Posted on 2008-10-31
Blurb: The Tilneys journey into a charming town in North named Houghton in order for Catherine to recuperate her health. However, in doing so they unwittingly stumble over a secret and ancient rite that has been practiced for centuries.
The marriage of Catherine Morland to Henry Tilney caused much happiness if also puzzlement amongst their acquaintances. However, as time passed everyone admitted the match was indeed a brilliant success for both families as Mrs. Tilney’s sweet and honest temper was well suited for Mr. Tilney’s sharper more cautious nature.
However, it wasn’t long before serious distress cast a harsh shadow over the parsonage. The happy bride was unable to bring forth an heir. At first, discussions of children were shared freely between Catherine and her new sister, Eleanor. And, like a dutiful daughter that she was, Eleanor produced a son by the second year of her marriage. After this most happy event, Catherine thought it would be her turn to secure General Tilney’s good graces with a child.
Alas, no such happy news came from that corner of Woodston. Catherine, becoming steadily desperate, sought remedies which became more and more dangerous for her health. In genuine fear for his young wife, Henry pleaded with her to stop taking such outrageous risks. Catherine seemed to have listened to her husband’s wise counsel. Secretly, she decided to take one last measure recommended by Mrs. Allen who had heard it from a friend residing in London.
It proved nearly fatal, and Catherine wasted away to a sad shadow before her health took a positive turn. In spite of Catherine’s behavior, her husband was by no means angry with his wife. Henry knew, in his heart, that she risked all for him, and to please the tyrant that was his father. He vowed to convince his wife of his true feelings as soon as possible, and that irregardless of the General’s opinion on the matter his heart would remain steadfast to her.
Catherine listened to Henry’s pleadings. In return, she begged for his forgiveness, which he gave freely. So, in spite of all the ill luck she had had suffered, Catherine had also gained the fortuitous knowledge that Henry’s affections for her remained secure even though she was unable to give him the one thing he wanted above all.
Henry Tilney was by no means a man with meager fortune and his position in society allowed him to keep company with acquaintances who could afford to travel abroad and afar. He queried a few landed gentlemen whose adventurous spirits were matched equally by their wives and learned from them a town named Houghton in North that, in spite of being autumnal weather, had mild days and water with well-known healing propensities. It also had the much desired fact that it was not Bath, and thus the more socially-inclined familiars would hardly travel North to Houghton when it would suit them much better to journey South as the days grew short.
Once Henry was assured of Catherine’s ability to travel, he told of his plans to his sister. Eleanor, feeling no doubt guilty for causing such grief no matter how innocently, was in complete agreement with her brother’s plans. In fact, she insisted on loaning her personal carriage in order to insure that her brother and her young friend would journey in comfort. Thus equipped with well wishes and tender care, Catherine set off towards Houghton. With her were Henry and her maid, Lydia. Henry’s personal man, Peters, had traveled ahead in order to ensure that the innkeepers of Coombe Inn assiduously observed the arrangements Henry had made through numerous posts. Henry was very scrupulous in detailing their needs, as the last thing he wanted was Catherine’s health to decline while they resided amongst strangers.
The journey was taken leisurely and Houghton wasn’t so far away as to dangerously tire the invalid. And Peters was successful in ensuring his employer’s wishes were fulfilled. So, by the time the Tilneys arrived at Coombe Inn, their suite of rooms were more than adequate.
Mr. Ayers, the owner and innkeeper, immediately volunteered to take the carriage and the horses to Mr. Worth whose livery was the best in town. His wife was an elderly woman whose sprightly steps and trim figure all spoke of a healthy life. She made all the right sympathetic noises when she was introduced to Catherine, and even Henry was pleased by her concern. After seeing to their welfare, Mrs. Ayers was able to make a late supper for the travelers and made sure they had dined comfortably before she made her leave.
“This is wonderful,” Catherine said as she sank into the bed.
“I must admit, not even I was thinking it would be such a success,” Henry answered, pleased by the glow on his wife’s face. It had been too long since he had witnessed visible health in the dark eyes and round cheeks, all which had turned sallow and dull by her illness.
“I fear I will soon make a declaration to return here every year, just so Mrs. Ayers could spoil me.”
Henry laughed and replied, “Then that is what we shall do.”
The Tilneys slept in safety and hope that evening.
“Your Lydia, is she a good girl?” Mrs. Ayers asked.
“Yes, she is,” Catherine responded, taken back by the inquiry.
