Henry Tilney's Diary

  ‘In general, no,’ I said.

  ‘But in this case?’

  ‘Let us just say, I do not envy him his choice of bride.’

  ‘Ah! So that is it. Well, we will not repine. I dare say he is a fool and not worth our regrets,’ said Frederick with a shrug.

  ‘He is, from what I know of him, perfectly amiable, and the brother of a friend of mine.’

  Something in my voice must have caught his attention, for he said, ‘A friend?’ and looked at me penetratingly.

  I had no wish to discuss Miss Morland with him and so I changed the subject, saying, ‘Have you repaid Mr Morris what you owe him yet?’

  ‘Morris?’ asked Frederick.

  ‘Yes. Thomas Morris, the man you invited to the abbey because you could not pay him what you owed him last autumn.’

  ‘Ah, Morris. No, I have not paid him yet,’ he said.

  ‘Then you must hurry up and do so.’

  ‘And why must I do so?’ said Frederick provokingly.

  ‘Because Eleanor is in love with him,’ I replied.

  ‘Eleanor? In love? I did not know she was in love with anyone, let alone Morris,’ he said in surprise. ‘I never noticed anything of it.’

  ‘I assure you it is the case, and he is in love with her. So you see you must pay your debt. And no, it is no use your protesting that you cannot afford it, you have your allowance,’ I reminded him.

  ‘It will not make any difference. Our father will never give him permission, you know that as well as I. The general is eager for Eleanor to make a grand marriage, and if she cannot attract an earl or a viscount, or failing that a man with fifteen thousand a year, then he will marry her off to a relative of one of his cronies. I only wonder that he has not found some friend with a single relative for you.’

  ‘He has often tried to do so. I am more surprised that he has not found someone for you. He is not happy with you, you know. He expected you to have risen beyond the rank of captain by now.’

  ‘That is the trouble with having a general for a father, he expects me to reach the same exalted rank, but I have very little interest in soldiering. If I can drink in the mess room and wear a fine coat I am satisfied.’

  ‘It may satisfy you, but it will not satisfy him, so have a care when you next see him to sound more enthusiastic, or he will stop your allowance.’

  ‘I wish I did not have to see him at all,’ said Frederick grimly. ‘But enough of the general. I am meeting some friends at a tavern outside town. Come with me.’

  ‘No, I thank you, I am meeting Charles in half an hour and must away.’

  ‘Then I will see you tomorrow.’

  He looked at me quizzically.

  ‘Have no fear, I will not tell our father you have arrived.’

  He nodded in thanks and I watched him go out of the farrier’s, drawing admiring glances from a family of young ladies walking past. And then I was on my way, meeting Charles and riding on the hills and talking of his plans to return to his old neighbourhood.

  ‘Bath is all very well,’ he said, ‘and when Margaret’s family were alive we were settled here, but now that they have gone we are thinking of returning to the country. I want the children to have more space to run about and indulge in country pursuits. What do you think of the idea?’

  ‘You will always be very welcome to us, you know that. I think it an excellent idea.’

  ‘Good. We are thinking of looking for somewhere in the summer.’

  Margaret was less enthusiastic, having lived in Bath all her life, but over dinner she warmed to the idea.

  ‘I do not say it will be a bad thing,’ she remarked, ‘just that I will have to become accustomed to it. I would like the children to have more space to play, too, and I confess I would like to ride more, but I must insist we return to Bath each February. It is such a dull time in the country, but here there are the theatres and shops and concerts to brighten the month.’

  Charles was agreeable, and being happily circumstanced, it was not impossible for him to promise it.

  Theirs is a happy marriage and I wish Frederick could see it, but he seems to avoid his old friends and I fear he will refuse them. It is as if he does not want to let go of his ideas, for if he does he will have to throw himself once more back into life, heart and all, and risk having it broken all over again.

