Vaughan settled his shoulders and forced a smile. “Shall we finish one stage today? I have already sent a man ahead for the horses and an inn,” he said as he parted. “We can be at Welland by dinner tomorrow.”
Philip rang for his man to make ready, and he set to work organising his mathematical papers. It was rare that he felt his comparative poverty. The income he inherited was sufficient for his purposes, and he was a gentleman with noble connexions, but whenever he thought of General Tilney, of not being able to marry Eleanor, he wished either that his father had been more frugal, or that having a mathematically inclined mind was an acceptable gentlemanly profession.
Nobody loved plenty and hospitality more than his late father, who had gratified his friends and travelled at no little expense. Such was the behaviour of the younger son of a viscount who had all the taste for finery and parade, but not the income to support it. Mrs Brampton, née Miss Louisa Drummond, never had more than five thousand pounds, which was all settled on her only child after she died. It was far less than the twenty thousand bestowed upon her cousin who became Mrs Tilney. And Mr Brampton, who had proudly spent all his income on entertainment, had at his death bestowed only another five thousand pounds upon Philip,leaving him to live on five hundred a year and no need for a profession—a respectable income, but not enough to satisfy General Tilney’s demands for rank and money.
* * *
No one set a fasterpace while travelling than Vaughan, but Philip supposed that having his horses staged all over Gloucestershire helped. They arrived in Herefordshire after midday Saturday, and he looked out of the side-glass to see that only Lord Longtown and General Tilney were there to meet them. Philip breathed a sigh of relief. It would spare him the other men’s ribaldry and banter for the present.
“George and Sir Charles are a few hours behind you,” Longtown said gruffly after they were greeted. The marquess was abrupt with everyone save his wife. “They will arrive in time for dinner,” he added, with a look of promise to General Tilney, whose love of fine dining was rivalled only by his demand for punctuality.
“Brampton,” the general said, nodding his head.
Philip knew the general tolerated him because of their slight familial connexion and because his connexions to rank were better than his. “How do you do? I understand you were in Bath this spring.”
To his surprise, rather than expound on the noble persons he encountered or the superior house he rented, General Tilney made a disapproving sound. “Has Lord Vaughan made the improvements to your house?” he asked to change the subject as they all went into the drawing room. “I remember you saying in January that you wished for it to have a more modern taste.”
Philip’s throat instantly went dry. Thinking of when he had last seen the general, last winter when General Tilney had returned to Northanger, brought to mind all the awkwardness he felt having to speak with him after what had happened with Eleanor. Philip only smiled and bowed his agreement, silently hoping the general did not expect him to say more.
“I take care of my tenants, General,” Vaughan called from his seat, with a smile. “And I take even better care of my friends and family. Brampton now has a Rumford fireplace in his drawing room, and I can boast that it has not smoked once.”
Vaughan’s friendly chatter drew in General Tilney, and since Longtown was typically silent, Philip had only to sit in the drawing room and watch the others talk. General Tilney had his usual commanding aspect and was not past the vigour of life, although he had to be sixty. But Philip knew that beneath his flattery and gallantry lay a brutal nature.
The door then opened, and the ladies came in. Philip was taken by surprise to see Eleanor so soon, and he hoped he was not wearing a stupid smile when he greeted her.
“Miss Tilney, how do you do? You, you look—you look very well,” he stammered. It was usually not difficult to talk with Eleanor, but in her father’s presence he could not be at ease.
“How do you do, Mr Brampton?” she asked, grinning at him. They always addressed one another properly in public, but since they were children, whenever they were alone, they were always Philip and Eleanor.
He had come to Welland to see her, to enjoy her conversation and her smiles. Certainly nothing more than that.She seemed composed, aside from a little pink to her cheeks and one cautious look at her father. Perhaps she was nervous to see him in front of her father too, but she did not look unhappy that he was here.
“Mr Brampton, you are very welcome at Welland,” Lady Alice said with an emphatic look to Eleanor he could not understand. Lady Alice had great personal beauty, and her newly shorn hair showed off her striking features. But any man who did not prefer Eleanor’s dark eyes and pretty face was a fool.
“How do you do? I understand your brother is to arrive soon?” He did not dislike George Kitchener, the Earl of Dryden; he was an agreeable man, but he had little of substance.
Again, Lady Alice looked at Eleanor, who turned away. “Oh, yes, George and Sir Charles shall be here, but who cares about my brother whenyouare here.”
Philip tilted his head in confusion, but Lady Alice merely smiled and stepped away to talk with Vaughan. Eleanor seemed to not know what to say either, so he asked, “Speaking of brothers, how is Mr Henry Tilney? I have not seen him since January.”
To his surprise, rather than talk fondly of Henry, Eleanor paled. “Oh, Philip,” she whispered, shaking her head. Giving him an earnest look, she said, “I have much to tell you, but not now. He is at Woodston by now, and Henry has—”
“Eleanor!” General Tilney called angrily, and the room fell silent. Eleanor winced but met her father’s eye as he strode toward them. “Did I not explicitly tell you to never speak of that matter?” he said in a low voice.
To her credit, Eleanor never turned timid or tearful in the face of her father’s harsh, overbearing manner. “Yes, sir, but I thought it wrong not to answer Mr Brampton’s kind inquiries about Henry.”
“If he wishes to know what Henry is about, he is welcome to write to his second cousin at his leisure. He can have no reason to discuss Henry with you. Am I understood?” The general turned to Philip and said in a forced friendlier tone, “Brampton, you would do well not to trouble Eleanor. She cannot be expected to comment on the comings and goings of a young man, can she?”
Philip thought this strange, for there was no one nearer to Eleanor than her brother Henry. In fact, Henry was possibly the only person excepting himself to give her any care and kind attention, but under General Tilney’s stern gaze, Philip bowed his agreement.
The others in the room pretended not to notice, but Philip hated to see Eleanor mortified by her father. When everyone finally broke into small groups or left, Eleanor gave him a pointed look and said she was going to walk in the garden. After a few polite words of thanks to Lady Longtown for inviting him, Philip went after her. He found her by the entrance to the kitchen garden, leaning against the wall, waiting for him.
“I like your hair,” she said by way of greeting. “It seems that you and Alice were of the same mind.”
He had not bothered with a hat, and self-consciously ran his hand at the base of his neck to hide his pleasure at being praised. “I finally tossed aside my hair powder and lopped off my queue. Vaughan called me a Tory old man one too many times,” he added, smiling.
When they entered the garden he said, “Your father is as charming as ever. What made him lose his temper over Henry? When he last wrote to me, earlier this month, Henry expected the general, you, and a friend of yours to dine at Woodston. But with his arch ways, I could not tell if he was pleased by the idea or terrified by it.”
Eleanor shook her head sadly and put an arm through his. “Both, probably. Pleased to show Catherine the parsonage, but distressed to have my father dine at his table.”
