Chapter 1

Posted on Saturday, 7 January 2006

"Catherine was too wretched to be fearful. The journey in itself had no terrors for her; and she began it without either dreading its length, or feeling its solitariness. Leaning back in one corner of the carriage, in a violent burst of tears, she was conveyed some miles beyond the walls of the Abbey before she raised her head; and the highest point of ground within the park was almost closed from her view before she was capable of turning her eyes towards it. Unfortunately, the road she now traveled was the same which only ten days ago she had so happily passed along in going to and from Woodston; and, for fourteen miles, every bitter feeling was rendered more severe by the review of objects on which she had first looked under impressions so different. Every mile, as it brought her nearer Woodston, added to her sufferings, and when, within the distance of five, she passed to the turning which led to it, and thought of Henry, so near, yet so unconscious, her grief and agitation were excessive.

"The day which she had spent at that place had been one of the happiest of her life. It was there, it was on that day that the General had made use of such expressions with regard to Henry and herself, had so spoken and so looked as to give her the most positive conviction of his actually wishing their marriage. Yes, only ten days ago had he elated her by his pointed regard - had even confused her by his too significant reference! And now-what had she done, or what had she omitted to do, to merit such a change?

"Anxious as were all her conjectures on this point, it was not, however, the one on which she dwelt most. There was a thought yet nearer-a more prevailing, more impetuous concern: - how Henry would think, and feel, and look, when he returned on the morrow to Northanger, and heard of her being gone, was a question of force and interest to rise over every other, to be never-ceasing, alternately irritating and soothing: it sometimes suggested the dread of his calm acquiescence; and at others was answered by the sweetest confidence in his regret and resentment. To the General, of course, he would not dare to speak; but to Eleanor, -what might he not say to Eleanor about her?

"'This has been a strange acquaintance,' observed Mrs. Morland, as the letter was finished; 'soon made and soon ended. I am sorry it happens so, for Mrs. Allen thought them very pretty kind of young people ... Well, we must live and learn; and the next new friends you make I hope will be better worth keeping.'

"Catherine colored as she warmly answered, 'No friend can be better worth keeping than Eleanor.'

"'If so, my dear, I daresay you will meet again sometime or other; do not be uneasy. It is ten to one but you are thrown together again in the course of a few years; and then what a pleasure it will be'

"Mrs. Morland was not happy in her attempt at consolation. The hope of meeting again in the course of a few years could only put into Catherine's head what might happen within that time to make a meeting dreadful to her. She could never forget Henry Tilney, or think of him with less tenderness than she did at that moment: but he might forget her; and in that case to meet! Her eyes filled with tears as she pictured her acquaintance so renewed; and her mother, perceiving her comfortable suggestions to have had no good affect, proposed, as another expedient for restoring her spirits, that they should call on Mrs. Allen."

Northanger Abbey, Chapter XXIX

Catherine's heart was heavy and sad in those early days after her sudden return to Fullerton. Everyday she anticipated that Henry Tilney would come to her, but everyday he did not. Always she hoped to hear something of him, but her hopes were greeted by silence. Her only comfort was that his name was soon forgotten by her family, for each mention of Henry was like a knife cutting through her heart.

Her only relief was Eleanor's letters, which came frequently at first and then less often as her marriage to the viscount approached. Although desirous of knowing anything of Henry, Catherine could not bring herself to ask, and Eleanor did not volunteer any information that concerned him. Eleanor's letters continued to arrive faithfully after her marriage and for a few months beyond. By then, she was expecting her first child, and her letters stopped coming. Everyday Catherine expected to hear from Eleanor and sent her many letters, but her only answer was a cold silence, and Catherine could only imagine that she had once again offended a member of the Tilney family.

Then tragedy struck, and all thoughts of Henry Tilney were put by, as she suffered the loss of her dear father. His death had been sudden and unexpected. The Morlands were left in poor circumstances. While not completely destitute, an estate of four hundred pounds per annum devolved on Mrs. Morland at her husband's death, the pecuniary circumstances of the family were desperate, since they had previously enjoyed a yearly income of nearly for four times that amount.

Catherine was the eldest child at home, her two older brothers both off at Oxford. At eighteen, she was old enough to understand that she must do something to assist her mother. In private consultation with the two eldest boys still at home, it was agreed that Catherine would seek a post as a governess and would appeal to Mrs. Allen for her help in gaining her husband's assistance in placing the boys as apprentices with tradesmen in Salisbury.

Mr. Allen, fond of all the Morlands and particularly fond of Catherine, offered his help as far as it would go and was successful in obtaining places for the two boys. He was less successful in his efforts on Catherine's behalf. It was not from any lack of desire to help on his part, but from a lack of motivation. Catherine was a beautiful young woman, perhaps not as accomplished as most, but certainly not deserving of the privations of the servile life of a governess. No, he had another hope for her.

Mr. Allen's plan was an introduction to a young man of four and twenty, namely, his nephew, Edward Watson, a clergyman, to whom he had given the living of Hilford. Though not a rich living, at seven hundred per year it would more than provide. The parsonage was comfortable, the glebe was large and fertile - little could be wanting. It was Mr. Allen's wish that his nephew make Catherine the mistress of Hilford Parsonage.

Mr. Edward Watson was a very pleasant man, finding good in all the world and willing to assume the best in other people. He was a gentle man of good humor, not prone to fits of temper and moderate in all his passions. Though fond of hunting and riding, they were not priorities in his life. He desire was to obtain a sufficient living to support a family in a part of the kingdom where he could do good amongst his parishioners. He was of an average size and coloring. His only striking feature was intelligent, piercing blue eyes. He had been educated at Oxford and was known to Catherine's older brothers, thought slightly.

Mr. Allen had long suspected Catherine's feelings for Henry Tilney. Indeed, no one who knew her could doubt them, but he was also quite aware that the gentleman had made no effort to return Catherine's affection. At the first, there had been some signs of regard on Mr. Tilney's part, but his silence and absence since Catherine's return to Fullerton last year undermined any such romantic illusions. Now, after the death of her father, Mr. Allen felt that Edward might be successful in winning Catherine's affections. Catherine had a tender heart that needed to love. A marriage with Edward would be a good match for them both, and Mr. Allen thought they could make each other truly happy. If only Catherine could free her heart from its entanglement with Mr. Tilney.

Since her early childhood and up until she had visited Henry Tilney's parsonage at Woodston, Catherine's favorite haunt had been in or around the trees in the orchard near her home at Fullerton parsonage. On this day, she enjoyed them as a visitor, the Morlands having driven over to spend the day with the Allens.

Catherine had thought she was alone in the orchard until addressed by a man she immediately recognized as Mr. Allen. Catherine greeted him and stepped next to him, standing in the shade of an apple tree.

"You have always been fond of these trees," said Mr. Allen.

"I have, sir. I remember my father telling me how he had planted them when he and my mother first came to Fullerton."

"He was a wonderful man, your father was."

"Thank you."

"I have come to you on an errand, Miss Morland. I would like to beg that you to return to the house and meet my nephew, Mr. Edward Watson. He is just arrived from London."

"Oh, I should be delighted. You have often spoken of the gentleman."

"You will see plenty of him, for he now lives at Hilford."

"One of my father's livings," whispered Catherine.

"Do not be downcast, my dear. Edward is a good man and will serve the people of Hilford with all the energy and devotion of your father."

"I am not sad. There have been so many changes in my life recently that I am just a little bewildered, that is all."

"Well, something that will never change is the love and affection that Mrs. Allen and I have for your dear mother and all your family."

"My mother depends on that love more than you can imagine."

Mr. Allen escorted Catherine back into the house to the drawing room. A pleasant looking young man was seated in a chair and engaged in laughing conversation with Mrs. Allen. Upon seeing Catherine, he rose and closed the distance between them.

"Miss Morland, allow me to present you to my nephew, Mr. Edward Watson. Edward, this is Miss Catherine Morland."

