Northanger Abbey (rewritten)

Chapter 7

The two girls swiftly traversed the pump-yard, reaching the archway opposite Union Passage within half a minute, but their path was soon obstructed. Anyone familiar with Bath will recall the challenges of crossing Cheap Street at this particular spot. It's a street notorious for its impertinence, inconveniently situated along the major roads leading to London and Oxford, as well as being close to the city's main inn. Without fail, every day, groups of ladies on various missions, be it for pastries, millinery, or, as in this instance, young men, find themselves halted on one side or the other by carriages, riders, or carts.

Isabella had experienced this predicament repeatedly during her stay in Bath and lamented it frequently. She was now destined to face this inconvenience once more. Just as they reached Union Passage and saw the two gentlemen navigating the bustling alley and the maze of gutters, they were prevented from crossing by a swiftly approaching gig. This gig was being driven over the uneven pavement by a coachman who seemed to be both skilled and reckless, risking his life, his passenger's, and his horse's in the process.

"Oh, these detestable gigs!" Isabella exclaimed, gazing upward. "I truly despise them." This disdain, however justified, was short-lived. She gazed again and exclaimed, "Marvelous! It's Mr. Morland and my brother!"

"Good heavens! It's James!" Catherine uttered at the same moment. Upon locking eyes with the two young men, the horse was abruptly brought to a halt, nearly rearing up, and the servant quickly approached. The gentlemen alighted from the gig, entrusting it to the care of their servant.

Catherine, who had not expected this meeting, welcomed her brother with great joy. James, being of an amiable disposition and genuinely fond of his sister, demonstrated his happiness in turn. He also paid courteous attention to Isabella, who was vying for his notice. His attentiveness was a blend of joy and discomfort, which, if Catherine had been more adept at understanding other people's emotions and not so self-absorbed, would have informed her that her brother thought her friend to be as pretty as she did.

John Thorpe, who had been issuing instructions about the horses in the meantime, soon joined the group. He gallantly greeted Isabella with a casual touch of her hand, but for Catherine, he performed a full and partially bowed greeting. He was a sturdy young man of average height, with a plain face and an ungraceful figure. He appeared to be wary of looking too handsome unless he dressed like a groom, and equally concerned about seeming too much like a gentleman unless he acted nonchalant when civility was in order and impudent when it was permissible. He consulted his watch, saying, "Miss Morland, how long do you think we've been on the road from Tetbury?"

"I'm not sure of the distance," Catherine replied. Her brother informed her that it was twenty-three miles.

"Twenty-three!" John exclaimed, "it's at least twenty-five, if not more." James protested, citing road books, innkeepers, and mile markers, but his friend disregarded them all, claiming to have a more reliable measure of distance. "I know it's exactly twenty-five miles," he asserted, "because of the time it's taken. It's now half past one. We left the Tetbury inn yard at precisely eleven o'clock, and I challenge anyone in England to make my horse travel at less than ten miles per hour when harnessed. That adds up to twenty-five miles."

"You've miscalculated by an hour," James pointed out. "It was only ten o'clock when we departed Tetbury."

"Ten o'clock!" John exclaimed. "It was eleven, I swear! I counted each chime. Your brother is trying to talk me out of my senses, Miss Morland. Look at my horse; have you ever seen such a creature built for speed in your life?" (The servant had just mounted the gig and was driving away.) "Such pure blood! We covered twenty-three miles and three hours and a half, and we didn't slow down once. Look at that animal and imagine if it's possible."