“And pray note that he chose to make his attempt nearly on the Beauclerks’ doorstep,” said Henry. “He raved a bit in the carriage about Judith finding him floating in the river and being sorry she had cast him off, but it soon came out that he really did not wish to drown himself; he had a wild scheme of someone running for Judith so she could stop him from drowning himself and reconcile with him.”
“He also waited until he was sure he had an audience,” said Lord Whiting. “He could have jumped in before we or that nice fellow from Hampshire got there, but he waited for us to be close enough to see his act. I give him credit; ’twas as good as anything one sees on Drury Lane. Though the poor fellow has had a bad time of it.”
Henry looked at Catherine, who sat with her head down, and her hands fastened in her lap; an attitude he knew to mean that she was in some distress that she did not care to vocalize. “Do not worry, my sweet. Mr. Shaw and I had a good talk, and I made him see the foolishness of martyring himself to Miss Beauclerk. I think he might even be on the way to mending his broken heart.”
Catherine lifted her head and looked into Henry’s eyes. “You once said to me that Miss Beauclerk had not injured you; but the way you spoke to him today — the way you said he was not the first man to have his peace destroyed by her — ”
Henry and Eleanor exchanged glances, and Eleanor said, “Catherine and John are part of our family now, Henry; I believe you should tell them.”
He nodded, and said to Catherine, “I told you the truth. Judith Beauclerk did not break my heart or injure me by her flirtations. I regret I cannot say the same for my brother.”
“Captain Tilney?”
“Yes. He came home several years ago, a newly commissioned lieutenant in the Twelfth Light Dragoons, and fell for Judith with all the ardent affection of a young man fresh from a battlefield, and offered her his hand and his heart. She said that she could not marry a mere Lieutenant Tilney, and he had to put himself in the way of a battlefield commission or, better yet, a knighthood so she could be Lady Tilney. Frederick told no one of this, not even my father; and he went off to Toulon and put himself in grave danger during the siege there, in a hopeless cause, trying to cover himself with glory for her sake.”
“He won his commission?”
“Yes; he was Captain Tilney, but it was not enough for Judith; he was not Sir Frederick. He presented himself to Judith, and she laughed at him, and said she had never intended to marry him or any officer, and how could he take her so seriously? My brother changed that day, Cat; he changed from a brave, headstrong, sometimes vain and thoughtless young man into someone capable of amusing himself at the expense of another’s comfort. He learned to give what he received from Miss Beauclerk; and since then has found no woman worthy of his affection.”
Catherine considered this gravely. “That is why he acted the way he did with Isabella Thorpe, I dare say; he knew her for a vain coquette, and took his revenge on her.”
“Not so much revenge, I think, as recognizing that Miss Thorpe’s was not a heart worth winning, or worth more than a common flirtation, and perhaps taking advantage of it.”
“And now I understand why you did not wish Miss Beauclerk to live at Northanger; if Captain Tilney came to visit, I dare say it would be most uncomfortable for him.”
“Yes,” said Eleanor. “And my father promoted the match between Frederick and Judith, which really was most eligible, so Henry and I were astonished that he seemed to have forgotten the outcome of it.”
“I do not understand why Miss Beauclerk would refuse Captain Tilney and accept Sir Philip,” said Catherine. “Captain Tilney will have a much larger estate and fortune.”
“I believe she always meant to get Beauclerk, if she could,” said Henry. “She could not capture him with her own charms, but her father made it possible with the terms of his will.”
“So ambition makes fools of us all,” said his lordship. “Eleanor, love, is that tea hot? I could use a cup.”
The fire in their bedroom was past its first and highest blaze, and Henry and Catherine burrowed into their thick quilts, embraced by the circle of light thrown off by Henry’s candle as he read aloud the last chapter of The Mysteries of Udolpho.
O! how joyful it is to tell of happiness, such as that of Valancourt and Emily; to relate, that, after suffering under the oppression of the vicious and the disdain of the weak, they were, at length, restored to each other — to the beloved landscapes of their native country, — to the securest felicity of this life, that of aspiring to moral and labouring for intellectual improvement — to the pleasures of enlightened society, and to the exercise of the benevolence, which had always animated their hearts; while the bowers of La Vallee became, once more, the retreat of goodness, wisdom and domestic blessedness!
O! useful may it be to have shewn, that, though the vicious can sometimes pour affliction upon the good, their power is transient and their punishment certain; and that innocence, though oppressed by injustice, shall, supported by patience, finally triumph over misfortune!
Catherine made an impatient noise and thrashed a bit under her quilt.
Henry looked down at her in surprise. “You disagree with Mrs. Radcliffe, my sweet?”
“I once believed that innocence could triumph over misfortune, but now I am not so sure.”
Henry closed the book and set it aside. “Somehow, I do not think you are speaking of Udolpho.”
“No.” He waited, and she said, “Well, look at Miss Beauclerk! She has injured your brother, and poor Mr. Shaw, and now she gets what she always wanted: to be Lady Beauclerk, when she should be forced to — ”
“ — take the veil, like Laurentini?”
“Well, yes! Or something like that! It does not seem fair!”
“Consider, my sweet: to achieve her ambition, Miss Beauclerk accepted a husband who is unlikely to make her very happy. Some would say that her success will be her own punishment.”
Catherine subsided and rested her head upon his shoulder, suddenly wearied by it all. “I suppose.”
He kissed her forehead. “I fear the friends you have made in Bath have given your faith in your fellow man a severe trial. Shall we give up the lodgings, and go back to Woodston early?”
She considered his suggestion for a moment. “No, I would like to stay another week or two, if we can; the Beauclerks will be gone, and perhaps we will make new acquaintances. Although I cannot think of any friends I should like better than you, and Eleanor and John.”
“Then I must make plans for your further entertainment. We shall go to the bookseller’s tomorrow and choose something else to read together. Another by Mrs. Radcliffe? Perhaps The Italian, or The Romance of the Forest?”
“Perhaps The Midnight Bell? I like the sound of that one.”
“The Midnight Bell it is, then. And we have not been out once yet in the curricle; Matthew tells me the horses are getting fat and need exercise. One fine morning this week I will drive you out to Bristol and you shall finally see Blaise Castle.”
Henry’s words, meant to cheer Catherine, instead distressed her. “I once thought it a real castle! I was such a foolish creature. How could you ever fall in love with me?”
He looked down at her with a warm smile, his eyes all affection. “How could I not love you, Catherine? How could any man of sense not see all your good qualities? You were not foolish, just innocent of the world; and as Mrs. Radcliffe has taught us, innocence — “ he reached out and extinguished the candle — “must always triumph.”
It was not very long before Catherine found herself agreeing with that sentiment; for when he was inspired, Henry could be very convincing indeed.