  Wednesday 6 March

  We were a subdued party at dinner tonight. It should have been a cheerful occasion, for Miss Morland joined us, but she brought with her the news that her brother is engaged to Isabella Thorpe, and that was not uplifting. Even worse was my father’s overbearing manner, which cast a pall over everything.

  Eleanor had a further reason for being quiet. I had told her that Frederick meant to pay Mr Morris back, but instead of pleasing her the news reminded her of what she had lost. It was left to my father, therefore, to entertain Miss Morland.

  He must be serious about encouraging a friend for Eleanor for I can see no other reason why he would flatter Miss Morland so. But I am happy that he is pleased with her. The more I see of her, the more I am pleased with her myself, and I am looking forward to seeing her again tomorrow.

  Thursday 7 March

  Frederick arrived at Milsom Street this afternoon and was resolutely interrogated by my father as to his activities during his absence.

  Having answered all my father’s questions about his companions, his drinking habits and his spending, Frederick managed to lead the subject by degrees to the war. He engaged my father in a discussion of strategies and tactics for dealing with the French until it was time for us to leave for the Assembly Rooms.

  My spirits were lifted by the presence of Miss Morland and I determined to make it up to her for the dullness of last night’s party. I was soon laughing with her and teasing her and enjoying myself.

  I enjoyed myself even more when she noticed Frederick, for although she evidently admired him – as who would not? – she did nothing to attract him, as other women have always done. This roused my admiration so much that I said I had a mind to dance and I was just about to ask her when Frederick laughed at me for finding it possible.

  ‘In the Assembly Rooms? In Bath?’ he mocked. ‘You would not find me dancing here.’

  ‘Then it is lucky I am not you. Miss Morland, would you do me the honour?’ I asked.

  Miss Morland, with a becoming smile, accepted.

  The conversation soon turned to the outing she had missed in order to honour her engagement with Eleanor and myself.

  ‘Did your friends put it off until you could join them?’ I asked her.

  ‘Oh, no, they went on their own; that is, Mr Thorpe drove his sister in my place.’

  ‘That was not well done of him,’ I said, ‘but you seem to have survived the disappointment.’

  ‘There was no disappointment at all, I assure you, although I thought they meant to go to Blaize Castle, and that I would have liked to see.’

  ‘It is a fine old place.’

  ‘You have been?’ she asked me eagerly.

  ‘On more than one occasion.’

  ‘And is it very ancient?’

  ‘Quite as ancient as you could wish, and quite as terrible. The venerable stones speak of all sorts of horrible incidents in its terrible past. Many a heroine has been forced into a travelling chaise and four and found herself transported to the castle, where she has been incarcerated, there to await her doom: marriage to an evil baron who will steal her fortune and then murder her, throwing her body into the deep limestone gorge that forms a dramatic backdrop to the castle.’

  Her eyes sparkled.

  ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked with a pleasurable shiver.

  ‘My dear Miss Morland, I am sure of it. Why, the folly alone has seen a dozen murders,’ I remarked.

  She looked momentarily disconcerted.

  ‘But I thought it was only built some thirty or forty years ago,’ she said.

  ‘But where was it built? On the ruin of St B
laize’s Chapel,’ I said in a doleful voice.

  ‘How perfectly horrid,’ she said with delight.

  ‘Yes, is it not? And to think, you were willing to forgo it in order to take a walk with Eleanor and myself. We cannot thank you enough for such a sacrifice.’

  ‘It was not such a sacrifice,’ she said artlessly, ‘for they did not go to the castle in the end. I asked Isabella all about it. They merely drove to the York Hotel, where they ate some soup, and then walked down to the Pump-room, and after tasting the waters they ate an ice at a pastry-cook’s, and then had to hurry back to the hotel and swallow their dinner in haste, to prevent being home in the dark.’

  ‘Very well, you missed nothing of any interest, I grant you, but you did not know that at the time, and your sacrifice is no less noble,’ I said.

  At the end of the first dance, Frederick pulled me aside.

  ‘You seem very taken with Miss Morland,’ he said.

