Three pairs of brown eyes met mine as I hurled through the open door and then skidded to a stop before I tripped over a potted plant. It teetered in place, threatening to tip over and dump out its contents, then stilled. Our eyes shifted back up and their surprised, expectant looks made me wish I had waited to be shown in. My breath came in great billows, having lost breath again in my rush down Milsom.

Time slowed, and my mind was blank of any elegant explanation for my uninvited company, and I could only stagger out a semblance of an explanation between breaths.

"I am come in a great hurry…it was all a mistake…I never promised to go…I told them from the first I could not go…I ran away in a great hurry to explain…I did not care what you thought of me…and—" turning toward the door which had recently been closed softly by an unseen hand, "I would not stay for the servant."

After saying these words, their faces remained suspended in confusion for what seemed an age, though Mr. Tilney was turning his head away—but not enough to hide a small grin.

I cast my eyes down.

Miss Tilney finally came forward—though I dare say it was immediately.

"Slow down, Catherine. Is there anything amiss?"

"Did…did not Mr. Thorpe come to you?" I would not be surprised if he had lied about the entire exchange.

"He did," said Mr. Tilney as he stood and joined us. His sister glanced at him as he approached. "But knowing him as we do, my sister and I assumed he was having a lark. I daresay that was his object, was it not?"

Miss Tilney was nodding her head. "I knew he must be mistaken. I had resolved to think nothing of it, but only to write and tell you about—his joke."

They were peddling half-truths, I presumed, on Mr. Thorpe's behalf—that his character not be defamed with the General.

"Yes. He had quite misunderstood. I had said I would not join them—but the next thing I knew, he had run off to tell you who knows what! I am so glad that nothing has come of his interference."

The General stood up and requested an introduction from his daughter, then had us all sit. The General, handsome and fit with sliver hair at his temples, smiled with great warmth and paid such attention to my comfort, that I might have fallen over in shock if not for Miss Tilney's steadying hand. His kindness and solicitude overwhelmed me, when, less than a day before, I assumed he had judged me harshly.

"Now, what is all this talk about John Thorpe?" he asked, joining in the conversation.

Mr. Tilney spoke, choosing his words carefully. "Thorpe delivered a message to us as we walked home, Father. Only, he was mistaken in the contents, a misunderstanding is all. Miss Morland came to rectify it—and no harm is done."

General Tilney settled a smile on me. "Ah, but were it not for his mistake," he said, "I might not have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Morland today. It has all turned out….rather well." His face turned serious. "Do let me apologize to you for the behavior of William, for him to allow you to enter without ceremony—why, a lady such as yourself, what can he mean by it? I shall speak with him, I assure you."

"Please," I burst out as soon as he drew breath, "please do not chastise him. I flew past him, gave him no opportunity to do his duty. I was very out of sorts, please do not punish him on account of my own bumbling entrance."

"I see. Well, under such reassurance I will certainly spare him any inquiry. I see you are both as caring for the feelings of my children, as you are for our servants. A rare strain of compassion that every young woman should have, but only the most exemplary do."

"Thank you," I said, growing ill at ease under his praises.

He enquired after the Allens, and though I answered his questions as best I could, felt my conversation dreadfully lacking. Were it not for the interjections from the Tilney siblings, it would have been even more awkward.

I estimated how long I had been in the room, and I was sure it was near the quarter hour. They would be expecting my departure, I presumed. "I am so sorry to have interrupted your Sunday evening," I said, "but I am glad to have made things right. If you'll excuse me until tomorrow, I shall take no more of your time."

The men shot up from their seats as I arose, Miss Tilney the last the stand.

Mr. Tilney took a step in my direction, halting at his father's saying, "Eleanor will show you out. I do hope you will come again."

I looked between him and Mr. Tilney, thanking them both. Miss Tilney and I went down the stairs. As we parted at the door, she said, "Until noon tomorrow, my friend."

I pressed her hand. "Until tomorrow. Good bye."

I walked away quickly, a happiness blooming that could not be suppressed. I kept my steps even until I was in Bond street, and then could not help but dance and skip my way home.

The thought that someone might see me and laugh did not bother me one whit. A great man had paid me deep respect today. I deserved a little more spring in my step.

—

That evening, I told Mrs. Allen all that had occurred while Mr. Allen rested.

"That's unfortunate you won't see Blaize Castle," she began. "I commend your sense of right, my dear. Mrs. Thorpe, for all her charms" —I must say, I could not tell which charms she referred to— "has given her children too much freedom."

"I cannot imagine what that means. At home I am free to do most anything I wish."

Mrs. Allen searched for the yellow thread for her embroidery. "That may be, but you probably had less freedom when you were younger. You had to be accountable for things."

"I suppose. Though now I think on it, Mama is still terribly strict with some things." I began to wind up the blue floss she had finished with. I enjoyed embroidery and might have joined her did I not need the mental calming that always came with winding.

"I should like to meet this General Tilney," she said.

"I'm sure you shall, now that he has met me, it is just a matter of time."

She continued in silence for a time, then said, "Sir Harry Vane-Tempest wrote to me today."

My hand stilled. "Was it expected?"

"Not at all. I did not think he would be so socially on point to remember to send letters to his friends, informing them of his departure. I daresay his letter to me was an afterthought, as it has been many days since he left. Still, it is more than I expected of him."

"Hmm." I said. "Sometimes people can surprise you." Mr. Tilney's occasional thoughtfulness had taught me that.

