Northanger Abbey

Martha Thorpe smacked him affectionately on the shoulder. ‘You are the worst boy in the world, turning up without warning.’

‘And where are the two ugly sisters?’ he called, bringing his siblings rushing from their bedroom to perform the same whooping dance he’d earlier conducted with Bella. However brutal it all seemed compared to Morland family life, it appeared to please the Thorpes.

‘You’ve put on weight, fatso,’ Jessica said.

‘And you’ve got five more zits on your nose,’ her brother riposted. ‘Ma, have you got a washing machine here?’

Martha sighed. ‘You’ve brought your washing, haven’t you?’

‘Clever girl,’ John said. ‘You guessed. I’ll bring it up later. But look, Ma, see who I’ve brought with me.’ And he hauled James, blushing, into the ring of Thorpe women. ‘You can squeeze us in here, can’t you?’

Martha looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know where.’

‘Oh, Ma, you can sleep on the sofa, and Jamie and I will share your bed,’ John said with the cavalier ease of a man who has never had to pay the piper. ‘Now, Jamie, sit yourself down and Ma will get us a coffee to revive us after our drive.’ And he was off again, regaling the company with a paean of praise to his new car.

By the time Cat and Jamie escaped from the crowded flat, Martha had accepted a collective invitation to a ceilidh that evening at the grand New Town home of one of her clients, Bella had dragged her to one side to tell her that Johnny thought she was the cutest thing he’d ever clapped eyes on, and John himself had informed Cat that he was going to dance her legs to stumps at the ceilidh. To be the centre of such attention left Cat a little breathless. It was very far from what she was accustomed to, and it was hard to sift through the swirl of mixed feelings she was enduring.

‘He’s pretty full on, is Johnny,’ James said as they set off to walk back to the Allens’ flat.

Were it not for the friendship between the two men and the flattery of John Thorpe’s interest in her, Cat might have answered with more acerbity. Instead, she simply said, ‘The whole family are pretty full on.’

‘But he’s a good guy. He’s always up for a laugh.’

‘He’s certainly never short of something to say.’

James laughed. ‘There’s no pleasing you girls, is there? You’re usually complaining that guys have got nothing to say for ourselves, but when we do talk to you, apparently you don’t like that either.’

‘Whatever. You seem to be everybody’s favourite in that family.’ The comment was innocent enough, yet James flushed.

‘They made me really welcome when I stayed with them in the Easter vac,’ he said. ‘You like them? Martha and the girls?’

‘I do, very much. Bella especially. We totally hit it off.’

‘That’s great. But then, what’s not to like? She’s smart and funny—’

‘And so beautiful and cleverly dressed and well read,’ Cat butted in. ‘Exactly the kind of girl I always wanted as a best friend.’

‘And she’s easy-going and relaxed,’ James added. It wasn’t quite how Cat would have described her friend but she let it go because James continued, ‘And she thinks you’re great too. She texted me to say she’d met you and how cool she thinks you are. And when a girl like Bella thinks you’re cool, then you know it’s the truth.’

‘Wow! She said that? Awesome. I didn’t realise you were such good mates. You know, Bro, you hardly said anything about her when you texted me after you stayed with them.’

They were in the middle of the Dean Bridge as she spoke and James turned away to lean on the parapet, gazing down at the treetops below. ‘I hoped you’d get to meet her yourself soon, and I didn’t want to influence what you thought of her. I’d be as happy as you if the pair of you ended up best friends.’ He swung round and smiled at her.

‘That’s very sweet of you, James. Oh, and by the way, what’s with the whole “Jamie” thing?’

He shrugged and resumed walking. ‘It was Bella’s idea. She said they knew too many Jameses and she didn’t want there to be any confusion who she was talking about. So she started calling me Jamie and they all followed her lead. Though, to be honest, I think Johnny’s taking the piss a bit.’ James spread his hands in a wry shrug. ‘That’s blokes for you.’

‘Still, he obviously likes you. And it was really thoughtful of him to stop off in Newcastle to see if you wanted to come all this way to see me and the Allens. He must have thought I’d be missing you all.’

James gave her a quizzical look, which she took to mean that he was surprised at her effusiveness. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Right. Thoughtful. And how is everyone at home?’

Cat’s exposition on the home life of the Morlands occupied them all the way back to Queen Street, save for one brief digression on Bella’s sense of humour. The Allens were delighted to see James, and to hear that they too had been invited to the ceilidh. Mr Allen begged off, on the grounds that he had to endure a one-man version of A Farewell to Arms, but Susie was ecstatic to have so early an opportunity to wear the dress she had bought only that afternoon from the sweetest little boutique in the Lawnmarket.

