatever one called it, it twisted through her chest at the sight of Philip walking away.
She watched him go to the far side of the room. He would likely stay there, observing the activities, until someone drew him into a game or a conversation, or enough little groups formed to make it easier for him to slip away to work on his calculations.
Sir Charles gave her a nod and sat, looking out at the room rather than at her. He drank noisily from his cup, and for a man Philip accused of being obnoxious and wanting to enter public life, he was good at ignoring her. Forcing herself to remember her goal, Eleanor said, “How do you like Lord Dryden’s news, sir?”
Often, news of one marriage put one into the mind of anticipating their own, but Sir Charles only said, “The lady’s fortune and connexions must make up for all of her defects of plainness.”
Eleanor frowned at this frank reply and strove to be polite. “Perhaps Lord Dryden wanted a wife very different-looking from his mother and his sister. They are both particularly striking women, and perhaps Lady Harriet’s looks are subtler, though less universally appealing.”
“Lady Harriet certainly employs a different method at her toilette table than does her future mother-in-law. The walls here must have needed no touching up since Lady Longtown seems to have employed Welland’s painter about her face instead.”
Eleanor gasped. Lady Longtown dreaded the discovery of her cosmetic secrets, but her rouge was glaring and her use of pearl powder was obvious. Still, there was no reason for Sir Charles to remark about it openly.
He must have noted her affront, because he then said, “Of course, I would never say so in front of my hostess. One does not expose a lady to ridicule, after all.” He then gave her an appreciating glance. “I am certain that so charming and pretty a girl as you has no need at all for cosmetics to gain a man’s notice.”
She had the confidence, the reason, to resist the attraction of being called charming and pretty. Sir Charles was either a flirt or a gallant, but at least he regretted not showing proper respect to his hostess. “I am certain I would never employ cunning for the purpose of captivation, but many women prefer to look their best for their own sake.”
“No, no, you ladies are all aware of your arts and allurements,” he said quickly, “and you use them to your advantage. We men do not fault you for it. Besides, a handsome woman is a credit to her husband—an asset, in fact.”
“I am afraid we shall have to disagree on this point. I cannot accept that every woman who wants to appear to her advantage is doing so to please a man.”
Sir Charles narrowed his eyes. “You are singular!” He then slurped the rest of his coffee and rose to return his cup.
She was going about this all wrong; she would have to try harder to appeal to him. Eleanor was perfectly aware of the irony in trying to entice Sir Charles while protesting against women always attempting such things.What would Henry say if he could hear me now?He would not have to say anything; her brother’s wide eyes and knowing smiles would be expressive enough.
Not to be dissuaded, Eleanor slowly followed Sir Charles to the tea table. Eager to know if their sentiments as to books were similar, she began questioning Sir Charles on the subject. Though she was well-read in history herself, she chose rather to speak first of books of a lighter kind.
“Oh no, I never read novels. I always have something else to do,” he cried. On hearing the marquess demand that some of his friends join him to play loo, he turned to her and asked, “Are you a card player, Miss Tilney? Shall we see if we can play Dryden out of a hundred pounds or so?”
Eleanor saw her father look up sharply from dumping his tea into the slop bowl. “Do you often play high, Sir Charles? Eleanor is not used to such stakes amongst friends.”
“Are you a good player, Miss Tilney?” Sir Charles asked. “I like nothing better than whiling away an evening with high stakes and a pretty lady at my side.”
“I assure you, I am a good player, but if my father does not want me to play for high stakes, I cannot.”
“You need not worry about any of that,” Sir Charles cried, smiling at General Tilney. “What a fag to be concerned about the stakes. I only play unlimited loo, and I often have to forward a few pounds to a friend who cannot stay in the game. And I rarely ask for repayment. What is a hundred pounds between friends?”
Eleanor watched her father look appraisingly at Sir Charles.He is likely calculating Sir Charles’s possible wealth.Between the improvement of his estate and his spending on his friends, he was either fabulously wealthy or sadly involved. She knew enough of her father’s nature to be certain that he would learn the answer.
“I can stand for whatever Eleanor may lose, I assure you,” said the general, with politeness. “Although it seems that such generosity is not beyond your power either, Sir Charles. Go on, Eleanor, and be sure to attend to the game and not to your conversation.”
“Yes, sir.” If Sir Charles met with his approval, the general might befriend him for his wealth and his connexions. And if she could catch his notice, her father would be all the happier.
She sat next to Sir Charles and encouraged all of his talk about the tricks he had won amongst his other friends. The pool formed was very high, and no matter his opinion on Sir Charles, she knew it would irritate her father to have to pay for whatever she lost. While General Tilney would be gracious in front of his friends, he would berate her brutally for costing him once they were alone.
“You are looed, Miss Tilney!” Sir Charles laughed heartily at her not taking a trick. “You must increase the pool!”
“Perhaps you have some advice on how I can do better in the next round,” she said, smiling meaningfully at him. Flirtation did not come naturally to her. Ever since she was seventeen, the only man she had wanted to flirt with was Philip, and because of their sincere affection for one another, she had never had to trifle with him in order for Philip to notice her.
Sir Charles appraised her with a heightened gaze. “Certainly,” he said in a quiet voice, giving her a second, lingering glance that fell much lower than his first look. She felt her cheeks turn hot. “Here, pull your chair closer to mine.” She did as she was bid, and Sir Charles draped the arm not holding his cards over the back of her chair.
Eleanor put in two chips and then saw Philip bow to Lady Longtown and briskly leave the drawing room. She had to suppress every instinct to make her excuses and follow him. Although it had not been planned, that was exactly what had happened that January evening at Northanger. After two days of longing looks and hours happily spent in one another’s company, he had left the drawing room, and she had made her excuses and gone after him. Nothing of that sort could happen here, not with her father present and in someone else’s home.
And not when I am trying to convince another man that he wants to marry me.
“Now, Longtown may glare all he likes, but I suggest you not take up the miss hand in exchange for your own, my dear Miss Tilney,” Sir Charles said.
