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Up to this point in his life, Henry Tilney could have counted the times he had been at a loss for words on one hand; awkwardness was not in his nature. Charming, clever, and blessed with a quick wit, he usually knew well enough how to keep a conversation not only alive, but also entertaining – Or at least, entertaining to him. In fact, he prided himself on being an exceptional conversationalist, well aware that as long as he was present, and willing, no silence would ever last long.
Except, on this particular day, which could be the very day to determine his future happiness, Henry found that all his usual skills had deserted him.
He had, after a fashion, and aided by Mrs. Morland's generous kindness, managed to fill the customary quarter of an hour, going over such novel and diverting subjects as the weather, which, adding insult to injury, on this day had been neither particularly fine, nor remarkably bad. And what else could be said about such ordinary weather, other than that it was very ordinary indeed, and precisely what one should expect at this time of year?
The mortification over such stupidity would have been most severe, had Henry been at leisure to feel it. Instead, he was mortified on a very different account, too aware of several pairs of young, inquisitive eyes resting upon him, equally awed and fascinated by this fashionable stranger who had come for a visit and of whom they surely had already heard something, though how much Henry could not fathom.
None of the girls, not even the one who looked closest to Catherine in age, and thus, naturally, must have been her closest confidante, betrayed even a hint of knowing of any tender feelings their sister might harbour. Such faces as theirs, so open and full of curiosity, yet without so much as a knowing smile or conspiratorial wink, would have dismayed Henry, had not a glance at Catherine been enough to sustain all his hopes of her heart remaining unchanged, as fond and open towards him as ever.
Though he did not dare to glance at her too often, or for longer than a moment. Catherine with her glowing cheeks and brilliant eyes – eyes, which, whenever she was not stealing a furtive glance at him, were demurely fixed on her shoes – Catherine, who looked every bit as lovely and loving as she had when he had last seen her, and just as happy to see him – Why, to look at her even for these short moments was almost too much to bear, and to look for longer surely would lead to foolishness.
If only he could call her his already!
To that end he had made this journey, though other reasons likewise had driven him, and what he truly wished to tell her, of that there could be no doubt. But here, with her watchful mother present, and several younger sisters and brothers to bear witness, those words had to be left unsaid – And as there was nothing else he could think of, all the commonplace topics of conversation exhausted, Henry sat in silence, his hands clasped in his lap, unable to say more, and yet unwilling to politely take his leave before he had not said what he had come to say.
He had hoped an excuse to be alone with Catherine would simply present itself, but it seemed he would have no such luck and thus would have to conceive of something himself. On any other day, Henry thought wrily, he would have come up with some clever diversion already, never one hard pressed for words. Today, something less than clever would have to suffice.
„Miss Morland,“ Henry said, turning to her, only half aware how this direct address had startled Catherine, too preoccupied with his need to think of a reason to prolong his visit while also leaving the present company behind, „are Mr. and Mrs. Allen currently residing in Fullerton? I seem to recall they meant to quit Bath not long after – Had they not meant to be back at Fullerton well before Easter?“
„Oh,“ was all Catherine could say at first, but she quickly recovered. „Oh, I cannot remember, that is, I don't think I have heard either ever mention anything about Easter. But Mr. Allen had only extended their visit for a fortnight, and he was quite glad to be back in his own home, at least that's what he has said on Monday. This past Monday that is, when I went there for a visit, since, you see, I only arrived here rather late on Sunday, so I could not call on them then, but we went to see them on Monday. And since I cannot recall their having mentioned any plans to go to Salisbury today, or anywhere else, really, I should think them at home. Their home, that is. Fullerton House.“
This perplexity of words, so like Catherine, could not but make Henry smile; indeed, in spite of his current discomfort, he almost laughed. And though no laughter escaped him, it still shone from his eyes, with such warmth that, had anyone cared to look closely, there could have been no doubt as to the true purpose of his visit.
„Well Miss Morland, that is good to hear and in that case, I should like to visit and pay my respects to them.“ By now, Henry could feel the colour rising to his cheeks, well aware of his own lack of subtlely, but he carried on bravely: „Would you, perchance, be so kind as to show me the way?“
With eyes as bright as the sun, and a smile just as warm, Catherine looked at him, and opened her mouth, certainly to give an affirmative, when –
„You may see the house from the window, sir,“ the oldest of Catherine's sisters – Miss Sarah, he recalled – most helpfully supplied. It was kindly meant, if nothing else, or so Henry hoped, and it was for the kind intent, that he bit his tongue and gave her an acknowledging nod, his mind already racing on how to achieve his goals, when the very family he hoped to soon call his own, seemed so very bent on hindering him in his endeavour. Though fortunately, Mrs. Morland chose this moment to prove the opposite, taking pity on Henry and, shushing one daughter, told her eldest one that she was free to accompany their guest to the great house, if she so wished.
Catherine, of course, wished so dearly, and no sooner had her mother given her consent, than she was on her feet and, almost stumbling into Henry's arms, eagerly led him to the door.
