Amanda Grange: Henry Tilney's Diary

‘Then you do not suppose he ever really cared about her?’ she asked.

‘I am persuaded that he never did,’ I said.

‘And only made believe to do so for mischief’s sake?’

I bowed my assent.

‘Well, then, I must say that I do not like him at all, though it has turned out so well for us. As it happens, there is no great harm done, because I do not think Isabella has any heart to lose. But, suppose he had made her very much in love with him?’

‘But we must first suppose Isabella to have had a heart to lose, consequently to have been a very different creature; and, in that case, she would have met with very different treatment,’ I said.

She was not satisfied, but said, ‘It is very right that you should stand by your brother.’

‘And if you would stand by yours, you would not be much distressed by the disappointment of Miss Thorpe. But your mind is warped by an innate principle of general integrity, and therefore not accessible to the cool reasonings of family partiality, or a desire of revenge,’ I said.

She laughed, for she knew that if she were a character in The Italian or some other such tale, she would think of nothing but revenge. Being, however, a young lady in England, she had better things to do, and was soon complimented out of further bitterness by Eleanor and myself. She resolved on not answering Isabella’s letter, after which we were very comfortable.

Our talk soon reverted to our day out and she had nothing but praise for the parsonage and Woodston, and talked a great deal about her family: of her father’s livings and of her brother’s expectations on entering the church. She was momentarily indignant as she remembered her father’s generosity in being prepared to make one of his livings over to her brother, and Isabella’s scorn at such generosity, but the moment soon passed, for to encourage indignation is beyond her.

I like the sound of Catherine’s family and I look forward to meeting them before very long.

Monday 22 April

After breakfast I found myself alone with my father and he told me that he had some business to attend to in London. He said that he would be setting out tomorrow and not returning to the abbey for a week. On saying that he had a mind to rent a house there for the season, I remarked that Miss Morland had never seen London and he seized on the idea at once, saying, ‘Once I have managed to secure suitable lodgings, Eleanor must invite her. An excellent thought, Henry!’ and was then in a good humour for the rest of the day; as was I, for Catherine will lend charm to London and I am already looking forward to seeing her there.

Tuesday 23 April

Despite our father’s good humour yesterday, and despite – or rather, perhaps, because of – his excessive compliments to Catherine before he departed, it is still a relief to have the abbey to ourselves. His presence always damps our spirits but today we did exactly as we pleased and laughed as loud and long as we liked. We were entirely at ease and did not worry about anything at all, not even being five minutes late for dinner.

‘This is how it will be when we are married,’ I said to Eleanor, when Catherine had retired for the night. ‘I am sorry for it, but there it is. My wife will not secretly resent you, as you believed when we were children. She will not slowly poison you, or lock you in the attic.’

Eleanor gave a sigh.

‘We must all bear our disappointments in life, dear brother, and it seems that having a good and charming sister, who loves me as much as I love her, is destined to be one of mine.’

Friday 26 April

I believe there has never been so much laughter at the abbey. Eleanor is lighter of spirits than she has been for a long time, and, as she has persuaded Catherine to stay for some weeks more, I am looking forward to the weeks to come. The better weather is here, we are out of doors all day, and Catherine is as energetic as we could wish, matching us on every walk. And when Eleanor is tired – or says she is tired – Catherine and I walk together and talk nonsense which nevertheless amuses us both. With her I can be myself and she is fast losing most of her shyness and, with me, showing more of herself every day.

Saturday 27 April

Alas, duty calls and I am spending today and tomorrow at Woodston, attending to the duties that I have most shamefully neglected during the week. But I will be returning to the abbey on Monday and that must be my reward.

Monday 29 April

What a difference a week makes! I can scarcely believe it. How could my father do such a thing? It is only a few days ago that he was eager to take Catherine to London, and to use her so shamefully ... When I returned to the abbey and found him in the stables, giving instructions for the coach to be readied for a journey to Hereford, I was astonished.

‘Ah, Henry, so you are here,’ he said, looking up and seeing me. ‘Pray ready yourself immediately for a journey. We are going to Lord Longtown’s for a fortnight,’ he said.

I was even more astounded, and asked why, at such short notice, we were to travel so far but, instead of enlightening me, he became angry and ordered me to do as he said. I, of course, told him that it was impossible as I had left my parish business in Woodston half-finished and that there was Miss Morland to be considered, too.

‘Miss Morland!’ he exploded, going red in the face. ‘Never mention her name to me again. That deceitful, scheming, bragging—’

I was shocked at his outburst, for I had often seen him angry, but never with so little cause.

‘You are never to think of her again,’ he went on. ‘Now pack your things at once, we are to leave after dinner.’

‘An excellent time for starting a journey!’ I remarked, thinking he must have run mad.

‘Enough of your impertinence, I have been lenient with you for too long. I command you to be here in an hour’s time, ready to go with your father – your father , mark you, who has the right to command you – on a long-standing engagement.’

‘So long-standing that I have heard nothing of it until today,’ I returned in astonishment.

‘You are growing insolent,’ he said, becoming ever more angry. ‘It is the way with young people nowadays, I see insolence all around me.’ He broke off to shout at the grooms, who scurried away from him, affrighted, to do his bidding. Then he began to shout at me again, but having my independence I took no notice of his roars and said that if he was determined to go, I would make my apologies to Miss Morland for this sudden departure and offer to escort her home.

‘I have already sent her packing. She left yesterday morning on the first coach.’

I could not believe it.

‘But that must mean she was forced out of the house at daybreak!’ I said, appalled.

‘And not a moment too soon. We have been duped, led to believe that she was an heiress, when she was nothing of the sort. A young lady of great expectations was how she represented herself, with a dowry of ten or fifteen thousand pounds, and the heir to Mr Allen’s estate as well – the future heiress of Fullerton! Pah!’

‘How can you have come by such a strange fancy! She never said anything of a fortune or expectations!’

‘No, she was too clever for that, but I had it all from Mr Thorpe, who, being intimate with the family, knew it all. The Morlands imposed on him just as they imposed on us. James Morland was engaged to Thorpe’s sister, on the understanding that he was a man of fortune, and Thorpe himself had hopes of Miss Morland. Well, he may have her now and welcome to her!’

‘You surely did not place any reliance on the word of a man like Thorpe?’ I asked.

‘And why should I not, when he was so intimate with the family, and when the Allens were there for all to see, childless, and taking a great interest in Miss Morland.’