Catherine x Henry
Hi, I just reread this book after literally not even a year of reading it the first time. I love this book, and I'm disappointed there's no one-shots or even imagines for it, so I just decided to write it myself.
Also, I provided a picture of how I personally pictured the characters. Top left is Henry, top right is Catherine, bottom left is Eleanor, and bottom right is General Tilney. I have seen both movie versions of the book, and I prefer the casting of the 2007 one, and I basically pictured the other characters the way that one casted them (excepting a few) when re-reading, but I'm sticking to my own casting from my first reading for at least these four. I did picture Captain Tilney as Matt Bomer with his Neal Caffrey look tho.
Summary: Northanger Abbey, but from the Tilneys' perspective in the scenes we didn't get to read.
QOTP: Where would you rank Northanger Abbey compared to Austen's other novels?
Word Count: 6677
Henry Tilney, upon quitting Bath for a few days after securing lodgings for his family, naturally desired to tell his sister Eleanor of what had already passed in his then short time there.
He was introduced to a girl named Catherine Morland, and then danced with her and spent the evening amongst her party. It was clear she'd never really been out in society such as that, and her countenance was so open that, even if her words weren't so clear — albeit exaggerated — as they were, Henry thought he could tell just what she was thinking. It seemed as though she thought well of him already, and he enjoyed speaking to her in any case. He thought she would make a nice friend for his sister Eleanor, who had no regular female companionship and would certainly be a good influence on the girl.
He mentioned her to Eleanor when he next saw her, before they returned to Bath.
"You think her agreeable?" Eleanor asked, after he'd related what had transpired between them.
"I think her very different from many of the other ladies in the room, though wanting instruction," Henry replied.
A small smirk found its way to Eleanor lips. "Ah, yes, and you quite love to instruct — though you tease when you do so."
"It is my way."
"I'm well aware. But your Miss Morland might not be."
"My Miss Morland?" Henry said. "I've met her only once, Eleanor."
"But you wish to meet her again when we go back?"
He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, saying, "I do," before changing the subject.
////
Shortly after arriving in Bath and partaking in some of its amusements, their father in another part of the house, leaving Henry and Eleanor thankfully alone, Eleanor turned to her brother. "How did you find the ball tonight?"
"Agreeable enough," Henry replied. "How did you find it?"
"Oh, I thought it very fine. Especially towards the end, when Mrs. Hughes introduced me to your Miss Morland."
Henry raised a brow slightly. "She is not my Miss Morland, but I will ask how you found her?"
"Quite well," Eleanor said. "I agree with you on her open countenance and want of instruction, though I find something about her charming, and her looks as well are very pretty. Wouldn't you agree?"
"She's... handsome, yes," Henry replied, but then he changed the subject.
Some days later, after the two of them uneventfully met Miss Morland's friends (the Allens) while Miss Morland herself wasn't present, Eleanor returned to their lodgings from the Pump-room. She met with Henry alone, and he of course asked her how her excursion was.
"Oh, full of amusement," Eleanor said, fixing him with a knowing look. "I met with your Miss Morland again."
Henry sighed, but decided to cease correcting her, as it was obviously doing no good. "And how was she?"
"She was well," Eleanor replied, "and her words were quite open as well as her countenance. She commented to me on how well you danced, and she asked after your partner. She assumed Miss Smith to be very glad to dance, and she asked if I thought her pretty."
Henry looked at Eleanor in suspicion. "And what did you tell her?"
Eleanor shrugged. "Not very."
"Eleanor!" Henry exclaimed. "Miss Smith is pretty, and you are well aware of it."
"But did you enjoy dancing with her as much as you enjoyed dancing with your Miss Morland?" Eleanor asked.
Henry was quiet for a moment, looking at her, and then instead of answering, asked, "Is your heart set on throwing us together?"
