Indeed, I discovered early the next morning that his visit had no end in sight. The two gentleman rode easy at first, but soon discovered my predilection for speed. Poor Medusa had been cooped up for ages, with only perfunctory exercise from the stable lads, that she was near to bursting with energy.

There was little talk, except to renew the appointment for the next day and relate Captain Tilney's plans. He was not going anywhere, it appeared.

Isabella sent a note soon after I returned, requesting I join them at Edgar Buildings mid-morning. I did so, grateful more than once that Mr. Thorpe was no longer in town.

"James second letter has just arrived!" Isabella told me upon joining her in the parlor. I so wished for you to be here when I opened it."

I expressed my interest in hearing the contents. Indeed, I was more than a little curious as to my brother's inheritance, the subject never being broached in my presence. I knew we lived comfortably, but that did not give me any notion of what expectations there might be when I marry. I was the fourth of ten children after all, and it could not be any large sum if my father divided his holdings by ten.

My curiosity was soon put to rest. Isabella had scanned the letter. "A living of four hundred pounds a years is promised, and an estate of at least the same value as part of his inheritance in time. But James writes that he is legally unable to take up the living until he is three and twenty years of age. What—but that is two or three years hence! Oh, but what does this all mean? Mayn't we be married immediately?"

"It seems not, my dear. Mr. Morland has behaved vastly handsome indeed," Mrs. Thorpe said, looking anxiously at her daughter. "I only wish I could do as much. One could not expect more from him, you know. If he finds he can do more by and by, I dare say he will, for I am sure he must be an excellent good-hearted man. Four hundred is but a small income to begin on indeed, but your wishes, my dear Isabella, are so moderate, you do not consider how little you ever want, my dear."

"It is not on my own account I wish for more," Isabella said, "but I cannot bear to be the means of injuring my dear Morland, making him sit down upon an income hardly enough to find one in the common necessaries of life. For myself, it is nothing, I never think of myself."

"I know you never do, my dear, and you will always find your reward in the affection it makes everybody feel for you. There never was a young woman so beloved as you are by everybody that knows you, and I dare say when Mr. Morland sees you, my dear child—but do not let us distress our dear Catherine by talking of such things. Mr. Morland has behaved so very handsome, you know. I always heard he was a most excellent man, and you know, my dear, we are not to suppose but what, if you had had a suitable fortune, he would have come down with something more, for I am sure he must be a most liberal-minded man."

"Nobody can think better of Mr. Morland than I do, I am sure. But everybody has their failing, you know, and everybody has a right to do what they like with their own money."

They were implying my father had promised less due to her lack of fortune? I could not believe it they would think such a thing.

"I am very sure," I said, "that my father has promised to do as much as he can afford. We do not live grandly. And as for my brother's needs, why, they shall be met ten fold, especially with the woman he loves by his side. If you settle near us especially, he will be able to continue to use my father's stable and carriage. And my dear, you are so terribly frightened of horses, I cannot imagine you would be upset in the least if the horses were kept elsewhere! Why you shall be as comfortable as feathers in a pillow!"

Isabella recollected herself. "As to that, my sweet Catherine, there cannot be a doubt, and you know me well enough to be sure that a much smaller income would satisfy me. It is not the want of more money that makes me just at present a little out of spirits. I hate money, and if our union could take place now upon only fifty pounds a year, I should not have a wish unsatisfied. Ah! my Catherine, you have found me out. There's the sting. The long, long, endless two years and half that are to pass before your brother can hold the living."

"Yes, yes, my darling Isabella," said Mrs. Thorpe, "we perfectly see into your heart. You have no disguise. We perfectly understand the present vexation, and everybody must love you the better for such a noble honest affection."

My discomfort was lessened somewhat, but their insinuations regarding my father had stung. I had no reason to believe they would not be happy upon four hundred a year, and though I did pity them the long wait, I knew they would weather it out if they truly loved. James soon followed his letter, arriving that evening, and was received very kindly. Isabella and James were inseparable after that, and as Mr. Thorpe remained absent, I was drawn into their schemes very little.

The week that followed was the most restful of my time in Bath. My rides with the Tilney brothers continued daily, which elated Mrs. Allen to no end!—and my days fell into a comfortable rhythm. I usually walked to Meyler & Sons near the pump room every other day, as they had a vast selection of Gothic novels, many of which were on the list Isabella had compiled.

It was during this week that I really grew close to Eleanor. She and I walked together often, and many of my visits to the subscription library were in her company.

About a week after James return, I had just returned from my morning ride when I saw a man on horseback a few steps from the entry to my lodgings. It wasn't until I saw the falcon on his shoulder that I realized he was the man with whom Eleanor had met secretly.

A gentle touch on the reigns signaled to Medusa to slow her step even further as we approached. Mr. Brearly noticed my approach, and came forward.

"Miss Tilney, I do hope you'll forgive me for lurking in this devilish way. I was hoping to catch you upon your return." A curled lock of gold fell into his face, though it was hardly noticed.

"You have succeeded. Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Brearly? I'm afraid you just missed the Tilneys."

"Intentionally, I assure you. The presence of Frederick has made it quite impossible to meet privately with Henry. Quite frustrating, as his counsel was the sole reason I returned. Well…that and to have another glimpse of Eleanor." He smiled, ruefully.

A snorted laugh from a pair of walkers caught his attention, and he watched them warily for a few seconds as they continued by.

"Is anything the matter? I can send Mr. Tilney a message to meet you somewhere—or better yet, I could send one to Eleanor. No one would think anything of that."

He looked back at me. "That is exactly what I wished to ask. I know I am imposing terribly upon you—"

"You really aren't," I said. "Eleanor is very dear to me, and it is clear from the other day that you are not insignificant to her. Name the place and time, and I shall make sure they know of it within the hour."

"Sydney Gardens, at one o'clock. I shall be on foot, near the labyrinths edge."

Half an hour after I dispatched the promised message, I received this reply from Milsom Street while at the breakfast table:

C,

Henry and I will call for you at half past twelve. I do hope you will be able to join us.

-E

I looked up from the unexpected words. My heart beat quick with excitement. It was my first invitation to a clandestine meeting, and I was not going to miss it.