Henry Tilney's Diary (9781101559024) (13 page)

‘Is not four pints rather a lot?' asked Eleanor.

‘Why, I dare say it sounds it to you and me, but John assures me it is not,' said the happy mother. ‘He is doing very well for himself. He often buys horses for a trifle and sells them for sums that would astonish you, and he is an excellent shot. Why, the last shooting party he went to, he killed more than all his companions together. Hunting, too, though he has to deal with the mistakes of others in a way you would not credit, and correct the mistakes of even the most experienced huntsmen. And I cannot count the times he has astonished his friends with the boldness of his riding, though I criticize him for this, for although it never endangers his own life for a moment, it leads others into difficulties, and has been the cause of other young men breaking their necks.'

‘Dear me,' said Eleanor.

‘He sounds a marvel,' I added.

‘Aye, I believe he is,' said Mrs Thorpe complacently. ‘And my Isabella is no less so. There are always men following her, though she does not give them the least encouragement, and chastises them roundly for it. Why, I have heard her say that she detests young men and the way they give themselves airs, and that she would not encourage them for the world.'

‘You are very happy in your children,' said Mrs Allen.

‘Yes, I am. But you are happy, too, in your young friends,' she added as an afterthought. ‘Catherine is a taking young thing, and her brother James is a gentleman. How did you come to bring them to Bath?'

‘We did not bring James, he came of his own accord, but we brought Catherine. The Morlands are a good sort of family, you know, neighbours of ours, and as we have no children of our own, and as Catherine is of an age to enjoy the balls and parties, and as Mr Allen had to come here on account of his health, we thought she might like it.'

‘Well, I dare say she is enjoying herself this morning. My John will see to that. He is the best driver in the world, and he will make sure she has an agreeable outing to Claverton Down.'

Eleanor and I exchanged glances, for we had both seen John drive and thought him likely to overturn his carriage before the week was out. I feared for Miss Morland, and only hoped that the inevitable accident did not occur whilst she was in the carriage.

‘We are going to the theatre this evening. Will you be there?' asked Mrs Thorpe.

Mrs Allen said that she and her husband would be there, and Miss Morland with them. Eleanor explained that we had another engagement and we parted company with many professions of good will on both sides.

‘Though I would rather be going to the theatre,' said Eleanor this evening, as we went downstairs.

The evening proved to be a trial. My father had invited some of his friends to dinner, and with them came their relatives: General Courteney's nephew, still looking for a wife, and General Parsons's daughter, intent on catching a husband. My father's smiles showed his feelings on the matter and Eleanor and I were left to exercise our wits in evading capture. Eleanor had the worst of it, Mr Courteney feeling at liberty to follow her about, so that she could not avoid him even when she moved from one side of the room to the other. Miss Parsons soon lost interest in flirting with me and turned her attentions to every one of the other gentlemen instead.

 

 

 

Eleanor and Mrs Hughes went to the pump room this morning, whilst I rode out with my father. He was in a tolerably good mood and said he thought the waters were doing him some good, though I think his improvement has more to do with his pleasure in seeing his friends than in any beneficial effects a few days of drinking the waters might have had.

Returning to Milsom Street we were soon joined by my sister and Mrs Hughes. Whilst my father and Mrs Hughes talked of their mutual acquaintance, Eleanor said to me, ‘I saw your Miss Morland in the pump room.'

‘
My
Miss Morland?'

‘My dear Henry, you must be careful with her. You have awakened her admiration and she is just up from the country, you know.'

‘My dear Eleanor, she is safe with me.'

‘Yes, I believe she is, which is just as well, for she has a decided preference for you. She had hardly seen me when she said, “How well your brother dances!” She went on to explain, more than once, that she had to turn you down when you asked her to dance, for she really had been engaged to Mr Thorpe the whole day, even though he had not immediately taken her on to the floor. She would not stop talking about you. She had noticed you dancing with Miss Smith, had discovered her name, and asked me if I thought Miss Smith pretty. On my replying, “Not very,” she was relieved, and then asked me if you ever came to the pump room. She will be at the cotillion ball tomorrow, and looks forward to seeing you there.'

‘Does she indeed?'

‘Is it too early for you to have found your heroine?'

‘Far too early. I have not yet ascertained whether or not she reads novels and that, you know, is to be the deciding factor in my choice of a bride.'

‘I should have thought to ask her,' said Eleanor, ‘but never mind, I am sure we will be seeing more of her. She and the Allens are here for some weeks.'

‘Is she by any chance like us, without a mother?'

‘No. From what I can gather her parents are very much alive, as are her numerous brothers and sisters, but the Allens being childless neighbours and being bound for Bath, they invited Catherine to accompany them. They seem like good people. I like them better than the Thorpes. Miss Thorpe's lips praise Mr Morland, but her eyes invite everyone else.'

‘I am sorry for it, he seems likeable enough but we must credit him with the ability to handle his own affairs and we must attend to our own. Do not forget, dear sister, you promised to go shopping with me and help me to find some suitable furniture for the parsonage. The drawing room is still unfurnished, you know,' I said.

After lunch we set out. We had hardly set foot out of the door, however, when we were accosted by John Thorpe, who tried to sell me a horse. When he could not succeed he entertained us with tales of his prowess at every sport invented until he mercifully saw another acquaintance. Thinking this hapless individual might like to purchase his animal, he abandoned us for them.

Eleanor and I were therefore free to investigate the local shops, and although we have not chosen anything as yet, we have seen a dining table and chairs that we both like. I may buy the set if nothing better presents itself.

