"And whose fault is that?" cried Mrs. Norris. "It was I who brought you out into society the first time, introduced you to all the right people, and found you a rich husband. And what did you do about it? How did you show your gratitude?"
"Oh, not this again," said Maria, rolling her eyes and flinging herself onto the settee.
Mrs. Norris called for her shawl, scowling at her niece. "I shall conquer this," she said to herself.
Betsey, the harried and bedragled maid of all work, appeared in the parlour doorway, a dead rabbit in one hand and Mrs. Norris' shawl in the other.
Mrs. Norris snatched her shawl and scolded Betsey for dawdling while Maria wrinkled up her nose and said, "Rabbit stew again?"
Betsy turned on her heel, too tired and haggard to retort.
"I am going into the village," said Mrs. Norris.
"What for?" asked Maria.
"I am in need of some ingredients for that herbal balm I used to make for your mama."
"Then fetch me some flowers to trim my bonnet."
"Flowers? Who shall see them? A bonnet that is never seen does not want trimming!"
"Hmmph," said Maria.
Mrs. Norris walked with her usual deliberation towards the village. How dare Maria complain! Mrs. Norris had secured all the first blessings of life for her niece, and the ungrateful child had squandered it all for a roll with that worthless Henry Crawford!
She hated Woodston. Such a pretentious little upstart of a town. Especially that impudent pontificating parson, Mr. Tilney, as he called himself. Mr. Tilney, who thought far too well of his own abilities to make any use of the sermons which have served the populace so well since time out of mind. Who was he to think himself so far above his forebears to actually deign to write his own sermons? Such vanity! So different from Mr. Norris, who always had performed his duties with the utmost reverence. Not to mention that insipid, feather-brained wife of his! Such a disgrace, not worthy of being the mistress of any rectory in England. And those little Tilney brats. Two already and a third on the way, and none with any more sense than the mother. She soon made her way to the main street of the village and stopped in front of the bookstore to check her looks in the glass, when a customer within noticed her.
The first thing he noticed was that aristocratic nose. He thought that such a nose must belong to someone of a very important family indeed. Her very posture radiated quality. Though her clothes were not of the highest fashion, they were simple and serviceable and of a fine material; and she wore a cape of durable green baize. He could admire the lack of frippery.
She was new; he hadn't seen her before. He had heard from his daughter-in-law that a genteel widow and her niece had moved into the village of late. They had no family to speak of. As the village of Woodston was on his estate, he thought it his duty to introduce himself and welcome her into the neighborhood. He had just formed this resolution when he caught her eye. He made a bow and walked towards the entrance to the shop.
Mrs. Norris was flattered when the stately and handsome gentleman took notice of her. It had certainly been some years since she had given over thinking of herself as an object of notice. Perhaps her herbal balm had been more effective than even she had hoped. She turned towards the door of the shop from which he was now emerging. "Mrs. Norris, I presume?"
"You have me at a disadvantage sir," she said coquettishly.
"Forgive me, madam. General Tilney, at your service," he said with a deep bow.
"Another Tilney, just my luck," thought Mrs. Norris. Out loud she only said, "Very pleased to meet you, I'm sure."
"And how do you find Woodston?"
"We like it well enough to suit our needs at present, which I dare say are modest enough."
"I certainly hope all of your needs are being met, Mrs. Norris; however, should you find you are in want of anything at all, I beg you do not hesitate to make it known to me."
"That is very kind of you, sir."
"Only speak a word to my son Henry and he will be sure to relay any message to me." Mrs. Norris gave a slight look of disgust when he mentioned Henry. "I assure you, madam, that notwithstanding Henry's excellent skill at carrying messages, he and I are of very different temperaments."
"I see," said Mrs. Norris. "In that case, would you be so kind as to show me where I might purchase some trimmings for my niece's bonnet?"
"Nothing could give me more pleasure," he said, offering his arm.
"Indeed?" she queried, expressing some doubt.