Mrs. Ayers saw her confusion and blushed. “I am sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Tilney, it’s just that I heard a story about her.”
Catherine immediately felt the need to defend her maid and said warmly, “I am not sure what story could possibly circulate since we arrived here only yesterday!”
“Oh, no, nothing bad, I assure you,” Mrs. Ayers said. “It’s just that she was seen doing something kind to a neighbor who isn’t as fortunate as I am.”
“Then I am sure the story is true. Lydia is of very generous nature.”
“Exactly,” Mrs. Ayers said. “My neighbor, Mrs. Bowers, has a son named Thomas. He isn’t like other boys in Houghton or anywhere else for that matter. You see, he is very large and rather frightening to look at. But he’s as sweet as they come, and though he may not be able to read the Good Book, he is very good at keeping its Word.”
Catherine gave a nod of understanding. She had heard stories like this one, and felt charity, not distrust, should be the course of action.
“I’m glad you understand,” Mrs. Ayers said with a sigh. “Just that strangers who visit us shun and fear Thomas, but your Lydia was awfully kind to him. I’ve seen girls older than your maid take one glance at Thomas then completely lose their composure. Poor lad has become painfully shy because of it.”
“Lydia was raised with five brothers. She has little fear of anything,” Catherine said proudly.
Catherine’s warm regard towards her maid was genuine. Lydia was a trustworthy servant, and more than capable of handling Catherine’s needs. More than once Catherine had mentioned to Henry about Lydia’s good qualities in the hopes that they could keep her for the foreseeable future. Once, Catherine went further and thought about romantically matching Lydia to someone in their household or Eleanor’s. But, alas, as Henry pointed out, Lydia’s countenance would hardly attract any man. Sturdily built and topped with lanky brown hair, Lydia possessed a pugnacious expression due to a nose that had been broken one too many times through the ill manners of her numerous brothers.
“I see. Well, I am glad to see Lydia behaving sensibly unlike some others,” Mrs. Ayers quipped smartly. “Let me see if the soup is ready. Heaven knows, it’s always the first casualty if I’m not standing right next to the pot.”
Catherine laughed and gave a graceful nod of understanding as Mrs. Ayers left. She made herself comfortable and began writing to her mother about her first significant day in Houghton.
“Do you know why the weather here is so mild?” Henry asked.
“Oh, there are many explanations for that,” Mr. Ayers replied. “However, the one that I choose to believe is because we are set in a valley.”
“Wouldn’t that make it colder and rainier?” Catherine asked.
“Yes, it would, usually, but we get milder winds from the sea, which isn’t too far away,” Mr. Ayers said. “And we do have winters like the rest of the county, but once the warm temperature settles in, it tends to act as a shelter.”
“Whatever the reason, I for one am grateful,” Mrs. Ayers said. “My joints are only getting older.”
Catherine smiled at the humorous comment, and the dinner progressed very nicely for all.
“Yes, I did. Mr. Ayers told me the poor fellow’s tragic history.”
“Isn’t it a shame? To be blessed with a good heart but nothing else?”
“It is,” Henry replied then kissed his wife on her forehead.
“What was that for?”
“Because two years ago you would have thought the fellow to be a fitting villain for one of your more romantic notions.”
“Hush,” Catherine said, coloring brightly. “I know very well the difference between what is out my window and what is in my books.”
“Does that include laundry lists?”
“Henry!”
Her husband’s soft laughter mollified any embarrassment Catherine might have felt.
“Is he very … startling to look at?”
Henry sighed and shook his head in sympathy. “The man is a giant, and yes, he is terrifying to behold. But, as you probably know, he is also very much like a child. I don’t believe he’s seen inside of a reading room his entire life. I don’t know what will happen to the poor fellow when his mother passes away. I suppose he has other relatives who could take him in.”
“That is indeed very sad,” Catherine said. “At least the Ayers are genuinely concerned for his welfare. Maybe they will accept him into their household.”
Henry shook his head. “They are almost as old as Mrs. Bowers. They don’t have the energy and dare I say, the funds, to keep him.”
“I never had to worry about my own welfare,” Catherine said. “Mostly because I have so many brothers and sisters.”
“Ten,” Henry said, his voice reflecting his amazement. “Ten honest, guileless children.”
“Henry…”
“Hush, Catherine,” Henry said. “I know it pains you that we are childless, but it would pain me even more to lose you. What we need to do now is to regain your health. That is all that concerns me.”
Catherine gave a nod of acquiescence and the couple went to bed in silence.