  ‘I find her charming.’

  ‘Who are her family?’

  ‘No one in particular. She is here with neighbours, a Mr and Mrs Allen, and her brother is also here. He is the young man you saw at the farrier’s. You will be delighted to know that his parents gave their consent to the match and he is now betrothed.’

  ‘Lucky man,’ said Frederick wryly.

  His gaze had lingered on Miss Morland and when she looked up he caught her eye, but failing to win a smile or a flirtatious glance, his attention passed on to her friend. Miss Thorpe looked very pretty and was obviously longing to dance.

  ‘There is someone I would like to know better. We collided when I was in pursuit of a drink and the experience was most agreeable. Introduce me,’ said Frederick.

  ‘Nay, Miss Thorpe is engaged, indeed she is engaged to Miss Morland’s brother.’

  ‘Is she indeed?’ said Frederick with interest. ‘And where is the happy Mr Morland?’

  ‘He is still in Wiltshire, where he is no doubt discussing details of the marriage settlement with his parents.’

  Frederick did not take his eyes from Miss Thorpe.

  ‘What mischief are you planning?’ I asked him.

  ‘My dear little brother, how mistrustful you are. I? Mischief ? For once in my life I am behaving myself, and doing my duty. There is a young lady in the room with no partner, and it is my concern, as a gentleman, to offer her my hand. You are dancing with her friend. Ask her if she thinks Miss Thorpe would like to dance.’

  I was unwilling, but knowing Isabella Thorpe to be no innocent, and knowing that my brother could do her no harm in the assembly rooms, I did as he wished; that is, I asked Miss Morland if she though Miss Thorpe would have any objection to dancing.

  ‘My brother would be most happy to be introduced to her,’ I said.

  ‘I am very sure Miss Thorpe does not mean to dance at all,’ said Miss Morland.

  I returned to Frederick with the news, and he appeared to accept it, for he walked away, but not two minutes later I saw him talking to Mrs Hughes and guessed that he would ask her for the introduction he had not received from me.

  ‘Your brother will not mind it, I know,’ said Miss Morland, knowing nothing of Frederick and assuming he was as generous and innocent as herself, ‘because I heard him say before that he would never dance here; but it was very good-natured in him to think of it. I suppose he saw Isabella sitting down, and fancied she might wish for a partner; but he is quite mistaken, for she would not dance upon any account in the world.’

  How is it possible for anyone to be so innocent and so charming?

  I smiled, and said, ‘How very little trouble it can give you to understand the motive of other people’s actions.’

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’

  ‘With you, it is not: How is such a one likely to be influenced, What is the inducement most likely to act upon such a person’s feelings, age, situation, and probable habits of life considered, but: How should I be influenced, What would be my inducement in acting so and so?’

  ‘I do not understand you.’

  ‘Then we are on very unequal terms, for I understand you perfectly well,’ I said.

  Honest, good-natured, artless and – for she likes me – intelligent! And also unwittingly funny, for she replied, ‘Me? Yes; I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible.’

  I laughed.

  ‘Bravo! An excellent satire on modern language,’ I returned, pleased.

  She was perplexed, which made her look even more enchanting.

  ‘But pray tell me what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Shall I indeed? Do you really desire it? But you are not aware of the consequences; it will involve you in a very cruel embarrassment, and certainly bring on a disagreement between us.’

  ‘No, no; it shall not do either; I am not afraid,’ she returned.

  ‘Well, then, I only meant that your attributing my brother’s wish of dancing with Miss Thorpe to good nature alone convinced me of your being superior in good nature yourself to all the rest of the world.’

  She blushed and disclaimed, and the peach flush suffusing her cheeks made her eyes look even more bright.

  Her blushes and smiles subsided, however, when she happened to glance to her right and saw Miss Thorpe standing up with my brother. She was astonished; I, alas, was not at all surprised. Frederick had decided to seduce Miss Thorpe and there was not anything I could do to stop him. The only person who could stop him now was Miss Thorpe herself.

