| |
Henry and Catherine convened with Eleanor and Charles to discuss what was to be done. All agreed that there was no use remonstrating any further with Frederick; none of them could have any influence with him, and as he was determined to go his own way at Northanger Abbey, there was nothing any one could do.
“We all want to go home,” Charles observed, “but Eleanor and I have been thinking of breaking our journey with a stay of a few days at Bath.”
“Would you not like to join us?” urged Eleanor eagerly. “It is not in your way, ‘tis true, but we have been thinking that, after all Catherine has undergone, a little time in Bath would be cheerful for her; and we should like to spend time together, and with you, in happier circumstances than we have yet done.”
Henry looked at Catherine to see how she liked the suggestion, but he was not left to wonder long, for she clapped her hands in excitement. “Bath! I could see my dear Sarah! Oh! I do wonder how she is liking it there. And the Allens! They are with her, and how I should enjoy seeing them again! But where would we stay, Charles? In an hotel?”
“I keep a house in Bath,” he informed her, “it is very convenient for observing the butterflies of Somerset, and I go to visit the Harestreaks and the Metalmarks every summer. Once I was lucky enough to glimpse a rare Duke of Burgundy.”
“They sound quite like society families,” Henry observed.
“Oh, how wonderful,” exclaimed Catherine, unable to restrain herself from jumping up and down a little in her glee.
Henry smiled at his sister. “It is worth it to see Catherine looking so animated and happy for the first time in days,” he said. “Let us go. I had already arranged for a friend from Cheltenham to take next Sunday’s service at Woodston, on account of my father’s death, so there will be no obstacle. Shall we take our two carriages?”
The plan was followed, and the travelers set out that afternoon. Catherine was always happy to be riding in their own carriage with Henry driving, and as they trotted away from Northanger Abbey there were more feelings of relief bordering upon elation among both young couples, than they could easily express, even to one another.
“I wish you could have got that poor girl away from Frederick, however,” Catherine told her husband. “We might have brought her to Woodston, and sheltered and taught her, and perhaps in time found her a decent home and situation.”
“We could not have kept her at the parsonage,” objected Henry. “She is a Magdalen, you know, but more than that, I do suspect that she is the sort of character who simply causes chaos and destruction to every thing she touches. She could hardly stay under the same roof with a decent woman; and I don’t know which of the two would find it more unendurable.”
“Still, a cottage might be found, and she might be given instruction, and perhaps pay for her keep by doing some needlework and the like,” Catherine persevered.
“I cannot imagine Miss Harriette in a cottage, can you?” said Henry raising an eyebrow.
Catherine reluctantly had to admit she could not.
“I should not like to be so uncharitable as to think that anyone is incapable of reform, but if ever there was such a girl, born to stir up trouble in the world, she is the one.”
“How sad! Only think if it was our Sarah in such a plight.”
Henry laughed. “No, that too is beyond my imagining. Sarah is no Harriette.”
The distance they had to travel was closer to forty miles than thirty, and because of the late start they only reached as far as Stroud that evening, putting up at an inn; but they rode into Bath not much past noon on the following day.
As soon as they had been welcomed by the servants and disposed of their luggage at Charles’ handsome house in Landsdown Crescent, Catherine, with the encouragement of the others, hurried away to the lodgings in Pulteney Street where the Allens were staying.
She was greeted rapturously by Sarah, and as warmly by the Allens, with whom she had always been a favorite. They were sitting with a young man Catherine did not know, but who was introduced to her as Mr. Speedwell, a lawyer, visiting Bath with his father who was taking the waters for his gout. He was a handsome young man with engaging, unaffected manners, and it was immediately evident to Catherine, seeing Sarah’s sparkling eyes and pretty smiles, that she was decidedly smitten with him.
Sarah was wonderfully improved herself, and in her few weeks in Bath had blossomed to a remarkable degree. A good-looking girl of seventeen, with hair lighter than Catherine’s, she appeared to advantage in the new fashionable clothes, ordered with the greatest of attention and care by the dress-conscious Mrs. Allen, and which gave her the look and air of a distinguished young lady of the ton. Looking at Mr. Speedwell looking at her, Catherine thought that Sarah’s liking for him was, as nearly as she could tell, returned in kind.