"I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Morland," said Mr. Watson with a bow. And indeed, he was pleased to meet her, for she was just as pretty as Mrs. Allen had said.

Catherine answered with a curtsy. "And I, you."

"Miss Morland," began Mr. Watson, "I understand that you are very fond of trees."

Catherine could not help laughing. Turning to Mr. Allen, she cried, "You have been telling him all my secrets, sir." And to Mr. Watson, she said, "Yes, sir, I like trees very well. Particularly trees that I can climb," Mr. Watson smiled as Catherine added with some embarrassment, "though I do confess, it has been some time since I climbed a tree."

"The last tree I climbed," said Mr. Watson, "was a tall one in front of my father's home. I fell out of it and nearly broke my neck. I have not been above ground since."

"I became sick from the fruit of the last tree I climbed. The apples were still too green to be eaten, but I love sour apples."

"I never knew, until now, how dangerous a pastime climbing trees could be. I am pleased to say that I never attempted it," said Mr. Allen.

"The view from the top of a tree is magnificent from the perspective of a young child," commented Mr. Watson.

"And I suspect, sir, that so was the speed at which the ground approached as you fell," teased Catherine.

"Indeed, it was," answered Mr. Watson, shaking his head.

Long before Catherine realized what was happening, she was out in the orchard with Edward Watson showing him her favorite trees and telling him about her childhood. Her mother and Mrs. Allen had accompanied the young couple out of the house, but they were now nowhere to be seen. Catherine was not at all discomposed by the circumstance, however, and boldly walked on.

"No, sir, I never learned to play an instrument. I had always imagined I would like to learn, and my mother thought it a good idea, so she hired a master to come to the house twice a week, but it was to no avail. I was a poor pupil, and after a year, my mother dismissed him. It was one of the happiest days of my life."

Mr. Watson laughed. "What are your occupations?"

"I once took it upon myself to draw, stealing scraps of paper and envelopes from my mother's desk. I drew houses, trees and chickens and was very fond of it. That was also in vain, though. Several years ago I found a drawing I had made tucked into a book, and my carefully drawn houses, trees and chickens all looked alike."

Mr. Watson shook his head and smiled.

"But what I most enjoy is reading. For a time, I read poetry and plays, and last year, for a brief time, I became very excited about Mrs. Radcliffe's novels, but," Catherine hesitated as she turned away from him, "I quickly lost interest in them, as well. What I do enjoy now is history - real, solemn history."

"And who is your favorite historical character?"

"Eleanor of Aquitaine. I find her life to be fascinating. It is horrible what Henry Fitz Empress did to her, but in the end, her strength and fortitude carried the day."

"How true that is."

"I do not mean to say she is a model of comportment that young women ought to adopt, but reading about her is such a delight." Catherine paused, and then asked which was Mr. Watson's favorite character.

"Llewelyn ap Iorwerth."

"Who is that? Is that not a Welsh name?"

"It is. He is Llewelyn the Great, the first prince to unite all of the kingdoms of Wales."

"Please, tell me more."

"Certainly. He was a brilliant strategist..."

Miss Morland and Mr. Watson were laughing when interrupted by Sally, the youngest Morland. She had come to retrieve her sister in preparation for the ride home. When Catherine assured Sally that she would be right there, Sally ran back to the house.

"Miss Morland, I must thank you for a very enjoyable afternoon."

"The pleasure was all mine, sir. I like talking to you very much."

"If it is not objectionable, may I visit you at your home?"

On an unspoken command, Catherine and Mr. Watson turned together. Without any hesitation at all, Catherine took the arm he offered and they began a slow walk back to the house.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Watson."

When the Morland family had returned home, Mrs. Morland took Catherine aside in order to satisfy her own curiosity about Mr. Edward Watson.

"Well, Catherine, well?"

"I do not understand you, Mother."

"Of course you do, my love. Please tell me about Mr. Edward."

"You mean Mr. Watson?" replied Catherine archly.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Watson."

"Very well. Mr. Watson fell from a tree, sympathizes with people who eat sour apples, enjoys history and is pleasant company."

"Is that all you can say, my dear?"

"No, there are two more things I might add."

"And those are?"

"He finds my conversation to be enjoyable and asked if he could call on me."

"Oh, I am so happy for you, Catherine!"

"Happy? I do not have the pleasure of understanding you."

"He will be a wonderful husband to you. He is not rich, of course, but we know that the Hilford living is worth seven hundred pounds a year. He will make you very comfortable."

"Mama, he has not proposed marriage. He has asked only if he could visit me."

"And what did you answer, my child?"

"I told him I never wanted to see him again!"

"What? You did not!"

Catherine laughed.

"Of course I did not, but Mama, marrying for money is the wickedest thing in the world."

"Yes, Catherine, but poverty is even worse."

"Besides," continued Catherine quietly, "if I could think of any man in that way, you know it is Mr. Tilney."

"Oh, Catherine, I know you love Mr. Tilney, but you must realize by now that if he returned your affection he would have..."

"I know! Please do not repeat it!" cried Catherine.

Catherine's satisfaction with the day was not so great by the time she retired for the night. Her mother's reference to Mr. Tilney had introduced thoughts of what may have been had he been the man with whom she had been laughing in the orchard at Fullerton.

Chapter 2

Posted on Tuesday, 10 January 2006

The next morning Catherine awoke with a start. She recalled that she had forgotten to ask Mr. Allen about his progress in finding a place for her as a governess and in assisting her brothers. She had been so pleasantly distracted by Mr. Watson that she forgot to complete her most important duty. How could she have been so awful, so selfish?

When she finally went downstairs, she found a note waiting for her on the sideboard. Her regrets were unfounded, for it was from Mr. Allen.

Fullerton, nr. Salisbury

23 March 17__

My Dear Miss Morland,

We had barely a chance to speak yesterday. Far be it from me to deny my nephew the pleasure of your company for even a moment. Edward speaks of nothing but of Miss Morland, her beauty, wit and intelligence. I congratulate you, Catherine, on a worthy conquest

Concerning your dear brothers. I am pleased to report that I have met with success and both of them will be taken into Mr. Abbott's establishment as apprentices as of the first of April.

As concerns yourself, however, I am loath to proceed. It is fitting that young men have an occupation, if only for the sake of the work itself, but let me prevail on you, Miss Morland, to consider the contribution you make to your family, the dependence your mother places on you and your own future hopes for happiness. If you are intent, though, and I can see your pursed lips scolding my delay, trust me to find a situation for you. It may take some time, but I will work to your advantage.

I remain your friend and well-wisher,

William Allen

Catherine read the letter with haste and then went in search of her brothers to share with them the good news. Unlike Catherine, who faced her future with apprehension and misgiving, her brothers were eager to assume their new places.

It was dark when Catherine awoke from a disturbed slumber. She had been once again troubled by a dream. It began after her return from Northanger Abbey and was her frequent nighttime companion. As she wiped a tear from her eye, she could still hear his words.

In her dream, Catherine saw herself standing alone in the orchard at Fullerton. A warm sun shone in a cloudless sky. The fruit on the trees was robust and healthy, promising a bounteous harvest. On the edge of her consciousness were the sounds of birds and children at work and at play. Neither fixes her attention. A young man is coming towards her on horseback.

He approaches cautiously, as if careful not to give her a fright. Dismounting a small distance away, he walks towards her with a hesitant stride, as if uncertain of himself. In his hand is a flower.

"Miss Morland," he says as he offers it to her, "I will not oppress you with too much passion or too much regret, but since you left us, the white rosebush has died from grief."

Catherine could not mistake the form or voice of Henry Tilney. Unwilling to breath, unwilling to break the spell, she dared not reply.

"Tell me," he continued, "if your face reveals all that is in your heart or if I may hope that it holds a secret. Catherine, I do not need my father's permission to marry you."

"But he knows you are here?"

"Yes."

Catherine felt the touch of his hand on her cheek, his arm around her waist, his lips pressed against hers. At last, after an eternity of waiting her heart bursts with the joy that only he can give her, and tears fall from her eyes...

