A Clandestine Correspondence
June
Fullerton Parsonage,
2 June, 1798
My dearest Henry,
I have received your latest, sir. I share your sense of hope. Perhaps it is the lovely spring weather, perhaps it is the kindness of my friends, or perhaps it is your letters, which renew my spirits with each sentence. I only know that as each day dawns, I expect the most marvellous things to occur, when the only thing to which I actually have to look forward is reading to Mrs. Allen.
I am sad to report that we are no longer reading The Italian. I am afraid that Mrs. Radcliffe's story has disturbed Mrs. Allen to such an extent that Mr. Allen has forbidden me from bringing it back to the house. She would not discuss it with me, but Sarah had it from our housemaid, who had it from her sister, a scullery maid at the great house, who overheard Mrs. Allen's maid telling the housekeeper all about it. So you see my information is very good. It seems that Mrs. Allen had a nightmare involving Schedoni. She woke up and started shrieking, and when Mr. Allen went into her room with his candle, she was unable to see him properly in the shadows. She mistook his nightcap for a cowl and screamed at him that she was not a Papist and that he could not subject her to the Inquisition. Mr. Allen was unable to calm her for several hours, and her nerves were so badly distressed that they had to send for the apothecary. Mr. Allen has told me in the kindest way to keep my horrid books at home. He said that he is grateful to me for keeping Mrs. Allen company, and has given me permission to read Miss Burney's novels to her. I am going to procure Camilla from the circulating-library, and I am sure that we will go along very nicely. Sarah and I are still reading The Italian at home, however. We sit in the window-seat with the curtains pulled tight around us and take turns reading aloud. Sarah is a very satisfactory sister, and we are becoming much better friends than we were previously.
Writing of my sister has made me think of Eleanor, whom I hope to someday call my sister. Have you heard from her? Is she still at Lord Longtown's, or has she returned to the Abbey? Sometimes when Sarah and I are cozy in the window-seat reading together, I think of Eleanor alone and feel very sad. Henry, we must find a way to resolve our situation so that Eleanor at least can enjoy your company, even if I cannot.
My mother requires my assistance, so I must end this letter now. I miss you constantly, and I think of you constantly, and I remain,
your devoted,
C.M.
The Rev. Mr. Tilney,
Woodston Parsonage,
Woodston, Gloucestershire
Woodston Parsonage,
5 June, 1798
My sweet Catherine,
Have you any idea of the pleasure that your letters bring me? Whenever my spirits are low, I bring them out and read them over and over. Your latest will be one of my favorites, I suspect. But I have not asked if you are well, and enjoying the warm days. The shrubbery I planted last year is growing well, and I walk there daily, talking to you. Yes, talking! I care not if the servants hear. I read your letters, and we discuss the prospect--you are still an excellent student of the picturesque, by the bye--and I show you the flowers. Have you yet learnt to love a rose, dearest? I would like to twine them in your hair as if you were a pagan queen, then take you in my arms, their scent filling the air around us, surrounding us like a veil against the world and all its cruelties. Yes, I find balm for my spiritual wounds there, and my Catherine is the goddess who brings it.
I am very sorry that poor Mrs. Allen was so distressed over Mrs. Radcliffe's book. She does not seem the type of woman to become upset over such a novel, unless perhaps if Ellena ruined her gown. I am glad that you have found another book to read to her. You have not read any of Miss Burney's books, have you? You will like them very well, I think. Just remember that they are no more alike to reality than Mrs. Radcliffe's delightful works. Will you tell me what you think of Camilla, dearest? I long to be with you, to read it to you, to talk it over with you afterward. We shall have to make do as we can, I suppose.