Lydia, who was naturally reticent amongst strangers, soon grew in her popularity like her mistress. Other maids accepted the young woman, and it wasn’t too long before she was as comfortable as she would have been in her own home.
However, there came the faithful day when they all had to return to Woodston. Henry thought it would sadden Catherine but his wife surprised him by her excitement to return to the parsonage. They quickly finalized the plans for the journey, realizing how eager they were to see their home again. Henry informed Mr. Ayers who once again volunteered to talk to Mr. Worth in getting their carriage and horses ready for the trip.
Henry returned to his wife who immediately began discussing how to pack all their new purchases without damaging the goods. Henry listened in good humor and made sympathetic noises as husbands often do. Henry was about to suggest that they tie it all in a bundle, wrap a sturdy rope around it and drag it behind the carriage all the way to Woodston. However, before Henry could make such an outrageous suggestion, Lydia entered their apartment. His impish plan was immediately quashed as it was plain to him that she was greatly agitated.
“If I may have permission to speak,” Lydia said with a curtsey.
“Of course, what is it, Lydia?”
“Mrs. Ayers had invited me to a festival here in Houghton. I said yes because I thought…”
“Of course, you thought we’d be staying longer,” Catherine supplied as her maid stuttered out her request. “And you wish to stay for it?”
“Oh, may I? I know it seems brazen for me to ask, but I desperately want to go.”
Henry was initially taken back by the depth of Lydia’s free speech with his wife, but then he remembered Catherine treated the servants more like family than laborers as the Morlands were very self-sufficient and needed but few servants to run the household, and those who did were treasured by the Morland family.
“I don’t see why not. You could travel by post-chaise.”
Lydia turned her beady and hopeful eyes on Henry. “Sir? With your permission?”
“As long as my wife agrees, I have no objections. You are staying here, I hope?”
Lydia nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, Mrs. Ayers would be ever so pleased to have me, she said.”
“Then it is done. When is the festival?”
“In three days,” Lydia answered.
“Oh, is that all?” Henry said, relieved that Catherine would be deprived of Lydia’s presence at most for only a week.
Catherine gave a soft sigh, signaling to her husband she was only too well aware of his thoughts. “Come,” she said to Lydia, “tell me all about this festival!”
Henry bowed out of the room with haste and grace.
“That will be fine, ma’am,” Lydia replied with a curtsey.
Mrs. Ayers watched the stocky figure trundle off before setting off to find her husband. As she suspected he was at the livery with Mr. Worth who was busily repairing the chains.
“Will it hold?” Mr. Ayers asked. “Lydia is a strong girl, you know.”
“It’ll hold,” Mr. Worth answered. He noticed Mrs. Ayers’ presence and gave a nod of recognition. “How is Mrs. Bowers?”
“Taking her last breath, but her will is strong enough for her to remain on this earth until the Festival.”
“Good, she’s a mighty fine woman, she is,” Mr. Worth said. “You really think this Lydia girl will be just as good?”
“She will be, once she settles down and accepts her place with us,” Mrs. Ayers answered.
Mr. Ayers said, “We were very fortunate that the Tilneys came by. It was work of God that they decided to visit Houghton in the fall.”
“It was,” Mrs. Ayers agreed readily. “I’ll fetch you when supper is ready.”
She strolled back to the inn, greeting townsfolk who were preparing for the Festival. She saw the familiar figure of Thomas amble behind two men, helping them carry a large tree to the church where she and other women will decorate tomorrow morning.
It really was remarkable that Lydia came to their midst when she did, and that Thomas had taken to her. The god of fair weather was ever so shy and would rarely let outsiders see his form, but he had little choice since his caretaker was dying and he was in need of a new one. Mrs. Ayers felt badly for Lydia but it was for the best. She suspected Mr. Tilney would spare little in search of his wife’s missing maid but she would remain absent, as they had numerous hiding places situated in the valley surrounding Houghton. And they would give up looking for Lydia long before she became fit to be a keeper, since it usually took at least two years before the women realized there was no chance of escape and accepted their fate.
Mrs. Ayers wrinkled her nose in distaste as she remembered the thick chain her husband and Mr. Worth were repairing. She loathed to use it on another person, but the women could not be trusted to stay put, at least in the beginning. She just hoped they would at least wrap the manacles with soft wool so it wouldn’t chafe Lydia’s ankles too badly. The girl was blessed with the daintiest feet, and Mrs. Ayers imagined she would make a fine figure during some of the dancing that went on in the Festival of the autumn god.
The End