Eleanor sighed. "I am not throwing you together, I'm merely inquiring. Tonight, the way she spoke and looked has me convinced that she thinks of you in that way, and if you don't mean to ever return her affections, I suggest you make it perfectly clear and don't cause her any more pain than you must."
Henry was quiet again, but Eleanor could tell he was thinking.
////
Another ball on another night was talked of with the usual phrases on the way home from it, as Mrs. Hughes was with him, and then again once inside as their father asked. But the moment they were alone, Eleanor fixed Henry with a smirk. "You danced with her."
"I did," he replied simply.
"And so you mean to return her affections?"
"I believe that I could, yes." After a moment of silence, he sighed and closed the book that was in his lap. "She is not of the society that our father would approve."
Eleanor frowned. "I know."
"But, somehow, she is of a society that I find I enjoy being in. I confess, I had more amusement dancing with her tonight than I did dancing with Miss Smith." He chuckled at a recollection. "Another man — a Mr. John Thorpe, I believe — came over to talk to her while we were dancing, and I found it the perfect opportunity to compare a dance to marriage."
"And what did she say?"
"She said she could not see the connection — they were two very different things. But she responded with how she really thought. Miss Smith or another lady wouldn't've, I dare say, and then probably would've taken it to mean something."
"Did you intend it to mean something with your Miss Morland?"
Henry shrugged. "Not particularly, no. Not this early."
Eleanor nodded. "Of course, yes."
"I will say I am looking forward to this country walk tomorrow. I should like to observe the two of you interacting more closely."
Eleanor raised a brow, though he had opened his book again and was reading it. "And why is that?"
"Just to see if your accounts of your conversations are entirely truthful."
"Well, we won't be talking of you if you're listening."
"Then I will pretend not to listen."
Eleanor laughed.
////
Eleanor, her arm in Henry's, was going to mention Miss Morland as they walked towards her lodgings, but Henry first mentioned the weather, which had been disagreeable all the morning. It rained through the time Eleanor and Henry were meant to meet Miss Morland for their country walk, but it soon stopped and the Tilneys decided they would go to her anyway.
However, in a way, she came to them.
A carriage came by uncommonly fast, but Eleanor saw that one of the people within — the woman — had to be Miss Morland.
"I dare say that is your Miss Morland," Eleanor said, with a bit of surprise.
Henry looked. "I dare say it is."
Miss Morland had turned back to look at them, but then the carriage sped up, and Eleanor and Henry turned the corner, heading for their country walk anyway.
"That was a tad strange," Eleanor said, "and regrettable that she shouldn't join us today."
Henry agreed. "Yes; we shall have to try again another day."
////
After returning from the theater with his father — an excursion Eleanor sat out on — Henry found his sister in the house, and he had a smile on his face. "I have just heard the most precise yet delightfully exaggerated words said to me."
Eleanor guessed, "You saw your Miss Morland?"
"Yes," Henry replied, sitting next to his sister. "And I expressed your regret for not being able to speak with her the other day."
Miss Morland had called at their lodgings just as Eleanor and her father were going out for his walk, and her father refused to delay. The servant said they weren't at home, but Miss Morland saw Eleanor and her father exit it just after. Eleanor was anxious to speak to Miss Morland about it. "She was not upset?"
Henry shook his head. "On the contrary — she was more upset with herself than with you."
"With herself? What ever for?"
"For not being able to come on the country walk. She thought we were offended when we saw her in that carriage. It appears she was lied to by her friends, and they'd told her we had gone off somewhere. She said she, 'had ten thousand times rather have been with you.'"
"With me?" Eleanor asked. "Or with you?"
Henry chuckled. "Well, she was speaking to me at the time. She also said that if that character Mr. Thorpe had stopped the carriage, she would've 'jumped out and gone after you,' meaning me, I'm sure. Then again, 'you' could be plural."
Eleanor saw the smile on his face and smiled herself. "You know perfectly well she was speaking of you."
"But she likes you too."
"Not in the way she likes you. It is perfectly evident."