She awoke in the dark, cold and alone - her only warmth the tears burning her cheek.

It was another morning later in the week, and Catherine felt that she was, once again, being awakened from a dream.

"Catherine! Catherine! He is here! He is here!"

Catherine opened her eyes to see her mother standing over her.

"Catherine, wake up! He is here!" she repeated.

"Who is here?" yawned Catherine.

"Why, who do you think, my dear? It is only Mr. Watson! Hurry, wake up, and put on your blue gown."

Catherine was almost amused by her mother's excitement, and as she pulled herself from her bed, she felt a slight stirring of anticipation within her. It was flattering to be liked by a respectable gentleman.

Mr. Watson had promised to come, but in the excitement and worry of Mr. Allen's letter and the repeat of her horrible dream, she had forgotten him.

But he had not forgotten her.

Catherine stepped into the drawing room to find her mother sitting in quiet conversation with Mr. Watson. At her appearance, Mr. Watson stood and Mrs. Morland excused herself.

Alone with Mr. Watson, she boldly took a seat on a settee and greeted him with a warm smile and was immediately put at ease by the expression of complaisance on his face.

"Miss Morland," began Mr. Watson hesitantly as he took a seat on a chair near Catherine, "I hope you recall that you accepted my offer of a visit?"

"Indeed, I do, sir. You are very welcome."

"Thank you. And you ... how are you? How is your family?"

"My family is very well, Mr. Watson, and so am I. I am very glad you came. Company is always cheerful. Tell me, how are Mr. and Mrs. Allen? Have you seen them?"

"Yes, I seem to spend half my time there. Mr. Allen insists that I eat his mutton with him, and Mrs. Allen claims she cannot do without me."

"Dear Mrs. Allen! She is so kind."

"Yes, she is. So, have you had any climbing adventures since we were last in company?"

Catherine laughed at the thought. "No, sir, I have quite given up on tree climbing. I will add that I also wait for apples to ripen before I eat them. And you...have you had any falls?"

"No, ma'am, though I was nearly thrown from my horse the other day. He was startled by a squirrel."

"I am glad you were not, for then you may not have been able to visit."

"No, I would like to have been in bed for some time."

"Would you care to see the garden, Mr. Watson?"

Catherine colored after she spoke, realizing how such a question could be misunderstood. A side glance at Mr. Watson as she rose from her seat, though, confirmed that he had taken nothing amiss.

"I would be pleased, Miss Morland."

It was a warm day for April and Catherine and Mr. Watson were comfortable in the seclusion of the garden.

"How have you occupied yourself since I saw you last?" asked Mr. Watson.

"Well, I have good news. Mr. Abbott, a craftsman in Salisbury, has agreed to accept two of my brothers as apprentices. I have been sewing their shirts and cravats."

"I do not know Mr. Abbott, but I do know your brothers are indeed fortunate to have such a friend as you," he said boldly.

"Thank you," smiled Catherine. "Who are your friends, Mr. Watson?"

"I have but three friends, Miss Morland. With two of them you are acquainted. The third is a young man named Rhys Gregory, a friend from Oxford. He is now a barrister and lives in Bath."

"And your other two friends, the ones I know?"

"Mr. Allen, of course. He has treated me with the care and attention that most men reserve for their children. And the other ... I hope the other will consider me as a friend."

"Who is this person?"

Very shyly and very quietly, he answered, "Miss Catherine Morland."

Catherine blushed and turned away in confusion. Such an open declaration meant that Mr. Watson held her in greater esteem than as just a friend. How should she answer? He seemed to be awaiting a reply. The outcome of her future life could be couched in her response. She did like him, though saying she loved him would certainly be untrue. However, she would have a whole lifetime for that, if only she could put her love for Mr. Tilney behind her. She knew she was safe with Mr. Watson. As the one being courted, she was in the position of power. She could test her feelings gradually. All that remained was for her to encourage him.

"I am your friend, Mr. Watson."

Catherine observed that his feelings were not hidden. He was made happy by her response and willing to show it. In that way he was like herself, knowing no disguise.

As she answered his smile with one of her own, she became more and more pleased with herself, and with him.

"Catherine! Catherine, dear," called her mother.

"Yes, Mama."

"Mrs. Allen has invited you to spend the day tomorrow with her at Fullerton. Is not that kind of her?"

"Oh yes ... very kind," answered Catherine without enthusiasm.

"What is wrong, my dear?"

"You know that Mrs. Allen can talk of nothing but Bath and always, without fail, she turns the subject to Henry Tilney."

"My love, you should stop thinking about him. If he truly valued you, he would not have stayed away."

"I just cannot help wondering why he did not come."

"Why? Who knows the workings of young men's minds, Catherine? Besides, you have better things of which to think."

"Such as?"

"Such as Mr. Watson. He has been very attentive to you. We see him at least twice a week. What do you think of him?"

"I esteem and respect him, Mama. He is a good man."

"Well, that is as good a foundation for a happy marriage as anything, my dear."

"Marriage? Do you suggest that he means to marry me?"

"Yes, I do. How will you answer?"

"You know, Mother, that if there were any man I could think of in that way, it would be..." Even as she spoke Catherine realized that this might not be completely true.

"Yes, I know," interrupted her mother. "Mr. Henry Tilney of Northanger Abbey in Gloucestershire."

"Of Woodston, Mama," corrected Catherine.

"Oh, yes, my mistake. Of Woodston." Mrs. Morland paused for a moment, then continued with a serious, subdued voice. "Catherine, Mr. Allen has confided in me all that you are doing. I know that you were instrumental in the boys obtaining places with Mr. Abbott. I also know, my love, that you are hoping to leave me to become a governess."

"Oh, Mama, he promised not to tell you."

"A promise should not be kept if it binds a person to do the wrong thing."

Catherine sighed.

"Mr. Watson is a good man who obviously cares for you a great deal. There is no doubt in my mind but that he will make you an offer of marriage. For the sake of your happiness, please forget about Mr. Tilney and accept the possibility of sharing the rest of your life with Mr. Watson. I could not forgive myself if you became a servant in a great house for love of me. The money could not replace the loss I would feel."

"But if I marry Mr. Watson, I shall still move away from here."

"Yes, all the way to Hilford, dining twice a week with Mr. Allen and being indispensable to Mrs. Allen's happiness. I shall see you all the time. I can think of nothing that would bring me greater happiness, my love, and I can think of nothing that would make you happier, either."

"You are right, of course," said Catherine with a hint of bitterness in her voice. "I know I shall never see Mr. Tilney again, and in my mind I know it is silly of me to be pining after a man who never spares a thought for me. But oh, my heart! Oh, Mother! How I want to do the right thing! I will do the right thing."

"Search your feelings, Catherine. Listen to your heart."

It was not as simple as that, for Mr. Watson had left word with Mrs. Morland that he would be going to London and might not return for two or three weeks. Therefore, Catherine did not see Mr. Watson and could not put into action her resolution to encourage him and to overcome her feelings for Mr. Tilney by replacing them with affection for Mr. Watson.

For the last fourteen days, Edward Watson had been coming to a decision. He had done so making the three day ride to London to visit his parents for a week, then while returning to Hilford. Time and distance had strengthened the love he felt for Catherine Morland and he could not face the possibility of living another two weeks without seeing her.

It was on the morning of the fifteenth day that Mr. Watson's strength of mind and heart would be tested. To woman only was granted the power of refusal. To man, the power of choice. He had made his choice. Would Catherine refuse him?

He thought not. While they had been acquainted only a few short months, still they had spent much time in each other's company, and that, more often than not, quite alone. While it seemed innocent at the time, when he cast his mind back over the course of his relationship with Catherine Morland, he could now see the influence of Mr. Allen in bringing them together as well as the tacit consent to their relationship given by Mrs. Morland, who always had somewhere else to be when he came to visit.

This was a comforting thought. There would be no difficulty at all in obtaining a private interview with Catherine.