“Oh Catherine,” asked Sarah, “will you and Mr. Tilney come to the Upper Rooms with us tonight, and see the dancing?”
“I cannot tell,” Catherine returned, “I should like it of all things, but you know we are here with Eleanor and her husband, and I must see what they plan. I daresay they will be quite agreeable.”
“And I will be dancing,” said Sarah in delight, “with Mr. Speedwell. He has asked me for the first two, and who knows what else we will do?”
“Have supper together, certainly, and it is to be hoped with you and your party, Mrs. Tilney,” he bowed.
“And tomorrow, we think of walking in the Lower Rooms, by the river, after breakfast.”
“Oh! I know Charles was hoping for a country walk,” said Catherine, “perhaps you might come with us? He wants to see the Somerset butterflies.”
“I should like to see the butterflies, would not you, Mr. Speedwell? Mrs. Allen, might I go see the butterflies? It will be with Catherine and Mr. Tilney.”
“You may if you like,” responded Mrs. Allen placidly, “but I hope you will not get grass stains on your gown, in a country walk. I beg you to wear your oldest one.”
With suchlike plans in store, the days in Bath were certain to pass delightfully. All Catherine’s party liked Mr. Speedwell, and he joined in most of their doings, to Sarah’s high glee. Mrs. Tilney and Lady Eastham were confirmed as most acceptable chaperones, and the young people could do very much as they liked together, with blitheness the order of the day.
It was a damper on their happiness, however, when on the Friday night, entering the Upper Rooms where the grandest ball of the week was in progress, the young party were surprised to see none other than Captain Frederick Tilney, dancing with his Harriette.
“Why, Frederick, how came you here?” asked Henry, during a pause in the dancing.
“How? The same way you did, I perceive, in a carriage. Bath is free to all who wish to enjoy themselves, I think, always conditioning that they have the money. I might ask what brought you to this frivolous scene, when you ought to be rusticated in your country parsonage?”
“We accompanied Eleanor and Charles part of their way home,” Henry replied without rancor, “as we hoped that the ladies might find Bath a contrast to what the gloomy scenes at Northanger have been.”
“I can see how that would be,” Frederick conceded. “Well, then, brother, I hope you all enjoy yourselves. As for me, I am going to dance.” He turned, but his partner was gone.
“Why, where is Harriette – “ he said, surprised. A moment later she could be discerned, dancing with a slender, aristocratic looking gentleman of thirty with powdered hair worn in the old fashion.
“Who is that she is dancing with?” he expostulated.
“That is Lord Craven,” Mr. Speedwell, who knew every body, put in helpfully.
“Oh, is it? Well, I’ll have something to say to him, for stealing my wench. Harriette, what do you think you are doing? You come right back here to me.”
She made an impertinent little moue at him and did not stop dancing. “That’s all the more reason I should not dance more than two dances with you. It is against the rules here, simpleton, and although not much of a stickler for such things, I had a whim to obey.”
“The impudence! Harriette, stop dancing at once, I am taking you home.”
“Excuse me,” interposed Lord Craven, “the young lady is under my protection for these two dances, and I suggest you do not interfere, else I shall have to resort to the Master of Ceremonies.”
“Oh, have her and be done with it then, I am sure I do not care a farthing,” Frederick snapped. “And she costs considerably more than a farthing.” He turned away in displeasure.
Mr. Speedwell looked grave. “Ought you to interfere?” he asked Henry. “Every body in the room must have witnessed that little scene. That young lady and your brother – I fear a full-blown scandal is brewing before our very eyes.”
“I am very much afraid it is,” Henry sighed. “It is what we look for, from Frederick, I am sorry to say.”
Sarah looked anxiously at Mr. Speedwell, to see the effect of the incident on him, but he said no more.
The pleasure of the ball was punctured, and it was an anxious evening.
