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Posted on Tuesday, 28 March 2000

What if...

The coach Catherine took home went even closer to Woodston?
Henry Tilney was out for a before breakfast or sermon drive?
The coach had an accident - and Henry was nearby?

For those who love the romance and Gothic influence in Jane Austen's novels...

And for Mags and the other great Pemberley writers who inspired me.

Catherine braced herself as best she could in the moving coach, and pulled out a clean handkerchief. She was still trying to understand why the General had turned her out. The understandable pain Eleanor showed at giving her the information had convinced Catherine of Eleanor's lack of involvement and true lack of understanding of her parent's wishes. Much as she racked her brain, Catherine still couldn't come up with a single reason (Mr. Tilney could not have told his father about her wild fancies, could he?) why General Tilney would throw her out, literally. It went against everything she had ever known!

To distract herself, Catherine looked out the window again. Watching the countryside was pure torture - it constantly reminded her of the trip to see Henry Tilney's parsonage. There were continual reminders along the road. As tears threatened, Catherine reminded herself that she would soon be past the turn off to the Woodston village and parsonage, and hoped that she could be more tranquil then.

Just as she had settled this thought, there was a sudden noise - cracking wood. The jostling of the coach became much worse and, as she tried to hold on, the coach went over, throwing Catherine against the far side. Everything went black...

Meanwhile...

Henry Tilney had risen early. It was a fine day and he was eager to be out and about. He had plenty of time before his first sermon and it was all written. He had been thinking about Catherine again - perhaps a drive would clear his head! He smiled to himself as he considered how attracted he was to the lovely, innocent and altogether charming young woman. He still couldn't account for the General's orders to pay attention to Miss Morland, but Henry was more than happy to comply. Henry had seldom been more thankful than he had that Wednesday during his father's, sister's and friend's visit. Many of the General's most terrible, assuming, and blatant comments were ignored, missed or gently dealt with by Catherine. Henry knew exactly which comments she missed, which she ignored and which she, embarrassed but kind, dealt with. All three showed how much of a lady she really was, worthy of the highest respect. Catherine's lack of experience simply meant she wasn't spoiled by society - yet. Her true worth had shown clearly to Henry - if he hadn't already seen how special she was, he realized it now.

He climbed into his curricle, whistled for the dogs, and headed out for a quick drive. It didn't help. All that came to mind was how enjoyable it had been to have her next to him during the last half of the drive to Northanger Abbey. He smiled in remembrance of her fascination with the story he spun for her. Henry realized he should not have encouraged her credulity with his ramblings - he had helped set up the embarrassment she encountered when she developed her wild fancy that the General was a murderer. Not that he didn't have the personality (or lack of the same) in some ways, Henry grimaced to himself.

Without even thinking about it (he had his mind on a more agreeable subject), Henry had pulled onto the road and started towards Northanger Abby. Other than to stay to one side, he didn't give any thought to the hack-coach coming towards him. That is, until it went over a rut, and with a CRACK, the back axle broke and the coach tipped.

Henry immediately brought his curricle to a stop and climbed out to assist. The driver had been thrown clear. The man got up and called his safe condition to the gentleman. Henry called out, "What about the passengers?" and the driver replied, "One young lady - I need to check on 'er".

"Dear God!" thought Henry, and he moved over to the coach. By this time, a farmer and stopped by and was willing to help. The three men climbed up and opened the door (which was now on the top of the tipped coach). Inside, was a huddled shape, not moving. Henry climbed in, ready to help the young lady out, into the waiting arms of the farmer and driver. However, he had a terrible shock as he realized that the "young lady" was none other than Catherine Morland!

Later, Henry would smile at the image brought to mind - how on earth had Catherine finally managed to enact a scene out of a Gothic romance! The beauteous young lady, unjustly thrown out upon the world, encounters a terrible accident and is saved by her adoring suitor. The humor of the situation almost overcame him. But at the time, all he could think was "How badly is she hurt - and WHAT is she doing here?" Henry was almost frantic when he called her name and got no response. The farmer also hopped into the coach, and between the two of them and the driver they managed to get the unconscious Catherine out of the coach. The movement wakened her, and she could speak, if not entirely coherently, by the time they laid her on the grass by the verge. The farmer and driver exchanged glances as the young clergyman called the young lady by her Christian name yet again.

"Catherine - can you move everything?" She gingerly tried - and succeeded. Henry followed up with, "Where does it hurt?" Catherine put a hand to her head and uncertainly tried to get up. As she sat back with a groan, she said, "My head hurts and my leg - a little." The farmer looked at the young couple and asked "Well sir, you seem to know the lady. Will she be all right with you?" The driver also looked interested, as he suggested "I won't be going anywheres for the day sir. Could you give the young lady a ride back?"

Henry looked at the two men and replied, "After this shock, travel is the last thing Miss Morland should do. I will take care of her for now - thank you for your assistance." Henry shoved aside the dogs and helped Catherine into his curricle. He looked at her and gently suggested that he take her to his parsonage, as it was relatively close by. She replied she would be all right for such a short drive, and off they went, dogs on the floorboards, Catherine braced against Henry and Henry desperate to get her someplace quiet where she could rest.

Henry gave Catherine a sideways glance. She looked better. It was probably just a bump on the head and the shock that had knocked her unconscious. He quietly asked her if she felt any better. Catherine had been holding her face to the wind and enjoying how it felt. She shook herself out and replied "I feel a little better." "Good," was Henry's response, "could you then answer a few questions for me?"

"I suppose so" was Catherine's quiet response. She dreaded what was coming. Now that she was settling down, she remembered WHY she had been in the coach in the first place. "At least," she thought to herself "my family isn't expecting me, so they won't be worried when I fail to make it home today".

Henry looked at her, and asked "What were you doing in that coach? I thought it had been agreed you would stay with my sister for a few weeks longer, at least." All he could think was that she had received an express last night and there was some family emergency. Her sudden flush and downcast face worried him more. She was embarrassed. What could she be embarrassed about?

Even more softly, so he had to listen carefully to even hear her, Catherine answered. "The General returned late last night. He remembered a previous engagement for the family - out of the county. He made arrangements for me to go home first thing today, as your sister and he are leaving tomorrow to keep the engagement." She couldn't meet his eyes. The shame of being tossed out in the manner she had been - her justifiable distress, resentment and tangled feelings were inappropriate, she felt.

Henry stared in amazement. He could hardly believe what Catherine had told him, but he had no reason to disbelieve it. Catherine wouldn't, couldn't lie, and why else would she be traveling - ALONE of all things! - in a hackney coach! "He put you out, didn't even send a servant, in a comment hackney coach within a night!" He repeated, to be sure he had the story straight. Henry's anger towards his father burned deeper. "This is beyond infamy - even for him!" He looked at Catherine. No wonder she didn't seem willing to talk! "I will take you to the parsonage. I will send for the surgeon to look at you, and make sure you really are all right. My housekeeper will look after you, while I attend services at my church. After the surgeon has seen you, we will decide what more is to be done." He was silent after that, considering what to do. He couldn't keep her at his home. Even bringing her there was really inappropriate, but what else was to be done?

