Chapter 29

The trials of the previous day were nothing compared to the solace Catherine received that morning. Breakfast proved not only enjoyable but enlightening: the doctor was a most pleasant companion, with plenty of anecdotes regarding his tenure caring for those in the household. Learning the gentlemen were out riding, and that she was not to leave until Monday, Catherine nevertheless was given every assurance of good will from all; when she boldly asked after walking, the doctor confirmed it as an excellent idea, encouraging her to go as soon as she liked to enjoy the fine weather.

She little needed this urging, and only waited for her hat to be fetched. Soon she was out, and rather than escaping any scene, or fearing lest she should be wanted back soon, Catherine gave herself up to all the joy of a leisurely excursion. Barely a lane or path was undisturbed; nothing was seen that was not admired. It was so good to relax, to need consider no other object than the pleasures of nature, and she roamed to her heart's content.

By the time she returned to the abbey, Catherine felt fully restored, and able to brave any delay in their departure. Indeed, she almost wished they could remain: it would require twice as long ere she might claim the entire property surveyed. But, she happily remembered, now that the general appeared more disposed in their favour, they might attend him at some future date; it remained only to imagine their sister and her husband to complete this harmonious picture. But Catherine would not dare wish it to be; she allowed the hope of possibility to achieve its purpose, without demanding of it ready promises. She would be grateful, no matter how indifferent time was to her own aspirations. Only, she did wish for Henry's sake it might be something in that direction.

When said husband at last found her, Catherine had repaired to the library with a novel, her fingers half-heartedly working at a handkerchief, her eyes far more occupied by the page before her. So absorbed was she by the degradations of the characters' plight as to be wholly unaware of anyone else in the room, till a gentle laugh brought her eyes up to take in the welcome sight of her Henry, no longer brought low by discouragement or infirmity, but watching her with such animated vitality she must say his name and run into his arms, book and work both forgotten.

"A bit gentler, my dear, I am afraid I have been straining my shoulder again," he said, and Catherine moved at once to let him go, but found herself held tight by his power instead. "Fear not, it is only a little pain; do not think I am undesirous or ungrateful of your warm welcome."

"It is a relief to see you so much better. I hope you enjoyed your ride."

"It was very instructive, an admission that would please my father, who by the by is in the best of moods. I believe he is quite satisfied with affairs, which is almost never the case."

Catherine smiled. "How wonderful; do you know, that is just the word I would use to describe my walks? Every time I have learned something new. I have almost begun to feel as if I were grown."

"How distressing a notion: for if you are past youth what hope have I? Beware Catherine: your future is upon you, with an ageing husband in his dotage barely able to care for himself, and certainly unable to keep up with a lively wife."

She declaimed any such notion, declared he would be healthier than ever, "and besides, I am not even twenty yet, so one could hardly consider either of us aged."

"I see you are still so tender as to believe only what is best and good in the world, even regarding our imperfect souls, which must disprove any suspicions of worldly senility. I am glad whatever secrets Northanger Abbey has seen fit to disclose have had no ill effect on your excellent judgment. But I fear I have interrupted your womanly industry, which mars the lesson a little."

"As to that, I am afraid I have not made much progress."

"But how could you, with only two hands, and so much for them to do? And is it for the wife alone to labour while her husband idles? Nay, we must seek a different moral: I will deign to read, that you may stitch and listen."

"Oh thank you!" Catherine said, overjoyed. "It is what I would like above all things."

So Henry took up the pages while Catherine took her seat. Lest any reader think his was the lighter chore, he refused to recline, but instead brought the story to life around her with the vivacity of ten players on the stage. Our heroine, though mightily distracted, still stuck to her own task with such steadiness of will that one whole corner was embroidered by the end of a chapter's recitation, so that toil was pretty equally shared between them.

"You read so very well," Catherine remarked when he had finished, clapping for his performance.

"It is easy to do so, when the listener is apt to be pleased. You are so kind as to make any task sweet to undertake."

"But it is not always so: I am afraid I have been very uncharitable of late."

"Excessively, and never more than now. You place me in the worst position possible: for if I agree, and seek to validate your opinion, I must be accused of uncharity myself, through slandering a noble lady. But if I argue and defend your virtue, you will call me quarrelsome, and I will stand condemned for accusing you of falsity. What philosopher would presume to judge which of these evils be the lesser? Please, merciful goddess, do not force me to sail between their monstrous depths, in such a dangerous odyssey of the soul. Have pity on a poor gentleman of Gloucestershire." And Henry with a pertinent air dropped to his knees, the book outstretched before him in offering.

Catherine could not decide if she should laugh or scold, and so took the volume from him instead. "Perhaps I should read to you next: then there will be no need to choose who is right."

"Fair Athene, thy wisdom is never lacking." Henry smiled from his kneel with such liveliness that Catherine only shook her head as she smiled back, unable to furnish any further objection to this praise. They were interrupted by the arrival of letters, which Catherine received with delight, for the good Mrs. Forest had forwarded every piece of correspondence received at the parsonage that week for her master and mistress. Soon they were both absorbed in happy tidings from all their family and friends, with plenty to share between them.

"Oh Henry, here is a letter from George: see, he has managed to pen the entire thing himself!"

"Splendid: with those large bold letters, he must be understood by even the most short-sighted postal clerk. Ah, our relations from Vermond write at last! It seems they have been away from home and their mail delayed in being forwarded, which on arrival was so affecting they returned the favour by misdirecting the reply. Shall we be generous and accept their laggard commiseration?"