In general when Mr. Watson visited the Morlands, he rode over on his horse, but today, being a momentous occasion, he drove over in his carriage. He considered all he knew about Miss Morland.

She was a bright young woman of eighteen years. She enjoyed being out of doors and was nearly always found by him on his visits in the front of the house reading, as if she were waiting for his arrival. When she laughed, she laughed with spirit. She was unable to hide her feelings and because she was not spoilt by heavy cares of the world, her smile was genuinely warm. There was no cynicism in her outlook on life and no sarcasm in her voice.

He had observed her very often with her family, and her behavior as an elder sister was compassionate and gentle. She spoke nary a harsh word and enjoyed considerable patience which, in Mr. Watson's opinion, was natural and not forced, not as if she were trying to put on a show of good breeding for his benefit.

Concerning her beauty, the general opinion would declare her a young woman of pleasing figure, blue eyes, and dark hair with natural curls that fell just below her shoulders. That would be the general opinion. But to himself, he felt her form to be that of an angel and would not hear of another opinion on the subject. When she looked at him, he felt she was seeing into his heart.

Mr. Watson presented himself at the door of the Morland's residence. It was answered by Catherine herself.

"Mr. Watson! What a pleasant surprise!" cried Catherine, holding the door open. "You have been gone so long. I began to be worried about your health and safety."

This was pleasant to hear, thought Mr. Watson. "Please forgive me. I was visiting my parents."

"Yes, I know, but it just seemed...But you are safe and are, therefore, forgiven. Tell me, how are Mr. and Mrs. Watson?"

"My parents are in good health, thank you."

"Would you care to come in?"

"Ah ... no, if you will. I was wondering if ... perhaps ...well, would you be willing to sit with me out of doors? Just for a little while?"

"Yes, Mr. Watson, I would be delighted."

"Perhaps we can walk in the avenue."

Catherine laughed. "Mr. Watson, I thought you said we would be sitting. Sir, you are acting quite distressed. Have I done anything to disturb you?" She looked up at him shyly.

"Allow me a moment to inform my mother where we are going."

"Of course."

They were walking away from the house, Catherine on his arm, when he answered her question.

"In a way of speaking, I suppose I could say you have disturbed my peace."

"I apologize, sir. Pray, tell me what I have done so that I may restore it."

"Miss Morland, my visits to you are extremely enjoyable to me. I feel nothing but respect for you and all your family. I consider myself to be very blessed with such friends as you and the Allens. If I have any discomposure today, it is the concern of being happier than I deserve. You are my happiness. What have you done, you asked? You have made me fall in love with you."

Catherine stopped walking and turned to face him.

He was noticeably embarrassed, as was she, and did not know if she should respond or not. Yet, why should there be embarrassment on any subject between two people as close as they were?

"I am grateful, sir, to have inspired such feelings in you."

"And you? What are your feelings?"

Catherine was silent for a moment as she forced the image of Mr. Tilney from her mind. Reaching out, she touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips. Mr. Watson took her hand in his and kissed first her palm and then her wrist.

"Marry me. Please, Catherine, marry me."

He had never spoken her Christian name before, and it filled her with a warm feeling of intimacy.

"I am honored that you think so highly of me that you would choose me to be your wife. Please know, sir, that the esteem I feel for you, the affection and tenderness, can only be answered if you are my husband. Indeed, Edward, I will marry you."

Catherine had always imagined how she might feel if Henry Tilney ever proposed marriage to her. It would be a light, warm feeling, the way one felt on a spring day, except the warmth would come from within. That she did now enjoy that feeling, and that it originated not in Henry Tilney but in Edward Watson was confirmation enough for her that she was doing the right thing.

And from that moment on, she resolved never to think of Mr. Tilney again, and certainly to never compare him to Mr. Watson.

Chapter 3

Posted on Friday, 13 January 2006

Salisbury

April 20, ____

My dear Mrs. Allen,

Please allow me to give you the opportunity to be the first to congratulate me on the engagement of my dear Catherine and your dear Mr. Watson - Edward, as I may now call him. I have just this moment given them my blessing and immediately took up pen and paper so that you could share in the joy all of us feel.

Edward is such a fine young man, so handsome and intelligent. He is a credit to his upbringing and to those, like Mr. Allen, who have shown him preferment.

I take great pleasure in the thought of our nearer connection. You have always been so dear to me.

I set down my pen now in fear of rambling on.

Sincerely,

M. Morland

"Well, Mrs. Morland, how do you like the parsonage?"

Mr. Watson had planned an outing for the family to go to Hilford Parsonage. Catherine had never been inside, and Mrs. Morland was curious to see where her daughter would be living. Although Mr. Morland had held the living, he had rented out the parsonage, being resident at Fullerton.

The parsonage was of decent size, with four bedrooms, a dining room, drawing room, another room that might be used for general use and a library for Mr. Watson. The stable was not large, but no great amount of space was needed. A local farmer rented the glebe for a few pounds a year, increasing by that much Mr. Watson's income.

His housekeeper, who used no appellation, but was merely called Gladys by all, was a pleasingly plump woman of a certain age, who took great pleasure in her role as surrogate mother of Edward Watson. She was very pleased to learn of his imminent marriage to the young Catherine Morland. Every young man should marry just as soon as he was in possession of a suitable fortune, and the living of Hilford was just such a fortune that begged a man to take a wife.

"I like it very much, Edward. You have done wonderfully at decorating and making it comfortable."

"I have Mr. Allen to thank for that, ma'am. He made several improvements prior to my taking possession, all of which added to my ease and comfort and I hope will add to the comfort of all those who will live here."

Mr. Watson had been holding Catherine's hand during this speech and the answering squeeze of his hand earned Catherine a smile.

"Will you walk with me, Cathy?"

"Indeed I will," she answered. Catherine smiled at his use of her familiar name, taking great pleasure in the intimacy it suggested.

"Mama, Edward and I are going to take a turn in the garden."

"Very well, my loves. I will amuse myself with our dear Gladys while you are out."

"Tell me honestly, Cathy, what do you think of your new home?"

"I like it very well. It is comfortable and clean. I was not certain how a bachelor's home might appear to a young lady, but I must say it is very orderly and neat," laughed Catherine.

"Will you be happy here?"

"Edward, I will be happy anywhere you are."

"I love you, Catherine Morland."

Catherine found she was unable to voice the words, but while she could not tell him she loved him, she could show what she did feel, and stepping near him, she slid her arm around his neck and kissed him. She knew Mr. Watson accepted this as a pledge of her devotion, and he always responded in kind. Their kiss grew more passionate and it was with some effort that they separated, just as Mrs. Morland prepared to join them.

"Catherine, how shall you decorate the drawing room," asked her mother. "What color paper will you choose?"

"Mama, I intend to ask for no changes at all."

Mr. Watson's smile showed his appreciation of the compliment.

"I take great pleasure in refinishing a room," said Mrs. Morland, "but this time I agree with you, Catherine. Hilford is a beautiful parsonage. It even puts me in mind of dear Fullerton. Your father would have been very proud of you, Catherine, and he would have liked you, Edward, very much. Indeed, he would have taken great pleasure in having you for a son.

"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate knowing that. I hope that my behavior towards you and all your family will show my commitment to your happiness."

"Thank you, Edward, but you must merely make Catherine happy to earn all my affection. Indeed, you have it already."

When the Morlands had returned home, Mrs. Morland took the first opportunity of being alone with Catherine to discuss Mr. Watson. It was a match well made, and she gave herself all the credit for it.

"Well, Catherine, did not I tell you that Edward would marry you?"

"Yes, Mama, you did. I did not believe you, but you were correct, as usual."

"My love, when you have a daughter of marriageable age, you will always be correct, just as I am."

Catherine laughed.

"Please tell me seriously, my dear. Do you honestly love Edward or do you still harbor thoughts of Mr. Tilney?"

"Mama, I am certain this is a conversation I do not wish to have."

"But you must have it! I know how attached you were, perhaps still are, to Mr. Tilney, but you have promised to give that same love to Mr. Watson. You cannot do both, dear."