They pulled up to the parsonage. Henry's man came out to get the horses and looked surprised to see the young lady driving with the master. Henry called to him "Jones, never mind the horses. Get Mrs. Jones out here - this young lady has been in an accident and needs to rest and be seen by the surgeon. You get him - or send a boy. Mrs. Jones, there you are!" Henry finished gratefully. He turned Catherine over to his housekeeper with a minimum of explanation. Once Catherine was in the house, he went into his study. He glanced at the clock - still half an hour before he needed to leave for the church. His housekeeper hadn't SAID anything, but she had LOOKED volumes! A bustle occurred in the hall, and he came out to see the surgeon coming in with his man, Jones. Jones looked at Henry, as Henry said "Thank you very much Jones for going so quickly. The horses are tied out back - if you could take care of them now." Jones nodded and went out, as Henry conducted the surgeon to his spare room, where Catherine was resting

Catherine called "Come in " when she heard the knock on the door. She looked up to see a serious middle-aged man follow Henry into the room. Henry quickly introduced them, "Dr. Normand - this is Miss Morland. Her coach went over on the main road. When we pulled her out she was unresponsive. A few minutes later she was aware again, but she said her leg hurt as well as her head." Dr. Normand smiled a little and suggested Henry leave him to check over Miss Morland. Henry blushed and did so.

The doctor sat down next to the bed, and said, "So young lady, is Mr. Tilney's account accurate? What do you have to add to it?" Catherine steadily looked at the doctor and said "My head still hurts a little, but no worse than it did when I fell out of a tree when I was 10. My leg held my weight when I walked inside, but it still hurts. I imagine its just bruised from falling on it." The doctor was a little surprised, but not upset. It sounded like she had been quite the tomboy, and therefore had her share on injuries. He asked her a few more questions, then checked the bump on her head and the painful leg. He concluded that she was right about the leg, and probably right about the head. The headache she had would go away and she seemed fine. The doctor invited Henry, who had been hovering in the hall, to come in. He said, "Mr. Tilney, this young lady is very lucky. She is not badly hurt. She should be fine to travel in a few days, however, I must insist that she not travel until at least tomorrow. She says she was going home - another 50-odd miles away. As its not an emergency, I suggest she wait until her headache is completely gone. Bouncing about in a coach is only going to aggravate her headache, and you can never be completely sure with head injuries. She should remain quiet and rest for a few days before traveling.

"Thank you Dr. Normand" was Henry's reply in the room. He followed the doctor out, after smiling at Catherine. She was worried by the doctor's comments. She had to leave - she had been sent home!

When he had the doctor alone, Henry paid him, then asked a personal favor. "Dr., I'm sure you can see how inappropriate it is for Miss Morland to stay with me - but there really isn't any place else in the village for her to go. She was recently a guest with my sister. Would you mind letting people know that YOU recommend Miss Morland not travel, AT ALL for several days? I will go to Northanger Abbey tomorrow and find out what we are to do. I can't go today, and the situation... well, I need to go personally and straighten things out. I do have Mr. and Mrs. Jones for chaperones here, and will make sure Miss Morland is well cared for."

Dr. Normand had been expecting the offer of his home, but the allusion to some problem at Northanger Abbey threw him off. He watched Henry carefully as he spoke, then replied, "I am happy to be of service, Pastor. Now you need to move, or we will all be late out of church this morning!" Henry chuckled at the sally, and popped inside to speak with Mrs. Jones. A few minutes later, he headed for the church, where his congregation was starting to gather. On his way into the church, he heard snatches of conversation that made it clear his house guest had been spotted, recognized as the young lady who had visited with the parson's father and sister, and was being speculated about. Fortunately, nobody came out and ASKED him about her, so he could keep quiet on the subject a little longer.

Henry gave the service it's full due. He even managed to keep his mind on it instead of his involuntary "guest", until he had spoken the benediction. Then, as people starting filing out and chatting, Catherine came foremost in his mind again.

Part 2

Catherine Morland was in agony - not physical (except the headache), but mental. She had been ever since she "woke" in Henry's arms at the side of the road and realized that she couldn't face a member of the Tilney family. Talking to Eleanor had been hard enough. She had no idea how to deal with Henry. She admired him so much. He was her complete ideal. Even his delicacy in leaving her alone once he found out WHY she was traveling that day showed how gentleman-like he was.

What was she to do? She didn't know anyone in Woodston, and it didn't have an inn - at least, not one where a respectable young lady could stay, alone, for the night. The surgeon didn't want her to travel. But then, she didn't have the means to travel right then anyway. Perhaps Mr. Tilney (she didn't want to be too familiar - not even in her thoughts should she be referring to him as Henry) could be prevailed upon to find another means of transportation for her. But, by now it was too late in the day. She had lost valuable time. There was no way she could get home before night, and the idea of traveling alone, in the dark, was frightening.

As Catherine's thoughts raced, around and around, trying to find some solution, she heard a step in the hall. Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper tapped at the door and entered with a tray for Catherine. The older woman looked at Catherine. She settled the tray before her "patient" and said, "Young Toby has collected your trunk and bags from the coach. They'll be up directly. The doctor said you weren't to travel until you were better. The master said you would be staying here, as you were a friend of his sister. Can I get you anything else, Miss?"

Catherine was aghast. "I can't stay here!" she exclaimed. She could hardly look at Mrs. Jones, she was so embarrassed. It seemed like humiliation upon humiliation was her lot for the day. Catherine continued to stammer, "Mr. Tilney cannot be serious! It would be so improper - and he's a clergyman too! I know the Doctor said I wasn't to travel, but surely there is a respectable inn nearby that I can go to?" Her imploring look at Mrs. Jones convinced the woman of her sincerity.

Mrs. Jones hadn't been sure how to take the whole mess when her master dropped it in her lap. She had wondered in Miss Morland was another star-struck social climber. Hearing her speak, seeing her manners and the propriety of her thoughts, convinced Mrs. Jones that the young Miss wasn't to blame for her position. Mrs. Jones had felt rather responsible for the young pastor. A young man in his position was always prey for social climbers and even fortune hunters (for a younger son, he was well off between the living and his mother's legacy).

The older woman warmed to the young Miss, and Mrs. Jones decided to be helpful. "Mr. Tilney told me you were to stay here. There isn't a good inn within a hours' travel, not one you could stay at without a chaperone, miss. I will be here to chaperone you, and this is something of an emergency. I believe Mr. Tilney is going home tomorrow to get his sister to stay with you." After dropping that bombshell, Mrs. Jones started to leave.

Catherine was more horrified than she thought possible. "Mrs. Jones! Please! I really cannot stay, and I cannot put out the Tilney family. Miss Tilney will not be home tomorrow. She will be setting out to visit with some friends, out of the county." She looked hopefully at Mrs. Jones. "You must help me to convince Mr. Tilney to make other arrangements. Dr. Normand is too careful - I am quite capable of traveling."

Mrs. Jones was a simple woman, but not stupid. She could tell that Catherine's agitation went beyond the social rules. Given the circumstances, a respectable young lady, and friend to the family, could stay (with a housekeeper to chaperone) at the local parson's home for a night during an emergency. Nobody would have THAT much to say about it. So the question remained, why was Miss Morland so worried and upset? It went beyond the shaking she had when the carriage tipped. Mrs. Jones could tell she was a (physically at least) resilient young lady. She didn't look frail, or act it for that matter. She decided to stay out of the matter, for the time being at least, until she better understood the situation. Her reply was, "Its for the master to say Miss, and he says you are staying" and out she went.