"Quite right," she said, "Perhaps he is not the scoundrel I thought him. But a letter-writing scoundrel seems an unlikely coupling of traits in my mind."

I smiled and set aside the yellow. I hesitated before bringing out my own embroidery. I was working with tiny ribbons, far easier than traditional as embroidery floss was more slender.

"If I were a scoundrel," I began, "I should be clever enough that no one knew it. How can one take advantage of others when they will not invite you anywhere?"

Mrs. Allen burst out laughing. "Oh my dear, the thought—" Another peal of laughter followed.

My screen sat abandoned in my lap as I fixed an affronted look on Mrs. Allen.

She wiped her eyes. "Oh, thank you for such a rousing jest. I haven't laughed so hard in ages. Not since Mr. Allen's last dress suggestion, that is. He actually thought a brown ribbon would go with my straw hat. I was truly horrified, and laughed each time I recollected it for days."

"I had not meant it as a jest," I said. "Haven't you ever thought about scoundrels, rakes, what have you? I've seen a number of them in novels, but none in real life until you pointed out Sir Harry, though he did not seem like any I've read about." I peeked out from the corner of my eye.

Mrs. Allen gave me a serious look. "I've encountered my fair share of scoundrels, and I can tell you—there is no understanding them. Take Sir Harry for instance. In addition to his farewells, he wrote that he happened to be in Salisbury, and has come across the shop that sells frigate-shaped buttons—and has enclosed their direction!"

I hovered over my embroidery, eyes unfocused as I ceased to be aware of the pattern and could only focus on Mrs. Allen's last words.

"And he found frigate-shaped buttons for you?" I said as calmly as could be managed. "How remarkable, after all these years, that they should still be available." Especially considering they never existed in the first place. What—had he gone into every shop until he found one to commission such a design? My eyes refocused on the the beribboned Hambletonian I had been stitching. It was intended to be a scene of him wandering through a meadow of buttercups, but I had not finished working on the central figure. I pressed the cloth to my chest, concealing my work. I looked up, right into Mrs. Allen's watchful eye.

"I thought so too. It was very kind of him. A little too kind. Tell, me, dear Catherine, what do you think of our Sir Harry? Is he such an enigma?"

I looked back down, fumbling with the needle while I said, "He seemed very kind and generous to me. And he is so good to Hambletonian ."

Mrs. Allen took up her hoop again. "So…you like him?" she asked, her eyes on her embroidery while I snuck a look. Such an innocent sounding question, but I felt certain the answer I gave would be important, one way or another.

I chose to be honest. "I do. A great deal." I gave up all pretense of stitching and focused on her face, searching for her honest reaction. But she only nodded in her usual way.

"Hmm," she said. "It is a pity he has left Bath then, is it not?"

"What?" The insouciance of her response was totally unexpected. "Oh, quite, yes." A smile crept onto Mrs. Allen's face. I said, puzzled, "I thought for certain you would disapprove."

"Oh pish," she said, waiving her hand into the air. "I disapprove only when the whim takes me. And does he like you?"

My mind went to the frigate buttons. "I believe so. Yes." I thought back to the surprise I'd felt at realizing the significance of this trip. Considering Mrs. Allen's recent words, I felt even more ridiculous that it had not been immediately apparent.

"Mrs. Allen, did my parents ask you to bring me to Bath?" I looked own at my fidgeting hands. "Are they trying to marry me off?"

Her hand rested on mine. "Oh, darling Catherine. You poor thing. You've got a mamma and pa that are a little backward, I'm afraid." She gently pushed my head up touching under my chin. "Your mamma never even thought about your future. Last year after you turned seventeen, she and I had a bit of a chat. Why, she'd never even noticed there were no young men your age in the neighborhood! I suggested the next time Mr. Allen and I went away, we'd take you with us and bring you out. I'm sure you've realized," she looked down nervously, "I'm not the best chaperon, or confidante, nor even hostess. Why, we brought you here when I had not a single acquaintance! I wish I could have done better for you, and prepared you in some way, but I left that to your mamma. I see now that she promptly forgot all about it, and you probably came thinking it wasn't a social visit."

"Yes," I said, and dabbed at the corner of my eye. "I have learned a great deal these past few weeks. Sir Harry helped me feel so comfortable, so myself. And I know his stable is top notch."

"A stable can be remedied my dear," she said. "Income and connections cannot."

"Then his baronetcy and wealth may win you over completely," I said.

"Perhaps. What of Mr. Tilney, or for that matter, Mr. Thorpe?"

"Mr. Thorpe has won my contempt, I'm afraid, for his boorish and ungentlemanly behavior."

She winced. "Poor Mrs. Thorpe—I know she has harbored some manner of hope with you."

I shrugged, her situation drawing a little of my compassion. "If only he was more considerate of my feelings. I am sorry for her." But not sorry enough to throw myself away.

"And, Mr. Tilney? You already know I approve of him, quite strongly I might add. A unique gentleman, I must say."

I looked toward the open door, willing someone to walk in and interrupt. And I sighed, there was no getting out of this conversation. "We do not get on. I think he is too clever to enjoy my simple company. But he has shown me unexpected kindness. And his sister is perfectly amiable. I so look forward to our walk tomorrow."

The clock chimed, reminding us of the lateness of the hour, and we retired to our beds.

She to sleep, and I to stay awake—overthinking as always.