He sighed and covered his mouth with his hand, shaking his head.
Philip had little vanity, but he did have an abundance of pride, and a sense of honour to rival it. She suspected he ardently wished to be loved, and not for the first time did Eleanor wish her father would allow her to marry someone with five hundred a year.
“Open that door, Eleanor,” he said in a low voice, “and go back to your own room. Forget that you ever entered mine.”
She suddenly felt a hot pain in the back of her throat, a horrible guilt at causing any pain to the person she loved most. “I cannot leave with you hating me.” She felt a heaviness in her stomach. How could he not understand how weary her spirits were after years of loneliness and her father’s tyranny? “I thought you understood why I have to leave Northanger.”
“I do not hate you,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “I have just lost respect for you. It would be one thing if I liked him, or if you loved him. You are going to submit to that man, and you hardly respect him.”
Her heartbeat was now racing, not in desire and expectation, but in absolute fury. How dare he stand in judgment of her? He had no idea what it meant to be a woman in her situation.
“I am a dependent woman, Philip,” she seethed, trying her best to keep her voice down so the entire inn would not learn of her rage. “What choices do you think I have? And you know I have no power at all under my father’s control at Northanger. I am accustomed to submitting to the men in my life. Deferring to everything that a husband demands, submitting to Sir Charles, will be no different.”
“No,” he said swiftly, “no, you are accustomed to submitting tooneperson’s caprice, obsessive punctuality, and constant unkindness. You do not defer to Frederick, or Henry, or me,” he said, counting on his fingers. He gave her a pained stare and then desperately grabbed her forearms. “Stay at Northanger another season or two, and find a man who would at least make you a worthy husband. How bad can it be? I know Henry at least is a comfort to you—”
She threw off his hands. “And he is banished because he chose Catherine in defiance of my father’s wishes!” Eleanor had not realised she was crying until she had to dash the hot tears from her eyes in order to see. “My father shouts at me, humiliates me, controls me, disparages me, undermines my authority. Nothing I do is good enough for him. I cannot assert my will or speak my own mind. I cannot pursue one interest, invite one friend to Northanger. I have not one thing of my own! I must always submit to his whims—”
“And what pleasures shall you have at Colborne Park as the wife of a man you do not love and who has no love for you?”
“My pleasures will spring from participation in household cares whereIhave the power to both make decisions and to follow through on them.”
Philip shook his head, the disgust gone from his expression and replaced by a pity that felt far worse. “Then why are you in here with me?”
Eleanor could not think of a reason and turned on her heel and stalked through the door.
ChapterTen
Philip had not thought that he and Eleanor were so different in their values, in what mattered to them most, but last night had shown him that what they thought of love was not the same at all. Eleanor desired to be loved as a wife just well enough to keep a husband respectful to her. Whereas he had always wanted to be everything to the woman he loved, just as she would be everything to him. He was capable of such a love, and had mistakenly thought Eleanor was too.
Now he had to truly face that all Eleanor wanted was the prudent provision made for the mistress of a house, dower, and pin money, and likely the hereditaments for a future son and heir and sums for her younger children. Sir Charles had the wealth to make that happen, and it would not disoblige her friends to see Miss Tilney married to a baronet with twelve thousand a year.
Such a woman could never have his respect, and certainly not his devotion. Philip had made the right choice in sending her from his room. It did him no good to dwell on the past, to imagine what conjugal happiness he might have had with her. It was long past time for him to part ways with Eleanor Tilney and leave her to the sad fate she had chosen.
“Brampton, I asked if you could pass the eggs?”
They were around the same table in the private parlour at the inn before they returned to Welland Hall. He had heard Eleanor rise early, and it sounded as though Lady Alice had come in to ask her to go for a walk. He did not know what the men did before breakfast, since Philip stayed in his room, staring at mathematical questions without completing a thing.
Lord Dryden was staring at him with a hand out, and Philip silently handed Dryden the nearest platter. The others were all eating porridge, fish, bacon, eggs, chocolate, and coffee. He had a piece of toast that he could not imagine choking down. Eleanor was across from him, and while he would never say she did not look pretty, she certainly looked as though she had slept very ill.
I hope she spent the night tossing and turning in frustration and regret as much as I did.
“Brampton, you did not join us this morning,” Sir Charles said. Since he had not asked him a question, Philip only bowed his head. “What have you been up to while we were out, unless you slept until ten?”
He considered taking a bite of his toast rather than answer, but Philip only said flatly, “I reviewed my mathematical questions.”
How could Eleanor marry a mere convenient person such as Sir Charles? Was it not difficult for a mind such as hers, for any woman of delicacy or passion, to enter into such an empty, heartless match, to move forward without any hope for domestic felicity?
Sir Charles slopped loudly from his coffee cup and asked, “What do you do with your time when there are no field sports and you have solved every problem?”
“I take an eager interest in politics,” Philip said purposely, “and literature as well. Miss Tilney also forces me to read philosophical treatises.”
He stared at Sir Charles, who cleared his throat and set down his cup. Philip could not bring himself to look at Eleanor, but he still felt her unease from across the table. As angry with her as he was, he ought not to provoke Sir Charles by encouraging the idea that he and Eleanor were steady friends. Eleanor had made her choice, and although he was disgusted by it, Philip would do nothing to compromise her intentions.
Should I have let her stay with me last night?They could no longer be friends now that she had chosen such a path. He had his pride, but had he been completely stupid to send her away? No, it was for the best, since their permanent separation was now at hand, and all because Eleanor was a little lonely and oppressed at Northanger.
“I guess I meant,” Sir Charles said, startling into Philip’s thoughts, “what do you do that is something a little more . . .”
“Lucrative?” he suggested darkly.