 

 

 

The morning was spent shopping with my sister and the afternoon riding with Charles and a party of our friends. This evening we went to the Rooms, where my eyes fell at once upon Miss Morland, who was sitting by Mrs Allen with her eyes firmly fixed on her fan. I went over to her and asked her to dance, and was flattered and amused to see with what sparkling eyes she accepted. The dance had scarcely begun, however, when her attention was claimed by John Thorpe, who stood behind her and said that she had promised to dance with him. She protested that he had never asked her but he continued to plague her, saying that he had been telling all his acquaintance that he was going to dance with the prettiest girl in the room. Miss Morland protested that they would never think of her after such a description as that, and what is more, she said it not to invite compliments, as another woman would have done, but because she sincerely believed it. How many young ladies are there who would ever think the same?

Thorpe, with his customary charm, said, ‘By heavens, if they do not, I will kick them out of the room for blockheads,' and we were both relieved when the dance swept him away.

I saw that she had been wearied by him, and determined to make her smile again by talking agreeable nonsense to her.

‘He has no business to withdraw the attention of my partner from me,' I said. ‘We have entered into a contract of mutual agreeableness for the space of an evening, and all our agreeableness belongs solely to each other for that time. Nobody can fasten themselves on the notice of one, without injuring the rights of the other. I consider a country-dance as an emblem of marriage. Fidelity and complaisance are the principal duties of both; and those men who do not choose to dance or marry themselves, have no business with the partners or wives of their neighbours.'

‘But they are such very different things!' she said, not knowing whether or not I was serious.

‘Then you think they cannot be compared together?'

‘To be sure not. People that marry can never part, but must go and keep house together. People that dance only stand opposite each other in a long room for half an hour.'

‘And such is your definition of matrimony and dancing? Taken in that light certainly, their resemblance is not striking; but I think I could place them in such a view. You will allow, that in both, man has the advantage of choice, woman only the power of refusal; that in both, it is an engagement between man and woman, formed for the advantage of each; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty, each to endeavour to give the other no cause for wishing that he or she had bestowed themselves elsewhere, and their best interest to keep their own imaginations from wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours, or fancying that they should have been better off with anyone else. You will allow all this?'

‘Yes, to be sure, as you state it, all this sounds very well; but still they are so very different. I cannot look upon them at all in the same light, nor think the same duties belong to them.'

I conceded there was a difference, saying, ‘You totally disallow any similarity in the obligations; and may I not thence infer that your notions of the duties of the dancing state are not so strict as your partner might wish? Have I not reason to fear that if the gentleman who spoke to you just now were to return, or if any other gentleman were to address you, there would be nothing to restrain you from conversing with him as long as you chose?'

‘Mr Thorpe is such a very particular friend of my brother's, that if he talks to me, I must talk to him again; but there are hardly three young men in the room besides him that I have any acquaintance with,' she assured me.

‘And is that to be my only security? Alas, alas!'

‘Nay, I am sure you cannot have a better; for if I do not know anybody, it is impossible for me to talk to them,' she said with admirable logic; adding, ‘Besides, I do not want to talk to anybody.'

I found myself to be surprisingly pleased by her assertion and asked whether she found Bath as agreeable as when I had the honour of making the inquiry before. Upon her replying that she found it ever more agreeable, I reminded her to be tired of it at the proper time, saying, ‘You ought to be tired at the end of six weeks.'

‘I do not think I should be tired, if I were to stay here six months.'

‘Bath, compared with London, has little variety, and so everybody finds out every year.'

‘Well, other people must judge for themselves, and those who go to London may think nothing of Bath. But I, who live in a small retired village in the country, can never find greater sameness in such a place as this than in my own home; for here are a variety of amusements, a variety of things to be seen and done all day long, which I can know nothing of there,' she replied.

‘You are not fond of the country,' I said.

‘Yes, I am. I have always lived there, and always been very happy. But certainly there is much more sameness in a country life than in a Bath life. One day in the country is exactly like another. Here I see a variety of people in every street, and there I can only go and call on Mrs Allen.'

I was very much amused.

‘Only go and call on Mrs Allen! What a picture of intellectual poverty! However, when you sink into this abyss again, you will have more to say. You will be able to talk of Bath, and of all that you did here.'

‘Oh! Yes. I shall never be in want of something to talk of again to Mrs Allen, or anybody else. I really believe I shall always be talking of Bath, when I am at home again. James's coming (my eldest brother) is quite delightful, especially as it turns out that the very family we are just got so intimate with, the Thorpes, are his intimate friends already. Oh! Who can ever be tired of Bath?'

‘Not those who bring such fresh feelings of every sort to it as you do,' I said, and it was true.

Soon after reaching the bottom of the set I saw my father watching me. He asked me about my partner, and seeing that Miss Morland had witnessed the exchange, I told her that the gentleman was my father. She appeared pleased with him, not surprisingly, for he was in a good humour, and talking cheerfully to his friends.

The dance over, we were joined by Eleanor. We fell into conversation about the fine walks to be had around Bath. Miss Morland was eager to experience them but feared she would find no one to go with her, for Mrs Allen was no great walker and Isabella Thorpe would much rather go out in a carriage.

‘Then you must come with us,' said Eleanor.

‘I shall like it beyond anything in the world!' said Miss Morland with becoming eagerness. ‘Do not let us put it off, let us go tomorrow.'

This was readily agreed to. ‘As long as it does not rain,' said Eleanor.

‘I am sure it will not,' said Miss Morland.

We arranged to call for Miss Morland at her lodgings in Pulteney Street at twelve o'clock and took leave of one another.

‘And so, you are to see more of your Miss Morland,' said Eleanor.

‘Yes, indeed,' I replied, as we followed my father and Mrs Hughes out to the carriage. ‘As long as three villains in horsemen's greatcoats do not force her into a travelling-chaise and four on her way home, and drive her off with incredible speed.'