Chapter 11

Since her marriage Catherine had only seen General Tilney twice; in both instances she had been with her husband and their relations, and not required to speak at all. This time marked her first return to Northanger Abbey since being summarily dismissed from it during her courtship, and she felt all the old horror rise in her as she entered the parlour, scene of so much joy and pain mixed in her memory.

The general himself stood as impressive as she remembered, and she barely had time to drop into a curtsy before he demanded to know why his son had not obeyed. Catherine rose and explained in a low voice that he was unwell and could not attend. "But I have come and may answer any questions. I have been telling the doctor—"

He interrupted before she could go into details. "The doctor? That explains his delay, I expected Morton to present a full report upon my return. Henry has no pretext for stalling: I spoke to him last night, and he was fit as ever." He ordered the presence of both gentlemen post haste. "And show this person out."

"No!" Catherine exclaimed, and running to the door stood in front of it, baring the way. "Henry is very ill and must not be moved. I will not hear of it."

Her abrupt movement stopped the man, who looked back to his master in indecision. Catherine followed his glance and recognized that she had only thought the general looked angry before; fury now wreathed his features to the point that she flinched, a thousand horrid descriptions from different novels coming to mind and none fully encompassing the weight of such a look.

"You have no right to give orders; this is not your home, and however you are allowed to run wild over in another parish, such behaviour will not be tolerated here. Now stand aside: I will see to things myself." So saying he marched forward.

But Catherine would not budge, instead standing as straight and tall as she could, clutching her borrowed skirts but otherwise betraying no sign of her distress. Not even did she step back when he came right on top of her, barely stopping before he trod upon her feet. She realized how foolish she had been to shrink and fall back before the captain: the present scenario was worse, much worse, for she knew what the general was capable of and believed in that moment he might actually push her aside. Still she would not move, nor look away, though her heart raced within her.

They stood staring no more than a few inches apart. "You dare defy me? You are not fit to wear those clothes, not even to claim a viscountess's charity, and certainly possess no right to prevent a father seeing his son no matter how stupid and delinquent his conduct."

This insult prompted a gasp of disbelief. "Henry has done nothing wrong!"

"But he has. The proof is before me."

Tears threatened to spill, and she blinked to hold them back. "If you must find fault then you may blame me, though I had no intention to trespass: I never claimed to belong to this house or deserve it."

The man before her smiled, and it was terrible to behold. "There is a small mercy, and the only reason you carry our name: you were too unimportant to argue over. It is by my forbearance that you ever gained admittance to this family, but I will not suffer any more of your machinations. Henry is more fool than I thought if he thinks to hide behind a woman rather than face me. Do not think I am ignorant of what has occurred: the thinnest of excuses offered for a job given him weeks ago, then he claims a cavalry officer could not control his horse? I can see through these feints well enough, and a word with Frederick confirmed exactly who is responsible for his condition. Now, you will either move aside or be moved; I will not be gainsaid further."

Catherine knew her powers to resist were few, and in despair replied, "But you are mistaken! Henry is not to blame for the captain's injuries: rather he is made wretched for rescuing his brother. How can you be so monstrously deceived?"

"You dare accuse Frederick of lying!"

"Yes!" Fury giving her boldness, she was barely aware of herself as she stepped forward nearly into the general's arms, so that he retreated a step. "I do not know what has been said but it cannot be true. Henry only wished to do what was right: he was hurt trying to get them both out of the pit the captain had fallen into, then gave up his coat and even preserved his horse! How can you be so cruel as to doubt him? Do you not realize how good he is, who might shun his brother for acting so wickedly and offering insult in every way, and yet risked his life to save?"

She had begun to shout and now was required to stop for breath. The general no longer towered over her, but instead appeared too astounded to respond, though still in a fury. Embarrassed at the scene she had caused, she nevertheless held her head high.

"As Mr. Tilney's wife I have a duty to him, which I owe above any other party. I will not intrude any further than where he will recover, and promise to return these clothes as soon as mine are ready, but I must insist that he not be moved until the doctor gives leave. I am sorry to be the cause of any further trouble." She then turned and nearly ran into the hall, not waiting for any further recriminations, and hurried back up the stairs before anyone else could detain her.

What courage remained momentarily faltered at seeing no one in Henry's chamber, and abandoned her wholly on someone calling her name. She was doubly relieved when the maid from earlier explained the gentleman had been moved to a room freshly made up for him, and on gaining it Catherine appreciated all that had been done: Henry lay on clean linens in a new nightshirt, with a compress and snug blanket completing the ensemble. He looked more peaceful though still wane and drawn, his eyes shut in repose.