"I know," sighed Catherine. "I think very little now of Mr. Tilney. All my affection belongs to Mr. Watson. My regard for him stems from the love he has for me, something I never received from Mr. Tilney."

"So, that means you would agree to marry any man that professes love for you?"

"Mother! Of course not!"

"Then what makes Edward different?"

"Edward does more than speak his love, Mama. He shows it. He is very gentle and kind, and never speaks a harsh word. My thoughts and feelings are as important to him as they are to me. We spend a great deal of time discussing our childhoods. With every event I describe, I feel like he was with me. It is as if he has always known me, has always loved me."

"Catherine, I understand just how you feel. The intimacy you share with Mr. Watson is just the kind I enjoyed with your father. Being with him was as natural as breathing. Knowing him and being his wife was a blessing for which I can never be grateful enough."

"He was a good man, Papa was."

"And so is your Edward. Love him and cherish him with all your heart."

"I will, Mama. I promise."

Catherine and her mother were visiting at Fullerton on an occasion when Mr. Watson was absent for a day on some business or other for the bishop.

"Miss Morland, how are your brothers getting along at Mr. Abbotts'?" asked Mr. Allen.

"They are well. Thank you so much for all your efforts in their behalf."

"I am grateful that I was able to help. And so, the wedding is next week. Are you prepared?"

"I do not know if I am prepared, but I am eager for it. I anticipate a great deal of pleasure in being Edward's wife."

"I know that your acceptance of his hand has made him very happy. It is such a pleasure to be with him when he comes to visit. I feel guilty for taking him away from you."

Catherine laughed. "Well, I will not share with him with just anyone, you know."

"I hope we will see much of you at Fullerton."

"You will. We enjoy being with you very much. Hmm...that is a comfort, indeed it is."

"What do you mean, Miss Morland?"

"Just now, when I said that 'we' enjoy being with you - there is a great deal of comfort in being able to use that word. Although I have always had my family with me, somehow that pales in comparison to being with Edward. I feel quite alone without him."

"I am pleased to hear of your attachment. But as to your preparation, is there anything I may do to help?"

"My mother has sewn two new gowns for me and has accompanied me on all my farewell visits. I will be taking very little to Hilford, leaving as much as I can to my younger brothers and sisters. It is such a comfort that we will live so close. Edward has promised that we will visit my family frequently, and he is to take me to London later in the summer to visit his parents."

"Please think of me if there is anything I can possibly do for you. I suppose you never thought of this conclusion the first time you met Edward, after I invited you in from the orchard that day."

"No, Mr. Allen, I did not," laughed Catherine.

The marriage ceremony of Mr. Edward Watson and Miss Catherine Morland was simple and elegant. Witnessing the ceremony were Catherine's family, the Allens and one or two parishioners from Hilford. A brief wedding breakfast was served at the Allen's, as the marriage had been performed at Fullerton Church. In no time at all, the bride and bridegroom were off to Hilford where they intended to remain a few days before appearing in society as Mr. and Mrs. Watson.

It had been a few days since the wedding, and Mrs. Morland and Mrs. Allen still had much to say of the occasion.

"It was a beautiful service, was it not, Mrs. Allen?"

"Indeed it was. Catherine was so beautiful and Edward so handsome and tall."

"Have you seen the newlyweds yet?"

"No, but they are to come to dinner tomorrow. I anticipate with a great deal of pleasure seeing my dear Catherine again. I shall call her Mrs. Watson at first and see how she likes it."

"Mrs. Watson - how well it sounds! And is she all settled in at Hilford?"

"Yes. Edward took her things to Hilford the day before the wedding. I felt that I should cry because of losing Catherine, but I am so happy that I cannot feel sad at all. She has such a wonderful husband, such pleasing prospects before her.

"Ah ... here comes Mr. Allen," said Mrs. Allen.

"Good morning, sir," cried Mrs. Morland.

"Good day to you, Ma'am."

"My dear sir, I must thank you again and again for bringing Mr. Watson to Fullerton."

"Well, I have always thought well of the young man, and when the living of Hilford came up, I was pleased to offer it to Edward. He is a fine young man, now made all the finer because of the virtues of his young wife."

"You feel just as I do," said Mrs. Morland. "And would you care to join us for dinner tomorrow when Mr. and Mrs. Watson make their entrée into society?"

"What say you, Mrs. Allen?"

"I would be delighted."

"Well, Mrs. Morland, there you have it. We will be there with pleasure."

"Good morning, my darling Mrs. Watson," said Edward on the morning of their second full day as man and wife. It was a beautiful day, he thought, made even more beautiful by the lovely woman in his arms.

"Good morning to you, too, sir," replied Catherine as she pulled herself closer to him. The warmth of his body suffused through hers, adding comfort to the security she felt being with him.

The last few days since their wedding had been relaxing and lazy. The newlyweds had decided to remain at Hilford rather than travel, owning that their preference for company would be Catherine's family and the Allens, rather than strangers they might encounter on a tour. Gladys had seen to their wants and needs, which had been few.

"Today you meet your family for the first time as Mrs. Watson. How shall you like it?"

Catherine took his hand and kissed it. "I am not sure, Edward. I shall very much like to see my family, but our attention will necessarily be divided from each other, and I have so much enjoyed being alone with you."

"We will not stay long."

"Edward, I have something I would say to you."

Mr. Watson rose up on one arm, thus able to look down on his wife.

"Edward, I have not spoken this before, but I want you to know how truly I do love you.

These were words he had longed to hear her speak. Certainly she loved him. He knew she must, and yet what joy to hear those words spoken with such tenderness and so intimately. He could not respond in words of his own, but gathered her up in his arms, never having loved her more.

It was a pleasant day for a ride, thought Catherine. Her husband's conveyance was a convertible barouche. The top was down, exposing the occupants to the bright sun, warm air, the smell of flowers and the sounds of birds and bees. The colors seemed more vibrant than usual, more full of life and vigor.

Traitorous words entered her mind, two in particular - 'nice' and 'picturesque.' She shook her head.

"Is there something the matter, Cathy?" asked her husband.

"No ... I ... no." She struggled for a thought that would distract Edward from closely attending her.

"You, I suppose I should say, we, have a beautiful neighborhood," observed Catherine.

"Yes. I fell in love with Hilford the first time I saw it. I knew immediately that I would be happy here." Then looking in her eyes, he added, "I just did not realize how happy I truly would be."

"I will do all in my power to ensure that you achieve that happiness."

"I cannot imagine what you could do more than you have already done."

"Do not you think you might tire of me someday?" teased Catherine.

"Tire of you? Nay, tire of life itself, perhaps, but never weary of you!"

"I will hold you to it, particularly on those days when I am cross and angry."

Edward laughed. "Yes, my dear. Even on those days."

"Oh, look!" cried Catherine, "Sally has come out into the lane to meet us."

Edward stopped and assisted Sally into the carriage.

"I wanted to be the first to call you Mrs. Watson," declared Sally.

"You did? Well, thank you very much. I love that name. And how are you today?"

"I am well, Mrs. Watson," laughed Sally.

"Would you care to ride with us to the house, Miss Sally?" asked Edward.

"Miss Sally?" she laughed. "Today certainly is a day of new names."

Edward drove his wife and sister the rest of the way to the door where they were met by a groom, who took the carriage from Edward. At that moment, Mrs. Morland ran from the house.

"Mr. and Mrs. Watson!! Oh, I am so pleased that you are come. Oh, Catherine, you look so beautiful, so lovely and radiant. Edward, you are doing a perfect job of taking care of her."

"I hope I am, Mrs. Morland."

"He is, Mama. I have never been so happy in my life."

"Do please come in," begged Mrs. Morland.

The party followed Sally into the house where they took seats in the drawing room.

"I must ask," began Mr. Watson, "how your two boys are doing at Mr. Abbotts'?"

"Of course, I never see them, but they write. The work is hard, and I would say they are somewhat put upon, but they take pleasure in the knowledge that they are earning their own way."