"I believe it is." He continued to smile as he thought.
////
There was soon concern and confusion between the siblings, outweighing their delight for the moment.
Eleanor had met Miss Morland that morning, and they had fixed on a day — the next day — for their country walk. Then, a few minutes after Miss Morland's leaving, a man told Eleanor that Miss Morland had sent him to say that she recollected a prior engagement she had tomorrow, and Tuesday would be much more convenient. Eleanor found it odd that Miss Morland didn't say this herself, but Tuesday also worked for her, and so she told the man.
It was certainly a great surprise when, just after the Tilneys returned home, Miss Morland herself threw open the drawing-room door, unannounced, and began to retract the gentleman's statements, saying she did not tell him to say them at all. She apologized profusely, said she would much rather go on the walk tomorrow, and Eleanor and Henry quickly agreed to this.
After this was settled, Eleanor was obliged to introduce her to her father, which she and Henry both dreaded. He would not approve of their acquaintance, they were sure, and Eleanor particularly feared what he would say about such an introduction, what with the way she entered. It was all in good intentions, and Eleanor found it to be just something that Miss Morland would be likely to do — and even admired her for it, seeing as it was done to put something to rights. She could tell Henry admired it too, and was likewise amused by it. But her father wouldn't feel the same way, surely.
To her surprise — and Henry's — he treated her with the utmost civility. He even criticized the servant for not being quick enough to open the door for her, though Miss Morland assured him the servant could have done nothing differently. He then went so far as to invite her to stay to dine with them and spend the day with Eleanor. Eleanor immediately professed that she also wished it to be so, though Miss Morland was forced to decline as the Allens were expecting her back.
Their father walked her to the door, and in that time, Eleanor turned to Henry.
"Why has he treated her with such... civility?" she asked.
Henry shrugged. "I do not know. But I say we should say no more about it, so as not to change his mind."
Eleanor nodded, then said, "I feared, especially with such an entrance, that he would treat her most unkindly."
Henry laughed. "Yes, I did, too. It was quite an entrance." He reflected on it, smiling.
////
Henry soon found himself once again smiling, thinking over the country walk with Miss Morland. They talked of a number of things — novels, which she was particularly fond of, language, history, instruction, politics, and, Henry's favorite topic that day, art.
Eleanor and Henry had been discussing he landscape for the purposes of drawing, and Miss Morland was a quiet for a time, until she said she was entirely ignorant on the subject but wished to know more, and Henry was happy to help her.
He spoke, making sure to be perfectly clear, choosing his words, and he saw that Miss Morland was hanging on to every one. Her attention was rapt, and in that Henry found something more to admire in her — a great deal of natural good taste — especially when she declared that Bath was unworthy to be part of a landscape. It showed that she really did listen, and she understood, and it put a smile on Henry's face at once. Eleanor gave him a pointed look, though Miss Morland didn't notice, and Henry changed the subject.
Eleanor, when they made it back to Miss Morland's lodgings, asked the Allens and Miss Morland if she might come to dinner the next day, and that was all settled.
On the walk home, Eleanor looked at Henry. "'I shall be most happy to make her better acquainted with them,'" she said, directly quoting her brother in his reply to her remark about Miss Morland not understanding his odd ways.
He shrugged. "Well, I should be most happy to make her better acquainted with my 'odd ways.' Then she may understand me better."
"Or you may speak plainer."
"I cannot wish to speak any plainer than I already do. She seemed to understand art very well, in any case."
"She did. I saw the look on your face."
Henry smiled. "Yes, I noticed that."
"She would've been very happy had she noticed."
Henry pictured the bright look of accomplishment that must've crossed her face had she noticed, and he smiled again. "Yes, she would have."
////
The dinner, as it included their father, was less agreeable than it could've been, but spirits soon rose again at the next ball. Their brother, Captain Fredrick Tilney, had lately arrived, and he was with their party. However, Miss Morland paid little attention to him for the first dance, and all attention to her partner, Henry.
