Chapter 21

When Catherine woke to the sound of rain she could not help rushing to the window in dismay. At least there was no thunder or hail, and the wind did not appear too strong. She comforted herself it was but a passing shower.

Here it was unwise to admit optimism, for while there was no great tumult neither did it lessen, and she was forced to tolerate the general's satisfaction when he observed how ill the weather looked. She surrendered the point, but knowing from her education that Pyrrhus might regard such victories as burdensome, did not give up hope entirely. Rather, as they concluded breakfast, she asked what part of the house commanded the best view. A servant was directed to guide her to the recommended parlour, with the added directive that her host not be disturbed further, professing himself occupied with much work. Catherine was not sorry for this parting instruction; it saved her needing to ask any further approval for her plans, and on being led to the spot in question was happy to find in it everything desirable: a spacious, airy room with large windows and a good fireplace. She soon went about giving orders, and when all was ready nearly ran to fetch Henry.

Before he could utter any syllable of regret for the loss of their outing, she presented the happy alternative. "We are going to enjoy a day watching the storm," was her excited announcement as the servants entered behind. Soon enough Henry had been helped into suitable garments and down the stair. When they reached the hall he insisted on crossing the brief distance to their destination under his own power, accomplishing this feat with only the mildest of coughs. Catherine watched carefully, and then throwing open the door displayed her handiwork: a good fire, tables of fruit and flowers arranged for their enjoyment, and all such amusements as she could envision needing within easy reach. "And we may take a stroll about the room at our leisure, and sit where we like when done," was her delighted conclusion as Henry leaned back with answering pleasure in a sturdy chair.

"How charmingly you have arranged to have your will obeyed: so commanding without the air of it at all. There should be a word for it. Martial is too gross. Will minervan suffice, do you think?" And despite Catherine's refusal to accept this comparison, she was dealt further classical allusions with ever more exaggerated solemnity: dianite, venusous, junovian. By the last Catherine was unable to even blush for laughing, and Henry was forced to leave off further embellishments by his listener's inability to mind them.

The rest of the day passed just as agreeably. Catherine's experiences had not dimmed her appreciation of a gale, so long as she and those she loved were safely out of it; and she attempted to practice her drawing, but her pencil and focus alike were unequal to the task. Instead she was distracted by playing at backgammon and cards, assisting Henry in brief turns about the room, and in her own reading, quite apart from that shared with her husband. She meant to continue repairs to his jacket and waistcoat, both torn during the past week's heroics; but they and her thread were forgotten, which aside from her married state explains why vestal was never used to describe her virtues. But she was not without industry, and if we consider the food she contrived to always have on hand, then Ceres would surely be glad to recognize her efforts.

The rain, so admired, eventually excused itself like the kind guest it had proven to be, neither overstaying its welcome nor rushing off with exacting fanfare. The happy couple were therefore treated to Iris painting the sky for them long before Luna chased Hemera to her bed, with the evening sun casting the freshly watered world in such warm colors as to provide every assurance of a peaceful night.

Catherine could not help exulting over the progress that had been made over dinner. Henry had hardly shown any shortness of breath, choosing to content himself with light observations at surprising moments. Though unable to hide some distress when they first attempted his standing, he had gained in vigour to the point of enjoying a full revolution by three, with no sign of the dreaded fever's return. So busy was she in pouring over every pleasing remembrance that it was some time before she realized her companion had said not a word, and in fact may not have been listening to her at all. Catherine was determined to continue the amendment a change in scenery seemed to produce, and was on the verge of making her request when a note was handed to the general. It was received with far greater eagerness than he had envisioned for anything or anyone at his table; he was still reading it over when the tarts and custard were finished. This preoccupation, and her subsequent retreat from the dining parlour, both prevented and relieved her from advising him of the preparations she had in store. It was with only a thin misgiving that she commanded a table be setup in the courtyard on the morrow with the provision of shawls and blankets. She did feel obligated to give the general an opportunity to join in the festivities he was, if unintentionally, providing; Henry gave her the welcome hint of writing whatever she liked, but waiting to have the invitation delivered until morning.

No clouds marred the dawn, either from without or within, and it was not long before Catherine and Henry were both without savouring the sweet freedom of nature. As if to make amends for any previous misconduct, the setting abounded with blessings: excellent air, expansive sunlight, and just enough breeze to keep the insects from their cakes. The damp had nearly all gone, so that only the barest trace of mud could be seen in the fields, and it was therefore necessary after eating that they tour the nearest paths.

