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Part 8: Fresh Feelings of Every Sort

Sat, 02/19/2022 - 6:00am
"Embroidery for Fire Screen" (early 1800s, Cleveland Museum of Art)

Trifles Light as Air

A collection of one-shots based on Northanger Abbey: drabbles, flash fiction, missing scenes, and more. Title from Shakespeare's Othello, as quoted by Jane Austen in Chapter One. Now available as an eBook via Draft2Digital.

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When Eleanor inquired after Miss Morland's opinion, Henry was slightly shamed to realize he had, if not forgotten, ignored their companion for some time.

When Eleanor inquired after Miss Morland's opinion of the landscape, Henry was slightly shamed to realize he had, if not forgotten, ignored their companion for some time. Her recent silence was explained when she demurred, candidly admitting her ignorance and longingly glancing about with more honest admiration than any sophisticated peon to nature voiced by those who only wished to view it—cultivated and contorted beyond recognition—from a drawing room window. She did not blush nor sigh more than once, without real embarrassment beyond a bit of shyness at the admission; rather like the path they trod, unspoiled but not unkempt.

The sun suited her much better than candlelight.

"Should you like to learn?" he asked cheerfully, and was answered with such eagerness he launched into the subject with relish, encouraged by every glowing smile and answering question. Miss Morland's understanding, like her looks, only wanted a closer examination to bloom.

"Oh yes, very much!"

Henry needed less than so open a prompt to lecture, and complied with his usual flair: embellishing, gesticulating, and pontificating.

Of course he did not always enjoy so willing a pupil. In fact, he had been nearly insufferable after his first term at Oxford; Eleanor often protested against the scholastic persona he still adopted on occasion. By contrast Miss Morland considered every statement and engaged with each new topic broached. It was no show; a genuine and sincere interest was evident, however little their new friend might have begun the day desiring this knowledge. Yet it was obvious the lady was captivated as much by the gentleman's person as his words.

She was not sure if Henry realized his power, nor whether he would ever answer in kind. Perhaps it would all end merely in a pleasant camaraderie. That, in itself, was a joy to anticipate.

Title from Chapter 10 of Northanger Abbey:

"Oh! Who can ever be tired of Bath?”
"Not those who bring such fresh feelings of every sort to it as you do."