By mid-afternoon, Cat was exhausted with people and conversation and was quite delighted to sneak off up the hill to the Book Festival to listen to three Shetland poets reading from their work. Luckily they passed her comprehensibility test and they wove a web of words around her, its dreamlike quality the perfect preparation for an evening’s dancing that would be at once systematic and spontaneous. The first time she’d done Scottish country dancing, she’d been whirled around emotionally as well as physically. Who knew what the second occasion might hold?

8

The Thorpes, the Morlands and Susie Allen arrived simultaneously on the doorstep of the grand mansion on Rothesay Terrace. Cat and Bella were so delighted to see each other after seven hours of abstinence that they immediately formed a two-person huddle, admiring each other’s dresses, their hair and their make-up as they moved oblivious through the gleaming marble and glittering crystal of the entrance hall and into a ballroom transformed for the night with tartan silks and indifferent Victorian Highland landscapes.

The party settled round an oval table midway down one side of the room and they had barely secured drinks and a tray of hors d’oeuvres when the ceilidh band struck up. Two fiddlers, an accordion, a keyboard player, a drummer and a pair of guitarists occupied a small stage at the far end of the room and it was quickly apparent that they were a gifted ensemble. No sooner had the dance caller announced a Gay Gordons than James was on his feet, reminding Bella that she’d promised him the first dance. Bella half-rose, then looked around. ‘Where’s Johnny?’

‘He’s gone through to the card room,’ James said. ‘He’s feeling lucky.’

Bella pouted. ‘Well, I’m not going to abandon Cat just because Johnny has no manners. If we get split up now, it’ll be the Dashing White Sergeant and Strip the Willow before you know it and we’ll never see each other again all evening. Honestly. Men.’

James sat down, crestfallen. Cat had never seen him so eager to take to the dance floor. But at the end of the first section of the dance, he cast a beseeching glance at Bella, who rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, all right, Jamie. If you insist.’ She put a hand on Cat’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, but what can you do? He’s gagging to get me on the dance floor, it would be cruelty to refuse him. You don’t mind, do you? Johnny will be back any minute, win or lose, I promise.’

And she was gone, drawing James after her. He cast a quick look back at his sister with a worried frown, but she put a brave face on it and waved him off, even though that left her to the tender mercies of Martha and Susie and their seemingly endless conversations about fabrics and Pantone colours. Not only did she want to be on the floor, caught up in the excitement and movement of the dance, but she felt too the shame of being one of the wallflowers. In all her fiction-fuelled fantasies, she’d never been one of the disregarded ones, and it hurt to find herself overlooked. She’d read enough to know that it was the heroine’s part to suffer the smug scorn of others, but that didn’t make it any easier to keep a smile fixed on her face. But she was damned if she was going to pout or sulk over John Thorpe. She would suffer, but nobody would know.

And just then, as if to reward her silent stoicism in the face of torment, her gaze fell on a far more welcome sight than her friend’s brother. There, less than three metres from their table, was Henry Tilney, unmistakable even though his back was to her. He was immaculately dressed in a perfectly tailored Argyle kilt jacket, nipped in at the waist, and fishtail-back tartan trews. He stood watching the dancers, then turned to face the entrance to the ballroom. His lively profile, handsome and dark-eyed, brought a blush to her cheek which faded as soon as she realised he had no notion that she was there. As she watched, a pretty young blonde in a white Empire-line dress with a tartan sash that matched his trousers sidled up to him, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. For a moment, Cat’s stomach lurched at the thought he might already be spoken for, but then her good sense kicked in and she recognised Ellie Tilney from the Facebook profile she’d studied on her phone. Relief flooded through Cat in a second scarlet tide and she told herself it spoke well of Henry that he had so affectionate a relationship with his sister.

The Tilneys moved closer to Cat’s table, still oblivious to her presence. But a woman edging up the room ahead of them stopped abruptly with a little scream of delight. ‘Martha Thorpe!’ she exclaimed, lunging forward to air-kiss her friend.

It was enough to make both Tilneys stop and turn towards Cat. Henry gave a slow smile of recognition, his dark eyes appearing to grow even darker in his pale face as they drank her in. Cat felt a silly grin spread across her face as he moved towards her, Ellie in his wake. He nodded to Susie. ‘Mrs Allen. How lovely to see you again.’

