Work Text:
The day that Catherine Morland first came to the parsonage at Woodston as its future mistress, she stepped into the drawing room fully assured that she was the most comfortably circumstanced woman of her acquaintance, or perhaps of the entire world. No heroine in the most pleasing of novels could possibly be more at ease – more filled with delight – more alive with general happiness. She would defy anyone to possess a more pleasing prospect than that of the house which would soon be her own; and the touch of Henry’s hand against hers could only add to her joy.
Her chaperone, the Viscountess S--, walked in the garden with her husband, a prepossessing young man of great charm, whom Catherine had wholeheartedly adopted as another brother (and yet she preferred her situation to Eleanor’s, be Eleanor’s ever so grand). There was therefore no one to see her slide her fingers through Henry’s, shy but sure.
“You still find the view to your liking?”
He meant the green meadows that stretched before them through the long windows, and the little cottage that peeped among the apple trees, surely; but Catherine heard something else in Henry's voice, and when she looked up at him she saw the smile in his eyes. Her cheeks grew rosy, but “I think I shall always,” was all she said.
Once such a declaration would have thrown her into confusion, but assured as she now was of Henry’s love, she found herself growing more bold. He might tease, and she made him laugh often; but his regard was unshakeable, and she had not the smallest fear that she might lose it.
“Shall you, sweet?”
They were to be married in a fortnight, and the days could not move too quickly for Catherine, who had all the impatience of the young. In a fortnight, this would be her drawing room – and her husband.
“Shall you?” – and blushed at her own daring.
Her daring being found not unwelcome, she was soon enabled to judge how far her promised husband’s partiality lay; and her happiness was compounded yet more, which she would not have thought possible even an hour before.
Presently the viscount and viscountess rejoined them, full of praise for the pleasant walks to be found in the parsonage garden. Catherine received them with contentment, if not perfect composure; and if Eleanor noticed that her friend’s hair was a trifle disturbed, and her eyes particularly bright, she did not mention it, but only smiled.