Chapter Text
Around fifteen minutes later, she found herself seated beside Henry in the sleigh with her wrap snuggly wrapped around her shoulders and a heat iron at her feet, as well a throw across her lap. The snow flurried around them and the white horse he was expertly guiding. Occasionally, they’d hit a bump, and he’d switch hands to steady her with an arm around her waist and driving with the other hand. A warm feeling would fill her stomach whenever this occurred, but she didn’t know exactly just what the feeling was. It seemed a vaguely familiar feeling, but at the same time, entirely foreign.
“Are you sure that you don’t miss your family?” He asked, glancing at her before refocusing on the horse, “if you do, I’m sure Eleanor wouldn’t find qualms about letting you go home.”
A feeling of anxiety replaced the warm feeling in her stomach. “Do you and your family need privacy for this Christmas? If so, please say so. Regarding my family, I do miss them, but I do not mind spending this festive season with you and your sister… and your father, of course.”
A mirthless laugh left Henry’s lips. “No privacy is needed, Miss Morland. It would be a pleasure to have you. We just want to make sure we’re being unselfish and not making you stay longer than perhaps you wanted.”
“Oh, no! I would stay as long as you would have me; honest, Mr. Tilney.”
A smile creased his face as he glanced again at her. He was not gifted in the department of seductions and flirtations as his brother Frederick, but it filled his heart and chest with a swelling feeling of genuine affection and companionship towards her when she spoke so candidly and artlessly. When all was said and done, she and her artlessness was what had pulled him back each time, like a siren to a sailor. If he was any other sort of person, or even like his brother, he could take advantage of her naivety; but he most certainly was not that sort of person. Even the mere thought of someone taking advantage of the innocent young woman filled him with fire low in his belly. On contrary, in the past few weeks of their friendship, he had tried opening Miss Morland’s eyes that she may not stumble or commit an error in future whenever he spotted a flaw in her thinking. He feared that his gentle nudges would offend her, but all he had found so far was a willing heart and mind to consider his suggestions.
“What are you thinking of?” Catherine asked in a tone so softly, he almost couldn’t hear it in the overwhelming stillness of the snow.
“I was thinking of nothing, dear Miss Morland.”
An impish grin appeared on her face. “Was it not you who told me that it was better to say that you’d rather not tell me than to say that you were thinking of anything?”
A laugh escaped him. “It was me, indeed. Pardon my blunder, Miss Morland.” He glanced at her again. “Are you warm?”
“I am. Your sister generously lent her gloves for the occasion, as well as a warm hat and a scarf.”
“I’m glad to hear of it- though, you’re not wearing the gloves,” he noted.
“Not yet. I’m keeping my hands under the throw for right now. When I become colder, I’ll put them on.”
“Your nose is also rather red. You should pull your scarf over your mouth and nose, Miss Morland.”
“I will be fine, Henry.” Quickly, her whole face reddened. “I’m sorry; you haven’t given me permission, to use your Christian name. Pardon my blunder, Mr. Tilney.”
He smiled. “It probably rubs off from Eleanor. I give you my permission to use my Christian name. However, please don’t around my father. He is rather a… a stickler about proper addresses and the like.”
“Of course. And you may call me Catherine, if you’d like.”
“I would like that.”
Soon, no words were spoken between them, but it felt as though the atmosphere was anything but silent. The horse’s hooves crunching the snow underfoot served as rhythm, while they were busy just… feeling things. Thinking. Unspoken thoughts seemed to pollute the air for who knows how many minutes, though neither knew what the other was thinking.
But soon, Catherine had looped her arm through the crook of his arm, and sidling up to him a little closer.
“It’s cold,” she said lamely, though a twinkle was evident in her eye.
“Understandable. Relax if you’d like,” was his reply. He felt her lean against his shoulder a bit, though still holding back a good bit. It completely slipped his mind to suggest her to put his sister’s gloves on.
But when he felt her head against his shoulder, his heart began to ever so slightly melt. He was dangerously within the realms of being in love, and he knew it, but who was most in dangers than the woman of the relationship? Could he provide a living solely on his annum at Woodston? Would she be happy to be married to a clergyman, though her own father was one? Actually, with that logic, it would be safer to assume that she would not be happy, knowing the ins and outs of a clergyman’s home. He knew that he had her affection- he and Eleanor were not so blind nor was she cunning enough to hide it. But would he have her long term love?
