Sir Philip, mistaking Catherine’s thoughtfulness for distress, or perhaps just embarrassed that an outsider was witnessing the incident, said, “Mrs. Tilney should not have to listen to this.”
Mrs. Findlay whirled about. “Tilney! I have heard that name. You may tell General Tilney, madam, that he is in my sights as well. Sniffing round the widow before my poor brother had been dead half a year! I dare say that fancy Abbey of his costs a pretty penny to run. He’ll have a mind to your jointure, Agatha, you may depend upon it.”
“That is enough, aunt,” said Sir Philip. He crossed the room to where Catherine stood and took her elbow. “Let me procure a chair to take you home, ma’am.”
“Yes, let Philip help you,” said Miss Beauclerk. “Thank you for coming out with me this morning, Mrs. Tilney, and I hope to see you tonight at the theatre.”
Catherine hastily took her leave; Sir Philip escorted her down the stairs and waited with her while the footman went off to fetch MacGuffin.
“May I get you a chair?”
“Oh, no; my lodgings are just a few steps away, and I have my dog.”
“One of the footmen could bring your dog to your lodgings, and you are distressed by my aunt Findlay’s nonsense. Pray let me procure you a chair.”
“Oh, I am not distressed,” said Catherine.
He looked at her closely. “Are you not?”
“No, sir; I am perfectly able to walk; but is very kind of you to think of it.”
“Most women would have a fit of the vapors at overhearing such an extraordinary declaration as my aunt’s. I salute you, Mrs. Tilney.”
Catherine smiled and blushed as the footman returned, leading MacGuffin.
Sir Philip looked at the Newfoundland and said, “Good Lord. No, you need no chair, Mrs. Tilney; you could ride this fellow home.”
Catherine considered this. “Henry talks of training him to pull a little cart to give rides to the children of our parish. But that would not do for me.”
Sir Philip smiled. “Indeed not, madam; though he is a handsome lad.” He bent to pet MacGuffin, but the dog pressed against Catherine and made a sound somewhere between a snort and a growl.
“For shame, Mac!” cried Catherine. “Sir Philip means me no harm.” MacGuffin looked up at her with sorrowful eyes. To Sir Philip she said, “He really is a very good-natured creature in general.”
“He probably caught a scent of Lady Josephine upon me. That deuced creature will get my coat all over hair when I call upon my aunt.”
“Yes, that must be the case. Good day, Sir Philip, and thank you again for your kindness.”
“It was my pleasure, ma’am. Did I hear my cousin say that you would be at the theatre tonight?”
“Yes, Lord Whiting procured a box and invited us to join him.”
“May I look forward to the pleasure of visiting your box between acts?”
Catherine was unsure of the proper response to such a proposal. “Why — yes, I dare say his lordship will not mind.”
“That is very good of you to say.” He raised her gloved hand to his lips. “Until tonight.”
Catherine, blushing at such attention, hastily said good-bye and left the house. As she reached Pulteney-street, she could not help looking back; Sir Philip still stood in the doorway of his aunt’s house, watching after her with a little smile.
The maidservant had just placed the final touches on her hair when Henry entered Catherine’s dressing-room. He surveyed her with pleasure. “Very lovely, my sweet. Whiting and Eleanor join us for dinner; I saw them at Milsom-street, and did not think you would mind.”
“No, of course not.” She dismissed the maid and turned to Henry eagerly. “What did your father say?”
“As we suspected, he is considering marriage with Lady Beauclerk, but has made no declaration.”
“Will he, do you think?”
“I cannot say; I do not think he knows his own mind.”
Catherine had a brief struggle with her conscience, trying to decide if she should tell Henry about the scene in Laura-place; but since General Tilney was involved, she reasoned he would hear about it soon enough. She related her adventure of the afternoon: the visit to the apothecary, Miss Beauclerk’s beauty potion, her aunt’s accusations. At the end, Henry looked thoughtful.
“Do you think Sir Arthur was murdered, Henry?”
“He had been ill for many months before his death.”
“Well, I am sure General Tilney was not involved.”
“As we were in Bath last year when Sir Arthur died, I dare say not; a circumstance that casts doubt on the rest of Mrs. Findlay’s allegations.”
“But Henry, what of the potion? Miss Beauclerk and her mother use a beauty potion that contains arsenic.”
“As do many ladies, as your Mr. Shaw pointed out.”
“He is not my Mr. Shaw.”
“I am glad to hear it; I would not like to be forced to nurture jealousy of this Adonis of an apothecary.”
“He is in love with Miss Beauclerk at any rate.”
“And much good may it do him.”
Catherine looked curiously at Henry, who was frowning at his reflection and adjusting his cravat. “You speak as though Miss Beauclerk is a great flirt.”
“You have been in her company long enough to discover that for yourself, Cat.”
“Yes; but — you seem to have personal knowledge.”
Henry looked down at her, smiling. “Could it be that you suspect me of nurturing a broken heart? I do not like to make myself appear less heroic to you, my sweet; but until I met you, the only romance in my life took the shape of four duodecimo volumes from Mrs. Radcliffe and her sisterhood.”
“But, Henry, Lady Beauclerk said that the neighborhood wondered who would catch you. I thought you must have had many flirts.”
“Lady Beauclerk exaggerated. I had no flirts, and the young ladies of Gloucestershire were much more interested in the Tilney heir than the cadet. Is there room for me?” She slid over on the bench in front of her dressing-table, and he sat next to her. “That’s better.”
“Even Miss Beauclerk? She is always saying how much she would like to be married to someone like you.”
“Very complimentary of Judith! I must remember to thank her for it.” Seeing Catherine’s grave expression, he continued, “We were childhood playmates, until we both were sent away to school. When I was at Oxford, she was the belle of the neighborhood, and paid no attention to me whatsoever, which suited me perfectly. Judith is not without ambition, and that ambition does not include a younger son and a country parsonage.”
”Then why does she flirt with you now, when you are married?“
“Perhaps she flirts because I am married; she knows I am safe from her arts. I think Miss Beauclerk is unable to interact with my sex without flirtation, and I suspect it does not always serve her well. Witness poor Mr. Shaw. He may harbor hope, Cat, but I assure you that he will never take Judith Beauclerk to wife.”
Catherine thought of the expression on Mr. Shaw’s face when he looked at Miss Beauclerk. “The poor man! But I am glad to hear that Miss Beauclerk has not used you ill. If she had, I could not be her friend.”