The only suitable answer to this was to kiss Philip again, but before they lost themselves in their happiness, they heard quick steps across the hall. If this was not enough of a hint, they then heard the strident tone of General Tilney making some demand of the footman. Eleanor sighed, and Philip ran a consoling hand down her arm. Her father was back, and she saw by the clock they had two minutes to arrive in the breakfast room.
At the table, her father was still demanding and impatient, but often looked at her with an approving smile. Throughout the meal, he mortified her by going on about his greedy speculation as to what jewels and pin money and consequence she would have as Lady Vaughan, and how her brothers might benefit from her new position in the world. She wished he had waited until Philip left tomorrow to express such thoughts, but he seemed to think that Philip would naturally see the matter as he did.
“You approve of my choice, do you not?” she asked him calmly when the meal was nearly over. “I love Philip dearly, sir. I hope you come to know him better, to admire him as I do.”
“Yes, I approve,” he said as though it were a stupid question. “Lord Vaughan,” he said, nodding his head to Philip, “to be sure, I do not know as well as you or your brothers do, but then I have reason to love him, as though he was my own son.”
Philip smiled at this, but she saw it was with practised patience. Her father would never appreciate Philip for his merits, his kindness, his character, his brilliance. His title and his wealth were all General Tilney would ever value. Her father would want it known how fond he was of his son-in-law, the rich viscount, but Philip endured it all for her sake, and perhaps also due to a lingering lifelong fear of the general’s volatile temper.
Eleanor could now endure her father’s behaviour because it would not be forever. As she met Philip’s eye across the table, she felt hope for the first time since her mother died.
* * *
Philip was certain that,after he and Eleanor signed the register a week ago, General Tilney had never loved his daughter so well as when he first hailed her “Your Ladyship!” in the churchyard after their wedding. However, it did not distress his new wife, who smiled brightly the entire morning. Most would say that Eleanor had a pretty face and an agreeable countenance, but that day Philip was certain anyone who saw Miss Tilney—wearing her mother’s pearls—wed to the Lord Vaughan would have said they had never seen a more beautiful and radiant bride.
He had been more occupied during the six weeks before his wedding than he expected, and was not as often at Northanger as he had wanted to be. Philip spent those weeks getting accustomed to the house, the responsibilities; he was always talking with the steward or solicitor; he toured every holding and spoke with every tenant. However, he wrote daily to Eleanor—without her father intercepting their letters—and had passed a happy fortnight at Northanger with her awaiting their wedding day.
And here I am wandering around a small, empty house when I should be at home enjoying my wife’s smiles.
They were happily married, and he was not at Belleville with Eleanor but in his old stone house in the village. He had moved his belongings into Belleville Hall a month ago, but there were still mathematical tables and sheets of notes across his table in the parlour. He had not sat down to work since Vaughan died, but he had still come here a few times to pace the empty rooms and think about life before he was a viscount.
Philip heard the front door open and knew by the tread who it was. Eleanor took off her hat as she entered the parlour. “I returned to Belleville after my calls, and there was no person within to meet me with a kiss of affection.”
“I am sorry, my dear,” he said, holding out his hand. She took it and he tugged her close and kissed her deeply. He might have taken the encounter farther, but she drew back.
“If they had not seen you in the village, I might not have known where you were for hours. What are you doing here?”
Philip blew out a breath. He was reluctant to admit it, but a lie would ruin something between them. “Belleville still feels like his house.” He had by now been left a good deal to himself to get better acquainted with the house and grounds, but it still did not feel like home as much as the six rooms of this small house did. “It had been my grandfather’s house, my uncle’s house, my cousin’s house. But it does not feel like mine—ours,” he corrected.
Eleanor nodded and ran a thumb over his fingers, squeezing his hand. “I always knew my name must change when I married, but it is a strange thing to sign my name Eleanor Vaughan. My girlish imaginings had only ever allowed me to hope to sign it Mrs Brampton.”
“I have had to sacrifice so much to attain this rank; I lost my closest friend.”
“You feel guilty? To have his title, his house, his name?”
“Yes,” he breathed. “In gaining you, I have everything else I ever wanted, but the victory itself is painful.”
“We have the right to feel happy,” she said firmly, “to feel that we deserve to be happy, and be happy in one another. We can mourn your cousin and still rejoice in being together. And you know that Vaughan would be the first to call you stupid for sitting in this empty house when Belleville is two miles away,” she added, smiling.
Philip exhaled a laugh and pulled her into a quick embrace. She was right, and he supposed time would help to heal the wound.
“I went for my post on my way to find you,” she went on, “and have congratulatory letters from Alice and Henry.” Eleanor drew out one of the letters and looked at it with a little smile. “Alice says, well, she has a pastime of writing novels—but you must keep the secret—and she thinks that with a few exaggerations and some gothic confrontations at the end, our story could be a grand romance.”
Philip doubted their marriage was worthy of a novel. “I hope she does you the courtesy of changing our names if she publishes it.” Eleanor laughed. “What does your brother say? Has your father relented?”
She busied herself with putting away Lady Alice’s letter. “No, Henry is still not welcome at Northanger, nor spoken of by my father. That is why Henry chose not to attend our wedding and potentially cause a distressing scene. I am consoled at least that I can invite him to Belleville.” She shook her head sadly. “I feel for Henry; I know what he suffers. He might never be allowed to marry Catherine. Catherine’s parents will not consent unless the general at least gives the public appearance of approval.”
He pointed to the pocket where Eleanor had put her letters. “Did Henry write of any hopes that you would obtain forgiveness for him?”
Eleanor looked up, surprised. “He never asked that of me. Every letter has been full of his congratulations to us. Other than a few remarks about missing Catherine, he does not mention his own concerns. He said that he had always known I had an affection for you, and that although he suspected you loved me in return, you would never address me because the general would never approve. He is delighted for us.” Her smile faltered. “I suspect he wants to think on our happy future while he must set aside his own happiness. My father is still furious and intends to wait him out, but Henry is resolved to marry Catherine.”
Philip thought of General Tilney’s complete delight in his daughter’s elevation to rank and wealth. “Your father is overjoyed at your good fortune. He is so pleased by our marriage that we might work on him. The influence of the viscount and viscountess on our brother Henry’s behalf might convince the general to approve of Miss Morland.”
Her expression brightened. “Do you think so?”
“I think it will. He won’t care about this girl’s character or if they are well-suited, but if she is not as poor as the general presumed, with your elevation he might acquiesce.”
“Henry and Catherinearewell-suited; and I know you will like her. Maybe by our influence with my father, they could be married by the end of the year!” Eleanor looked delighted by the idea. “I will invite her to come to Belleville in the autumn, and Henry must stay for a week while she is here, if you do not object?”
