Chapter Seven: Relentless Rain:

It was well the Siblings had enjoyed their boat launch when they did, for the next three weeks of inclement weather would have postponed the venture until Henry's return from his first term at Oxford -assuming the pond had not frozen over by then.

"What a lot of weather we are having lately" Eleanor said to Henry as she entered the Breakfast salon fifteen minutes early one September morning.

Henry turned from the window, overlooking the sodden lawn, where he had been pensively standing, and welcomed his sister with an arched smile.
"I was not aware you had added meteorology to your list of accomplishments Nora.
I suppose you refer to the varieties of rainfall we have had the past month. Let me see now.
We had a thunder storm on the first. I remember it because that was the day Frederick was thrown from his hunter when it spooked at a thunderclap.
The storm lasted 2 days and the rain, which followed for more than a week, flooded the stream on which the mill stands. Father's tenants worked through the night to get all the grain to higher ground on the 5th. The 6th was Sunday, so most of them missed Church, which scandalised Mrs Fraser.
Then there were several days of sleet, followed by hail and heavy rain which turned squally the next weekend. Then last week it drizzled and poured alternately. Now, one would have to say it is something between a downpour and a deluge."

Eleanor managed a weak smile. "But when it comes down to it, it is all just rain"

She stared disconsolately outdoors and for a moment both were silent.

"I expect Father will be pleased for the sake of his gardens." she ventured at last. Remember last summer? He had to employ all available staff to dig irrigation ditches from the dam to the pinery and then the dam was too dry to fill them."

"I remember." said Henry, then after a moment he added, "Mother should also be glad of it, as all the water irises will be well nourished by the runoff from yonder hill. There's nothing like a bit of topsoil sluicing down to fertilise the lower grounds."

"Yes." Eleanor's face belied the firmness of her answer. After a moment she sighed.

"I suppose it is just as well the last weeks have been so wet. I should not have been permitted to visit Susan anyway, for fear of a drenching."

Henry stole a quick glance at her downcast face and rallied himself to the task of distraction. "There is nothing as comfortable as being indoors, with a roaring fire on the hearth, when the elements seem all pitted against us but cannot get in. I find it quite delightful myself. Never am I so pleased to have a roof over my head."

"This is true." Eleanor looked at the glowing coals arranged daintily in the yellow floral-tiled fireplace and then back out the window.

"And we would never welcome spring so eagerly if we hadn't had to endure winter." She admitted with a rueful grin at her brother.

"In fact," he stated decisively, "I am quite convinced that rain is the most pleasant type of weather of all. Listen to the sound of it drumming on the porch here. Perceive the interesting streamlets it makes as it runs down the windows there."

"Oh yes", exclaimed Eleanor, determined to make her contribution to the effort, "and don't forget the pretty sizzling sound when the wind lifts the cap on the chimney top and some droplets fall into the fire."

Each, having thoroughly persuaded the other of the general sanguinity of the elements, stared miserably out the window with nothing further to say.

They were soon joined by their mother, who perceived their wistfulness without requiring them to articulate it. The general entered immediately after her, closely followed by Fredrick, so she refrained from commenting and invited them each to be seated. For some weeks now meal times had been very silent affairs. General Tilney could be quite convivial when guests were present, but he was a man who enjoyed his food and, when without the incentive to make himself agreeable, he was largely occupied with his plate. In times past, his wife had managed to converse on safe subjects quite comfortably with her children with only the occasional interjection from her husband. Of late, however, it had been hard to sustain any conversation with Henry so unusually taciturn and Eleanor so timid. Frederick's contribution was limited to short demands for money or equipage from his Father, followed by sullen silence when he was refused. Thankfully there was none of that this morning as Frederick had sustained some severe bruising and a badly wrenched ankle from the aborted hunting trip and was consequently forced to curtail his excursions.

"Well, another rainy day. My water irises will be well fertilized this year" Emily Tilney stated positively.

Henry and Eleanor exchanged a smile.

"I had planned to visit some of our people on the estate and see how they are holding up under this incessant rain, but it cannot managed today -unless the downpour eases a bit." Mrs Tilney glanced outside and sighed.
The General looked up from his correspondence with a frown.
"Why must you go in person my love? One of the man servants would suffice."

"True enough, General dear, but how much it would mean to them if I were to go in person. I am particularly concerned about Nurse Lydia and Mrs Draper. They are getting very frail and, since Mr Draper passed away last spring, they have no man about the house to help them. Both these women have given years of their lives, Nurse raising our babies and Mrs Draper running the Abbey as smoothly as that old mill wheel used to run before its timbers succumbed to the rot and needed replacement".

"I'll grant you that. Her replacement is vastly inferior. My study is never warm when I need it to be as it was in Mrs Dribbler's day."