"Yes of course, only I hope Eleanor is not so very sad now that she must know how differently things stand."

"In very many ways, not only respecting our health. It does seem she had received reports from another quarter that matters were not so dire, which we must be grateful for, as she writes with greater composure than might otherwise have been imagined. Hmm, she has been unwell herself of late, which though she will not allow it may have also inhibited her letter-writing to a degree. But our brother furnishes the difference with assurances that she is rallying with admirable fortitude."

"That is certainly good news. Stay, here is a note from Mother, I forgot she may not have received my last, for her chief news is of the chimneys causing no further trouble since being cleaned, with some recommendations if we face similar difficulties."

"I trust we will be spared the need for them. Ha! Here is a very stout letter from the good widow Stanton, declaring the village well cared for in our absence. Jones did not write nearly as many details regarding the parish."

"Likely he is unaware of them, if she felt he did not need to know. Does she tell whether the miller's family is well? I do not find Mrs. Forest has any news in her letter."

"The only mention of Hayes is a brief commendation of his solitude on our behalf at prayers. I believe we may safely assume all were safely preserved, for otherwise Mrs. Stanton’s attached sick list is exhaustive, down to the barest hint of a sneeze. And what else does our housekeeper not reveal? Do you suppose Will has been out riding every day and fancying himself the man of the house?"

"She says he has been a model boy, so well behaved and desirous to help her and Mrs. Poole, and that they are eagerly preparing for our return."

"Well, it would be as wrong to accuse her of falsehood as your own good person, so we must believe it to be true. But I dare say it will be no bad thing for them to learn we are to tarry a bit longer, and offer them a holiday in reward for their faithfulness."

"Yes, we must write to tell them, they will be very glad to hear it."

"Not if I tell them they must also prepare a meal for my father come Monday."

"Oh, does he mean to journey with us?"

Henry looked thoughtful, and began sorting the papers they had stacked between them on the sofa. "He hinted at the scheme last night. I confess I half-expected him to dismiss the whole evening's talk as a mere device, for what purpose who could guess, and yet it has proven more genuine than could have been earlier supposed. He has become almost excited to claim us, where but two days ago he offered only scorn."

"He must be so overjoyed at the progress you and your brother have made." Catherine offered this explanation at last, when Henry fell silent. "I think he has been very worried; when we went for our walk, he spoke of building the future, and ensuring the endurance of the family. He was very upset."

"I can well imagine, though whether it was from the same cause as you so kindly infer I will not attempt to divine. Certainly he feels things very deeply when there is a disruption in his life, too deeply I think: he and Frederick are very alike in that regard. They cannot bear it when they are powerless to act. And I have learned of late that he is not altogether free of regret." He looked up and took her hand. "Will it disturb you, to discuss my brother? I do not wish you pained by it."

Catherine considered a moment, struck by the exceptional seriousness of her husband's mien. It had always been difficult to consider the captain as her kin: he had done so much wrong, and to all appearances cared so little about it. Yet here Henry was, alive and well, with only the request that she let him unburden his heart. There was really no question of what her answer must be, and she begged he speak at once, wanting above all to provide whatever support her husband might need regardless of who or what they discussed. The revelations contained within this conversation were not limited to the captain alone; there was so much to share, so much unsaid between them, as would make this already full volume stretch far beyond the capacity of even the most generous reader to endure. Let it be understood that each were rewarded for their patient struggles and hard-won knowledge with all the appreciation and sympathy they were so deserving of. There is nothing so conducive toward advancing a young couple's devotion as the sharing not only of suffering, but the solace given thereafter.

It therefore cannot be surprising that the day passed for them with such cordial feelings, such unity of spirit, that all other concerns paled in comparison. Henry must eventually attend his father, after a thorough study of a different letter entirely—which merits he was able to appreciate with far greater equanimity in seeing it was written with no specific insult, and only the everyday malice its author seemed perpetually to sink to when ungoverned by any other authority. It was at least, like all Mr. Wilcox's statements, thorough, and provided the gentlemen with plenty to canvass whether appreciatively or otherwise, uniting in shared objectives what might never have been knitted through sentiment or principle. When they were all three together, the younger generation must endure every bragging pronouncement, but as the general did not rescind his olive branch they were content to receive it in the spirit offered. It was closed upon he would accompany them come Monday back to Woodston, but would only stay long enough to see the parsonage before making a complete inspection of his lands before harrying off to meet with his lawyer again.

The suggestion of Frederick's removal was made and considered, and as it might lead to the general himself enjoying a long visit with the viscount, applauded. Appropriate messages were sent out to all parties, and dinner was made the more enjoyable by its brevity: with no outside guest present, the general did not stand on nearly as much ceremony, and was happy enough to resume the satisfying engrossment of his own papers while relinquishing his son to an entirely different form of fascination.

To all these joys was added the happiness Catherine received when Henry was able to not only escort her upstairs without betraying any great fatigue, but also her own chamber. Many may suspect the night was far too short to contain the mysteries they might continue delving together, but it must be confessed that a day of strenuous activity and exhaustive discussions, after so much confinement and repression, proved more taxing than either had realized, and it was not long before both succumbed to the sweet pull of slumber's embrace, safely cradled in each other's arms.