Chapter 22

Henry was not sorry when his wife passed out of view. True, he could have chosen to join her, but sought not to test his endurance; and while acknowledging the need for rest, his chief motivation was to allow Catherine the liberty of movement which his company might otherwise have curtailed.

"How lovely she looked," was the happy thought that followed as he leaned his head back and enjoyed the sun’s rays. And how gratifying to feel himself again, able to praise and tease her without fear of a relapse. There was nothing quite so restorative as good humour for Henry, and nothing so pleasing at the moment as the idea that his wife was provided with the same in equal measure to his own. If he also indulged, while sinking deeper into reverie, in frank admiration of her figure or the sweep of her garments as she ran, let us not judge him for hedonism. A young husband so newly regaining his faculties, and with a very trying week's abstinence survived, must be granted some allowances.

So genially was his mind engaged, feet propped up and in the throws of daydream, that he was unaware of much else. Not till the creak of a nearby chair was he cognizant of another's approach. Opening one eye, he was somewhat surprised to find the general in full greatcoat and hat, surveying his realm like Odin over the world. Henry nearly commented about the lack of ravens but restrained the impulse; his father, unlike his wife, did not always appreciate his quips. "Hello sir: I trust you have enjoyed as pleasant a walk as myself."

"Tolerable. I am glad to see you up: it is about time you stopped sulking like an infant."

If the morning's idyll had been fantastic and dew-laden, this admonition washed over Henry with all the abruptness of a cold water bucket, bracing in its stimulation. "I have missed being about, I assure you. There is little I desire more at the moment than honest work."

A pointed look at his relaxed posture was enough to make Henry regret his levity, and cause him to straighten in his chair. Changing the subject, he thanked the general for accompanying Catherine to services. "It was very good for her to be out of the house and in company; Mrs. Tilney is not made for isolation. I am glad for your kind offices on her behalf."

"It has always been our habit to obey the strictures of our religion. Nothing has changed there. Northanger Abbey should always be an example to the parish."

Henry was sorely tempted to make some clever remark over what kind of example was meant, but he refrained from more than a cordial nod.

"Where is she now?" was next asked of him, and Henry was able without irony to explain he had sent the lady in question to explore and thank his father again, thereby assuming rather than asking for permission. "She left in very gay spirits; I have hardly ever seen her better."

"Happy to leave you abandoned, and go out in the wild by herself, without thought for decency or duties owed? I trust you do not present this picture as one meant for increasing our reputation. I am not inclined to see any inhabitant of this house behave so, least of all someone who claims to belong to it."

Henry's smile was no longer natural but kept only by force of habit. "You mistake my meaning, sir; it was not our parting that made Mrs. Tilney glad. Why, she was put to tears at the mere suggestion of removal from this place."

"As any person would, who has designs on a higher position. Do not assume because you have always been so unambitious that others are likewise inhibited."

Henry did laugh here. "Ambition? Perish the thought. I can assure you my dear Catherine has never entertained such notions, would never even dream of any sordid schemes."

A sharp rap of the general's hand upon the table was enough to interrupt further defence, so forceful and emphatic was its execution. "This is what comes of marrying so early: you prove your folly with every word! Was it unambitious to toy with your affections, to draw you into an alliance? Do you expect me to display similar ignorance, when I have the evidence of where it has led you, and by extension, our name? spoken of by the community at large, the discussion of every Tom Cottager to his brethren, not only here but in your own parish? Can you claim to feel any pride at all, knowing how little the paupers in their pews fear you?"

"I do not believe it required my marriage to cure the congregation of any temporal dread in my presence. As to being the brunt of our neighbours' insinuations: if even the gods are susceptible to this abasement, we poor mortals must do our best to weather the same." While intentionally sedate in his accents, Henry struggled to remain calm while his wife came under increasing attack. He had not trusted himself to parry those taunts, but sought to distract his father with other objects of ridicule.

"You have always been too ready to abandon sober reflection."

"I admit to seeking amusement whenever possible, but trust I have never diminished the people's respect for our Heavenly Father or mother church. Why, there can be no higher praise for a parson than to think his audience has actually listened enough to discuss what he has said."

"As if that were the only concern: your sophistry is not, in fact, so important as you think, certainly not according to the report which I have just finished reviewing again."

"Ah, but I am very vain of my speech, you must allow that sir," was Henry's near desperate feint, and like all rushed manoeuvrers, deficient in its discharge entirely.