  If she had been defenceless I would have stepped in, but she was in Bath with her family, and engaged to a good and honest man. And so I let him have his way, knowing that she had plenty of people to look after her, and that one word from her own lips would send Frederick on his way. For although he is a rake he is not cruel, and has never yet seduced a woman too young or friendless to be able to resist his charms.

  Miss Thorpe, seeing herself observed, shrugged her shoulders and smiled, the only explanation of this extraordinary change which could at that time be given; but as it was not quite enough for Miss Morland’s comprehension, she spoke her astonishment in very plain terms to me: ‘I cannot think how it could happen! Isabella was so determined not to dance.’

  ‘And did Isabella never change her mind before?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh! But, because – And your brother! After what you told him from me, how could he think of going to ask her?’

  ‘I cannot take surprise to myself on that head. You bid me be surprised on your friend’s account, and therefore I am; but as for my brother, his conduct in the business, I must own, has been no more than I believed him perfectly equal to. The fairness of your friend was an open attraction; her firmness, you know, could only be understood by yourself.’

  ‘You are laughing; but, I assure you, Isabella is very firm in general.’

  ‘It is as much as should be said of anyone. To be always firm must be to be often obstinate. When properly to relax is the trial of judgment; and, without reference to my brother, I really think Miss Thorpe has by no means chosen ill in fixing on the present hour.’

  The dance over, Miss Morland was claimed by her friend, and they walked about the room arm in arm, with Miss Thorpe no doubt explaining why she had broken her steadfast resolve of not dancing, and Miss Morland being surprised and yet generous enough to believe whatever her friend cared to tell her.

  Monday 11 March

  Just as I thought we were settled in Bath, my father announced at breakfast that we would be returning to the abbey on Saturday se’ennight. A couple of letters were the cause of his change of plan: one from his steward, saying that his presence was needed at home and one from General Courteney, saying that he and the Marquis of Longtown had been unavoidably delayed and would not be coming to Bath after all.

  Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief that the general and the marquis would not be joining us, but she was as disappointed as I was to be leaving Bath until my father said, ‘You must invite your friend to come with us, Eleanor. I am sure she would like
to see the abbey and it will be company for you, you know.’

  I was surprised, not sorry for the suggestion and neither was Eleanor.

  My father set out immediately to ask the Allens for their consent to the scheme and I asked Eleanor if she knew of any reason why our father has singled out Miss Morland, more than any of the other young ladies of our acquaintance.

  ‘I like her very well, and so do you,’ I mused, ‘but our father is disposed to dislike people in general, and I see nothing in Miss Morland which would impress him.’

  ‘Except perhaps for her sweetness and her willingness to please and be pleased,’ said Eleanor. ‘I hope she accepts our invitation but I fear she might not want to leave her brother. I am sorry for him, engaging himself to Miss Thorpe. She is not good enough for him.’

  ‘No, far from it, but she is pretty, lively and flirtatious, and he is not the first young man to lose his head over such a one as Miss Thorpe.’

  ‘Frederick seems interested in her, too.’

  ‘Frederick is interested in her only because he cannot have her; unless he has some mischief planned,’ I remarked. ‘However, Miss Thorpe knows what she is about. She will have to look out for herself. It is Miss Morland in whom I have an interest, and so, too, for some reason, does our father.’

  ‘Perhaps it is just that he noticed I have a liking for her.’

  ‘I think it must be, for I can think of no other reason. And so she is to visit us at the abbey?’

  ‘I have not asked her yet. She might say no.’

  ‘What? Say no to staying in a real abbey?’ I enquired. ‘No lover of Gothic novels could resist.’

  ‘You must promise me not to tell her it is haunted. I think she might believe you, and I would not have her frightened.’

  ‘Frightened? My dear Eleanor, if she saw a ghost in the abbey it would delight her for the rest of her life. A headless horseman or a spectral woman wringing her hands, or some ill-fated nun, would thrill her to the core.’