Henry couldn't be sure how he got out of the after-church crowd. He was polite, but when people questioned him about his visitor, he simply stated that he had happened upon a friend of his sister's who had been in an accident. He didn't feel up to dealing with his parish's questions and insinuating comments. His main goal was to speak to his curate, who he finally got a hold of. Henry asked Mr. Worthington to come over to his house before dinner and finally managed to get away. As he walked into the house, the pleasure of knowing he had only to go up the stairs to see Catherine almost overcame him. The shame he felt at his father's behavior, and his own confusion on what he was going to do took a distant second place to being able to spend some time (almost) alone with Catherine.

He had thought about his plans, and his father's unreasonable decision. The General was known for being unreasonable, but this went far beyond the usual. There was more to Catherine's' story than met the eye, but of one thing, Henry was sure. Catherine was innocent of any real crime. And poor Eleanor was to be treated poorly - almost as much as Catherine! Henry was angry on both ladies behalf. He spared a sardonic chuckle for himself - he knew he was just as annoyed on his own behalf, though he would never admit it publicly. She had helped make Northanger Abbey more habitable. Her sweetness and admiration fed his vanity (even a clergyman had to have a vice) and Henry laughed again at himself. He greatly enjoyed Catherine's company and had been seriously contemplating when it would be appropriate to ask for her hand. He had yet to meet her family, outside her brother, James. A frown marred his features. Good heavens! What would her family think? Would they even consider his suit, given the terrible treatment Catherine had received at the hands of his family?

A tap at the door announced Mr. Worthington, the curate. Henry asked him in, then decided to be direct.

"Mr. Worthington. I need to go home immediately. A young lady, a friend of my sister's, was hurt in an accident on her way to her parents. I need to appraise my father and sister of the situation. Miss Morland is not up to travel, in the doctor's opinion, and therefore I need to get... company for her. I thought to head out directly after dinner to pick up Miss Tilney. I will bring her back this evening, to keep Miss Morland company. This will give us time to sort out her health and make new travel arrangements. I know this is an imposition, but could you please conduct the evening service for me?"

The curate was quite pleased to help. Mr. Tilney didn't take advantage, as so many young gentlemen in his position were wont to do. He was ASKING, instead of telling. Mr. Worthington was quite willing to help the younger man, and immediately said so. Henry gave the curate a pleased smile and walked him out. When he returned, Mrs. Jones let him know dinner was ready, and that Miss Morland wouldn't be coming down.

Worried at that piece of news, Henry asked his housekeeper is Miss Morland had taken a turn for the worse. Mrs. Jones shook her head and said that the young lady seemed out of spirits. She didn't dare give a stronger hint. One wasn't needed. Henry asked her to hold dinner a few minutes and headed upstairs. He hesitated for a moment before he knocked on the spare room door. Of course Catherine would be embarrassed. She might blame the whole family for his father's surly behavior. Still... it would be nice to sit down to dinner with her, and her alone. It would feed his fancies for quite a while, he suspected, to have the two of them sit at the table, like they were... Here he blushed and realized he had better pull himself together. He knocked and went in when a quiet voice said "come in".

Catherine was no longer sitting on the bed. She was sitting up in a chair with an empty cup of tea sitting on a small table next to her. She had been looking out the window - at the little cottage she had so admired during her last visit. She did not quite turn and face Henry as he came in, but a soft blush was showing on her cheek.

Henry decided to be matter of fact. He started to speak, but Catherine jumped in. "Mr. Tilney, I'm so sorry. I simply can't accept your kind offer to stay. It would be wrong..." She finally looked up at him, and continued, "for me to trespass on your hospitality. Your housekeeper told me you were to going to get your sister. Miss Tilney is already promised to another engagement. I could not be..." Henry interrupted. He couldn't stand to see her so upset and confused. Teasing her some more (much as he enjoyed doing it) would be a very bad idea. He decided he needed to be serious, for once.

"Miss Morland. Put yourself at rest. Nobody could consider Eleanor's visit more important than caring for a friend. Her trip can be put off for a week or so with no ill effect. I KNOW she would want to be with you, and I'm aware of how difficult it must be for you to depend on us when the General has treated you so shamefully. Whatever is the matter with him is not my concern right now. Making sure you are cared for correctly, as you SHOULD have been, is." Henry drew a breath and took a quick look at Catherine. "I have made arrangements for my curate to conduct this evening's services. I will drive to Northanger Abbey immediately after dinner and collect my sister. We will be back for a late supper. I would not want your reputation to suffer, especially since you are not at fault. This entire mess can be laid at my father's feet. He has a hasty temper. We will make amends, however. Now, unless you feel very unwell, I would be pleased to have your company at dinner." Henry smiled charmingly at Catherine. He hoped she, usually so obliging, would not be able to say no. He was correct.

Catherine slowly stood. He offered her his arm and walked her down to the dining room. She carefully sat in the chair he held for her, and Mrs. Jones (who had set the table for two - she knew Mr. Tilney quite well!) immediately began to serve the meal. Henry made polite conversation. Catherine didn't seem as oppressed as she had earlier. The security of knowing Henry still thought highly of her had raised Catherine's spirits considerably. She ventured a comment now and then as they ate. As she seemed more herself, Henry felt safe to tease her a little. When the meal was over, Henry assisted Catherine from her seat and carefully walked her back upstairs with an stern injunction to rest herself. As she was very tired both from the events of the day and her lack of sleep the night before, Catherine was willing to obey.

Henry hurried out to the curricle that Mr. Jones had prepared for him. With an absentminded "Stay" to the dogs, he jumped in and drove off. He knew he could make good speed, the horses were fresh. The little drive this morning was nothing.

Henry tried to stay calm, but on a fine day with fairly clear roads, he couldn't help but think about his father's actions. Every time he managed to calm down, the anger would rise again at the slight to Catherine, or the sad state of affairs for his sister. The General must be very angry, and that meant unpleasantness for poor Eleanor. Their older brother could, and did, avoid their father's moods when he choose. Henry could always plead parish business and normally spent more than half his time away from the Abbey (until a certain charming visitor had arrived). Eleanor had no options. She stayed or went according to the General's pleasure. She could seldom get away. Catherine had provided much needed company for Eleanor. This simple, small pleasure was to be taken away from both deserving young ladies, and for what! The General's whim. Henry could hardly keep from shouting. The only thing that kept him spending any significant time at home was his younger sister. He had early leaned to value her company. She was intelligent and kind. His mother, well before she had died, had tried to teach her sons to value women. She had felt they were after with the kind of company their sister and other young ladies could provide, than in racketing about with dissolute lordlings and young rakes. His brother had never learned to appreciate the lesson their mother had taught, but Henry had.

As he pulled in to the lane to Northanger Abbey, he took several deep breaths. He pulled in behind the Abbey at the stables and asked the groom who came out to take care of the horses. He went up the back stair, as was his habit. As he strode through the house, he tried, once again, to hold his temper. A little voice in his head laughed and told him he was finally exhibiting the famous Tilney temper.

Eleanor's surprise when she saw her brother striding down the hall was predictable. Tears started as she threw herself into his arms and started to sob out what she knew of Catherine's departure. Henry cut it short. "Actually, that's the reason I'm here. Miss Morland's coach tipped over not far from Woodston. She is not seriously hurt, but cannot travel for a few days, at least. I would like you to accompany me back to Woodston to keep her company until we can be sure she is fit to travel, and can make APPROPRIATE arrangements for her trip home." The gratitude in Eleanor's face was enough to tell him what she thought. Just as he suspected, she was even more mortified by their father's behavior than he had been. Her concern for Catherine had been considerable. She immediately said "I will pack a bag immediately, but how do we tell the General? He expects me to accompany him on a visit tomorrow, and has told me I may not even correspond with Catherine. He won't allow me to go - he will tell you to put her out of the house!" She turned frightened eyes on her brother.