When Mrs. Norris arrived home, Maria's eyes brightened at the sight of the trimmings her aunt had purchased. "Oh, you are so good," she said with great enthusiasm, "I knew you would find me something."
"Don't get too excited, my dear. Those trimmings are for my bonnet."
"You old witch!" cried Maria, stomping off.
Mrs. Norris cackled to herself as she began to take apart her old hat. By Sunday, the hat was absolutely perfect; and although Maria could not admire it, Mrs. Norris was very pleased with the effect in the looking glass.
Upon entering the church, Mrs. Norris' hopes were answered. The general was there with a remarkably handsome young man at his side. Maria was immediately taken with this newcomer. "He is so very handsome," she whispered to her aunt during the service.
"Do control yourself," said Mrs. Norris disapprovingly.
After the interminably dull sermon was finally at an end, and the congregation had filed out of the church, the general and the young man approached them; unfortunately, so did the parson and his brood.
General Tilney was introduced to Maria and presented his eldest son, Captain Tilney, to them both. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain," said Mrs. Norris.
"And what of Mrs. Rushworth? Is not she likewise pleased?" queried Captain Tilney looking sidewise towards Maria.
"Quite pleased," said she.
"And Mr. Rushworth, is he also pleased?"
General Tilney was about to scold his son's impertinence, but Maria quickly interceded, stating, "He is no longer with us …." Mrs. Norris coughed.
"Are you quite all right, madam?" said the general with great solicitude.
Meanwhile Captain Tilney smirked at Maria and replied, "My deepest condolences."
"Thank you sir," she said smiling back. "It has been very hard indeed. I must find comfort where I may."
Captain Tilney archly raised a brow and deepened his smirk.
Catherine Tilney invited everyone to the parsonage for tea. This was followed by an invitation to dine at Northanger Abbey a week hence, which was graciously accepted.
On the appointed day Mrs. Norris and Maria were obliged to travel with the Tilney brood to the abbey some twenty miles distance from Woodston. Mrs. Norris only hoped the pleasures that awaited at the abbey would make the inconvenience of spending nearly three hours in a closed carriage with Mrs. Tilney and her children worthwhile.
She was not disappointed. The general was as attentive, particularly attentive to herself, as she could have hoped. And seeing him in his own stately home, master of everything and everyone, she well understood his assurances on their first meeting. He was nothing like the detestable Henry. Captain Tilney, likewise, made himself agreeable to Maria -- and no one else. She was by no means displeased by these attentions and easily became the Miss Bertam of times past. They talked and laughed together the entirety of the evening and flirted unashamedly. General Tilney and Mrs. Norris were not far behind. Henry Tilney had never seen his father so taken with a lady.
The Woodston party were to spend the night at the abbey and depart for home the following morning. These arrangements exactly suited Captain Tilney's intentions. He easily found his way to the guest apartment occupied by Mrs. Rushworth where he was welcomed warmly. The following morning at breakfast, Mrs. Norris observed that she had never seen her niece in such smiles since before they had left Mansfield. She could not approve her niece's behavior, but a part of her was a little envious and wondered whether she should have tried her luck with the general. She had lost the opportunity, but she was quick to remind the gentleman that he had promised to visit her humble little house in Woodston to advise her on the proper arrangement of her gardens and other improvements. Not that she thought for a moment that she needed his advice. She merely sought the pleasure of his company. He, likewise, asked her to return to the abbey to offer more of her own words of wisdom on his arrangements, especially as to the organization of his pantries and the management of his household. And so this agreeable exchange of sagacity blossomed into a mutually beneficial friendship, and before long feelings of deeper regard soon developed. Each visit to observe and improve the other's house also gave Captain Tilney and Maria Rushworth further opportunity to carry on their affair.
One spring afternoon, whilst General Tilney and Mrs. Norris were walking amongst the groves at the abbey (and Captain Tilney and Maria were entertaining themselves within) the general assumed a very amorous countenance and said, "My dear Mrs. Norris, Kitty, I have never been happier than I have been these past few months. I know our acquaintance has been brief, however I do not believe in prolonging these things. I am a man of decisive action." Mrs. Norris caught her breath when he said this, "Please do me the honor of accepting my hand."