Her eyes sparkled as she listened to him speak, and she looked the picture of perfect happiness. Eleanor thought Henry looked much the same way, and it was evident later when he spoke to her of it all.
"Dancing with her was as agreeable as always, if not more so, and our conversation overall had its high points," he said.
"Such as?" Eleanor prompted.
"You know our brother wished to be introduced to her friend Miss Thorpe?"
"Yes. I saw him dancing with her, in fact."
"Well, before he'd asked her, I'd told Miss Morland that he had asked me if she would introduce him to Miss Thorpe so he could dance with her. But she said that Miss Thorpe had decided against dancing tonight."
"Because of her engagement to Mr. Morland," Eleanor said, referring to Miss Morland's brother. "Yes, I'm aware."
"Well, Miss Morland commented to me that it was so good-natured of our brother to want to dance with Miss Thorpe when he said himself he didn't wish to dance tonight. She assumed he saw a lady sitting down and wanted to be a gentleman." Eleanor almost laughed, and Henry continued. "And this perfectly convinced me of the way she sees the world. Others' actions and motivations can only be, to her, what her own would be in those situations. And I told her, after she persuaded me, that her believing the circumstances to be thus convinced me of her being superior in good-nature to all the world."
Eleanor brightened. "And what did she say?"
"She turned as red as a rose, denied it very modestly, and then sat in silent thought for some minutes." He was smiling as he said it, almost laughing. Then, he sighed. "Of course, then Miss Thorpe danced with our brother, and it distressed Miss Morland."
Eleanor sighed. "I cannot blame her. I do wish he would've danced with somebody else."
"At the very least he did not ask Miss Morland herself. For a moment, when he came to speak with me after our dance, I feared he would."
That sent Eleanor laughing. "I can assure you, Henry, that nothing but politeness or panic would induce her to agree to it, and had she, she certainly would've been miserable the entire time, and wishing she was with you instead."
Henry smiled again, knowing his sister to be right.
////
Later on, the day after, Henry found an opportunity to be alone with his brother and took it, deciding he had better speak to him.
"There is a matter which I wish to be certain you are entirely clear on," Henry said.
Fredrick was only half interested. "And this matter is?"
"The woman you danced with last night, Miss Thorpe — she is engaged to a Mr. James Morland, who has left Bath for the present."
"Morland?" Fredrick said. "Is not that the last name of the girl you were with?"
"It is."
Fredrick's mouth turned up at the corners. "I see."
Henry sighed. "You understand me, do you not?"
"Yes," Fredrick replied with a roll of his eyes, "I am perfectly aware of Miss Thorpe's being engaged, and I was perfectly aware last night. It is hardly my fault that she agreed to dance, is it not?"
"No, but-"
"Then that is that. I am aware of the matter as you wished me to be, and there is nothing you can judge me on."
Fredrick waved him away, and Henry said no more.
That same day, at dinner, their father declared he tired of Bath, and he wished to leave it by the end of the next week.
The sound of Henry's spoon hitting his plate a little too abruptly masked Eleanor's quiet gasp of displeasure and surprise, though both shone on her face.
Their father lamented the lack of the companions he wished for, declared his health was much better than it was when they first arrived, and it seemed his mind was completely made up. Henry felt his heart sinking, but then Eleanor spoke up.
"I confess, I will be much distressed to leave some of the acquaintances I've made here..."
"You speak of Miss Morland, yes?" her father replied.
Eleanor nodded, and he hummed in response, seeming to be thinking. But an idea entered Eleanor's head, and it seemed plausible. And, if it failed, the consequences could not be too great. It was worth trying.
"I wonder..." she began "... I wonder if she could... return with us to Northanger... as my guest?"
"I think it a great idea," Henry instantly offered.
To their relief, their father nodded. "Yes... Yes, I think it will be a fine thing, especially for you, Eleanor, with a female companion to talk to at the house. I will go ask the Allens to consent to it tomorrow."