"'Draper', General dear. Her name is 'Draper.'"

"I would like to accompany you when you see Nursie again Mother," Eleanor requested hesitantly looking at her father.

"And so should I." Henry boldly declared before his prohibitive parent could oppose the scheme. "I could accomplish any tasks needed there. More than likely it would be simple things like a preserving pan returned to the top shelf, or extra blankets brought down from the attic."

The General considered this from beneath heavy brows, then turned back to his correspondence.
"Very well then, you may all go, but only if the weather clears. I will not have my family traipsing about in the mud like peasants. Take the second carriage. I shall be needing the chaise and four myself. There are some gentlemen I wish to see at the clubrooms."

The downpour had reduced to a drizzle and there were patches of lighter cloud visible from the eastern windows when Eleanor checked, as if giving Nature's blessing to the scheme.

"It appears to be clearing. Shall you be coming too, Frederick?"

Frederick rolled his eyes at that suggestion. "I have other plans.
Father, I would be obliged if you would deliver me to the gates of Fraser Court on your way to town."

"Do you think that is wise, Freddie? It is so soon after the accident" Emily Tilney asked anxiously.

"That was three weeks ago, Mother! I am not an invalid you know!" Frederick pushed back his chair and stood up abruptly.

General Tilney glared at his firstborn as he carefully wiped his mouth on his napkin. "You will not speak to your Mother like that young man. You can stay home until you learn to be a bit more respectful."

Fredrick stalked to the fireplace and stood for a moment with his back to the table, wringing his own napkin viciously while his jaw clenched and unclenched. Suddenly he wheeled around and tossed the tortured article on the table.

"Thanks a lot, Mother", he muttered sarcastically, then vehemently retired from the room shutting the door firmly behind him.

General Tilney pulled out his fob and motioned to the parlor maid to withdraw his plate.

"I need to depart as well, my love" he said, standing and comparing his fob to the mantelpiece clock with a frown.

"Maid, that clock is a minute out. Tell the butler to change it as soon as you return to the kitchen."

"Her name is Sandra, Ferdinand". Emily said quietly, as her husband bent to bestow a cold kiss on her cheek.

"Yes, a very pretty name I'm sure." The General returned his fob to his waistcoat pocket, checked his cravat in the mirror above the mantle clock, then strode from the room. As he departed he paused in the doorway.

"Maid, you may tell the coachman I shall be with him immediately" He left the door ajar and the sound of his boots faded with the oppression which seemed to lie on his remaining children whenever he was present.

Mrs Tilney, however, looked even more distressed after he had left. Eleanor noticed she had barely touched her scrambled eggs. She looked at Henry and saw that he was watching their mother as well.

"Mother?" Eleanor got up quickly and hurried to her mother's side.
"It is just Fredrick's way, you know. He ought not to blame you for being concerned."

"I am fine, Nora, I realize that. It is just my old compliant again. Would the two of you mind awfully if I spent the rest of the day resting and postpone our visit to Nursie until another day?"

Henry pulled back his mother's chair and helped her to stand, concerned at the slight grimace which flickered across her face as she tried to straighten.

"Lean on me, Mother." He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. His eyes met Eleanor's as she wrapped her mother's other arm around her own shoulders: concern meeting fear, and attempting to allay the latter while not denying its legitimacy.

Emily Tilney was abed for 5 days and, despite the fact that the Abbey's thick walls prevented all possible disturbance, it seemed that every soul held its breath.

On the fourth night Eleanor, along with a nurse, kept an anxious vigil as their patient restlessly moaned and at times cried out from the pains. The Doctor had been forced to divide his time (at Mrs Tilney's insistence), between the mistress of Northanger Abbey and old Hector Abraham, father of the present gamekeeper -who was having his own private wrestle with the dark angel. Arriving from Abe Hector's deathbed an hour before dawn, breathless and full of anxiety, the Doctor was deeply relieved to be able to pronounce Mrs Tilney's danger over.

After a morning of exhausted slumber Emily became conscious of Eleanor's sweet soprano softly humming her favourite psalm. For a moment she just lay there resting in the music and sunshine from her, south facing, casement.

"That was beautiful my little songbird." She whispered quietly.

Her daughter quickly crossed the room and sat on the bed, delighted to notice the alertness in her mother's face. An enquiry as to the means of breaking her fast, swiftly communicated to the hovering maid outside the door, resulted in some frantic activity below where the thanksgivings offered on high were as willingly rendered as the more temporal offerings, prepared with grateful love.

The general was also informed of the good news, and appeared soon after the chicken broth and tea. He insisted upon feeding her with his own hand, one spoonful at a time, despite his wife's protestations of independence.