Henry decided to leave Eleanor out of the argument as much as possible. "Go ahead and pack you bag and have a servant bring it down to my curricle immediately. Go directly to the curricle yourself - I will tell the General, and then we will leave. Right now, I do not care if he objects. We are responsible for Miss Morland's care until she goes home, and that includes making suitable travel arrangements. Father may be upset, but so am I. I will take care of this Eleanor. I'm sorry I must involve you - he won't be very forgiving when he realizes you have left with me, but at least you will not have to face him right now." He looked searchingly at his sister. If she looked the least bit reluctant, he would find another way. However, nothing in her face told him to worry. Rather, she showed relief that someone in the family was showing decency and giving her the chance to make it up to Catherine.

Eleanor headed to her room to pack as quickly as she could. The first thing she did was ring for her maid and a man to take her bag to the curricle.

Henry made his way to the sitting room. The General was there, reading a paper. Before he knew what was happening, Henry had taken the bull by the horns. "Father! What could you have been thinking to send Miss Morland away in such a fashion! I found her coach damaged on the side of the road, and Miss Morland herself injured! She didn't even have someone with her to protect her!" Before he could finish, his father started to bellow. "That person doesn't deserve any consideration. I've heard the most shocking things about her family! She isn't worthy to be seen with my family - and I will do as I please young man! I am still the master of this house!" Some of what Henry had said started to sink in. "What do you mean she is injured - that you found her. What is going on!?!" The General looked expectantly at Henry.

The reply was more than he bargained for. "I was out for a drive before morning services. I found a coach damaged and tipped over on the road. I offered my help to the driver, who said a young lady was trapped inside." Henry wasn't above milking the situation and even exaggerating a little bit, to get his father's attention. "I helped pull the UNCONSCIOUS lady out - it was Miss Morland, who I thought was safe here, keeping Eleanor company. When we brought her around, her OTHER injuries became obvious. I couldn't leave her there on the side of the road! I took her home and called a surgeon. The surgeon has stated, categorically, that she can not travel." That was piling it on a bit thick, thought Henry, but it should work. He continued, as his father stared at him in shock, "Miss Morland is very distressed at being in such a situation. I have come to take Eleanor back with me until Miss Morland can travel again. She explained to me that you and Eleanor were leaving first thing tomorrow for a visit." Now comes the hard part, Henry thought.

"Why did I not know of this important visit? Why did you send Miss Morland away in such a fashion? You were the one who told me to woo the young lady. You have spent weeks giving her every attention, and you seemed pleased with her. What happened?" He could hardly believe his father had actually let him finish. It might be the first time that it had ever happened...

The General was more than ready to have his say. "I encouraged you knowing her when I thought she was a worthy person. Her family is destitute, she has no fortune. I was completely mistaken about her, and was only put right t'other day. I came home immediately to remove the leech from my home." He glared at his younger son. "You should have told me. You spent so much time with her, you must have known some of this!"

Part 3

"Destitute!" was Henry's surprised reply. "Her family is not rich, but certainly not destitute! Her father is a very respectable clergyman. Yes, he has a large family, but he can care for them." He became disgusted with his father as he realized what had happened. "How rich did you think she was?" Before he could continue, his father interrupted.

"Respectable! I've heard they are the bane of the community. Yes, I had been told she was Mr. Allen's godchild and heir. I have since found out she is nothing of the sort. You will have nothing further to do with her - you can do much better!"

"Where did you hear this?" Henry retorted. "She never pretended to be anything but what she was - a pretty, sweet, and charming young lady. The Allen's must think highly of her - and her family - to keep her with them for an entire trip. Who told you her family wasn't respectable?"

The General had had enough. "It doesn't matter where I got the information. You will send her on her way, and have nothing more to do with her." He snorted - and prepared to sit down again, feeling he had finished with this topic. Henry had other ideas.

"No father, I will NOT send her on her way. She was INJURED, and you didn't have the common decency to have a servant with her. You may have no honour, but I do. I will take Eleanor with me immediately to help Miss Morland until she is ready to travel again, I will PERSONALLY make sure she gets home safely. YOU are the one who told me to 'make sure' of Catherine if I could. I believe I have, and I am now honour-bound to her - both by the rules of honour and by my own heart. I will have nothing more to do with your schemes for me to make a fortune with marriage. I have quite sufficient for the lifestyle I intend." Henry turned on his heel and left the room. He ignored his fathers shouts, making for the nearest door that would take him out by the stables. He hoped Eleanor had followed instructions and gone straight to the curricle. As he went out he saw she had. Eleanor had already been helped into the carriage and everything was ready. He climbed in, waved to the groom holding the horses, and immediately set off.

Eleanor was very quiet at first. Once they were out of the immediate vicinity of Northanger Abbey, she ventured her first question. "Was it very bad?" Her brother couldn't help it - the look on her face could shake a stone. He started to laugh weakly. "Yes it was. I've been wanting to tell the old goat off for years." He sobered up a bit. "I think, once he calms down, he will forgive me. Of course, that may be years from now!" At the look on his sister's face, Henry became more serious. "He can't take the living away from me now that I'm established, and when he dies, I will still get my share due to the marriage articles he signed when he married mother. But you Eleanor - we had better tell him a version of the truth - that I told you to pack and get in the carriage without telling you I didn't yet have the General's consent. He will still be upset, but he will forgive you." Henry looked forward for a minute, then continued. "You don't have to tell me how hard it has been for you, Eleanor. I know what living with him is like - I cannot imagine what it must be like to know it will go on indefinitely. You have been home from school for two years now, with no sign of getting away, as I have managed."

Eleanor thought about Henry's words. She had always known she could count on her brother. His opinions were very important to her, as hers were to him. She was quiet, as she imagined the scene her father would enact the next time she saw him - and for an indefinite period after. Then, Eleanor replied. "I knew the minute I laid my eyes on him something dreadful was going to happen. You know the look. He ordered me to send Catherine away. He had made the arrangements, with no thought as to our guest's comfort or even what was proper. I have seldom been so ashamed..." She thought a bit longer, then continued, "Father will shout, and be a bear, but he can't really do anything awful to me. He hasn't yet found anyone he considers 'suitable' for me to marry. I have my own inclinations, but the young man would never find favor with father. I have lived like this for years, my dear brother. I will be fine." She gave her brother a brave smile. He, on the other hand, was shocked. Eleanor cared for someone? Who had she given her heart to? When he asked, she shook her head no. "I shall not tell you, Henry. It doesn't matter. He is a fine young man, and I like him very much - but when he left we both knew he could not marry me, without a very material change in his fortunes. Leave it, Henry."

With all the other problems to deal with, Henry did decide to leave Eleanor's love life alone (for the time being). He started some small talk to while the time away. They were so comfortable with one another that silence was seldom oppressive, so both were happy to be quiet and remark occasionally on a passing scene of beauty.

