“Her family is poor—necessitous, even—and the girl herself the worst sort of obscure, contemptible—” General Tilney seemed to notice he had the attention of the room. He fixed a dark look on her and held out his hand. “Bring it to me.”
Eleanor’s countenance was dejected, yet sedate, and its composure struck Philip. How often had she needed to remain placid, calm, composed, in the face of insults and humiliation? Weekly, certainly, perhaps even daily. She was no longer a child to be scolded, and she was never the sort of girl to often need correcting. She was twenty-two, a respectable woman, the nominal mistress of the Abbey, and here she was having her correspondence read, restricted even, and done so before others.
Pride restrained her tears, but Philip knew they were just there at the edge of her eyes as she handed over the letter.
General Tilney opened it and turned immediately to the last page, perhaps confirming the sender’s name. He then ripped the two sheets into quarters and tucked the torn pages into his pocket. “I shall burn these, Eleanor. No such person as that girl is to be known by Miss Tilney, is this understood?”
“Then perhaps you ought not to have courted Miss Morland away from her friends and put her in a position to become a dear friend to me and Henry.”
Lady Alice gasped and clapped a hand over her own mouth, and Philip saw Lord Dryden’s eyes widen. Even Sir Charles realised what a defiance this was, and turned away, unable to watch. Eleanor, by contrast, only stared at her father with a plaintive look.
The dark look in the general’s eyes spoke to barely restrained fury, and Philip feared what he might do. But General Tilney’s civility for public view won out over any desire to give Eleanor a fiercer reprimand than what he had already dealt.
His voice was chillingly cold when he said to her, “If you cannot be trusted to correspond with only those whom I deem suitable of being the acquaintance of Miss Tilney, then I shall put it out of your power and manage Northanger’s post myself. From now on, you shall not so much as seal or open an envelope.” The general put on a more pleasant expression and gave a brief look about the room. “You need no longer to trouble yourself to send any letters on your own or to receive the post. I am more than willing to undertake the task myself for your sake. You may bring your letters to me and if they meet with my approval, I will send them.”
It was hardly the first time Philip had seen Eleanor involved in a lecture, but it was never an easy thing to witness. How often was she obliged to walk with General Tilney when she wished to go elsewhere, to listen to whatever he had to say in silence, and even to smile when he smiled? She was always spoken to so angrily; and Philip had often wondered if that was his manner with her in front of others, what was the general like when he was alone with his children?
Eleanor, showing all the paternal fidelity a daughter was supposed to show, inclined her head and said, “Yes, sir,” before telling Lord Longtown she needed to rest before dinner and begging his leave. Lady Alice all but ran after her, and the others left the room and Philip was left with only Sir Charles.
Before Philip could leave, Sir Charles threw himself into a chair near to him and said, “He is a damned difficult man, but she ought not to have said anything back to him.”
He had previously agreed with this plan of managing the general’s moods and caprices, and thought it was best for all the general’s children to bear every indignity in silence.But how happy are Frederick, Henry, and Eleanor, and do they even know what it is like to be beloved by a father?“I am surprised she spoke her mind, but Miss Tilney is an independent thinker, and from what I understand, this Miss Morland is not as objectionable as the general says.”
Sir Charles shook his head. “Miss Tilney may be intelligent, but women should hide it if they can. Besides, it makes them more attractive to men,” he added with a smile.
“She seems to have attracted your notice regardless of how she shows her intelligence,” Philip said with an emphatic look.
“They say wives are typically more obedient than single women,” he said, shrugging. “A little respectability as a married woman and all the status that must attend that, and Miss Tilney shall learn when to speak and when to be silent.”
“And I suppose you will be there to correct her, should the need arise.”
“As any husband ought to do,” he said, not hearing the hard edge in Philip’s voice. “But she is already accustomed to a man more tyrannising than I would be.”
Philip sighed at the truth of it.
He rose to leave, and Sir Charles said haltingly, “Brampton, I ought not to have...what happened at the castle...” He rose also and wetted his lips. “You ought to know that however it might have looked, I did not importune Miss Tilney.” Sir Charles forced him to meet his eye when Philip tried to turn away. “And she returned my kisses willingly, even if she would go no further. Do I have your word that you will say nothing to the general?”
This was why Sir Charles was attempting to be less irritating toward him than he was typically known to be. Philip crossed his arms and took a long moment to reply. “You would not want a man like him angry with you, would you?” he said in a low voice. “General Tilney might approve of your marrying his daughter, but not for pressing her beneath you against a castle wall in broad daylight while her name is still Tilney.”
A flush crept up Sir Charles’s face, but he said calmly, “General Tilney approves of me, but I would not want him to misconstrue my intentions or my respectability.”
Philip was tempted to tell General Tilney all that he had seen at Longtown Castle, and perhaps forget to mention that Eleanor had been willing at the start of it. As severe, cold, and controlling a man as he was, Philip suspected any who trespassed against General Tilney’s children would be dearly punished. Another reason to make sure her father never learnt of what happened in January and to be glad he had sent Eleanor from his room last evening.
Sir Charles was still looking at him, trying to appear indifferent, but his restlessness gave him away. As much as Philip wanted Sir Charles gone, it was not his place to interfere in what Eleanor wanted. But Sir Charles did not need to know that.
“I have not decided what to tell the general about our excursion to the castle. I suspect my choice will be made based on your manner toward Miss Tilney going forward.”
Philip bowed and then turned on his heel. Sir Charles Sudbury had no real worth, no true merit, and if Eleanor wanted to trade one miserable home for another, to tie herself for life to such a man, so be it. He would not stay and watch it happen.
ChapterEleven
What had overcome her last night to hint to her father that he ought not to inhibit her friendship with Catherine since he was the one to encourage the connexion? As angry as Eleanor was at him for humiliating her before their friends, for restricting her correspondence completely, she was fortunate the consequence was not worse.
Alice had tried to pull her aside before dinner, after dinner, before she went to bed, and this morning before breakfast, but Eleanor’s chest still felt tight, her throat was raw, and she could not talk about what had happened. It would only lead to more mortification if she spoke of it.
How much of myself do I have to suppress to be around my father?
Whatever vivacity, intelligence, or talents she had were not only not valued but restrained into nonexistence under her father’s need for absolute control. How could anyone be surprised that she wanted to be married and gone from Northanger?