In the morning, however, the party gathered by appointment for a butterfly-watching party, and cares seemed to vanish with the golden sunlight. The warm grass and sprinkling of wildflowers of a fine hot English June forenoon were what was needed to blow away the ballroom’s hothouse dramas.
In the fields and lanes, Charles was particularly in his element, for the summer life about them was in the most perfect state for study. He did not try to capture or kill the butterflies, but noted down what they were and where he saw them, making sketches in a little book, while the others chattered and occasionally looked at what he was doing when he exclaimed at a specially interesting specimen.
He delighted in recommending to his friends books such as the History of Selborne by the Hampshire naturalist parson Gilbert White, the ornithological books of Bewick, and others that detailed the creatures of the region and plantings of the seasons; and he earnestly adjured every one to compare these notes with the natural productions.
Henry had a keen interest in all that he could learn from Charles, and Catherine, with her enthusiasm for every enthusiasm of her husband’s, was not far behind; and if Sarah cared not much more for nature beyond picking flowers, she was happy to pick them in the company of Mr. Speedwell.
Contrary to the usual way of things, it was the evenings, supposed to be passed in gaieties in Assembly Rooms and concerts, that were unproductive of happiness. The knowledge that the scandal was the exact sort that the gossips relished most, was inescapable. And worse was to come, for it was soon on every tongue that Lord Craven and Harriette had actually gone off together, and he was supposed to have taken her to his country shooting box, Ashdown Park in Berkshire.
“It is the prettiest place,” Sarah, reported to the others. “My friends Amelia and Louisa, have the whole story. Ashdown is about forty miles from here, and like a little jewel box, but it is very remote, quite in the middle of the countryside, so they wonder if there will be any thing to amuse Miss Harriette.”
“There will be Lord Craven, I collect,” said Henry dryly.
“But what people are wondering is, will Captain Tilney follow her, and fight a duel?”
“Frederick will not trouble himself to do any such thing, I can assure you. He will have some body new before Miss Harriette ceases being a byword in Bath.”
Mr. Speedwell looked concerned, and Catherine was not altogether surprised when he presented himself at the Allens’ lodgings early on the morning after this conversation, and announced with regret that he was come to bid farewell. He did not seem at ease, was not his usual open and sociable self, and his excuses for his departure appeared unconvincing to his hearers. He seemed of all things unable to look at Sarah, but kept his eyes on the floor.
“My father is not wishing to remain in Bath any longer,” he explained, “he is not convinced that the waters are doing him good, and I must immediately escort him home, back into Kent.”
“But you will return?” Sarah asked eagerly, “Once he is settled?” She seemed to have no inkling of what was to befall her, and waited hopefully for an answer. It was not the one she wanted.
“I fear it will not be in my power,” was all he said, and after wishing health and happiness to all the party, he left with some abruptness.
Sarah went into her room to weep, to the surprise of no one.
“Your poor sister,” Eleanor murmured to Catherine. “I am so sorry for her disappointment, and all the more as it is directly owing to Frederick’s behavior.”
Catherine could not conceal her own distress. “She likes Mr. Speedwell so much,” she said, “we all do, for that. It is such a pity. Do you really think he will not come back?”
“He said he would not,” Henry reminded her. “His family may have ordered him to remove himself from a family of such reputation, and after such a display, who can blame him. It is really too bad.”
“I am afraid Sarah’s heart will be broken.”
Henry thought for a few moments. “Catherine, it is nearly time for us to be returning to Woodston. Suppose we ask Sarah to accompany us? It might be a distraction for her, and we may be able to offer her some comfort.”
Catherine agreed, and was grateful for his kindness. Sarah at first did not care where she went, but after being gently pressed by her sister on the subject, considered that she would rather be with Catherine than any where else. Certainly the gay scenes of Bath would be oppressive now, and she never wanted to set eyes on that nasty Captain Tilney ever again.
The parting with the Easthams was sad, but they were all glad they had had the chance to spend so much time together, and the memory of that would always be very precious.