Catherine had been provided with every physical comfort Mrs. Jones could devise. She had decided to wait in her room for the afternoon. She had a small nap (sure she couldn't sleep a wink) and woke quite refreshed. The gallantry she had received from Mr. Tilney had put her mind at rest - or as much as it could be with an agreeable young man paying her attention! When she got up, Catherine had a quick wash and changed into a fresh dress. She had resigned herself to staying and didn't want Henry to see her in her traveling costume (which was rather drab, and worse for the wear from the morning) when he returned.

There was still time, so Catherine re-did her hair in a style Mr. Tilney had once complemented. After her dreadful nerves had recovered, she found herself pleased with the situation. She felt a little more secure in Henry's affections - at least he was showing her every courtesy - even beyond what she hoped any respectable young man would do for her in such a situation.. Eleanor was hopefully coming to keep her company - a very agreeable prospect, as it would protect everyone's reputation. She also still valued Eleanor. Catherine recalled the abject misery Eleanor had displayed. She wanted to reassure her, as Catherine herself had so recently been reassured, that the General's odd behavior was not enough to spoil such a wonderful friendship.

Mrs. Jones came upstairs to check once again on Catherine. Seeing she was up, Mrs. Jones suggested that Catherine come down and stay in the sitting room until supper. She felt that Mr. Tilney and his sister would be famished when they arrived and wanted to give them supper as soon as they arrived and had refreshed themselves. Though Mrs. Jones didn't personally know the General, she knew enough ABOUT him to realize that any change in his plans, or any plan he hadn't developed, was unlikely to be popular. Therefore, she had correctly assumed that the young Tilneys would be ready for some pampering when they arrived.

No sooner did they get Catherine settled in the sitting room with a novel from Henry's own collection, then the curricle pulled into the parsonage lane. Mrs. Jones immediately went to greet them and inform the master that supper would be on the table directly. Mr. Jones took the curricle and promised to bring in Miss Tilney's bags. Henry took his sister's small bag himself, so she could tidy herself for dinner with no delay. As he came in the door, he glanced at the sitting room, through the open door. He couldn't help but notice Catherine there, with her book, looking back at him. Eleanor swooped past him to hug Catherine and see for herself that Catherine was not seriously injured. The idea that her friend had (literally) had injury added to insult had been almost more than Eleanor could take.

Catherine reassured the jubilant Eleanor that a few days rest would see her fully recovered. Her look and manner comforted Eleanor more than her words. With them, Eleanor knew she was forgiven for her father's behavior. Henry carried Eleanor's bag up to her room, then (after a quick wash and comb) ran down to spend a few minutes with Catherine before dinner. He wasn't fast enough. Eleanor was already sitting with her. Both ladies rose as he came down, so he escorted them in to the dining room.

It was a very merry meal. Henry was in fine form. Eleanor gently rebuked him when she felt he was getting too smart with them. Catherine soaked it all in, and sided with first one friend, then the other. After it happened a few times, the Tilneys realized that Catherine was doing it deliberately, for the enjoyment of listening to them top each other. Henry had realized before that Catherine was clever, just not experienced. She was evidently making up for lost time. He capitulated the next time Catherine joined Eleanor. "Either of you ladies is my match - the two of you together is more than an honest man can handle!" He was serious for a moment, then laughed with them. "Nonsense Henry!" said Eleanor. "You are just waiting for us to let our guard down, and then you will hit us with a new sally! We will not fall for that old trick, will we Catherine?"

Catherine was still laughing. When she settled down, she said, "It is most unfair of you Mr. Tilney. We were depending on your view to guide our own. Particularly as we are ignorant females - would that not make you more fond of us?" Her remembrance of his comments on the beauty of the ignorant female mind coming back at him made him laugh again. "No one would suggest you did not have a good memory, even if you are not the font of all knowledge Miss Morland. I am impressed that you remember our Bath walk so well."

Mrs. Jones had come back in to the room to clear the table. Henry escorted the ladies back to the sitting room and waited for Mrs. Jones to bring their tea. The conversation continued to be light and enjoyable until Mrs. Jones came to clear the tea cups. Eleanor mentioned that Catherine should retire early, after such an eventful day. Eleanor herself was very tired. She had slept very little the night before. The guilt of complying with her father's wishes had stolen any peace she had until Henry had arrived in the afternoon. The ladies went upstairs to retire and Henry went out with the dogs for a short walk.

He had seldom been so contented. His father had deserved the disrespect Henry had shown him. It was not just anger, it had been coming for a long time, he decided. Being alone with Catherine would have been awkward. Eleanor was discreet, yet still helped him balance himself. Without his sister, he doubted Catherine would have been so comfortable. As he wandered through the warm night, he thought about how happy he was. Eleanor had always been wonderful company, but Catherine... Catherine had won his heart. He knew he had been honest with his father, even if his father had not been open with him. He truly loved Catherine. Therefore, the only thing to do was to accompany her home when she left Woodston. He would take Eleanor along for propriety's sake. When they arrived at Fullerton, he would ask to see Mr. Morland alone and would ask for his consent. Surely his own and Eleanor's care of Catherine would win them over, even if they were upset about his father. He knew he could not get his father's consent, but that would not be a serious problem - he hoped.

Looking up at the night sky, he realized how late it was getting. He had absentmindedly thrown a few sticks for the Newfoundland puppy to chase, but he hadn't seen the terriers in a while. He whistled for the dogs, who came tearing through the bushes to land in a panting heap at his feet. He smiled at their enthusiasm. It reminded him of Catherine. Once again he had a reason to laugh - both at her sweet, puppy-like behavior and at himself for being so charmed by it. Still, there were far worse reasons to love someone. Enjoying being with them seemed, in fact, a very good reason to want to be with a young lady.

He went in to the house and settled the dogs for the night. He climbed the stairs and wondered what the next day would bring.

Part 4

The next day brought Dr. Normand for another visit. Catherine saw him coming up the walk after breakfast. She was sitting in the garden with Eleanor. Neither lady cared to be inside when they could be out enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

Henry had left after breakfast, to take care of parish business and visit a few parishioners. He and Catherine had a quiet breakfast together before he headed out. Catherine, coming from a parsonage herself, was more used to the hours and schedule Henry kept than Eleanor was. Eleanor had come down after Catherine and Henry had finished breakfast.

Seeing he was spotted, Dr. Normand walked directly up to his patient. Eleanor had been reading to her and the two ladies were settled quietly enough, in the shade. As a doctor, he had nothing to complain about. The state of near panic he had sensed the day before was gone. Catherine stood and introduced the doctor to Miss Tilney. They all sat down and Dr. Normand asked the usual questions about her headache, her aches and pains, how she felt. She answered the questions in good humor. Catherine still was sore (not surprising considering the tumble she had taken) and still had a headache, but it was much improved. He nodded as she finished by saying the good company and quiet of the parsonage was the perfect tonic.

The doctor was a wise man. He therefore suspected that the "tonic" Miss Morland was enjoying went beyond quiet and had more to do with companionship. Especially the companionship of a certain young parson.

The availability of Miss Tilney to make the visit respectable made his conscience relax. After taking in the entire situation, he cheerfully suggested that all his patients should have such a good atmosphere to recover in. He then recommended Miss Morland not rush her recovery. "Miss Morland. You are quite correct in saying that you were not seriously hurt yesterday. However, you would most certainly be miserable if you try to travel too soon. I would suggest you not consider going home until next week. By then your bruises will be nearly better, and the headache should be gone as well. No point in taking risks with a head injury, eh?"

