By Janice P.

Part Four

The next day brought Dr. Normand for another visit. Catherine saw him coming up the walk after breakfast. She was sitting in the garden with Eleanor. Neither lady cared to be inside when they could be out enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

Henry had left after breakfast, to take care of parish business and visit a few parishioners. He and Catherine had a quiet breakfast together before he headed out. Catherine, coming from a parsonage herself, was more used to the hours and schedule Henry kept than Eleanor was. Eleanor had come down after Catherine and Henry had finished breakfast.

Seeing he was spotted, Dr. Normand walked directly up to his patient. Eleanor had been reading to her and the two ladies were settled quietly enough, in the shade. As a doctor, he had nothing to complain about. The state of near panic he had sensed the day before was gone. Catherine stood and introduced the doctor to Miss Tilney. They all sat down and Dr. Normand asked the usual questions about her headache, her aches and pains, how she felt. She answered the questions in good humor. Catherine still was sore (not surprising considering the tumble she had taken) and still had a headache, but it was much improved. He nodded as she finished by saying the good company and quiet of the parsonage was the perfect tonic.

The doctor was a wise man. He therefore suspected that the "tonic" Miss Morland was enjoying went beyond quiet and had more to do with companionship. Especially the companionship of a certain young parson.

The availability of Miss Tilney to make the visit respectable made his conscience relax. After taking in the entire situation, he cheerfully suggested that all his patients should have such a good atmosphere to recover in. He then recommended Miss Morland not rush her recovery. "Miss Morland. You are quite correct in saying that you were not seriously hurt yesterday. However, you would most certainly be miserable if you try to travel too soon. I would suggest you not consider going home until next week. By then your bruises will be nearly better, and the headache should be gone as well. No point in taking risks with a head injury, eh?"

Both ladies smiled at him and Miss Tilney replied, "Indeed, sir, I am sure my brother would agree with you. We cannot risk Miss Morland's health. I am in no hurry to be separated from my dear friend. Perhaps I will arrange another accident next week!" Catherine giggled at the idea. She was also pleased to see Eleanor's spirits recovered.

The doctor smiled and supplied the answer. "I would not suggest another carriage accident - that's far too drastic. Perhaps a simple sprained ankle from tripping might work as well?" Eleanor and Catherine started laughing again.

Henry smiled as he walked up the lane. Hearing his sister and Catherine in such good humor pleased him. He had hurried through his business so he could return early. The doctor's presence did not surprise him, as Henry had stopped by his house. Henry had been told the doctor was out on his morning rounds, and suspected he would stop by the parsonage.

After greeting the doctor, Henry looked up to see Mrs. Jones hovering. He asked her to bring some tea out for the ladies and accompanied the doctor (who refused to join them) on his way out. Dr. Normand briefly told Henry that Miss Morland was fine, but should not travel for a week to be sure. He hid a smile at the pleased expression on Henry's face. It confirmed everything he suspected.

Dr. Normand was not a gossip, but the village was already speculating that the parsonage might have a new mistress in the near future. The villagers were pleased with the idea. Mr. Tilney might be expected to stay in Woodston more if he had a young wife at home. It would add to the local society. A few young ladies (and their families) who had hopes of catching the parson were a little annoyed, but nobody worried about that. Most of the local girls knew they were not high enough, socially, to catch the younger son of Northanger Abbey.

The week passed quickly. Catherine had written her family of her travel plans. She made sure her parents knew she was being personally escorted by Mr. and Miss Tilney, so her parents would know to prepare for guests. The trip was planned for the Monday, to allow Henry to perform his duties as minister on Sunday. At 7:00 Monday morning, the group climbed into the travel coach and were on their way. Eleanor and Catherine were as cheerful as ever, but Henry was a little disturbed. He intended to ask Mr. Morland for permission to marry Catherine. He did not get a chance to ask Catherine directly during the week. His sister played the role of chaperone a little too well in his opinion. "Of course, that might be for the best" he mused to himself. "I might have been tempted to take liberates if I had time alone. Somehow, I suspect that Catherine would not object to a kiss or two, but that would be very wrong until I get her father's permission."

The silence from Northanger Abbey had also worried Henry. It wasn't like his father to be silent when he was angry. Certainly he would take it out on the servants, but he would normally take it out on his children as well. Woodston was only a few hours away from Northanger Abbey. There was no good reason why his father hadn't come personally to remove Eleanor, even if he was too angry at Henry to even yell at him.

