In Just Defiance ~ by Alicia
Henry Tilney was eager to return to his family home at Northanger Abbey, for guesting there was the woman within whom all his dreams of future happiness resided. His hope that his father had not yet returned home -- that he might enjoy some time with his beloved unencumbered by that man's imposing presence -- was tempered very little by feelings of guilt. During his journey he settled it with himself that he would make his proposals that very day. He was confident in the lady's acceptance of his offer; and there could be no question that his father encouraged and wished for the match, yet Henry knew the general must be under some misapprehension regarding Catherine's fortune and thus intended to secure her hand and his father's sanction as soon as possible. If General Tilney should learn after the engagement -- or better yet, after the marriage -- that Miss Morland's fortune was not what he believed it to be, Henry would assuage his father's disappointment the best he could all the while shielding Catherine from its ill-effects.
As he approached the abbey he discerned the figure of his father coming towards him. He dismounted and made to walk with him. General Tilney began hastily, "If you are still thinking of making your attentions to Miss Morland, I will have you know immediately that she has departed the house and you are to think of her no more. We were in error as to the benefit of an alliance with her. She is not worthy of the notice and hospitality we have already shown her, and the sooner she is forgotten and all evidence of our association with her has faded, the better." He spoke with the obvious conviction that his will would be carried, accustomed as he was to give the law in his family on every ordinary occasion.
Henry was shocked, particularly as his father had very recently expressed his hope for a union between the two in terms which though they were not verbal were nevertheless by no means uncertain. It was impossible that Catherine had done anything to affront the general. Surely she had not made known to him her silly suspicions. "How can you speak so, Father," he said steadily, "when only a few days ago you treated her with such warmth? She cannot have done anything to offend you."
"Her entire manner is offensive. She is nothing but a scheming upstart who set out to ensnare us all -- to manipulate a proposal from you so that she could gain some footing in society for her otherwise ignoble family through false pretenses and insincere affections."
"Good God! How can you speak of her with such vehemence? She is the sweetest girl I have ever known."
"You will cease to entertain any such silly romantic notions of her this moment. We are to go to Hertfordshire on Monday to visit Lord Longtown for a fortnight."
"And you expect to distract me from thinking of Miss Morland by forcing me to be in company with the Miss Longtowns? Do you suppose that any other woman could erase her from my thoughts now that I have fallen in love with her -- a result in which your encouragement was instrumental?"
"Love? Do not fancy yourself in love, foolish boy. You will forget her soon enough once you find yourself surrounded by more worthy companions. Then you will see your own foolishness."
"I will not go to Hertfordshire. There can be no worthier companion for me than Miss Morland. She has proven herself to be of the highest quality in every way."
"The highest quality? She has nothing to offer you."
"She is capable of offering everything that I could want."
"You want only a pretty face and a silly disposition, then? For that is all she has. She has no fortune, no connections of any value, and she has succeeded in misleading us all."
"If you have been misled as to her fortune, it was not by her."
"It matters not where I obtained my information, only that I was led to believe she was worth my notice and then later set right as to her true situation. She has nothing. Her family live practically in poverty. And this is the woman to whom you would connect yourself?"
"It is a connection already made as much by honour as if the words had been spoken -- and fostered by your facilitation."
"But, thankfully, the words had not been spoken before I learned of her deception. When you are no longer blinded by the confusion you call love, you will thank me for turning her out yesterday morning."
"What is this?" cried Henry, unable to conceal his anger. "You turned her out? Under what circumstances?"
"When I returned here two nights ago with the fresh information as to her situation in life I informed your sister of my intent to have Miss Morland removed from the house immediately. It was only out of kindness that I allowed her to remain until yesterday morning. The arrangements had already been made for her departure."
"You sent her away so abruptly? With no opportunity to inform her parents of her journey? With no regard as to her preferences in the time or mode of transportation offered or for her comfort or convenience in making such a lengthy journey? This is abominable! Tell me that you provided her with a servant, that you offered her some assistance to make her journey at least somewhat comfortable."
"She had already got from me more than she ever deserved."
By now, they were arguing heatedly in front of the house and Eleanor joined them. Henry, still reeling from his father's most recent disclosure and finding himself unable to form any suitable response, chose instead to address himself to her. "My dearest Eleanor," said Henry, "I must speak with you. I implore you to tell me how it all went between yourself and Miss Morland."
"Do not seek complicity in your defiance from her."
Seeing that he would not be allowed to speak of the matter to his sister, Henry turned to mount his horse again as he replied, "I do not consider obedience to honour and justice defiance. I leave for Fullerton tomorrow where I shall make my proposals."
"You shall do no such thing!"
"You cannot expect me to abandon those purposes which were formed and prompted by your own tacit consent simply because you now, so unjustifiably seek to retract it."
"I shall never give my blessing to this union."
"Then I shall marry without it," replied Henry, turning his horse about and heading back to Woodston.
The following afternoon he departed for Wiltshire with no other thought than to ameliorate the distress Catherine must be enduring over the entire business and reassure her of his affection and his constancy. His efforts were rewarded with the promise of her hand within a half hour of his arrival.