“What about landlords and tenants?”
“You know you need not pay me at all,” Vaughan said in earnest. “Besides, I like having you so near to Belleville that I can trouble you for company whenever I feel like talking.” Philip’s attention slipped back to the papers on his desk. “Well, Brampton, what has you so occupied you cannot trouble yourself to look up from your notations?”
Philip knew very well that Vaughan’s question was purely a mark of his good manners, not out of any genuine interest. “I am confirming an Oxford professor’s calculations for Mr Sadler. He wants it to be certain before he plans another ascent.”
Vaughan came near and read aloud over his shoulder. “Supposing Mr Sadler with his balloon ascends vertically over Oxford to such a height that the city of London just appears in the horizon, it is required to determine his height above the earth, and also the direct distance between London and Oxford, supposing the latitude of London to be—Brampton, I do not even know how to begin to solve that.”
“Trigonometry,” Philip said as he finished. “First, the two sides and an angle of a spherical triangle will be known, namely the complements of the two latitudes of London and Oxford, and the difference of the longitude is the third side of—”
“Stop, I beg you. Your hobbyhorse is entirely beyond my abilities. Get to the point: what is the height of the balloon?”
“Six hundred and twenty-one yards.” Philip watched Vaughan tilt his head and frown. “About a third of a mile.”
Vaughan nodded as though he had arrived at the same answer. “I did not know you had an interest in aeronauts.”
“I don’t,” he said, laughing. “I have an interest in mathematics.” Philip turned and reached for an envelope on the far end of the desk. “It may not be a profession, but it is to your benefit: I have solved your problem with the trapezoidal-shaped field you wish to annex. Your steward was incorrect, but he knew that, which is why he asked me to help in the first place. The sum of the perpendiculars was 296 yards and half the diagonal was 234; their product is 69,264 square yards.”
“Now I need not hire a land surveyor.” Vaughan put the envelope into his pocket without opening it before taking a seat. “I hope you wrote out the working in full.”
“With pictures, just for you.”
“I thank you,” he said with a wry smile. “This is fortuitous, because now I can reward your good work. Or, rather, I bring you a message that can be your reward. Lord and Lady Longtown have invited me to Welland for a week, before I visit friends in Kent in May, and the marchioness insists that you join the party.”
“I have work yet to finish.” Philip looked back at his desk, shaking his head. The journalThe Ladies’ Diary,for nearly one hundred years, had—amongst other things—presented an array of mathematical problems in their annual issue, with their solutions presented the following year. He loved the challenge of solving complex problems, the truism of the solution, a curiosity satisfied. “I must submit the answers by the end of spring so that the printers can set the type by early autumn and sell the almanac before the beginning of the new year. I have several questions left to solve and not much time.”
Vaughan lifted his eyes. “The brilliant ‘Plus Minus’ can answer the prize question and earn the respect of mathematics-loving readers from anywhere. Wherever you go, you bring that clever mind of yours. Bring your papers and tables and what-have-you, and keep me company in Herefordshire. Dryden shall be there, and he is bringing a man named Sir Charles Sudbury.”
None of this was an inducement to leave his cosy room and his organised arrangement. There was nothing worse than sitting around a table after dinner with a group of men he did not know, trying to think of what to say. “It sounds like a great deal of trouble and expense for a week. I would not stay on with Longtown after you leave for Kent, either.”
Vaughan nodded, pursing his lips, and then looked round the room. “A pity.” He tapped his fingers on the chair arm. “Oh, General Tilney is there, as well.”
Philip set down his pen. “Are his children with him?” he asked calmly.
His cousin was doing his damnedest to not smile. “Well, Captain Tilney has left Bath for his regiment. Mr Henry Tilney is not at Welland, I know. He must be at Woodston tending to his flock. A shame. I know you like him, despite his quizzing manner.”
Philip waited, and Vaughan kept that smug, complaisant look on his face. “Are you really going to make me ask?” Vaughan’s raised eyebrow and silence were answer enough. Philip huffed and said, “Is Miss Tilney at Welland?”
“Yes, she is! Shall I ask my question again? No, I can see in your face that I need not.” Philip was certain he had not expressed a single feeling, but there was no arguing with Vaughan.
It was over the winter when he had last seen Eleanor; his horse was injured, and he was locked up fast in frost and snow. The prospect of detention at Northanger Abbey was not so bad because General Tilney was snowed in elsewhere with friends. Philip, Frederick, Henry, and Eleanor had spent three days where every laugh was indulged, every meal a scene of ease and good humour, doing what they liked and when they liked it.
Has she thought about seeing me again as often as I have thought of seeing her?
This was a severe moment for his courage, and he felt it faltering. They had decided it best that what had happened last winter could never be repeated, and they had agreed to put it out of their power by not spending time together. Not easily done, since Eleanor had a warm heart, excellent understanding, and was the handsomest woman he had ever known.
But surely with General Tilney at Welland there could be no harm in their residing in the same house. The general threw a languor over all manner of spirits, not just romantic ones.Besides, whatever their feelings for each other were, it was right for him to be silent, and nothing could tempt him to speak when he knew there was no hope. The general’s love of money would make it impossible for him to allow his only daughter to marry a man who lived on five hundred pounds a year.
“Brampton? I said can you be ready to leave in an hour?”
Philip quietly agreed. He would overcome his diffidence amongst strangers if it meant he could spend time with Eleanor. Vaughan rose to leave, taking a large breath as he did and pausing when he stood, with a hand to his chest. Philip watched and waited to see if this was the beginning of a paroxysm. The asthma struck him less now than when he was young, but the fits sometimes came unexpectedly.
“I am well, perfectly well. Don’t look at me like that. I should be troubled less often now that I am out of London.”
“Are you certain? I can send—”
“I do not want to be bled or blistered!”
Philip nodded. There was a hereditary disposition to asthma, but he did not share what affected Vaughan and his father before him. Vaughan often felt an uneasiness in breathing, and cold air and London fog could cause a fit.