I am touched by your kind wish for my sister. It is another proof of your warm and affectionate nature. I confess that I have been concerned for her as well. She writes to me when she is able, and I send her fewer letters than I would care to, not wanting to arouse my father's suspicions. He could hardly fail to notice if Alice, who has not a friend in the world outside Northanger Abbey, suddenly began to receive a great deal of correspondence. You may say that my father has no business with the mail received by his daughter's maid, but you were in that house long enough to know that my father concerns himself with even such insignificant details. They have returned to the Abbey, and though Eleanor writes cheerfully, I am sure that her solitude weighs heavily upon her. I wish I could invite her to stay at Woodston, but I fear that would further infuriate my father, and that would hardly be helpful to our cause, my love. I would risk all for Eleanor, and I know that you feel the same way, but she has anticipated my desire and written to tell me that she would refuse such an invitation in any event. She tells me that she plans to take up our cause with my father; she is only waiting for the right moment to broach the subject. Was there ever such a generous sister? But I am falling once again into fatalism. If you were here, my sweet girl, I know you would charm me out of my cynicism, as you did so many times in Bath and at the Abbey.
You do not ask of Ruby and Bear! The devil puppy has behaved very well lately. He has not chewed anything in days, and is even beginning to obey my commands, most of the time anyway. I have great hopes for him come fall. Ruby still follows me around the parsonage; even when Mrs. Cooke puts her outside, she manages to find her way inside by some unwatched door or window, and I look up to see her sitting in a doorway, wagging her tail and smiling at me the way that dogs do. She makes me think of you, and I welcome her presence.
Be well, my love, and do not forget to think of us here in Gloucestershire. Ruby and Bear send their best canine love, and I send all the best love that any man can send to the most wonderful girl in the world. I remain always
yours most devotedly,
H.T.
Miss Morland,
Fullerton Parsonage,
Fullerton, Wiltshire
Fullerton Parsonage,
9 June, 1798
My dearest Henry,
I am glad that my letters please you so, sir. I attempt to make them interesting, but I am afraid that my quiet life here in Fullerton does not lend itself to anything outside the ordinary. However, if you find these everyday events entertaining, I will go on as I have in the past.
The roses in Mrs. Allen's garden are beginning to bloom. They smell lovely, and the petals are very soft. I am afraid that I do not yet love them, however. I endeavour to do so, every day. Mrs. Allen quite despairs of me, but I am sure that roses will become as dear to me as hyacinths. I spend time every day in the garden, unless it is raining very hard. Even if it rains in the morning, I will go out for a time before dinner. My mother does not understand how I can go out when it is very dirty, but I have never minded dirt. I mind staying inside a great deal more. And since I have received your last, I imagine that you are in the garden with me, as you imagine that I am with you.
It pleases me to hear that you are thinking of a way to relieve Eleanor's solitude. Do anything that you think necessary; do not hold back on my account. I love Eleanor as well as you do, Henry, and I want her to be happy. Any sacrifice on my part does not signify.
Mrs. Allen is recovering very well from her fright. Mr. Allen allowed her to buy several new gowns, which made her quite happy and distracted her from the story. Sarah and I are still reading it together, however, and it is quite horrid, my love! I cannot believe that Ellena's mother is alive! Although I am happy for her. A girl needs her mother. I can only hope that Vivaldi returns safely. It will be terribly romantic if he and Ellena can marry, do you not agree?
I am glad to hear that Bear's behaviour is improving as he grows older. But why do you and Mrs. Cooke put poor Ruby out? She is such a sweet little dog. I cannot believe that she needs to be out of doors all the time. Keep her by you, and pretend that I am nearby as well.
It is quite late, my love, and I am becoming very tired. I send all my love with this letter, and dozens of kisses for you and for Ruby and Bear. I will sleep now, and try very hard to dream of you, and perhaps you will dream of me. It will be as if we are together, as we always are in my heart, where I remain,
your devoted
C.M.
The Rev. Mr. Tilney,
Woodston Parsonage,
Woodston, Gloucestershire
Woodston Parsonage,
12 June, 1798
My love,
I hope this finds you well. Forgive my lack of manners, Catherine, but I can wait no longer. I have the most extraordinary news. Eleanor is to be married.