"I understand how they feel. I remember the pleasure I took as a new curate leading my first Sunday service."

"Will you employ a curate now yourself, Edward?" asked Mrs. Morland.

"I shall have a curate, yes, for it is unreasonable to believe I shall be available every Sunday, but I intend to be active in the parish."

"And I have committed to being active with him. We hope to do much good among the poor."

"I admire you both for your dedication," noted Mrs. Morland. "We are expecting the Allens today. They are very eager to meet you both."

"I will be pleased to see them," answered Catherine. She was certain now that with her marriage to Mrs. Allen's nephew, any further comments she may have about Henry Tilney would be silenced. If so, Mrs. Allen would once again be a favorite.

"How are you feeling this morning, Cathy?" asked her husband.

She had been ill on and off for the past two months, but lately had been feeling stronger. She had attempted to hide her indisposition from Edward, but was unable to do so. He was acutely aware of her moods and could tell immediately that something was amiss.

"Are you certain you would not wish to see the apothecary again? It has been such a long time."

"I am very certain, for I know now what ails me," she smiled.

"You do?"

"Yes, Edward. I am with child."

"With child!! My love, my sweetest Cathy! Do you know when he will be born?"

"Oh, you are so certain that the child will be a boy?" said Catherine archly.

"I ... I can be certain of nothing," stuttered Edward, "but I shall be glad for a boy or a girl. Have you thought of a name?"

"If it is a boy, I would like to call him Henry. If a girl, I would like to name her Sarah."

"Henry? I know of no Henrys in either your family or mine. I believe Sarah is Mrs. Allen's name as well as one of your sister's."

"I ... well ... no, you are correct, but Henry is a name I have always admired. Do you mind it?"

"You may name the child anything you wish," smiled Edward. "Am I allowed to speak of my happiness to other people?"

"Of course. You may tell anyone you like."

"I will announce it from the pulpit this Sunday."

Catherine laughed. "If I had known that was your intention, I should have answered differently."

"Very well," conceded Edward, "I will not do that. Does your family know, or the Allens?"

"None of them know. I wanted you to be the first."

Edward took her hand and kissed it. "You are a very good woman, Mrs. Watson."

"And you are an even better man. Thank you for the gift of this child."

Chapter 4

Posted on Monday, 16 January 2006

Over the course of the next several years, Catherine brought three children into the world. Henry was the eldest, followed two years later by Sarah, and five years after that by Eleanor, whom they called Nellie. While her mother was surprised by the choice of names, Catherine kept resolutely silent on the meaning or significance of the names, and her husband was easily satisfied when told that they were names that Catherine liked.

Catherine felt apprehensive on the day her husband announced they would spend six weeks in Bath. Her dreams of Henry Tilney began to repeat once again, and she faced with dread the idea of returning to the place where it all began for her, where she had loved in vain.

The day arrived that would take them to Bath. There was no expense book, no gift of money from her father, and no words of caution from her mother. Neither would there be a journal. Some of the thoughts and feelings of her heart were traitorous, and if found out, would inflict cruelty on those she loved.

Catherine's children, however, were very excited at the prospect of visiting Bath. It would be their first journey of any length, and as the carriage rattled into the city, their father shared in their excitement.

"What do you think of all this, Henry," asked his father.

"I like it!" interrupted Nellie.

"I like it very well, indeed, Papa," answered Henry after a smirk to Nellie. Rather than be offended, Nellie was amused and laughed her approval. Henry repeated the smirk and Nellie laughed again.

"Father, will we go to the Pump Room?" asked Sarah.

"Well, I do not know if children go to the Pump Room. Ask your Mama. She has been there before."

"Mama, what is it like?" asked Sarah.

"Yes, I have been there. Some of the happiest days of my life were a visit I made to Bath many years ago with the Allens. The Pump Room is large, with many windows and is a gathering place for all the visitors of Bath to meet and talk. Water from the springs is served for its healing ability, and people come to drink the water."

"Will you take us there? Are children allowed?" asked Sarah.

"To be honest, I do not know the rules. However, I can see no harm in it."

"Thank you, Mama."

They were darling children, thought Catherine, intelligent and playful. Anyone who denied children access to the Pump Room did not know her eldest.

"Where will we be staying, Mama," asked Henry.

"We have taken a house in Pulteney Street. It is near the one the Allens took for us when I was here last."

"Will you show us the house where you stayed?"

"Yes, of course. I should like to see it again."

"Where will the horses go when we reach our lodgings?" Nellie's question was directed at either parent.

"Your brother and I will drive you, Sarah and your mother to the house. We will unload our trunks and then we will take the carriage and horses to a stable and walk back."

"What will we do if it rains," asked Sarah.

"You can almost count on it raining," replied her mother. "We will carry umbrellas with us wherever we go. If there is too much dirt, we will amuse ourselves inside."

"But I never mind dirt, Mama."

"I know you never mind dirt," laughed Catherine.

"Will we stay out late every night?" asked Henry.

"On one evening we will dine with Mr. Gregory, you father's school fellow. That will be a late night, of course, but Gladys is with us and will ensure that you get to bed at the right time. Your father and I will be attending the balls and concerts."

"Oh, Mama, I want to go, too!" cried Henry.

"The people would not make you feel welcome, and we do not want you to be uncomfortable. It is better this way. When you are fourteen, you may join us."

"But that is two years away! I will never be fourteen. And what if we do not come to Bath?"

Catherine laughed. "You will be fourteen before you know it. You children are growing up so quickly."

"I do not want to grow up," said Nellie with a smile.

"You will always be my baby, Nellie," said her mother, "my precious little girl."

"What about me?" asked Sarah.

"You are nearly grown up, Sarah. You are my precious young woman."

Sarah beamed with pride.

The lodgings in Pulteney Street were comfortable and clean. Catherine knew that if she must be in Bath, at least she could endure it better with such a fine place to stay.

She had given up hope of forgetting about Mr. Tilney. He invaded her every thought. She could not think of the Rooms without thinking of him, could not walk in the Pump Room without thinking of him. Sunday's Crescent was not the same without Henry and Eleanor Tilney's society.

Wherever she went, she caught herself looking for any sign of Henry Tilney. One day, about a week after her arrival at Bath, Catherine found her sign. She was at the Pump Room with her children, taking the water and making new acquaintance, when she saw a newspaper on a bench. Taking it up without thought for what she might find, she turned through the pages until she came to the arrivals. Wondering if there was anyone in Bath she might know, she traced her finger down the list of names. It was arrested at the sight of a name she never expected to see again.

Captain Tilney, ____ Milsom Street

The color drained from Catherine's face, leaving her pale. Her breath caught in her throat, and she was grateful she was sitting.

Recovering herself, she gathered up her children and hurried back to their lodgings. The whole way back, Catherine found herself looking all around her, examining every face, looking in every window, expecting to see Henry at any time. While his brother's presence in Bath did not mean Henry was here, it certainly might.

"Mama, where are we going?" asked young Henry Watson.

"To our lodgings, of course," said Catherine absently. Her thoughts had been swallowed up by Henry Tilney since leaving the Pump Room.

"But, Mama, this is Milsom Street not Pulteney Street."

"Milsom Street?" Catherine recollected herself and was shocked to find she was in front of Captain Tilney's lodgings. How long they had been there she did not know, nor would she ask her children.

Mrs. Watson and her children arrived to an empty home, much to her relief. She could not imagine facing her husband with the thoughts that filled her heart and mind. She had often imagined what a meeting with Henry Tilney would be like, but until today, had never known how wrong she had been. She had thought her pride would protect her, the knowledge of her husband and children's love would support her, and with that strength, she could pass off the meeting with an air of indifference.

How wrong she was!

Catherine knew her husband was out with riding with Mr. Gregory for the day and was not expected back until later. She had that long to collect herself. Edward would know immediately that something was wrong, and she had no explanation that she could give him. Gladys could sense Catherine's discomfort, though knew not the reason, but in compassion for her, she kept the children away.