Susie simpered and batted her thickly mascaraed eyelashes at him. ‘Why, hello, Henry. When we didn’t see you at the Book Festival, I was beginning to think you’d left town without saying goodbye.’

‘You’re spot on, Mrs Allen. I did have to go out of town unexpectedly for a couple of days. Urgent business, I’m afraid. But now I’m back again.’

‘I dare say you’re not sorry about that,’ she said coquettishly. ‘There’s nowhere like Edinburgh at this time of year. Anywhere else would feel dull, don’t you think?’

He caught Cat’s eye momentarily. ‘Since everyone worth spending time with is here, I’m bound to agree with you.’ He gave Susie another courtly nod.

By now, Martha and her friend had introduced themselves to Ellie and invited her to join them. ‘Plenty of wine to go round,’ Martha said, pouring Ellie a glass in spite of her protestations that all she wanted was water.

Now, at last, having fulfilled the obligations of good manners, Henry turned his attention to Cat. Before he could say anything, however, the dance ended and the caller invited the gentlemen to take their partners for the Military Two-Step. Henry raised his eyebrows. ‘Did we get that far with Fiona?’

Cat made the effort of recall. ‘Heel and toe, and heel and toe and forward, two, three? Is that the one?’

‘Splendid. Well done, Cat.’ He extended a hand to her. ‘Shall we?’

But before she could slip her fingers into his waiting grasp, a familiar loud voice boomed in her ear and a hot, beefy hand snatched hers. ‘Not so fast, mate.’

It was John Thorpe, back from the card table at precisely the wrong moment. He glowered at Henry, who gave Cat an enquiring look. Before she could say anything, John continued as he had begun. ‘She’s with me, buster.’ He moved towards the dance floor, presuming that Cat would follow. And she did, to avoid the embarrassment of being dragged off her chair.

Henry stepped to one side, a look of concern on his face. ‘Are you OK with that?’

‘I said I would dance with him, that’s all,’ Cat said over her shoulder, uncertain whether he had heard her or not.

Once they were on the dance floor John acted as if nothing untoward had happened. He made a perfunctory apology for keeping her waiting, then launched into a rambling account of the polo ponies, cars and dogs of the men he’d been playing poker with. Whenever the configuration of the dance made it possible, Cat couldn’t help but gaze longingly towards the part of the room where she’d left Henry. But she could see not a sign of him. Nor could she see Bella and her brother. She felt cut off from everyone she cared about, abandoned into the custody of a man who seemed to disregard everyone but himself.

As soon as the dance was over, she thanked him then scuttled back to the table, where Martha and her friend were still deep in conversation with Ellie Tilney. But Henry was nowhere to be seen. There was some consolation to be had, however, for Martha introduced her to Ellie then swapped seats so the two young women could chat to each other. In the absence of Ellie’s brother, there was nobody Cat was happier to talk to.

Ellie, as Cat had previously noted from her Facebook profile, had striking good looks, sharing the same marble-white skin and unfathomable leonine eyes as her brother. Her dark blonde hair flowed back in waves from a widow’s peak, framing her delicate features. She was more formal than Bella and her sisters, more restrained in her style and conversation, and had none of their flirtatiousness towards the young men who eyed them up as they promenaded past, looking for partners. But Cat sensed an interesting personality behind that reserve and desperately wanted to know her better, suspecting they might well become friends irrespective of Henry. However, since they knew almost nothing about each other and since Cat was too proud to enquire as to the whereabouts of her brother, they struggled to find enough in common to trigger a close conversation. Once they had worked their way through the charms of Edinburgh – its architecture, its museums and galleries, and its festivals – neither girl seemed to know what to talk about next.

Before their constraint became uncomfortable, they were swooped on by Bella, who threw herself on the chair next to Cat and exclaimed, ‘There you are. At last. I’ve been scouring the dance floor for you for ages. You totally missed the Dashing White Sergeant, and I was buzzing for you to make up a threesome with me and Jamie.’

Cat’s face fell under her friend’s attack. ‘I’m sorry. I looked, but I couldn’t even see you.’

James arrived just in time to take a gentle punch in the arm from Bella. ‘I told your hopeless brother to go and look for you but he wouldn’t leave my side. Honestly, Cat, men are so lazy.’

‘It wouldn’t have done any good if I’d found Cat only to mislay you,’ James said in his defence.

Bella rolled her eyes. ‘Hopeless.’