He had just thought that last thought when he looked down, to see Catherine with her eyes closed, napping peacefully on his arm. Perhaps he had had qualms, but she evidently did not at the moment. Amusedly, a half smirk formed onto his face. When he noticed the snowflake on her bonnet, his smirk transformed into softness. He saw now the soft texture of her dark hair tucked under her bonnet, her thick lashes laid on her cheeks, and was overcome with an urge to kiss that satin soft skin.
Chastely, he leaned down and placed a kiss on the cheek. She stirred a little, but not much.
There was no point in continuing the sleigh ride if she’d fallen asleep, so soon he turned his horse towards the abbey, though tentatively taking the long route around.
As they edged nearer to the abbey, he let out a laugh- there were boughs of evergreen being set up in the windows of the abbey, as well as candles. Apparently Eleanor had given the go-ahead for the Christmas decorations while they were gone.
The horse clip clopped to the porch, where the stablemen were waiting to put away the sleigh and the horse. Henry looked down at Catherine again- she was still asleep. How was he to get her into the house properly?
“Catherine,” he said softly, touching her shoulder.
Nothing.
“Catherine.”
He halted the horse under the porch, and turned to Catherine. “Catherine!”
This last call woke her up, though slowly but surely. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing still-sleepy eyes. Her cheeks reddened when she fully comprehended she’d totally relaxed against his arm. “I’m sorry, I suppose I fell asleep.” Leaning up and away from his arm, she began rubbing her bleary eyes with her knuckles.
“No apologies needed, Catherine. I suppose it compliments my driving, since you were able to sleep well enough without tumbling out of the sleigh?” A grin crossed his features as he clambered out of the sleigh, and then rounded to her side to help her remove her lap throw. After the cumbersome fabrics were removed, he offered his hand to help her down.
Henry offered his arm to assist her in walking up the porch stairs, and stopped in the doorway to help her remove her soaked-with-snow wraps.
“I don’t know how you women can stand these aggravating things,” Henry said as he shook out the snow, “I can just layer up with proper cloaks and coats and I’m off, but you women must have lap throws, wraps, gloves, hand muffs, and probably more that I don’t know about.”
“And somehow we still end up a bit cold,” Catherine agreed.
“I hope you were not overly cold on our sleigh ride?”
“Not very, thank you.” On the contrary, Catherine was rather warm. It was something that tended to happen when she was near Henry.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you. Apparently Eleanor told the servants to set up the festive decorations- there were boughs in the windows as we drove up, but you were rather… how would we say? Not conscious.”
“I love Christmas decorations. There’s something so mystical and magical about evergreen boughs, plum puddings, and carols, and-“
The word mistletoe was about to slip out of her mouth when she remembered who she was talking to, and her face flushed, but instinctively she looked up at the doorway she was in. Apparently Henry had some inkling as to what she was about to say, because he also lifted his head to look up.
There, hanging above their heads, was a bough of mistletoe, its berries begging to be picked off.
Catherine choked on whatever words she could have said, embarrassment overcoming her ability to speak. Henry just stood there looking at the bough, as though thinking.
“I suppose we must do our duty,” he said gravely, though a twinkle could be seen in his eyes had Catherine dared to look. “Only if you aren’t uncomfortable with it, Catherine. If you are, nobody will mind that we omitted a tradition.”
Catherine summoned up her wits. “And deprive the Tilney household of good tidings?” she said lamely, “No, I am fine. We are good friends after all, are we not?”
“Indeed.”
He stepped closer to her and reached for her, one hand on her shoulder and the other cupping her cheek. Being several inches shorter than him, if not a whole foot, he had to bend down to place a kiss on her lips. The instant their lips met, a flush spread across Catherine’s cheek.
Henry felt the heat underneath his hand, and pulled back as though to assess damage. His hand still on her shoulder, his eyes roved over her face, every curve of her face, every smile wrinkle, and every freckle.
“I believe that will do,” he said with a wan smile. He removed his hand from her shoulder and reached up to pick a berry from the mistletoe. “There. One less berry.” He flicked it onto the cobblestone of the porch.
Before he could turn to go, he felt Catherine put her hand on his shoulder and looked down to see her standing on her tip-toes. She kissed his cheek.
“What was that for?” Henry asked with a nervous laugh.
Catherine shrugged. “Just a thank you for taking me on a sleigh ride.”
He swept off his hat and beat the snow off on the door way, a smile on his lips. “It was entirely my pleasure, Miss Morland.”