Both ladies smiled at him and Miss Tilney replied, "Indeed, sir, I am sure my brother would agree with you. We cannot risk Miss Morland's health. I am in no hurry to be separated from my dear friend. Perhaps I will arrange another accident next week!" Catherine giggled at the idea. She was also pleased to see Eleanor's spirits recovered.

The doctor smiled and supplied the answer. "I would not suggest another carriage accident - that's far too drastic. Perhaps a simple sprained ankle from tripping might work as well?" Eleanor and Catherine started laughing again.

Henry smiled as he walked up the lane. Hearing his sister and Catherine in such good humor pleased him. He had hurried through his business so he could return early. The doctor's presence did not surprise him, as Henry had stopped by his house. Henry had been told the doctor was out on his morning rounds, and suspected he would stop by the parsonage.

After greeting the doctor, Henry looked up to see Mrs. Jones hovering. He asked her to bring some tea out for the ladies and accompanied the doctor (who refused to join them) on his way out. Dr. Normand briefly told Henry that Miss Morland was fine, but should not travel for a week to be sure. He hid a smile at the pleased expression on Henry's face. It confirmed everything he suspected.

Dr. Normand was not a gossip, but the village was already speculating that the parsonage might have a new mistress in the near future. The villagers were pleased with the idea. Mr. Tilney might be expected to stay in Woodston more if he had a young wife at home. It would add to the local society. A few young ladies (and their families) who had hopes of catching the parson were a little annoyed, but nobody worried about that. Most of the local girls knew they were not high enough, socially, to catch the younger son of Northanger Abbey.

The week passed quickly. Catherine had written her family of her travel plans. She made sure her parents knew she was being personally escorted by Mr. and Miss Tilney, so her parents would know to prepare for guests. The trip was planned for the Monday, to allow Henry to perform his duties as minister on Sunday. At 7:00 Monday morning, the group climbed into the travel coach and was on their way. Eleanor and Catherine were as cheerful as ever, but Henry was a little disturbed. He intended to ask Mr. Morland for permission to marry Catherine. He did not get a chance to ask Catherine directly during the week. His sister played the role of chaperone a little too well in his opinion. "Of course, that might be for the best" he mused to himself. "I might have been tempted to take liberates if I had time alone. Somehow, I suspect that Catherine would not object to a kiss or two, but that would be very wrong until I get her father's permission."

The silence from Northanger Abbey had also worried Henry. It wasn't like his father to be silent when he was angry. Certainly he would take it out on the servants, but he would normally take it out on his children as well. Woodston was only a few hours away from Northanger Abbey. There was no good reason why his father hadn't come personally to remove Eleanor, even if he was too angry at Henry to even yell at him.

There was also the consideration of WHERE had the General received his information from - both times? The first informant had vastly overstated Catherine's consequences and fortune. The second had vilified her and all her family. Neither made much sense. Catherine had never given any reason to suspect she was anything but what she was - a respectable, slightly naive, minister's daughter. Her friendship with the Allens showed she and her family were well thought of in their own neighborhood. Only maliciousness could explain the second informant's motives, Henry thought. What could have motivated the first informant was beyond him. The General's acceptance of stories that had absolutely no proof, and plenty of disproof (in Catherine's pretty, but not rich, manners and dress) was another concern. The General had been slipping lately. He had always been volatile and proud, but it was exaggerated more and more as the years passed. In the past he had been too canny to accept other peoples knowledge and observations. At least, not to accept them without using his own powers of observation and corroborating evidence. This shift in behavior was, perhaps, the most disturbing of all.

Even with his worries, Henry enjoyed the drive. The last week, spent almost exclusively on his work, with his rest time be filled by his sister and dearest love (as Catherine had become), had been so relaxing. Henry finally felt like he knew what family life SHOULD be like. He knew his own condition, of only caring about his sister, was not the way it ought to be. Looking at his friend's lives, he knew few people who really enjoyed being with their families. There were always quarrels and politics. With Eleanor and Catherine there was conversation and comfortable silence. There were jokes. There was caring, always implied and sometimes openly shown. Henry was too wise to think they would never quarrel. He suspected that Catherine was sweet enough to admit when she was wrong, and not gloat when she was right. The more time Henry spent with her, the more sure he became of his choice and the future tranquility of his life.

He continued to be troubled by Eleanor's situation. Who did she love, and what could be done about it? How was she going to survive being locked up with their father again, especially a very angry father? The General was known for his grudges. His manner was going to be very unpleasant and Eleanor would have no escape. Once she returned to the Abbey, Henry suspected he would be prevented from seeing her again. Their father might even refuse to allow a correspondence between them.

Catherine's innocent reflection of his preoccupation brought Henry back to the present. He realized both ladies were looking quite seriously at him. "Is something wrong Mr. Tilney? You haven't said a word since we started out" Catherine said. Eleanor's look told him his internal thoughts must have been reflected on his face. As he was facing the ladies, they could not have escaped seeing he was upset.

"Not wrong, Miss Morland," he replied. "I am a little concerned about not hearing from my father. I think it is rather odd that he did not inquire about Eleanor or come for a visit to the parsonage." Eleanor immediately understood the meaning beneath Henry's words. He could tell by her quick intake of breath. Catherine missed most of it. "I confess, I hadn't thought about it" was Catherine's comment. "My father wrote to be sure I arrived in Bath safely, but Eleanor is with her brother. Surely he would feel she was safe with you?"

"That must be it," said Henry, and dropped the subject. He wished he hadn't been quite so honest when he saw his sister attempting to keep her spirits up. She had been so carefree for a week, but they both realized she would pay for it when she went home. Sooner or later, she would have to return to the Abbey. There was no way to prevent it.

They stopped to change horses several times. At each stop, the party left the coach to stretch their legs and, once, to have lunch. Henry finally put his worries behind him, but Eleanor was not having such an easy time. Catherine had caught some of Eleanors' melancholy, but was so excited about going home that it couldn't depress her. It just made her think.

By this time Catherine better understood all the Tilney family. Captain Tilney was a rake. The General was a tyrant (even if he wasn't a murderer). Eleanor was as good, sweet and intelligent as she appeared - and very forbearing. Henry - ah Henry! He was her IDEAL MAN. Of this, Catherine had no doubt. She knew she loved Henry. It was even better than what she read about! She was a little ashamed of how silly she had been. Spending time with Henry had made Catherine more aware of how humor could be added to many situations. She knew the signs he displayed that would tell her when he was serious and when was 'funning' her - or someone else. She had even learned to join in on the fun, sometimes! His patience in explaining new ideas made her feel special. His expectation of her improving herself gave her more desire to do so than she had ever had. He INCLUDED her - in his conversation, his jokes, his studies, his time. It felt so right.

She could not be more pleased that Henry and Eleanor were accompanying her home. She wanted to show her dear friends her favorite place under the apple trees. She wanted to stay as long as she could in the Tilneys' company. Her only frustration was that, with all the opportunities he had, Henry had remained a complete gentleman. He hadn't squeezed her hand, or snuck a kiss or made a single remark that could be taken the wrong (or right!) way. She had rather hoped he would forget (just a little) that he was a minister and a gentleman. That he had not made her wonder (just a little) if maybe he did not feel as strongly for her as she did for him. Did he only take care of her because she had been a guest and he was a gentleman?

They pulled into Fullerton later that evening. Cries of "Cathy's home!" came from various parts of the house and yard. The entire family spilled out to greet Catherine and her guests.