"With great pleasure my dear . . . . um, what is your given name?"
"Germaine Cyril Aloysius Cholmondelay Sebastian Jeremiah Tilney. But my friends generally call me General."
They sealed their engagement with a kiss.
The wedding was scheduled for the earliest possible date, waiting only for the banns to be published. During this interim, the general was visiting his blushing bride one bright morning (the young people being out) when Betsy pulled Mrs. Norris aside to inform her, embarrassingly, that she had noticed that Maria had not had her monthly courses for two cycles in a row. Mrs. Norris was surprised and she immediately confronted the General with this information. "You must make them marry!" she insisted.
"It can be arranged. What is her fortune?" he asked.
Mrs. Norris could not immediately respond. She stood there wringing her hands for several minutes. They were on the verge of having their first argument, which must be avoided at all costs until after the wedding. Suddenly she looked to the general, "I only just remembered I must attend to the proper hanging of my drying herbs."
The thought of her dried-up herbs made the General a little queasy. "Of course my dear, I will leave you to it," he said, and strode emphatically away.
As soon as he was gone she sat at her desk and began a letter to Sir Thomas as follows:
My Dear Sir Thomas,
I hope this letter finds you and my dear sister well, etc., etc. I write to advise you that an opportunity has arisen for Maria to regain her respectability and no small amount of her social standing. A Captain Tilney has shown extraordinary interest in her. However, as she is in reduced circumstances at present, it would be an imprudent match from his side; and his father, the General, I fear would object to the marriage if she has no fortune to bring to it. A few thousand pounds would be sufficient to encourage him to look favorably on the match. They are indeed a fine couple. She is quite happy and has been aglow since they met. I dare to conjecture that you may hesitate on account of having previously lost a substantial amount on a similar endeavor. I assure you in my strong conviction that this cannot happen again, particularly as I will soon be in a position to retain my influence over Maria even after her marriage, as I have myself become engaged to the general. Please send your answer by return post.
Yours etc.
Kitty Norris
As she sealed the letter, she bellowed for Betsey with instructions to send it express to Mansfield Park. By dinner the following day, she received Sir Thomas' response which brought a promise of eight thousand pounds and his hearty consent to the match. Mrs. Norris was not dissatisfied and soon contrived to be alone with General Tilney to discuss the matter.
General Tilney's reaction was less enthusiastic than she had hoped, as he was aware that the Captain could easily catch a bride with a greater fortune. However, Mrs. Rushworth was beautiful and accomplished, and Frederick was quite taken with her, not to mention that they'd been intimate for months now. At the end of the discussion, General Tilney leaned forward; and, gently touching Mrs. Norris' knee, whispered, "We are quite alone, my dear. Shall we move our tete-a-tete into the bedchamber?"
Mrs. Norris was flattered, but said with affected shock, "My dear General Tilney! How can you suggest such a horrid thing? We are not yet married."
"The banns are published, madam. We are as good as married." Mrs. Norris had no doubt that the General would keep to his promises; but she could not capitulate, and the good general was obliged to leave the place unsatisfied.
With a baby on the way, Frederick nevertheless needed to be persuaded to do his duty. Ultimately, the General was able to prevail upon the Captain by threatening to settle his inheritance irrevocably on his brother Henry. With such an inducement into matrimony, Frederick gladly made his proposal to Maria with great enthusiasm.
Their wedding soon followed that of the general and Mrs. Tilney, nee Norris, nee Ward, neither of whom were dissatisfied on their wedding night. Indeed, General Tilney was well rewarded for his patience. Mrs. Norris, who had deemed herself infertile as a result of her inability to produce children in her first union, was pleasantly surprised to welcome a tiny Tilney tot not long after the birth of the said tot's little nephew.
And, thus, all parties made the best out of their bad lots.
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