Henry's heart rose again, and a smile was plastered on Eleanor's face. Across the table, a silent Fredrick looked at them both with a spec of amusement.
////
Eleanor soon spoke to Miss Morland at the house, though her father entered to ask her about staying before it could even pass Eleanor's lips. Miss Morland looked absolutely delighted at the prospect, and everyone else was delighted too — even Fredrick, who looked forward to his family's departure, as he would still be staying in Bath for some days.
Miss Morland wrote directly to her parents, who predictably gave their consent, and all was settled.
In the days leading up to their departure, they saw each other more, and Miss Morland spoke to Henry of Fredrick and Miss Thorpe again, but Henry convinced her not to worry. Fredrick would be leaving soon, and Miss Thorpe and Miss Morland's own brother certainly knew what they were about. There was no great cause for alarm. Henry could tell he had succeeded in calming her worries, and he left it at that.
Finally, the day arrived when they were set to leave, and, though it wasn't on time, it was still decently early. Miss Morland and Eleanor were in the carriage, while Henry was with his father in the curricle.
His father talked of the time for some minutes, until he finally sighed and knew no more could be done. But what he next spoke of managed to be suspicious to Henry.
"Well, I believe Miss Morland's stay with us will be quite pleasant. At least, I hope it will be so for her," he said.
"I dare say it will be," Henry replied, "and Eleanor will be happy to have her there."
His father agreed. "Yes, I think she will. And what about you?"
"Me?"
"Should you not be happy to have Miss Morland there?"
"I- Yes, sir, I believe so. I'll know that Eleanor will have a close companion at hand when I leave."
"And that is all then? I have heard of you dancing with Miss Morland a few times; I would think you find her society agreeable."
"Oh," Henry said, "I do, to be sure. I... enjoy her conversation."
Then, when they stopped at an inn and waited for some time, as was mostly planned, his father made a suggestion before they set off again.
Wanting Miss Morland to get see as much of the country as possible, he said that she should ride in the curricle with Henry. She hesitated at first, Henry suspected out of surprise, which he himself felt, but she agreed. He had to admit he was delighted to enjoy the next few hours of the journey in her company, though he felt for Eleanor, then in the carriage with their father.
////
Henry never thought his teasings on that journey, mostly for his own amusement, would amount to anything but some minutes' delight for himself and Miss Morland. However, he later witnessed their effects.
Having spent some time in his own home with Miss Morland, and also some time regrettably away, having to go to his own lodgings at Woodston, he could say he was falling deeper in love with Miss Morland every minute. This was evident in his thoughts of her while he was gone, and he was thinking of her as he came up the stairs one early morning, before he was expected. He'd hurried in his business to get back as soon as possible, both for Eleanor and Miss Morland.
He found the very girl in the hall, having obviously been in his late mother's room.
She seemed embarrassed to be caught, but an explanation of Eleanor's having talked of their mother seemed sufficient, also coupled how he knew Miss Morland to typically be. But she continued to speak, and he soon discovered she thought his father the perpetrator of a heinous crime — murder, in fact — against his mother. His shock was great, and he confessed his restraint in speaking to her at the time was not what it could've been. However, he did not shout, as he was hardly angry. But she knew her folly, and she exited the room in tears, and Henry wanted to go after her, but he didn't.
Instead, when he saw her again, he made no mention of it and paid as much attention to her as he could, knowing how horrible she was feeling. He partly blamed himself for putting ideas in her head, and he did own that his father wasn't always the most agreeable person to be around — though he was certainly no murderer.
Eleanor spoke to him of the tour of the house and their father's behavior, though without knowledge of the better clarity it provided him on Miss Morland's suspicions. They were groundless, but in her mind, he could see where they came from. Still, he refrained from introducing the subject, especially when Miss Morland's spirits began to rise.