There was also the consideration of WHERE had the General received his information from - both times? The first informant had vastly overstated Catherine's consequences and fortune. The second had vilified her and all her family. Neither made much sense. Catherine had never given any reason to suspect she was anything but what she was - a respectable, slightly naive, minister's daughter. Her friendship with the Allens showed she and her family were well thought of in their own neighborhood. Only maliciousness could explain the second informants motives, Henry thought. What could have motivated the first informant was beyond him. The General's acceptance of stories that had absolutely no proof, and plenty of disproof (in Catherine's pretty, but not rich, manners and dress) was another concern. The General had been slipping lately. He had always been volatile and proud, but it was exaggerated more and more as the years passed. In the past he had been too canny to accept other peoples knowledge and observations. At least, not to accept them without using his own powers of observation and corroborating evidence. This shift in behavior was, perhaps, the most disturbing of all.

Even with his worries, Henry enjoyed the drive. The last week, spent almost exclusively on his work, with his rest time be filled by his sister and dearest love (as Catherine had become), had been so relaxing. Henry finally felt like he knew what family life SHOULD be like. He knew his own condition, of only caring about his sister, was not the way it ought to be. Looking at his friend's lives, he knew few people who really enjoyed being with their families. There were always quarrels and politics. With Eleanor and Catherine there was conversation and confortable silence. There were jokes. There was caring, always implied and sometimes openly shown. Henry was too wise to think they would never quarrel. He suspected that Catherine was sweet enough to admit when she was wrong, and not gloat when she was right. The more time Henry spent with her, the more sure he became of his choice and the future tranquility of his life.

He continued to be troubled by Eleanor's situation. Who did she love, and what could be done about it? How was she going to survive being locked up with their father again, especially a very angry father? The General was known for his grudges. His manner was going to be very unpleasant and Eleanor would have no escape. Once she returned to the Abbey, Henry suspected he would be prevented from seeing her again. Their father might even refuse to allow a correspondence between them.

Catherine's innocent reflection of his preoccupation brought Henry back to the present. He realized both ladies were looking quite seriously at him. "Is something wrong Mr. Tilney? You haven't said a word since we started out" Catherine said. Eleanor's look told him his internal thoughts must have been reflected on his face. As he was facing the ladies, they could not have escaped seeing he was upset.

"Not wrong, Miss Morland," he replied. "I am a little concerned about not hearing from my father. I think it is rather odd that he did not enquire about Eleanor or come for a visit to the parsonage." Eleanor immediately understood the meaning beneath Henry's words. He could tell by her quick intake of breath. Catherine missed most of it. "I confess, I hadn't thought about it" was Catherine's comment. "My father wrote to be sure I arrived in Bath safely, but Eleanor is with her brother. Surely he would feel she was safe with you?"

"That must be it," said Henry, and dropped the subject. He wished he hadn't been quite so honest when he saw his sister attempting to keep her spirits up. She had been so carefree for a week, but they both realized she would pay for it when she went home. Sooner or later, she would have to return to the Abbey. There was no way to prevent it.

They stopped to change horses several times. At each stop, the party left the coach to stretch their legs and, once, to have lunch. Henry finally put his worries behind him, but Eleanor was not having such an easy time. Catherine had caught some of Eleanors' melancholy, but was so excited about going home that it couldn't depress her. It just made her think.

By this time Catherine better understood all the Tilney family. Captain Tilney was a rake. The General was a tyrant (even if he wasn't a murderer). Eleanor was as good, sweet and intelligent as she appeared - and very forbearing. Henry - ah Henry! He was her IDEAL MAN. Of this, Catherine had no doubt. She knew she loved Henry. It was even better than what she read about! She was a little ashamed of how silly she had been. Spending time with Henry had made Catherine more aware of how humor could be added to many situations. She knew the signs he displayed that would tell her when he was serious and when was 'funning' her - or someone else. She had even learned to join in on the fun, sometimes! His patience in explaining new ideas made her feel special. His expectation of her improving herself gave her more desire to do so than she had ever had. He INCLUDED her - in his conversation, his jokes, his studies, his time. It felt so right.

She could not be more pleased that Henry and Eleanor were accompanying her home. She wanted to show her dear friends her favorite place under the apple trees. She wanted to stay as long as she could in the Tilneys company. Her only frustration was that, with all the opportunities he had, Henry had remained a complete gentleman. He hadn't squeezed her hand, or snuck a kiss or made a single remark that could be taken the wrong (or right!) way. She had rather hoped he would forget (just a little) that he was a minister and a gentleman. That he had not made her wonder (just a little) if maybe he did not feel as strongly for her as she did for him. Did he only take care of her because she had been a guest and he was a gentleman?

They pulled into Fullerton later that evening. Cries of "Cathy's home!" came from various parts of the house and yard. The entire family spilled out to greet Catherine and her guests.

Continued in the Conclusion

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