She has informed me that she has not told you her history, and has empowered me to enlighten you. Several years ago, she became acquainted with a young man with whom I was at Oxford, who went on to study the law. He visited me at Northanger Abbey--in fact, he was lodged in the same bed-chamber in which you were on your visit--and he and Eleanor became very attached to one another. Unfortunately, he was without fortune or prospects, and you can imagine my father's reaction.
A month ago, a distant cousin of his died suddenly, leaving no son, and this young man now finds himself named Viscount ----------. As soon as he received notice, he rode to the Abbey and presented himself to my father, who received him with great joy. It is fascinating how a title and estate have been able to endear this young man to my father when his natural intelligence and decency were insufficient to do so. 'Tis a pity we cannot make you a duchess, my dear. Forgive me, Catherine. My bitterness has no place in my sister's happiness.
But to continue my story--my father gave the Viscount permission to offer his hand to Eleanor, and she accepted joyfully. His lordship's seat is not far from Woodston, so I will be able to see her often, and she will no longer be forced to endure the treatment she receives at my father's hands.
I read over what I have written, and I can only hope that you will not think badly of me for the feelings I have expressed. If I cannot be completely honest with you, my love, in whom can I confide? I ask only that you not be overtaken by my anger. I love your sweetness, your joy in what the world has to offer, and I would not have that quality taken from you.
Eleanor has asked me to request that you write to her at the Abbey, under cover to her maid Alice. Even if my father suspects its origin, he is so well pleased with Eleanor these days that he will overlook her digression from his command. She longs to hear from her friends, and to share her joy with them. Please write to her. Her wedding is not to take place for another month, and until then she will be oppressed as much by my father's gratification as she was by his anger. May I ask that you share with her your girlish joy and love of life? It will do much for her, I am sure.
I must finish, dearest Catherine. Be well, my love, and think of me often, as I think of you. I still pray every day that we will be together. Eleanor's joy has renewed my hope, and I beg you to remain hopeful as well. I am, as always,
your own,
H.T.
Miss Morland,
Fullerton Parsonage,
Fullerton, Wiltshire
Fullerton Parsonage,
16 June, 1798
My dearest Henry,
I pressed one of the red roses from Mrs. Allen's garden in the pages of a very large and heavy book from my father's library. It is not one that he reads often, and he has not missed it. It is in Latin, which I do not know, so I do not know what the book is about. In any event, I have pressed the rose and I will enclose it with this letter. The perfume is still lovely, even though the flower is no longer soft. I confess that I have treasured roses all the more since you wrote to me about them a while ago, and whenever their scent reaches me, I think of you, my love.
I am so delighted with Eleanor's engagement. I have already sent her a letter expressing my happiness. She deserves all the joy in her marriage that there is in the world. Her story is so romantic, like something from a novel. No, it is a better story than I have ever read in any book. The happiest circumstance is that you will be nearby, and able to see her! I am so very happy for both of you. Eleanor will not have to be alone anymore. She will have her husband, and she will have her brother. What a pleasant thing to think upon!
Will you attend the wedding? I am sure that it will be very elegant. Eleanor is always so fashionably dressed. Mrs. Allen always admired her gowns and bonnets. And she has those lovely pearls that were your mother's. I always think a bride looks so well in pearls. I wish that I could attend, Henry! I have always enjoyed weddings. When I was younger, I used to creep into the church when my father was performing a wedding. There is a splendid hiding place just behind the pulpit, where I could watch and hear everything without being seen. Well, you have been honest with me, and so I must be honest with you. I sometimes still creep into that space and watch the weddings. In fact, I did so just last week. 'Twas a beautiful ceremony. The bride and groom seemed so happy. While my father was saying the ceremony, I imagined that we were the ones taking the vows. I am afraid that you will think that such behavior is terribly childish. If you think I should stop doing such things, please tell me, and I will do so. I know that I must endeavour to behave in a proper manner, and I promise that I will do so at all times when we are married.