Everything seemed perfectly happy, until Miss Morland received a letter from her brother, which, in short, declared that he had the broken the engagement with Miss Thorpe, and he expected her to be engaged to Fredrick quite soon. It took a few hours of Miss Morland being in obvious distress for her to breach the subject and relieve Henry and Eleanor's deep concerns, but Henry tried to be a comfort when she did. He had previously told her not to worry, and then it had come to this.
He and Eleanor both, however, were sure that Fredrick would not marry Miss Thorpe, and likewise that he wouldn't show up at Northanger; Miss Morland had asked to be notified of his coming if he came, so that she could leave beforehand and therefore not meet him. Henry knew he would stay away, but a small part of him worried that he wouldn't.
Miss Morland then declared she wished she never knew Miss Thorpe, and neither Henry nor Eleanor come blame her.
It was soon after that that their father proposed they go visit Henry at Woodston. He left early to prepare things, which Miss Morland openly regretted, and he regretted also. But he had to prepare the house to his father's liking and, therefore, to Miss Morland's. It was obvious to Henry what his father was meaning to do, and he confessed he did not object at all. He was as much concerned with Miss Morland's opinion of the place as his father.
Finally, the day came when they arrived, and Miss Morland, under Henry's observation, looked lost in thought when she entered the house. She was startled out of her reverie when Henry's father asked her what she thought, and, instead of the raptures and declarations Henry expected — if she did like the place — her compliment was quite guarded and conscious. It was fine for Henry, who suspected she thought she shouldn't say much under the circumstances of her affections for him and it being his own house, but his father did not like it at all.
Later on, though, the declarations did come and from the room Henry least expected. The still unfurnished drawing-room had a window that drew Miss Morland to it, and she declared it the prettiest room in the world.
But Eleanor did not pointedly look at Henry until Miss Morland declared, "Well, if it was my house, I should never sit any where else."
Their father was pleased, and he responded to her compliments in such a way as made Miss Morland conscious of what she'd said, and she ceased talking of it directly. Henry willed away his blush as he looked at her own.
The whole day passed pleasantly, though Miss Morland seemed sad to return to Northanger. Henry looked forward to his own return, though, unbeknownst to him, unpleasant news awaited him there.
Miss Thorpe had sent Miss Morland a letter, and she read he and Eleanor parts of it. Miss Thorpe was asking her to talk to Mr. Morland, referencing Fredrick as 'Tilney,' amongst other things. The whole thing, as far as the Tilneys could tell, contradicted itself, besides. Miss Morland, upset, left it unanswered.
////
The most pleasant week yet was spent not long after, when the Tilneys' father had to leave to London. Everything was at ease and happy, allowing Eleanor, Henry, and Miss Morland to breathe. Miss Morland also spoke to Eleanor of her long stay — which then was at four weeks — and it was decided that she would stay for at least four more. Eleanor almost seemed to smirk when she told Henry this, and he didn't much mind, as he was happy.
The happiness was dampened by his being obliged to leave once more, though knowing Miss Morland would still be there upon his return greatly helped. At his home, as he walked the rooms, he thought of her in them, and not really for the first time. It was already plain his father would consent, and Eleanor certainly would love to have Miss Morland as a sister. There was nothing stopping him, was there?
But, on his return, he was told by his father that Miss Morland was gone home, and he was then ordered to think of her no more.
"Think of her no more?" Henry asked. "How am I to do that? You yourself have supported the match-"
"There will be no match," his father spat.
Henry was already angered, but he was also concerned for Miss Morland. "And why is she gone so suddenly?"
"We have an engagement in Herefordshire this Monday that I had forgotten about."
"If that were even so," he began, and his father's brows raised, "why should she not stay until Monday?"
"She left a few days ago," Eleanor spoke up, distressed, "the very morning after she was told she had to leave. She had no servant with her, no money-"
"That is enough of this from both of you!" their father shouted. "Did I not say to think of her no more?!"