"Where did the doctor go?" she asked, and was informed that he had gone to write further instructions for Mr. Tilney's care.

Catherine nodded, and took a chair to place beside the bed. "Please may I ask if he will see me again before he leaves? And discover if my clothes have been washed from yesterday? I should like to return the ones I was given."

The girl vouched she would find out, then quietly left the room. Catherine took hold of Henry's hand, still hot, and attempted to gain control of herself again. She marvelled she had spoke as she did, and prayed her recklessness would not sink them into even greater disapprobation. "I am sorry to have made him angrier, but not for defending Henry!" was her thought, and when she considered the slander spoken could barely regret her conduct.

When the physician returned Catherine asked that she might know everything needed to ensure her husband's recovery. "I do not plan to leave his side again, and I wish to make sure I understand what is required."

Her words were a surprise to the man, who assured her there were plenty in the house who might see to Mr. Tilney's needs. "But I will go over matters, that you may oversee his care," he added gently, and admitted to having administrated a tonic to induce the state of rest she now observed, detailed the foods he had prescribed, and most importantly that everything be done to keep his fever down. "I sent for a surgeon, as a good bleeding would likely cure all; alas, I fear the nearest is detained with work in the next town over, and it may be several days before he receives my letter. I have therefore written to the apothecary for the procurement of some doses to ease his sleep, which will be difficult if his cough remains strong. He should keep to his bed, and avoid excess talking or any exertions which will aggravate his lungs. I will be back in two days but may be summoned earlier if needed."

Catherine thanked him for his kindness. "I will make sure we follow your guidance; is there anything else I may do for him?"

"You are already doing much by staying with him. Many a patient of mine has been aided by the tender presence of family. You may wish to occupy yourself otherwise when he is asleep, but it will likely cheer him to have conversation or reading when he is able to enjoy it. Only take care he is not taxed unduly."

"Yes, of course," and she thanked him again so sincerely that the doctor felt obliged to give a little bow before taking his leave.

It was but a short time later that the maid brought her requested garments. Catherine lost no time in resuming her simpler, less fine attire, and begged the other be returned that instant. "I will not be staying in the room I had last night, but I would like the paper and pen I requested, that I might send some letters home."

These items were quickly brought her, and Catherine was soon at work writing notes to all the parties she could think of: the parsonage, the curate, even her sister the viscountess, who she was sure would wish to know all. It soothed her nerves to be able to lay out things so plainly, to people she knew to be sympathetic and kind.

When she had done she considered ringing for someone to take them down, but stilled her hand on considering matters: would the general allow her correspondence? And Henry looked so calm: what if another conversation, whispered or even at the door, were to wake him? She would not disturb his sleep for anything. Instead, she quietly slipped out, avoiding any and all persons who might be on guard against her movements, and stole down to the stable herself.

She found Will pacing in front of where the horses stood contentedly eating from their troughs, the dog at his feet. "Mrs. Tilney! Where is the rector?"

"On his sickbed," she answered, pressing her parcel into the startled boy's hand. "I have written explaining all, and need you to deliver these to the parsonage. Mrs. Forest will know how to address them. We are to stay here until Mr. Tilney is better. You should take the curricle back: you know the way, on the main road?"

He assured her he did and promised to discharge his duties faithfully; and wishing his master a speedy recovery, prepared to set off.

Catherine did not wait to see him leave but hurried back in, concerned someone might prevent her from returning to Henry's side if she dawdled. She had almost reached the stair when she considered how long it might be to wait, and how the doctor had recommended reading. Turning her steps, she stopped a passing girl in the hall, and asked after the other inhabitants of the abbey. After receiving assurances that the general and physician were still in conference in the former’s private rooms, Catherine felt brave enough to trace her way to the library, furtively searching the shelves for anything which might be of interest; then crept back up with her treasure in hand.

She only breathed easier once in Henry's still somnolent presence. She decided to change the compress, as it no longer seemed cool, then after these ministrations sat and watched. His breathing sounded laboured, and his eyes occasionally flickered with activity, but otherwise he kept quite still.

Satisfying herself there was nothing further to be done, Catherine took up a volume of sonnets and lost herself in poetry.

10/13/2021: Edited to change "calvary" to "cavalry" (thanks to eagle-eyed reader and commenter Shannon K.)