No different except my time would be my own, my voice would be heard, and I would not always be subject to an irritable temper.
Henry’s present income was comfortable, but perhaps in time Henry could convince the general to give him a little money for Eleanor’s maintenance. Both Henry and Catherine would not begrudge her presence in their home even if her father never gave her any money. They would understand better than anyone her desire to leave Northanger.
But as dear as she was to Henry, not even to his sister did he hint at the situation of his heart. Eleanor contented herself with the possibility he could secure his own happiness by marrying Catherine, and she scarce indulged in any hope that she could make her home with them.
* * *
“My dear Eleanor,this arrived earlier for you.” Alice held out a letter to her the morning after they arrived at Welland. “I did not wish to give it to you in front of your father.”
Catherine’s letter was guarded, honest, and trying not to be resentful for the way she was forced to leave Northanger. It was no more than what Eleanor deserved after how her father treated Catherine. If Eleanor was the Abbey’s true mistress, she could invite whom she wished and every inhabitant therein, servant and guest, would be treated with dignity and respect.
“Well, was she overtaken by highwaymen? Kidnapped from the mail coach?”
Eleanor forced a smile. “She is quite safe, as Henry will likely find when he arrives today.” Once again, she considered the possibility that Henry and Catherine could marry, and she could join them at Woodston. When she noticed Alice still watching her, she collected herself and added, “It was brief, but closed affectionately. I intend to write to her while I am here, if you would consent to keep the secret a little longer.”
“Certainly; this is an excellent and fertile source of entertainment.” Alice put a notebook into her pocket and set her bonnet atop her head. “Since my father is fishing rather than pretending he has a love for apples, I am going into the orchard. Can you find your own amusements for a few hours?”
Even if she could not, Eleanor would have agreed for Alice’s sake. Everyone believed Lady Alice Kitchener was an excellent walker, but in truth she wrote in the apple orchard, scribbling novels by bits and fragments in pencil in secret until she could copy them in ink when she was sure to be undisturbed. While Alice hid amongst the apples, Eleanor joined Lady Longtown in the parlour. The marchioness was well-meaning but terribly dull and heavily patched and powdered, but it was an enjoyable change from managing her father’s volatile moods.
“My dear Miss Tilney, Bath is a nice place, but it is good to return home. Did you not above half like coming away when you did?”
Rather than mention she only enjoyed returning home because she had brought with her a new and earnest friend, Eleanor said, “I like Bath when my friends are there.”
“Was your father disappointed that Longtown and General Courteney did not arrive?”
“I think his friends not joining him made it easy for him to hurry away.”
“And were you altogether pleased with Bath?”
Rather than sigh in impatience, Eleanor only said, “Yes, I like it.”
“How pleasant is the Pump Room. So nice to talk to everyone there, is it not?”
Eleanor was certain that not an observation was made, nor an expression used that had not been made and used some thousands of times before during every Bath season.Rather like talking with Lady Longtown: everything is repeated and nothing is original.For the sake of keeping everything pleasant for the next fortnight, Eleanor agreed and said everything that had to be said while she and Lady Longtown sat at their needlework.
It was enjoyable in its own way, for if she were at Northanger, her father would always interrupt her amusements to write some note for him or call some servant for him to reprimand, and nothing she did would ever be good enough for his exacting temper.
Life at Woodston with Henry and Catherine would be like those few days they had together at Northanger when her father had been in town. She would not intrude on the newlywed couple’s privacy. She was content with her own entertainments and own thoughts, and could go days without speaking to a friendly face if need be. Although she would still not have her own household, her own power, neither would anyone tyrannise her at Woodston.
* * *
Thursday passed similarly,with Eleanor spending time with Alice when she was not writing, avoiding her father as much as possible, and agreeing with Lady Longtown whenever she had to for the sake of politeness. Eleanor was on her way to dress for dinner when a footman stopped her with a letter from Henry. Upon reading it, distress overtook her, and she ran to Alice’s chamber.
Eleanor entered without knocking to see Alice’s maid readying her for dinner, and although she thought herself silent and composed, Alice obliged her to be seated, dismissed the maid, and hung over her with affectionate solicitude.
“Whatever it is, you had best tell me. You are so pale, and your father expects us soon. Quickly, what is it?”
“I have no right to be so selfish,” Eleanor said, mortified at the tears that were forming. “I should think of Henry’s disappointment, and poor Catherine too! To be so young and feel so happy, and yet so thwarted.”
“Eleanor, calm yourself. I shall assume the worst sort of news if you cannot be rational.”
This struck her—she was always the calm and rational one—but it was with pain that Eleanor could speak at all. “Henry apologised to Catherine and her family for my father’s behaviour, and then asked Catherine to marry him, and she accepted.”
Alice playfully pushed her shoulder. “That is what you hoped for! Why are you about to cry?”
“Mr and Mrs Morland will not give their consent while my father has expressly forbidden the match.” She had scarcely dared herself to hope for a happy life away from Northanger, away from her father, to have a little peace, a little agency over her own life. “Henry says that he and Catherine must wait, and in the meantime, he is still banished from Northanger.”
“Mr Tilney and his betrothed will have to run away to Scotland,” Alice cried, her eyes alight.