"I will and I must!" Henry exclaimed. "How could you treat her this way when you had before been so civil and kind to her?! What could she have done to you to deserve this treatment?!" Not even her suspicions, which his father had no knowledge of, should've warranted this.
"She is not who I believed her to be."
"Who did you believe her to be?! She can be nothing so dreadful as to constitute this!"
"She is destitute, Henry!" his father exclaimed. "I was persuaded by a Mr. John Thorpe that she was greatly rich, set to receive a fine inheritance, soon to come into an estate! I thought the match would be advantageous for you and our family, and so I promoted it, but I have since found out — from the very same man — that she is only a fortune-hunter with nothing of the sort! Is that enough to satisfy you?!"
"She is no fortune-hunter, I can assure you, and to hear you slander her in such a way is shocking! And how can it be her fault you were deceived?! How could that warrant her being turned out at all?! I am utterly ashamed to learn that this has been your conduct!" He looked to his sister. "Do we know if she has made it home alright?"
Eleanor shook her head, and she was crying. "She has not written yet."
"Then I will go myself to be sure of her safety and to apologize for what has been done to her."
His father's anger rose. "You will do no such thing! We are going to Herefordshire, and that is final!"
"No," Henry argued. "I am going to Fullerton to see that she is safe, and I will apologize to her if you will not. Furthermore, as I feel myself bound to her — not only by honor but by affection — I will offer her my hand, and I have great reason to believe that I will be accepted."
His father was horrified. "You will go to Hereforshire, and you will never see that wretched girl again!"
"No, I won't. I am going to her." Henry even then began to leave.
"Do not disobey me!"
"Make haste!" Eleanor shouted, happy beyond belief.
Henry went back to Woodson to prepare for his journey, and then set out the next afternoon to see his Miss Morland.
////
The journey to Fullerton was spent in thinking of his proposal, though there were no words precise enough he could think of, not even when he arrived. He found the house — charming, in its own way — and, to his surprise, on entering, he found Miss Morland alone.
She stood from her chair instantly, dropping her sewing on the floor as she did so, her eyes wide. "Mr. Tilney."
He bowed. "Miss Morland."
She was silent in shocked happiness for a few moments, and then she recollected herself. "Oh! Please, sit down."
He did so, and she picked up her sewing and tried to neatly put it away, but her hands were shaking.
When she finally sat, she said, "I trust your family is well?"
"Yes, very well," Henry replied, "though Eleanor misses you very much already."
"I have been so upset over having to part with her. I sent her a letter, but I suppose it hasn't arrived yet," she said, without much to say at all. She was still shocked, and her eyes held that and her happiness.
Finally, Henry, in his slight nervousness, cleared his throat. "I've come to see that you are safely home."
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh, the journey went very well. I had no troubles."
"I'm glad to hear it."
Miss Morland nodded, and he was going to say more when, suddenly, a woman — who Henry guessed to be Mrs. Morland — entered. She was surprised, and Miss Morland quickly introduced Henry.
He was embarrassed. "I'm so sorry for my coming, ma'am, and I know have little right to expect welcome from what has happened, but I came to be certain that your daughter has arrived safely home."
"Oh," Mrs. Morland said, "thank you, sir, for your kind attentions. And you are perfectly welcome; any friends of our children are welcome here. Let us not speak anymore of the past."
He nodded, and then Mrs. Morland sent one of her children to fetch their father. He turned out not to be at home yet, but the child came back, and they all sat and spoke — save Miss Morland, who said little. Her happiness however, seemed to grow.
Finally, Henry thought of a way to speak with her alone again, and he looked at her. "Are the Allens now here, in Fullerton?"
Miss Morland seemed surprised, and she rambled. "Oh, they meant to quit Bath after a few more weeks, I believe, before your sister so graciously asked me to stay with you, but I-I believe they left it earlier than planned after I did, and the journey is not so long as... four weeks..."
"I should very much like to pay them a visit, if you would show me the way."