It was nearly dark when the sound of someone entering the house heralded the arrival of Edward Watson. He was in gay spirits, having spent the day renewing an old and steady friendship with his Oxford friend. He was assaulted by a dark mood, though, when he entered the drawing room. The children were playing in a hushed silence and his wife was looking out into the street from a window seat.

Immediately concerned, Edward went to his wife. He could tell she had been crying, something she was not wont to do.

"Catherine, what is the matter? Will you please tell me?" he asked.

She would not, perhaps more truthfully, could not, answer him. Embarrassed at her discomfiture, she did not look at him. Edward had every right to know the thoughts of her heart, had ever been soft and tender with her, and even now, he was seeking to comfort her.

"I am sorry, Edward. The children and I were out all day, and I have a headache now. I should go to bed, but I was uncertain when you would arrive, and as it was growing dark, I began also to fear for you."

"My sweet Cathy, please go on up to bed, then. Gladys and I will amuse the children. May I bring you up something to eat?"

For his sake, Catherine allowed for a small meal of fruit and bread to be brought to her, but she ate only sparsely. His kindness to her brought on feelings of guilt over her curiosity regarding Henry Tilney. She would beg of her husband that they leave bath just as soon as may be.

Catherine arose to a gloomy morning well suited to the dark mood with which she had passed the night. She fought it off, determined to seem cheerful, not only for their sakes, but to avoid questions of concern.

Catherine fought against acknowledging her interest in Henry Tilney, but the questions that had plagued her for so many years remained unanswered. What would she do if she did find Henry somewhere in Bath, and if he did love her? What if he had a satisfactory explanation for not pursuing her to Fullerton? How could she answer to Henry for her own inconstancy when her heart belonged to him? But if he did not love her, then her actions over the course of her life would have been reasonable and correct. There would be nothing more natural than for a young woman to desire a husband, children and a home of her own. But if Henry loved her, would she confess that she had married the wrong man and that her children had been born to the wrong father?

Every good feeling of her heart not yet shredded by confusion fought against that thought. She had no regrets with Edward and loved her children. But Henry Tilney...

Edward's concern for Catherine increased the next day. He knew not what he could do to relieve her apparent distress other than remove her from Bath. Maybe a change of scene would help.

"Cathy, would you prefer we left Bath and returned to Hilford? You are not happy, and I cannot bear to see it."

It was all Catherine could do not to weep openly at such love and consideration, and she chastised herself for her lack of faithfulness to Edward.

Yes, perhaps he was correct. Maybe it was better not to know than to face an ultimate truth with Mr. Tilney.

"Very well, Edward."

"Have you no opinion?"

"I am happy to do what you wish," answered Catherine.

"But what do you wish?"

Indeed, she thought, that is the question.

The Watson's removal had been decided upon for the end of the week. Gladys, surprised at such a short stay, began to pack trunks and prepare for Hilford. Catherine desired to see just one more place while in Bath, since she hoped it would be her last time ever in that city.

She wished to see Beecham Cliff once again. It was a beloved place, where she had walked with Mr. and Miss Tilney. It had been a delightful day. She had felt on the occasion of that walk the first signs of returning affection on his part, and she had gloried in it. She hoped that by taking a walk to Beecham Cliff and remembering Mr. Tilney with fondness, she could settle her mind and, at last, exorcise him from her memory, and so after preparing her children, they left the house.

The walk was beautiful, the trees verdant with new growth. Never had she seen such beauty, not even when she was here before. The view of Bath was familiar, though the skyline had changed. The town was growing.

As they climbed up a small crest of a hill, the trees gave way to a small clearing off to one side of the path. There was a man sitting on the ground with a sketchbook and pencils who appeared to be drawing. Catherine took two steps forward and could move no further.

Although the gentleman was facing away, every sense in Catherine heightened to tell her she had come upon...

"Henry!"

It was not a cry, but a whisper. Her face became pale, and she knew not what to do. Fortunately, she had not attracted his attention.

Her two oldest children, Sarah and Henry, had been walking by her side. They immediately understood that their mother was distressed. Little Nellie had been walking in front of them and did not notice that her mother's progress was stayed.

Uncertain and scared, Catherine backed out of the clearing, and her two older children followed. Nellie proceeded into the clearing and gained the gentleman's attention.

On noticing Nellie, Henry called to her.

"Hello, miss. It is a pleasant day, is it not?"

"Yes, sir," answered Nellie.

"What are you doing here all alone?"

Nellie giggled and pointed to where she left her mother. "My mother is over there -"

Henry glanced in the direction Nellie was pointing, but saw no one.

"Are you lost?" he asked.

"Oh, no. She will be back," said Nellie with a nonchalance that amused Henry.

"My name is Henry Tilney. What is yours?"

"Miss Eleanor Watson, but my mother calls me Nellie."

"I had a sister name Eleanor, so I like that name."

"Well, sir, my brother is called Henry, just like you."

"Is he? Now, what a coincidence that is!"

"What is co-in-denz?" stuttered Nellie.

"Coincidence," repeated Henry, "is like magic. It is when the same thing happens to two different people at the same time."

Nellie smiled.

"You are a beautiful young lady, Miss Watson. You look remarkably like someone I used to know."

"Who?"

"Let me show you," replied Henry, and turning back several sheets of the notebook he produced a likeness of Catherine Morland.

"Do you know my mother?" questioned Nellie.

"Your mother? What do you mean?"

"That is a picture of my mother."

"What is her name?" asked Henry Tilney.

"Her name is Catherine, but my father calls her Cathy."

Catherine, who had been listening to this exchange with a sense of both wonderment and disbelief, could allow herself to remain concealed no longer. As she stepped out into the clearing, Henry's suspicions, wild and unlikely as they were, were confirmed. He rose to his feet to greet Catherine Watson nee Morland.

"Mrs. Watson."

Henry smiled as Nellie ran back to her mother.

"I see we have been introduced." What does one say to the man who had broken her heart? "Mr. Tilney, how came you to be here?" she said hesitantly and with some embarrassment, as she reached out for Nellie's hand.

"How came I to be here? Why, madam, I walked," he said with a smile. "And I might in turn ask how you came to be here."

Catherine laughed, enjoying Henry's humor as she had always done. She immediately felt more relaxed, recollecting the occasion of a similar surprise meeting years ago at Northanger Abbey.

"It is a pleasure to meet you again, Mrs. Watson."

"Thank you." Fearful of saying more than she ought, she directed the conversation to the safety of her children.

"Please allow me to introduce you to my other children. This is Henry, who is twelve," Catherine cast a brief glance at Mr. Tilney, "and Sarah, who is ten."

"I am pleased to meet you both."

They replied with a delicate curtsy and an awkward bow.

"Children," said their mother, "this is Mr. Tilney. His sister and I were very dear friends many years ago. I have not seen them since..." Catherine's voice trailed off.

How shocked and amazed she was, to be here at Beecham Cliff once again with Henry Tilney. After all the years of not understanding why she never saw him again, here he was.

"Cath..." he sighed. "Mrs. Watson, I ... I must apologize ... must beg your forgiveness..."

Catherine thought for a moment. She was curious to hear him, was curious to know how she would feel continuing in his presence.

"Henry, Sarah, please take Nellie and show her the flowers by that tree. I will join you shortly.

"Yes, Mama," said Sarah reluctantly

Catherine watched her children slowly walk away. When they were out of hearing, she looked back at Henry Tilney.

"No, sir," she said sharply. "No," Catherine repeated gently, "there is no need for an apology. Perhaps we should not speak of it." And turning, she stepped away from Mr. Tilney.

She could not go far, her progress halted by the sound of his voice, a voice of pain and confusion, a voice that echoed the cries of her own heart - of years of wondering, of regretting the interference of the General and finally despairing, in anger, that he never came back.

"Please, do not go," he whispered.

"But do not you see that I must go? If it was not right for you to be with me before this, Mr. Tilney, it certainly is not now."

"I wish you would listen to me."