"Not only encouraged in your conceit, but flattered by the attentions of so middling a person, you fail to recognize her shameless notoriety. I am told this woman is without restraint: unruly in dress or deed, a busybody and interloper, engaging any rogue who chances by or will admit her. Do you deny it?"

For Henry could not help shaking his heads as these charges were laid down. "I do, most earnestly; there is no one in the parish more scrupulous. I cannot imagine who has been filling your ear with such idle, ridiculous talk."

"It little matters: that my intelligence is sent direct from Woodston should be enough. Or did you think because you were so dilatory about canvassing the district your subordinate should be as well? It is not only as a parent but the trustee of that living, and the chief landowner the other men of property must look to, that I am required to assume the disagreeable role of inquisitor. I know these things have been discussed openly; what say you to their accusations?"

A tightness closed around Henry's lungs, his breaths were shallow, and he gripped the chair so tightly he felt his shoulder began to ache again. With great deliberation did he seek to compose himself, mindful of the need to conserve his energy, so that he was able to reply after a moment's pause. "The only words Mrs. Tilney might reasonably excite from any quarter should be complimentary, as indeed they have been when spoken direct to me by nearly all who have met her, including the farmers you are so quick to assume in full agreement with whatever has been written—which, as I am ignorant of the particulars, and only suspicious of its source, I will not endeavour to refute except by an appeal to your own understanding and observations. Your strictures have been honoured, your position upheld, and as you make no complaint of this past Sunday I must believe she was credibly received by those among your own set who may even have had leanings in a different direction. Therefore a canvassing of her detractions must be in service to condemn them. I cannot believe anyone of good sense or character would sink so low as to accept vulgar gossip against a virtuous lady." He could not help expressing more of his disgust than was politic, and was quickly made aware of how this veiled accusation was received.

"Then you deny that it is her habit to go wherever she likes, when she will? Even by the evidence of her own imprudent performance but a week ago?"

"As to that, I could accuse someone of imprudence had I a mind, but Mrs. Tilney is blameless."

"You deem it right to traipse about the countryside with only a boy as her companion, making a spectacle of herself? Do I gather you sanction, that you advocate, this behaviour?"

"It is not for a drowning man to disparage the boat that rescues him; nor, I think, was the man beset by thieves critical of the Samaritan for travelling the same route."

"Do not weave your metaphors around me, this is no place for sermons."

"Then I will speak plainly and to the purpose: it is not for you to criticize the author of your sons' salvation, but to thank her, nay, praise her. She has behaved with more kindness and constancy than her treatment could possibly warrant."

His father frowned impressively. "Her treatment? You complain, you dare demand more consideration? It is not enough I have overlooked your negligence in honouring the least responsibility to your home. Do not expect me to blindly share in your jealous partisanship, not when I consider the damage already wrought and may still be done. Surely you are not so far gone as to ignore the danger to your sister, even if you care nothing for the rest of this family."

"Eleanor may speak for herself, and I warrant already has in a letter to come if not already delivered. Yet even your own arguments betray your thesis: if I am so much to blame, my wife cannot be equally so."

"Enough: I will not entertain lectures from so partial, so subjugated, a judgement."

"But this is nonsensical!" Henry could not keep from exclaiming. "Why, anyone hearing you now would think you preferred Frederick and myself dead, if only to satisfy some pharisaic standard of respectability, which cannot be true. It is your right to censure me, but you cannot in the same breath demand juvenile deference while refusing to recognize the daughter you have been blessed with, one of greater worth than you deserve!"

The general rose with so much force his chair was in danger of being upset. "I will not accept more brazen defiance under my roof: you will be gone as soon as you can travel."

Barely aware of his actions or the strain involved, Henry pushed himself up and answered that he would consider it a pleasure to leave, "for he would not accept such disrespect for his wife again, no matter where it arose."

They might have continued in this manner, staring each other down, and waiting for one or the other to retreat, had it not been for the cry of "Henry?" that turned the younger man's attention toward Catherine hurrying up the path. The sight she made inspired conflicting emotions: her obvious concern could not fail to move, and though anticipated with a different sensibility in mind, was the embodiment of every cherished vision of her flying back to him. But her dirty shoes and hem, together with a shawl hanging loose and hat noticeably askew, conformed so nearly to his father's accusations that he could not help catching the triumph which lit his features. The general did not say anything further: he had no need. With a gesture of contempt he went back into the manor, ignoring Catherine's greeting completely.

