pump-room, sir.”
He glanced over to the part of the room where
Henry stood, and said, “If you insist, madam; but I had hoped for a
private audience.”
“We do not need privacy, sir, for what I have to
say.” He gazed at her steadily, and Catherine discovered that her
carefully prepared speech from Mrs. Radcliffe had abandoned her.
“I—that is—”
Sir Philip’s eyes flicked somewhere behind her,
and she knew, without looking, that Henry was there; and the
knowledge of that was like a burst of warmth within her.
“Too late,” said Sir Philip, confirming her
guess. “Your watchdog has sniffed us out, and stands ready to
interfere, as always.”
Catherine turned then, and met Henry’s eye. She
smiled, and he smiled in return, and nodded to her encouragingly,
but did not approach. He knew that Catherine wished to address the
problem herself, but he was there if she needed him. Henry was so
kind, and sensible, and dependable! That thought cheered her and at
the same time made her angry. How could Sir Philip think
that—? She turned back to him, and found she no longer needed
to borrow Mrs. Radcliffe’s words; her own would do.
“My husband only has ‘interfered,’ as you put
it, because I asked him to; because I could see that you had formed
certain ideas—I know little of the world or of flirtation, sir, and
I believe you have misunderstood what only was meant as civility. I
have hinted, but I see now that only plain speaking will do. Thus I
say to you as plainly as I can, sir, that I have no intention of
being your latest amusement. I am a married woman, and I shall keep
my vows.”
Sir Philip’s eyes flicked again to Henry.
“Madam, I am familiar with the methods that General Tilney employs
with his family. If you have been coerced—”
“General Tilney is different from Henry. I have
always been a little afraid of the general, but I could never be
afraid of Henry. He has all my confidence, and all my affection.”
The last sentence was said with such warmth of expression and such
a smile that could leave no man in doubt that Catherine’s words
were sincere.
Sir Philip looked at Henry and said, “You have a
faithful little wife, Tilney, and I give you joy of her.”
Only then did Henry approach them. “I thank you,
Beauclerk; I have great joy of her, I assure you.” He took
Catherine’s hand and raised it to his lips.
“Forgive me, madam,” said Sir Philip. “I hope my
misapprehension has not caused you undue distress.”
“Oh, no,” said Catherine, who in the flush of
her success could not imagine ever feeling distressed again. “I am
glad that we understand one another at last.”
“Yes; at last.” He bowed to her, nodded to
Henry, and left the pump-room.
The Whitings joined them almost immediately. “Is
everything well, Catherine?” Eleanor asked anxiously.
“Yes, I thank you. I forgot the speech I had
planned, but I made Sir Philip understand me at last.”
“You were magnificent, my sweet,” said Henry.
“Plain speech can do as well, and sometimes better, than the most
learned oratory, or even one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s speeches.”
“It will be uncomfortable to be in company with
Sir Philip, however. I wish I could have nothing more to do with
him, but if General Tilney is determined on marrying Lady
Beauclerk, I cannot see how we will be able to avoid him. I am
sorry to say it, as they will soon be part of the family, but I do
not like the Beauclerks.”
“We need have little to do with any of them
beyond her ladyship,” said Henry.
“Will Miss Beauclerk go to live at Northanger
Abbey when her mother is married, do you think?”
Eleanor exclaimed, and she exchanged a dismayed
look with her brother.
“I had not thought of that,” said Henry.
“Surely my father would not—” said Eleanor.
Catherine wondered at their words; why would it
be so dreadful for Judith Beauclerk to live at Northanger Abbey
with her mother?
“Perhaps Miss Beauclerk will
He glanced over to the part of the room where
Henry stood, and said, “If you insist, madam; but I had hoped for a
private audience.”
“We do not need privacy, sir, for what I have to
say.” He gazed at her steadily, and Catherine discovered that her
carefully prepared speech from Mrs. Radcliffe had abandoned her.
“I—that is—”
Sir Philip’s eyes flicked somewhere behind her,
and she knew, without looking, that Henry was there; and the
knowledge of that was like a burst of warmth within her.
“Too late,” said Sir Philip, confirming her
guess. “Your watchdog has sniffed us out, and stands ready to
interfere, as always.”
Catherine turned then, and met Henry’s eye. She
smiled, and he smiled in return, and nodded to her encouragingly,
but did not approach. He knew that Catherine wished to address the
problem herself, but he was there if she needed him. Henry was so
kind, and sensible, and dependable! That thought cheered her and at
the same time made her angry. How could Sir Philip think
that—? She turned back to him, and found she no longer needed
to borrow Mrs. Radcliffe’s words; her own would do.
“My husband only has ‘interfered,’ as you put
it, because I asked him to; because I could see that you had formed
certain ideas—I know little of the world or of flirtation, sir, and
I believe you have misunderstood what only was meant as civility. I
have hinted, but I see now that only plain speaking will do. Thus I
say to you as plainly as I can, sir, that I have no intention of
being your latest amusement. I am a married woman, and I shall keep
my vows.”
Sir Philip’s eyes flicked again to Henry.
“Madam, I am familiar with the methods that General Tilney employs
with his family. If you have been coerced—”
“General Tilney is different from Henry. I have
always been a little afraid of the general, but I could never be
afraid of Henry. He has all my confidence, and all my affection.”
The last sentence was said with such warmth of expression and such
a smile that could leave no man in doubt that Catherine’s words
were sincere.
Sir Philip looked at Henry and said, “You have a
faithful little wife, Tilney, and I give you joy of her.”
Only then did Henry approach them. “I thank you,
Beauclerk; I have great joy of her, I assure you.” He took
Catherine’s hand and raised it to his lips.
“Forgive me, madam,” said Sir Philip. “I hope my
misapprehension has not caused you undue distress.”
“Oh, no,” said Catherine, who in the flush of
her success could not imagine ever feeling distressed again. “I am
glad that we understand one another at last.”
“Yes; at last.” He bowed to her, nodded to
Henry, and left the pump-room.
The Whitings joined them almost immediately. “Is
everything well, Catherine?” Eleanor asked anxiously.
“Yes, I thank you. I forgot the speech I had
planned, but I made Sir Philip understand me at last.”
“You were magnificent, my sweet,” said Henry.
“Plain speech can do as well, and sometimes better, than the most
learned oratory, or even one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s speeches.”
“It will be uncomfortable to be in company with
Sir Philip, however. I wish I could have nothing more to do with
him, but if General Tilney is determined on marrying Lady
Beauclerk, I cannot see how we will be able to avoid him. I am
sorry to say it, as they will soon be part of the family, but I do
not like the Beauclerks.”
“We need have little to do with any of them
beyond her ladyship,” said Henry.
“Will Miss Beauclerk go to live at Northanger
Abbey when her mother is married, do you think?”
Eleanor exclaimed, and she exchanged a dismayed
look with her brother.
“I had not thought of that,” said Henry.
“Surely my father would not—” said Eleanor.
Catherine wondered at their words; why would it
be so dreadful for Judith Beauclerk to live at Northanger Abbey
with her mother?
“Perhaps Miss Beauclerk will
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