Part 5

Catherine immediately started to hug and kiss her younger brothers and sisters as they swarmed over her. Mr. and Mrs. Morland had joined the rest of their family at a slightly more sedate pace. They turned their attention to the young Tilneys while they waited for their turn to greet Catherine.

Mr. Morland started with, "Mr. Tilney, Miss Tilney. You are very welcome here. Catherine has told us what good friends you have been to her." Mrs. Morland followed her husband's statement with, "Thank you so much for taking care of our girl. You must be very tired after traveling all day. Please come in, and refresh yourselves." By this time, it was possible for the Morlands to cut a path through the younger children to hug and kiss their oldest daughter.

Henry and Eleanor were a bit overwhelmed. The casual atmosphere, the good humor, the overpowering sense of comfort and joy the family expressed was almost foreign to them. As Mrs. Morland gently upbraided her children, directing and correcting, she steered everyone inside. It made Henry think of his own mother, and he looked down at his sister. What a loss it had been, to her more than anyone. He also realized that Catherine's unusual ability to be unpretentious and kind was a family trait. Both Tilneys greatly looked forward to staying with the Morlands for a day or two.

Henry was more eager than ever to speak alone with Catherine. He wondered how he had thought they did not have enough privacy when they were in Woodston. Since arriving at Fullerton, she had been surrounded by family. They surged like the tide. His general good humor was being overtaken by frustration. He had decided that he should speak to Catherine first, then talk to her parents. The evening was a write-off. It would have to wait until morning.

Eleanor, on the other hand, couldn't remember the last time she felt so happy and welcomed. The pervasive air of FAMILY was simply marvelous. That night her dreams were filled with thoughts of the young man she cared about, and the family they might have if things were different...

The next morning...

The Tilneys and Morlands had a comfortable breakfast. Henry decided to take the bull by the horns. He asked Miss Morland to show him various sites, and with a great deal of effort, finally got his sister tied up with the younger Morlands. He then asked Catherine to show him the way to the Allens - he wanted to pay his respects. Henry was not very subtle, but Catherine's mother liked and trusted the young man, and agreed to Catherine showing him the way.

They set out, both with very strong feelings barely concealed. Once they reached the shelter of the orchard, Henry stopped. He took Catherine's hand and looked her in the eye. "Catherine. For some time now I have regarded you with the warmest feelings. I have come to care, no love, you very deeply. Would you please accept my proposal and become my wife?" He held his breath.

Catherine was so excited and happy that she threw caution to the wind. "Yes!" was her reply and she threw herself into Henry's arms. He was startled, but not displeased. With such an open show of feelings, he took one more risk, and kissed her. She didn't seem startled. It was clear she was inexperienced, but she didn't pull away or struggle. Henry pulled her closer and kissed her again. She sighed when he stopped and cuddled closer in his arms (which had somehow ended up around her).

Henry couldn't help it. He was so pleased, he had to laugh. Catherine gave him a questioning look, and he shared more of his feelings. "It is such a relief to have finally said the words to you. I was so worried you would refuse me after my father's behavior. I am also excessively happy that you didn't insist on being like a romantic heroine and decided to be secretly in love with some scoundrel instead of me!" Catherine could not help herself. She understood his teasing now, and joined in his laughter. "How could I be like that when you were so unromantic in your proposal? You didn't drop to your knees, beat your breast and tear out you hair and claim you would do injury to yourself if I did not accept!"

They laughed together, Henry delighting in her ability to join in on his fun. They realized they must continue on to see the Allens, however, or risk further problems. The visit was made, but both were very unlike their usual selves. Each was caught up with their own emotions and unable to pay much attention to Mrs. Allen. It is therefore fortunate that Mrs. Allen really did not require much attention. Any remark on clothes, with appropriate yes, no and appreciative noises seemed to be sufficient.

As the young couple headed back to the parsonage, Henry decided that a few more liberties would do no harm. He boldly took Catherine's hand and held most of the way back to her parents' house. As soon as they returned, he asked to see Mr. Morland alone in his study.

When it became clear to Mr. Morland that Henry's father would refuse consent to the marriage, he joined with his wife in refusing until the General's consent could be obtained. It was clear that they liked Henry and would gladly welcome him into the family. They only wanted what was best for their daughter. Eleanor was appraised of the situation, and the Tilneys agreed to leave first thing the next day. Catherine was very distressed - she had not considered, for one moment, that there would be any obstacles in her union with Henry. Her only consolation was a quiet promise he made to write to her. Eleanor also promised to write, and made Catherine promise to write Eleanor as well, but to send the letters to Eleanor's maid.

Dear readers - at this point, I recommend you read Mags story A CLANDESTINE CORRESPONDENCE

She really does a fantastic job finishing the story...

However, if you want my (abbreviated) version read on.

Eleanor was sorry for her brother. Her own hopes for a marriage with the man she loved, a college friend of Henry's, had been disappointed some time ago. She had resigned herself to the fact that her love could not support them, and that her father would never consent to the marriage. To see her beloved brother's hopes dashed in such a similar manner broke her heart. It was time for her to share her own story with Henry.

It was at least a distraction for Henry. He had suspected, at one time, that his friend was becoming attached to Eleanor. He had never suspected Eleanor of caring about his friend, or that the attachment was continued. They spent most of the trip discussing their feelings, the worthiness of the ones they loved, and their mutual respect, love and support of one another. Both wanted a marriage of love, not convenience.

Their arrival at Woodston was quiet. Eleanor was at the brink of despair at the thought of returning to her father's home. Northanger Abbey was becoming a prison in her thoughts, not a home. Henry was also depressed at the idea of leaving Eleanor at the Abbey, but he really had no choice. His father had to be seen. If nothing else, Henry had to start trying to get the General's consent for his marriage to Catherine. Both foresaw a very long road ahead of them.

Late the next morning, Henry drove Eleanor back to Northanger Abbey. As they drove up the lane, Henry made one more decision. "Eleanor, I cannot bear the thought of not seeing you again. Father might refuse to let me come back after today, and will certainly not allow you to visit me. Do you want to come back to Woodston with me? If he really wants you, he can come and get you!"

Eleanor was surprised at Henry's outburst. "No, Henry! That would be a very bad idea. If he if forced to come for me, you know he will never forgive us! I will be fine. I have a great tolerance for him, as you know," and she tapered off. Both knew how difficult her life was about to become. They pulled up and Henry helped her out of the curricle. They slowly entered the house and headed for the sitting room the General favored.

He was there, reading a newspaper. They entered, and Eleanor sat down. The General lowered the paper to his lap, they set it on the table next to him. He stared at his erring children and commented, "So you have returned."

There didn't seem to be any point in replying to that, so neither of them did. The General beetled his brows and stared at them. "So, I suppose you have come to tell me you have married that chit!" He stood and stood angrily about the room. "I will not have you in my home, Henry, after your disobedience!"

Henry replied, "No, sir, I have not yet married Miss Morland. Her parents wish us to gain your consent before they will allow us to marry. As Miss Morland is not yet of age, and as we both respect her parents, we have decided to comply with their wishes."

This pleased the General enormously. "Good! But you are still not welcome here. You may take the rest of your belongings, which I have already had packed, and GET OUT!" The last words were roared.