"Are you well Henry? You look so flushed. Was your father going to call a servant? Do sit down, there is no need to wait for one, I am here."

He allowed himself to be seated, his anger spent, leaving him faint and miserable. "Thank you, I was not myself just now."

Catherine took off a glove without hesitation, placing her palm against his brow with such gentleness he had not the heart to stay her. "You do feel a trifle warm. It must be the sun, it is very strong today, I have enjoyed it very much. Perhaps, though, it is not good for you to be too much out at once. I wish I had thought to ask the doctor, it did not occur to me."

"It is not the sun that bothers me, you need suffer no anxiety on that account. I have savoured it as well, I am glad to hear you say the same."

She thanked him absently, still concerned over his condition, and he undertook to regain his temper for her sake. Henry requested she sit and share her adventures, which—though soon complied with—failed to command his attention, and he found his mind snared away from she whom he most prized by another far less deserving.

Unluckily she sensed his distraction, and rather than continuing to speak to empty air, addressed its origin. "I suppose your father came out to judge your recovery for himself. He has asked after you."

"He expressed some concerns," was Henry's diffident answer.

"Did you share an agreeable chat? You must have been glad to talk to someone besides myself."

"Not at all: I find your conversation excellent at all times."

"But you must enjoy speaking with another gentleman on occasion."

Henry caught himself muttering whether there were gentlemen to be had in these parts. He must have been more understood than intended, for she turned a curious eye on him and begged to hear what had been discussed. "You looked very excited by it."

"The topic was your own sweet person, which I am always excited by."

"Oh."

The note of wistfulness comprised in this one word prompted Henry to stop whatever might have succeeded it. However little he preferred to disabuse her of any imagined reconciliation, it would be monstrously cruel to let her hope in vain. "He was unhappy with me, and my choices," he began, temporizing to avoid any depression of her spirits, but on perceiving she was still full of trusting expectation, he could not allow her to be deceived longer. "I will spare you the details; they little matter, and what is more, are completely erroneous. He is still displeased by our union. It is his loss, I may add, and I have told him so."

"And what was his reaction?"

"The truth was not to his liking. So it often is. Does not Scripture say a prophet is not known in his own country?"

"I am so very sorry to hear it! To think I have been the cause of your quarrelling again, when I so wanted the reverse. Please, Henry, what must I do? Did he say what had displeased him? Was he angry over my wandering so far? I will go and apologize at once, I will never trespass beyond the front hall if that is the cause." Here she would have done as she said had not Henry caught at her, urging restraint.

"He will not listen: he is not of a mood for it now, and besides you have not done anything requiring forgiveness. There is nothing you may enact to move him: it is his heart that must be softened, and not yours."

She remained standing, uncertain, with so much anguish that Henry could have demanded the man return and acknowledge her contrition. "But if it is so inconsequential, why did it upset you? If what he said had no justification, how is it you are still dwelling on it? For that is what you have been thinking of, is it not?"

It was so difficult for him to achieve any semblance of serenity when she pierced him with guileless questions. She had always found a way to push past any contrivance on his part, and he brought her hands to his lips in expression of those feelings she stirred now. "It is not reason alone that makes a man hate such abuse. However much I may pretend, I am not wholly ruled by sense or sport: I have my passions too."

She yielded to his pull and sat, eyes still downcast. "Is there nothing that will please him then?"

"Just what will suit us: that we part as soon as possible. I trust I will be ready ere the week is out." He picked up the flower that had fallen from her hat, smoothing its crushed petals, and smiled as much encouragement as he was able.

At last she let herself be placated, smiling slightly and accepting his sad offering. He advised they retire to their sanctuary of yesterday, and managed to enter the room with only slight reliance on his wife's support. There he soon coaxed her into some resemblance of good humour with repeated questions about her ramblings and discussions of their return home. It did not surprise Henry that they were ignored for the remainder of the day, familiar as he was with his father's quirks, and it was a welcome respite not to worry about any further interference up to and including Catherine being excused from the dining parlour at the appointed hour. He spent their evening together distracting them both from any worry save how to while away the hours.

Edited 11/17/2021: edited typo ("be be").

Edited 12/12/2021: removed plural from "heads;" no matter how smart acting, Henry in fact only has one.