James is home from Oxford. I am very glad to see him, although he is still very sad, and he has grown so thin! My mother fusses over him and tries to get him to eat. I cannot understand why he pines so for Isabella. I would understand if she and her family had not used him so ill. He assures me that he does not think of her often, but I see him brooding in the orchard almost daily. I do not know what to say to him, as I am not familiar with the male perspective. Can you give me a hint, sir? Have you any suggestions of how I may help him? I want to help him, badly.
Sarah is waiting for me. We are to call on Mrs. Allen. We are getting along very well with Camilla; we are nearly all the way through the first volume. I like it very much, but I think when all is done I much prefer horrid mysteries. They take one away from oneself. I hope that you remain well, sir, and remember that I am,
forever yours most devotedly,
C.M.
The Rev. Mr. Tilney,
Woodston Parsonage,
Woodston, Gloucestershire
Woodston Parsonage,
19 June, 1798
My dearest Catherine,
I thank you for the lovely talisman. I keep the rose in my Bible, so it is always nearby. I forget about it, and then consult the volume while I am writing a sermon, or just searching for solace, and the perfume wafts up and I am with you instantly. 'Tis a wonderful gift, my love, and one I will treasure always.
I regret that I will not be present at Eleanor's wedding. My father has made it clear to her that I am not welcome. I do not accept my forced absence gracefully. This union has been a wish of mine almost as long as it has been a wish of hers. My happiness for her is not affected, however. And her joy is the most important concern, is it not?
I was amused by your earnest confession about hiding behind the pulpit to watch your father perform the weddings. You have asked for my opinion, and I will give it. I would never censure you for such a minor thing, my girl. Since time immemorial, young ladies have thought upon marriage, and it is only natural that you would be interested in such things. Would it ease your conscience if I confessed that I, too, sometimes imagine us taking our marriage vows, even while I am leading another couple through their own? If you fear that you are behaving ill, what excuse can a clergyman have?
I do not think that you can help your brother to forget the woman he loved. Your generosity speaks well of your understanding, but time is the best agent to heal his wounded heart. Are there no other young ladies in the neighborhood who may distract him? Not to marry him, mind, just to prevent him from dwelling on Miss Thorpe. I know; you must persuade Mr. Allen to have a ball. Point out to Mrs. Allen that she will likely get a new gown for the occasion, and you may be sure that she will tease him until he is unable to resist any longer. Depend upon it, there is nothing like a ballroom full of lovely young ladies to distract a young man from his troubles.
Writing of Miss Thorpe and your brother unfortunately puts me in mind of Frederick. Well, it is not unfortunate that I think of my brother, but the connection that led to that thought is unfortunate. Eleanor has heard from him, and he will not be able to attend her wedding because of his commitments to his regiment. 'Tis a sad thing when a family is unable to come together on such a joyous occasion. I take my consolation from my sister's happiness. The Viscount is a truly fine young man, Catherine, and I feel confident that you will like him a great deal, and that he will make Eleanor very happy.
On that hopeful note, my sweet one, I must end. Enjoy these lovely warm days of summer, and do not forget to spare a thought for
your own,
H.T.
Miss Morland,
Fullerton Parsonage,
Fullerton, Wiltshire
Fullerton Parsonage,
23 June, 1798
My dearest Henry,
I hope this finds you well. I am pleased that my little gift made you so happy. I keep a small vase of roses near my bed all the time now, and they always remind me of you. And they are quite as dear to me as you are, sir. I suppose that I have you to thank for teaching me to love a rose.
You will be glad to hear that Eleanor has written to me. It was delightful to read of her happiness in her marriage, and in her fiance. I have no doubt that his lordship is a fine man, because Eleanor would not have attached herself to a man who is unworthy of her. I hope that I am able to meet him someday.
A ball is a wonderful way to help James forget his troubles! I have mentioned it to Mrs. Allen, and she is all enthusiasm. Unfortunately, she and Mr. Allen are leaving for Brighton next week and will stay until the end of July, so they will not be able to have the ball until August. I did not tell Mrs. Allen that the idea for the ball came from you, since she still does not know of our engagement. Which brings me to another question, sir: how should I behave at the ball? The neighborhood will think it strange if I do not dance, and Mrs. Allen has hinted that I am to open the ball. I do not want to dance if I cannot dance with you. How am I to sit out without giving away our secret?