She opened her mouth to reply, but her younger sister did first. "You may see the house from this window, sir," and she pointed. Thankfully, Mrs. Morland saw what he was getting at.
"Oh, but the trees — and, anyway, dear Catherine is in want of exercise today. I believe she better go with him."
Miss Morland brightened, hurriedly prepared to go out, and so they went. Henry began with securing her affections first, as it seemed most reasonable. Knowing his father's objections, as good as she was, she mightn't've said yes, despite them both desiring it to be so.
"I must explain my father's actions," he began, "but first I should explain myself." With a deep breath, he did so as best as he could. "You must allow me to confess to you, my dearest Miss Morland, how... how strongly my feelings are for you. I feel myself bound to you in both honor and affection. In these past weeks, I have found myself grown sincerely attached to you, and all your good nature, your excellencies of character, and your most certainly undesigned charms. Being away as I was those few times when you were at Northanger, I found myself greatly missing your society, and I knew that I should like to be in it the rest of my life. And I greatly hope that you should feel the same, and that you would honor me in becoming my wife?"
She was so happy that, for a moment, she could hardly speak. "Oh... Oh, yes. Yes. I'm sure it can't have escaped your notice how I've felt about you, especially after everything..."
He absolutely beamed, and then continued. "I must confess I knew of it since Bath, early in our acquaintance. Eleanor persuaded me of it first, and I saw it clearly. It was, in all honesty, why I began to think of you in such a way at all — but now you must be assured of how genuine my attachment to you is. There is no one who could make me so happy as you."
By the time they had finished this conversation, they had reached the Allens and had to go in. Henry spoke with them very civilly, while Catherine could hardly speak a word for happiness. Henry was sure the Allens would guess it just by the look on her face, but they did not.
She was induced to speak again on the walk home, in response to what Henry told her of his father — why he had turned her out of the house, as far as Henry knew of the details or could guess at them.
"Eleanor and I had no idea, and I never wanted to question his civilities so that they would not end. But, now they have, and in all this, I must say, you can scarcely have sinned against his character with your previous suspicions about him."
"Don't speak of those," Catherine said. "I still cannot help but be ashamed of them."
"I lay no blame on you for them, but, as it is, for you, I will let the matter drop."
"Thank you."
On reaching Catherine's house again, her father was thankfully home, and Henry was able to speak to both of her parents and ask for their consent to the marriage. They were perfectly ready to consent, even with Mrs. Morland's warnings against her own daughter being a very good housekeeper — in fact, she said she'd be a young, heedless one — but Henry was unconcerned in that matter and waved it off completely, saying there was nothing like practice, and it quieted her on the subject. Still, they were greatly surprised.
It seemed as though they would consent, but one thing stood in the way; they would not consent unless Henry's father had. All they asked for, they said, was that he would approve, and they made it very clear that they did not think themselves entitled to demand any of his money, even if they were interested in it. It all seemed rather hopeless, and Henry was forced to return home and correspond with Catherine through letter, as did Eleanor, though it was often harder for the latter to do so.
Eleanor wrote of a man she had not yet told Catherine about — a man lower than her in status, someone her father would not approve of — that she held affection for. She soon said that this same man had, of late, come into a great sum of money, and was now free to apply to her father for his consent of their marriage. He was so rich, her father consented with great gladness, and Eleanor wasted hardly any time in asking him to forgive Henry, then to consent to his marriage to Catherine. In the latter she employed her husband himself to assist in this. They convinced her father that Catherine was not as poor as Mr. Thorpe had led him to believe, and he consented.
He wrote it in a letter to the Morlands, who then gave their own consent, and, impossibly, Henry and Catherine were free to do as they pleased.
The wedding took place, a bright day of utter happiness from all, and Catherine readily expressed her excitement to return to Woodston, its canine residents, and the prettiest room in the world, the latter most to be furnished by her own design, as Henry was quick to promise her.