Catherine felt some trepidation at this idea; while their breakfasting in this manner might be seen as a mere bending rather than complete flaunting of the general's rule, her rambling farther smelled of rebellion. "Perhaps we should wait and see if your father comes out?" was an objection duly considered, but ultimately rejected, by her husband.

"I am under orders to exercise and you will be serving as my aid: unless you mean to sit here all day while I rove alone?"

It was quite easy to convince her that no harm could come of being Henry's companion, and after ensuring his coat was firmly buttoned against any chill, and pulling her own shawl tighter, Catherine eagerly took his arm. They did not attempt great distances: it was a measured pace, with plenty of stops to admire and share observations. Lulled by this languor, or perhaps distracted by her own glories of how well Henry was able to maintain his stamina, Catherine was astonishingly slow to recognize when he shifted his praise from the pastoral to the personal. The following exchange will serve as example:

"Oh, see, I recognize those flowers: how pretty they are blooming."

"Yes, very prettily: the prettiest blooms possible. They are nourished by the benevolence of the appellation, from a source who must know the truth of the matter, being so much in likeness."

"I am sure I have never seen such perfect petals."

"No, I defy anyone to contradict you, perfection should be admired when one is in its presence."

"The rain must have helped open them; they did not appear nearly so brilliant the other day."

"All hail rain, wellspring of life, and cunning mistress of our bliss. How dull must everything look in her absence, and how resplendent is the sight of her admiration. It is a balm to the soul to study she who revels in this blessing."

"Are you speaking of the butterflies? They are very numerous today. I had not noticed them before."

"Alas, no, I did not either, being distracted by a different creature altogether."

"Which can you mean?"

"Can you not guess? Is the paragon of animals so obscured?"

"It must be here in the garden. We have not gone far enough to approach the wood."

Henry continued smiling complacently. "I am in complete agreement with you. There is nothing to like so far away in comparison to that which is here and present. Certainly no nymph or naiad could approach the splendour of a proper English garden's patroness. What envy must those wild ones harbour, when made to confess their subordination."

"But I did not mean that at all! I am sure if we could go further there is as much to enjoy; you know how fond I am of the country."

"I must bow to your opinion. Where Catherine treads, there will Henry never fail to admire."

The latter was too much to ignore, and Catherine unwittingly paid Henry the highest compliment for his speeches by turning a very becoming pink, and forgetting to say anything at all. So there was nothing to discourage Henry from joining the metaphor with its object, plucking one of the very pretty blossoms for her.

They returned their steps to the terrace, and though Catherine was able to regain her tongue to admire other items besides herself, she could not prevent her husband from introducing a handful of other tributes, for which he was rewarded not only with blushes but also smiles, laughter, and even a teasing remark about his taste in return. Therefore the gentleman, though tired by his exertions, gained so light a spirit as prevented him feeling it too terribly. A more selfish creature might have kept the object of his amusement firmly by his side; Catherine was more than willing to spend the whole day in his company again. But when they had reached the little table, now cleared and with a fresh cloth upon it, Henry insisted she continue onward. "I know you must be impatient to venture beyond this area, having so little opportunity; I will be very happy to sit and watch, and perhaps even read this newspaper, like a proper man of the manor."

No protest sprang to Catherine's lips this time, no consideration of the general or his prerogatives occurred to her. "But you are comfortable: there is nothing else you require?" was her parting question. Henry assured her he would be quite well, and would call the nearby servants if in need.

"I will certainly ensure you are made aware if anything runs amiss. But I do expect a full report of your explorations later."

Catherine promised to do so, and only waiting to tie the strings of her hat more firmly, left secure in the peace all good creatures must feel when blessed with youth, health, and the ready fulfilment of their hopes. She wound even farther than she had on her previous excursion; and though careful to avoid any puddles, was heedless of further caution in her current jubilation. With Henry on the mend, nothing could be truly awful. Her joy was not selfish only; it was really a reflection, and the comparison to a flower's bloom was apt. Everything was friendlier, livelier, and more happy, not only because she felt so herself but also because she still believed, despite everything, that the world could not help answering in kind.