For all their mutual desire to relieve their overflowing hearts though, while they were still in sight of the parsonage, they both remained silent; for as long as there were prying eyes watching them from the drawing room window, Henry did not dare to speak – But as soon as they turned around a little hedge, he halted.
„Miss Morland – Catherine –, I...“ he begun, but then hesitated.
For hours he had thought about this very moment, had arranged pretty words and elegant phrases, had considered how he might explain himself, and how to do so to most effect; had made plans on how to use this moment to secure not only his future happiness, but Catherine's as well, by securing, once and for all, the heart which he had known to be his for quite some time now. Yet... After everything that had happened, what claim, rightfully, could he still have on her heart? It had been his, once, of that there was no doubt, but what if he had come too late?
Catherine had already forgiven so much, how could he ask her to forgive this as well? What if he had misread her, had seen love, because he had wished to see it, when in truth only goodnatured kindness remained? What if this final display of his father's cruelty, not only ungracious but also unwarranted, had been more than even her generous heart could overlook? What if it had been enough to make the future he had to offer look entirely unappealing?
What if he, Henry Tilney, had become nothing more to her than the brother of a dear friend?
The small, gentle touch of a hand suddenly distracted him from such painful ruminations. „Henry, if it pains you, you needn't say anything. I understand – That is, I don't, not really, but you needn't suffer for something you had no part in. It need not be talked of ever again... Only, Eleanor is well, is not she?“
Throughout this short speech, Catherine's hand had not let go of his, and neither had her eyes left his face. Eyes, so full of innocent worry for a friend whose deepest regret was only how she had failed her, and affection for a man who, looking into her eyes, felt like a right fool for ever having doubted her infinite goodness, even if only for a moment. She had forgiven so much already, of course she forgave this as well!
Chuckling, amused by his own foolishness, Henry closed his fingers around hers. „Yes, Eleanor is well; she is currently unhappy, but well. And I hope that soon she will have news to lift her spirits out of any gloom she might be suffering from at present.“ Gently, still chuckling softly, he put a stray strand of hair behind Catherine's ear. „And you are kind to offer, but you deserve an explanation, and I shall give you as good an explanation as I am capable of giving, later. But first, there is something else – No, if you will allow it, my dear Catherine, I shall attempt this again.“
„I once told you, I hope you still remember, how you are superior in good nature to all the rest of the world – Back then, I could not yet know, how right I was; now I do. I could travel the world, yet I would not find another one such as you: One whose every word is sincere, who knows no disguise, and who, devoid of any evil herself, sees no evil in others. I have before me the kindest, gentlest, most forgiving creature, in possession of the most affectionate heart – When I came to Fullerton today, you, who had every right to be angry, merely smiled at me as if no sight could have brought you greater joy. When you look at me, I forget all my own flaws. You listen to me, even when I talk nonsense, and I know full well that I talk a great deal of nonsense, and yet, you seem to enjoy yourself, and laugh at my antics. Your laughter, I will admit, has, in these past few weeks become the sweetest sound to my ears, and I should be miserable without it. Please, my dearest, sweetest, most beloved Catherine, will you have me as your husband, and allow me to take you as my wife?“
For a moment Catherine said nothing at all, her only reply the visible surprise on her face. Then, far too slowly, she opened her mouth, her voice breathless with elated disbelief.
„So, you really do love me?“
Letting go of the breath he had held, trying to ignore the weakness in his legs and the laughter bubbling up in his chest, Henry looked at her, not concealing even a fraction of the love he knew to be showing on his face. „Yes Catherine, yes, though truly, only one as humble as you could even question it, but, yes,“ he said, leaning down until his lips gently met hers, „yes, I do love you.“
„Oh,“ was all Catherine could reply, but for a while, no other reply was necessary, as her lips proved most eloquent even without uttering a single syllable. To see her smile was already a delight, but to feel it thus was, as far as Henry was concerned, as close to heavenly bliss, as any living person could ever hope to come. He could have continued kissing her like this for hours, irrespective of their surroundings, if not for one small issue that remained.
„So,“ he took a step away, his cheeks glowing and his eyes for once as bright as Catherine's, „about my previous question...“
„Of course! I mean, yes, I should very much like to be your wife! Indeed, I do not think I should like anything so well in the world, than to be married to you! Why would I ever say no, and when you asked so nicely, too!“
„Nicely?“ Without any reason to further restrain himself, Henry laughed aloud, and Catherine, realising what she had said, joined him gladly.
„Yes, very. The nicest I have ever heard, and indeed,“ Catherine looked up at him sheepishly, bringing forth another bout of laughter, „I would not mind hearing it again – You know, I sometimes thought, but that you really do love me... Oh, I don't think I could be any happier if I tried!“
Neither could Henry, and, provoked into playfulness in equal parts by his own happiness and Catherine's guileless encouragement, he took her by the waist and gaily spun her around. „Well then, my love, lead the way, and while we walk, I shall most exactly, and repeatedly, tell you how much I love you.“