James and I have been spending a great deal of time together of late. He talks of Isabella to me; he seems to draw comfort from being able to discuss the affair. I am glad to help him, but it is sometimes rather upsetting. He recognizes Isabella's faults but is unable to forget his regard. I suppose that speaks well for him as a lover, that his heart remains so steady. Indeed, he swears that he will never love another woman.
Are you taking care of my dogs? They must be restless, with no sport this time of year. And you must be restless as well, Henry. I know how much you enjoy outdoor activities. Mr. Allen and my father, and my brothers when they are at home, often go out shooting during the season, and they take a great deal of pleasure in sport.
Duty calls me away, my love; I have promised my mother that I would assist with sewing for my brothers. It is not a task that I particularly enjoy, but I will think about walking with you in the shrubbery at Woodston, and my heart will be light. Keep well, and keep me in your thoughts and prayers, she who is
your faithful
C.M.
The Rev. Mr. Tilney,
Woodston Parsonage,
Woodston, Gloucestershire
Woodston Parsonage,
27 June, 1798
My love,
I am well, and I hope that this finds you the same. I am delighted to hear that you have learnt to love a rose. I have always considered it fortunate that you did not require a fondness for flowers to coax you out-of-doors for your daily exercise, but sometimes the demands of the spirit are as significant as those of the body. Do not forget to feed your spirit, Catherine, with the beauties of nature.
So Miss Morland is to open the ball at Fullerton! Mrs. Allen could not have chosen a lovelier or more deserving young lady. Naturally I am glad that you prefer to dance with me, but do not sit out because I cannot be there. I would not wish you to mortify yourself on my account. I have a vision of you in a gown of embroidered yellow muslin, with matching ribbons in your hair, conquering every male heart in the room. Enjoy the ball, and I will take my own satisfaction from your enjoyment. I ask only that you do not forget the male heart you have already conquered.
I assure you that the dogs are well, still running the house and demanding a great deal of my attention, and my housekeeper's. Fear not that they will ever be neglected. Dogs have a way of intruding on one's notice, ensuring that they will always receive pretty much anything they want. I entered the kitchen unannounced this morning and found Mrs. Cooke feeding scraps of fat to Bear. She was calling him "sweet puppy" and laughing at his antics. He was being quite charming, sitting up and begging for the scraps very prettily. I think we will be hearing no more about Lucifer from Mrs. Cooke, at least in regards to Bear.
Ruby and the other terriers are also well. All of the dogs accompanied me when I went fishing yesterday. It was a very warm day, but they seemed to enjoy it. Bear cooled himself by splashing in the stream and frightening away the fish, but the terriers were a little skittish of the water. They preferred to stay in the shade and sleep. I managed to get Bear out of the stream long enough to catch several large trout, which we had for dinner. The cook prepared them by grilling them with some herbs. My father would have been disappointed with such a simple dish, but I assure you that it was delicious.
I have missed my opportunity to wish you happiness at Midsummer. Among pagan peoples, it is a holiday sacred to lovers. 'Tis a pity we must be apart. Perhaps it is not an entirely proper thought for a Christian clergyman, but I consider Midsummer a magic time. The sun lingers in the sky, tempting lovers to remain out of doors in the indigo dusk. There will be a Midsummer for us, my love, I promise you. We will walk together in that late twilight, watching the sun sink slowly into the horizon and talking together until the light is completely gone. Then, in the warm darkness of a summer evening, I will hold you close and whisper in your ear, words of love and devotion, rendered sacred by the Midsummer moon. Until that time, my sweet Catherine, believe that I am,
yours most devotedly,
H.T.
Miss Morland,
Fullerton Parsonage,
Fullerton, Wiltshire
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