Eleanor arranged some plump cushions behind her mother's back, so that she could sit with comfort, and draped a shawl over her shoulders, placing a small table across the mound which was her legs so that the General could reach the bowl and napkin conveniently.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mother?" She asked this with an enquiring smile at her Father as she noticed, with pleasure, the softening of the lines which had made his face sterner than it had ever been before this anxious week. Emily reached out and squeezed her hand lovingly, while she shook her head gently.
"Go and get some rest my love," She murmured gratefully, "and please tell your brothers I would love to see them, when they are free."
The General nodded at his daughter and allowed a look of approval to lift the corners of his mouth.
"Well done, Eleanor. You are dismissed."
His daughter bobbed a curtsy, face flushed with pleasure at the praise, and closed the door quietly behind her.

Eleanor did not bother returning via the corridors to the main staircase but took the servants stairs which led from the wing of the building, occupied by her brothers, directly to the stables. Before she had reached the first landing she heard the pounding of masculine boots approaching from below, and looking over the rail she perceived Frederick's coat sleeve on the bannister.

"Good news, Frederick, "she called gaily, and leaned over to look into his upturned face.

"Mother is awake and asking for you."

"Thank God!" was his unusually devout response. The young man had been bitterly regretting his cross words on the morning of the attack and he had made it a daily act of penance to seek the estate for such lingering blooms of colour which had survived the autumn storms. This time he held an elegant pottery urn, filled with clusters of tiny fir cones, still on thickly needled twigs, attractively interspaced with bright orange rose hips. The bare rose twigs were disguised by a thick layer of holly with clusters of tiny flower buds, dangling down over the front edge of the urn.

Frederick had recently devoted himself to learning the art of posy construction, long with the study of the language of flowers: skills which added significantly to his charm with the ladies. But at the present time, the only lady he had thought of for some days had been oblivious to the efforts he had made to please her. Finally with her return to consciousness, Frederick was filled with hope that his penitence toward his mother would finally be able to be expressed and her forgiveness ease his troubled conscience.

Eleanor passed him on the stairs and, with an exchange of joy-filled smiles, continued down to seek out Henry.

She espied her brother on the far side of the lawn, emerging disconsolately from the woods with Puffin trotting at his heels. She waved enthusiastically then, gathering her skirts, ran to meet him. Henry paused upon seeing her, then, perceiving the smile on her face, straightened his shoulders and strode eagerly toward her to receive the good news he had been praying for. Eleanor ran straight into his arms laughing and sobbing with relief, while Puffin yapped excitedly, leaping about their legs.

"It is all over." Eleanor finally said, her wet eyes glowing with the same happiness reflected in his. "She is going to be alright."
Henry wiped a tear from her cheek with a large finger and smiled down at her translucent face, shadowed beneath the eyes with sleeplessness and anxiety.

"Due to your faithful care, no doubt." he said kindly and turned her back toward the Abbey, his arm draped affectionately across her shoulders.

He took another look at her careworn face as they walked together. "You need to take a rest from nursing now, Nora, or it shall be you requiring the apothecary next. Frederick and I shall amuse and pamper Mother most diligently while you recover your energy."

Eleanor smiled gratefully up at him, then leaned her head on his shoulder. "I feel I could sleep for a month." she admitted with a yawn, as he led her into the lobby and half carried her up the stairs to the fourth level.

Eleanor leaned on the post at the top of the stairs and smiled gratefully up at her brother.

"Thank you Henry. One of the servants would probably have discovered me, curled up on a step fast asleep, down near the first level if I had not had your assistance."

"Well for Simon and Martha's sakes I am glad I was able to save them the trouble of dragging you upstairs themselves. Martha is getting a little old for heavy lifting and Simon would be distressed and confused at the necessity of touching a maiden without her consent."

Eleanor smiled bashfully and then yawned again. "Well …"

"Shall I escort you to your room?" He offered his arm to her.

"It's fine, Henry, I can go from here. You go to mother." She turned and walked down the corridor. As she opened the door she looked back, to where her brother still stood watching her fondly, and smiled.

"See, I am not exactly asleep on my feet." She waved and shut the door behind her.

Henry grinned and, with a light step, headed to his mother's room to express his joy at her recovery.


Author Note:

Families usually involve friction between different members at times. There are all sorts of reasons for this, some as trivial as the weather, and others stemming from deep resentments or prejudices.
What do you think about the conflicts which occur in this chapter? What do they reveal about the various character's motivations and personalities?
What about the characters who are observers of the conflict but not directly involved. Is their reaction consistent with what you have observed of their personalities from previous chapters? How so?
How do you personally deal with conflict (your own or those of others around you)?
Is there anything you have learned, so far in this story, which could help you in your own difficult relationships?