"Not until I make sure you realize, Eleanor had nothing to do with this. When I was last here, I told her to pack and get into the curricle. I gave her the impression that your permission was granted for her to come to Woodston. I do not want my sister to suffer for my transgression." Henry could hardly believe he was saying it, but if it helped Eleanor, it was worth it. He continued, "Eleanor was unable to return, or course, as she had no word from you to do so, and I would not make the trip until I saw Miss Morland safely with her own family."

The General made gruff noises, but it was clear he believed his daughter would not deliberately go against his wishes. He would be unpleasant, because it pleased him to be. But he would not take extra pains to make Eleanor suffer for this latest escapade. This was more the man Henry knew from recent years. He considered - perhaps his father's erratic behavior lately was temporary? Still he had one more thing to clear up before he could leave. Henry had one more thing to say. It had been eating at him for days. "I also will not leave until you answer two questions for me. Who told you Miss Morland was rich - and who told you she was poor?"

The General looked Henry straight in the eye, and said, "Then will you leave?" "You have my word on it," Henry stated. "It was that young pup, Thorpe. When I saw him in Bath he could say nothing but how great a match she would be. It was clear he was in the running for her, which is why I interceded. But when I saw him in London, he put me straight. He was misinformed himself about the family - his own sister almost made a most unfortunate match to the young chit's brother. He was extolling on his escape, and I knew I had to get back here and get rid of her. It is just like you to not appreciate what I have saved you from. Now get out of MY home!" He threw himself in to a chair and picked up the paper again. Eleanor looked longingly at her brother. They had said their good-byes before he brought her in.

Henry was so angry he wanted to strangle Thorpe, and maybe his father as well. But he had promised, so he turned on his heel and walked out. A cart was already packed and waiting behind his curricle. A servant was in the seat, ready to drive the rest of his belongs over to Woodston. He climbed into the carriage, and drove off without a word.

He berated himself for the entire drive back to Woodston. Thorpe was a fool, and Henry had recognized that fact. What he had not recognized was how dangerous a fool could be. Everything made sense, now that it was too late. The General's interest and support of Henry's pursuit of Catherine had been strange. He had not wanted to question his good fortune. But what the fool had given him - the chance to spend time with Catherine and win her affections - he had also taken away. Spite was the only reason Henry could think of. John Thorpe's sister had tried to climb too high - and lost what she had. She must be quite furious with both the Tilneys and the Morlands by this time. Add that to Henry's obvious interest and success with Catherine, and he understood WHY John Thorpe had been spreading unkind rumors.

His father's erratic temper had always been a family problem. The General's willingness to listen to a comparative stranger and take his word BOTH times about Catherine's status still seemed strange. It was not like the careful officer his father had once been. Age or disease, or perhaps too many years of getting his own way? Henry sighed - he would likely never know the answer. With as little love and respect he had for his father, it still rankled that he took that idiot John Thorpe's word on something over his own son's.

The weeks went by. Henry wrote to his sister every few days, and his fiancé even more often. He was glad Eleanor's maid could be trusted to pass on his letters. It was clear from her letters that Eleanor was receiving his letters. It was also clear that she was very unhappy. Between Eleanor's and Catherine's tear-stained epistles, Henry had a hard time keeping his own spirits up. He just prayed, daily, that a solution to all their problems would appear. After all, he was a minister, right? He believed in Divine Intervention. With all his high spirits and love of mischief, Henry had complete faith. He was too honest a person to accept ordination without believing what he had to preach.

Then it happened. Out of the blue. Lack of male issue in a monied and noble family and started a search for the Granduncle's male issue. His old college friend had been chosen and received the title (and money) and was now a Viscount! Henry stood and stared at the letter from Eleanor for ten minutes, believing it had to be joke of some sort. When he finally comprehend it, he cheered until Mr. and Mrs. Jones came running to see what had turned the parson into a lunatic.

It was a huge comfort to him to know that Eleanor, at least, had escaped the trap Northanger Abbey had become. Her (daily) letters now were filled with joy. She assured him that she still loved her Viscount, and that he still loved her. No sooner had he received his title, than he had traveled to Gloucestershire. He had gone straight to the General and asked to pay his address to Eleanor. He knew he would never get near Eleanor without facing the dragon first. He speedily received her consent, and two planned a wedding as quickly as they could, and still satisfy the General's need for a grand event.

Henry could not be invited due to the rift with his father. It did not seriously diminish his joy for his sister. She had achieved the greatest goal they had - she had married for love.

I will leave it to Jane Austen to complete the story. In the great author's own words...

"What probable circumstance could work upon a temper like the General's? The circumstance which chiefly availed was the marriage of his daughter with a man of fortune and consequence, which took place in the course of the summer -- an accession of dignity that threw him into a fit of good-humor, from which he did not recover till after Eleanor had obtained his forgiveness of Henry, and his permission for him "to be a fool if he liked it!"

The marriage of Eleanor Tilney, her removal from all the evils of such a home as Northanger had been made by Henry's banishment, to the home of her choice and the man of her choice, is an event which I expect to give general satisfaction among all her acquaintance. My own joy on the occasion is very sincere. I know no one more entitled, by unpretending merit, or better prepared by habitual suffering, to receive and enjoy felicity. Her partiality for this gentleman was not of recent origin; and he had been long withheld only by inferiority of situation from addressing her. His unexpected accession to title and fortune had removed all his difficulties; and never had the General loved his daughter so well in all her hours of companionship, utility, and patient endurance as when he first hailed her "Your Ladyship!" Her husband was really deserving of her; independent of his peerage, his wealth, and his attachment, being to a precision the most charming young man in the world. Any further definition of his merits must be unnecessary; the most charming young man in the world is instantly before the imagination of us all. Concerning the one in question, therefore, I have only to add -- (aware that the rules of composition forbid the introduction of a character not connected with my fable) -- that this was the very gentleman whose negligent servant left behind him that collection of washing-bills, resulting from a long visit at Northanger, by which my heroine was involved in one of her most alarming adventures.

The influence of the Viscount and Viscountess in their brother's behalf was assisted by that right understanding of Mr. Morland's circumstances which, as soon as the General would allow himself to be informed, they were qualified to give. It taught him that he had been scarcely more misled by Thorpe's first boast of the family wealth than by his subsequent malicious overthrow of it; that in no sense of the word were they necessitous or poor, and that Catherine would have three thousand pounds. This was so material an amendment of his late expectations that it greatly contributed to smooth the descent of his pride; and by no means without its effect was the private intelligence, which he was at some pains to procure, that the Fullerton estate, being entirely at the disposal of its present proprietor, was consequently open to every greedy speculation.

On the strength of this, the General, soon after Eleanor's marriage, permitted his son to return to Northanger, and thence made him the bearer of his consent, very courteously worded in a page full of empty professions to Mr. Morland. The event which it authorized soon followed: Henry and Catherine were married, the bells rang, and every body smiled; and, as this took place within a twelvemonth from the first day of their meeting, it will not appear, after all the dreadful delays occasioned by the General's cruelty, that they were essentially hurt by it. To begin perfect happiness at the respective ages of twenty-six and eighteen, is to do pretty well; and professing myself moreover convinced, that the General's unjust interference, so far from being really injurious to their felicity, was perhaps rather conducive to it, by improving their knowledge of each other, and adding strength to their attachment, I leave it to be settled, by whomsoever it may concern, whether the tendency of this work be altogether to recommend parental tyranny, or reward filial disobedience.

The End.