"I am sorry, sir. It was just so difficult. I thought that you loved me. Surely you must have known that my heart belonged to you."

"I did, Catherine." He made no effort to mask his tender use of her Christian name. "I could not come. I was prevented by circumstances over which I had no control. I am sorry I lacked the courage to simply tell you this. You would have understood."

"Perhaps it is just as well," said Catherine. It was useless canvassing it further.

"Tell me," continued Catherine, "how is Miss Tilney? I know she married the viscount, but then there was silence. I did not know what I had done to offend her. That seems to be a difficulty I have with your family."

"I assure you that you did nothing to offend her. I am sorry that you were not informed. You see, she died following the birth of her child."

"Oh Mr. Tilney! Poor Eleanor!" cried Catherine. "And the child?"

"A beautiful girl," replied Henry. "She is nearly fourteen now. "

"I can only imagine what a horrible loss that was for you."

"Yes. The blow was nearly as severe as when our mother passed away. Catherine, Eleanor truly loved you. Please know and believe that," urged Henry.

"And you," she asked quietly, "did you love me?"

Henry smiled. "You were always a close questioner. Honest, open and forthright. I, on the other hand, have been deceitful."

Catherine raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question.

"I could not help but love you, Catherine. Allow me to relate a sad episode from my family's history in explanation. You may recall that when we left Bath for Northanger, my brother, Frederick, remained in town for a few days before joining his regiment. As soon as he had, his regiment was deployed to the Continent. My father was ecstatic, of course, his favorite son now in a position to distinguish himself and bring honor to the family. The day after you left, or rather, were sent away from Northanger, a letter arrived informing us that Frederick, in company with several others, had been ambushed and attacked. Though they fought valiantly, they were overwhelmed by numbers and all fell, wounded or dead. Frederick had been severely wounded. The letter went on to say that because of the severity of Captain Tilney's wounds and the almost certainty that he would die, the Army would not bear the expense of returning him to England."

"Mr. Tilney, how awful."

"Yes, it was awful. My father was stricken with grief and remorse. Eleanor and I decided on a plan of action. She would remain at Northanger to care for our father, and I would leave immediately for the Continent in search of Frederick. I would ensure that he received the best care and at the earliest opportunity, return him to Northanger."

"And were you able to find him?"

"I was, but only after days of searching. The War Office has much to learn about accounting for all its soldiers. I found him in the residence of a family of peasants who received some money each week for feeding him and, I suppose, keeping him alive. Their efforts appeared to me to have done neither very well. I obtained lodgings not far from the encampment, and my money enabled me to acquire the services of a skilled physician. The first thing he did was to amputate Frederick's right leg. Frederick mended slowly, but well, receiving strength from the ministrations of the good Dr. Bartlett. After six months, Frederick was strong enough to move around on crutches, but was still in constant need of attendance from servants. It was a difficult blow from which to recover, as he learned that he was subject to other people for his own comfort. No servants are higher paid nor as well cared for as his. It took us six weeks to make the two-week trip back to Northanger. When we arrived, we found our father in a continual state of nerves and anxiety. As the nominal head of the household for the time being, I sent for the viscount and arranged that he and Eleanor be married almost immediately. It was the dear wish of their hearts. With the countenance and protection of her new husband, Eleanor's relationship with my father changed, and he became more submissive and gentle. Indeed, he was a pleasure to be with, but he was not the same. He took no more trips to Bath, ignored his club, stopped receiving pamphlets and newspapers and became reclusive, satisfied only when some number of his family was with him. Both he and Frederick were retired from active duty, and bore just nominally the titles of "General" and "Captain," the names by which they addressed each other."

"Catherine, my family was in a state of awful turmoil. My father, the General, died within a year of Frederick's return, making Frederick the master of the estate. He was unable to act in that function with much efficiency, and I found myself overseeing all that he did, so that the property would not be threatened with obsolescence and decline. It was two years to the day from the date of your departure that I was finally able to leave Northanger and return to Woodston. I thought of you often and so often wanted to be with you, but the shame of my father's treatment of you burned hard in my heart, and now with the tragedy of my father's death and Frederick's state of mind and body, how could I, in good conscience, seek you out as a wife, for whom I could be only a half-husband, so much of my time being spent in the affairs of my brother. A man is to lay down his life for his brother, not wish that his life be taken. He is robust and will live many years longer. You cannot know the struggles I have had with myself, in wishing for his death so that I might be free of him, of Northanger and of all the memories but of you."

Henry showed her his sketchbook that was filled with miniatures of her that he had drawn from memory over the years. "I did not forget you."

"I was forced to forget you, Mr. Tilney," said Catherine, turning away from him. She discretely wiped away a tear.

"Will you tell me about it?"

"My dear father died six months after my return from Northanger. While not completely destitute, our family was poor. When Edward Watson made me an offer of marriage, an offer that included the promise of assistance for my family, I dared not refuse."

"Do you love him?"

"I do love him, Mr. Tilney. I am exceedingly blessed with three little friends and a generous husband. I was hurt when you did not come and again when Eleanor's letters stopped. Edward distracted me, and his goodness healed me."

"I am grateful for that."

"Tell me, Mr. Tilney, have you found peace?"

"Everyone at Woodston is very kind, and I enjoy my service in the Church. I never married, and I confess to feelings of loneliness."

"Woodston is a beautiful place."

"You would enjoy it very much, Catherine. I wish that you could see it."

"But that is not possible, Mr. Tilney," said Catherine boldly. "I believe we should both cease to live in the past. It cannot be helped."

"No, it cannot. But tell me, Catherine, how will I live without you, now that I have found you again?"

"Mr. Tilney, you must recall that it is I who found you!" smiled Catherine.

"Bravo! The student becomes the master," laughed Henry.

"You will live as you always do, Mr. Tilney. You will continue to take pleasure in your duties as a pastor. You must continue to serve the Captain as you have. Most importantly, your mind's eye must be focused on the future, not the past. You have a tender heart, sir. It pains me to know you are not happy."

Henry laughed. "Is that a prophecy, Mrs. Watson?"

"No, sir, but a promise. I ought to take the children home and return to my husband. I do not wish that he would worry about us. It has been nice to see you, Mr. Tilney. Yes, I said nice," laughed Catherine.

Henry laughed. "And it has been a pleasure to see you. Thank you for listening to me." Then he asked hesitantly, "Do you forgive me?"

Catherine was silent for a moment to allow herself time to think. To say no would be to condemn them both to lives of regret, sorrow and dissatisfaction. To say yes might not be completely truthful, but it was a promise of hope to each of them.

"Yes, Mr. Tilney, I do."

"Thank you, Mrs. Watson. Perhaps we will meet again someday."

"Yes, Mr. Tilney, perhaps we will."

Catherine gathered up her children and directed them back along the path towards town. Mr. Tilney watched them until they were out of sight. Catherine did not look back.

"Papa, we are home," cried Nellie as they walked into their house.

Edward put down his paper, rose and went to greet his family.

"Where have you been? You were gone so long. I was within fifteen minutes of beginning to worry about you," he smiled.

"I am sorry, Edward," replied Catherine, "but it was such a beautiful day. We went to Beecham Cliff."

"Ah, yes. A marvelous place, that."

The children quickly dispersed to pursue their amusements, and Catherine was left alone in the drawing room with her husband.

"Edward, do you have a moment for me? I have something I would say to you."

"Of course. I have a moment for you. Indeed, I hope to have a lifetime for you."

"I am glad for that. Edward, I want you to know how very much I love you."

"You do?"

"Do not you believe me?"

"No, it is just that you speak the words so rarely. I was not certain."

"Well, I will extend every effort to ensure that you are certain."

"Why?"

"I came face to face with my past today, and I came to understand how blessed I am and how ungrateful I have been."

"I hope it was not an unpleasant meeting," said Edward.

"Not unpleasant, but revealing."

"What was revealed?"

"My love for you!"

Edward laughed. "I am glad for it!"

"So am I."

The End