Cat leaned back in her seat so she could include Ellie in the conversation. But her new friend was already on her feet. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I promised my father I’d meet him in the supper room. It was lovely to meet you.’ And she bowed with curious formality before backing away and making for the exit.

‘Who on earth was that?’ Bella asked. ‘She acts like she’s in Pride and Prejudice.’

‘That’s Henry Tilney’s sister, Ellie.’ Cat stared after the disappearing figure. There was something about Ellie, something out of time and out of style. Like there would be if you were a two-hundred-year-old vampire, she thought with a mixture of dread and delight.

‘Is he here?’ Bella looked around eagerly. ‘Is he half as good looking as she is? Where is the all-conquering brother? Point him out to me, I’m totally dying to see him.’

‘What are you both on about?’ James asked.

‘Honestly, you men talk about women gossiping, but you’re just as bad. Actually, no, you’re worse. You’re like little old women, you put your heads together and gossip, gossip, gossip about cars and women and sport. Well, Jamie, this is our little secret and we’re not sharing.’ Bella prodded him in the chest to drive home her point.

James laughed. ‘You’re just trying to hide the fact that you’ve got nothing important to say.’

‘Cheeky boy,’ Bella complained. ‘Honestly, Cat, you’ve done an atrocious job of bringing up Jamie. He has no idea at all of how to treat a woman. You’d better stop eavesdropping, Master Jamie, or you might hear something you don’t want to.’

The banter continued between Jamie and Bella, freeing Cat from any responsibility to contribute. She was grateful that the subject of Henry had been sidetracked, though there was a tiny part of her that was disappointed by Bella’s swift loss of interest in a subject that was so dear to Cat’s heart. She might not want to discuss him, but she wanted to have it confirmed that he was worthy of discussion.

When the band struck up again, James was immediately on his feet, picking up Bella’s hand as he rose. ‘Come on, Bella, it’s a St Bernard’s Waltz. You like to waltz.’

Cat wondered how he could make so confident an assertion, considering how little he knew Bella. And how brief she assumed his own acquaintance with Scottish country dancing to be. However, her friend responded, ‘I don’t like to waltz, I love it. So dreamy. But my evil sisters will tease us if we dance together all night, Jamie.’

‘You’re confusing me with someone who gives a toss. They’re just jealous. I want to waltz with a beautiful woman, but I’ll make do with you, Bella.’ His smile was impish, his words free of sting.

‘You are so bad, Jamie. Will you be OK, Cat? I don’t know where my hopeless brother has got to …’ She looked around, distracted. ‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll be back in a minute.’ Without further pretence at reluctance, she followed James on to the dance floor and let him draw her close as the dance permitted.

Cat felt her shoulders slump in spite of her determination to remain straight-backed and cheerful in the face of her disappointment. Martha Thorpe leaned across and patted her arm. ‘He’ll be back soon, then you’ll be happy again. He’ll have you tripping the light fantastic again. What an adorable couple you make.’

It took her a moment to realise Martha was speaking of her son. ‘I’m fine as I am, thank you,’ she said.

‘Of course you are,’ Martha said condescendingly. ‘But you must feel deflated after enjoying John’s high spirits on the dance floor.’

Susie interrupted, saving Cat from having to find an anodyne response. ‘Did you see Henry?’

‘No, where is he?’

Susie looked around, puzzled. ‘He was with us just now, when you were talking to Bella and James. He said he was tired of lounging about and he wanted to dance. I thought he was coming over to ask you.’

Dismayed, Cat cast an eye over the dancers as they turned and glided past her. And there she saw Henry, smiling down at a frankly dumpy little woman whose dress didn’t suit her in the slightest.

Susie caught sight of him at the same moment. ‘Oh. He’s dancing with someone else.’ After a short silence, she added, ‘He really is a lovely young man.’

‘You’re so right,’ Martha chipped in complacently. ‘I shouldn’t say it about my own son, but there is not a more charming young man in the city, never mind in this room.’

Cat and Susie exchanged a look, both bursting to giggle at Martha’s misapprehension. But that was Cat’s last moment of levity for the evening. Before the dance was over, John Thorpe returned and dropped like a stone into the chair next to her. ‘Shocking hands I’ve just had to endure through there. I thought I might as well come back here and take you for another turn round the floor.’

‘That’s very kind of you. But I’ve danced enough for one evening. And my feet hurt from when you stood on them before.’

He looked dumbfounded. ‘I stood on your feet? I think it’s more like you misplaced your feet and put them where mine needed to be. Come on, let’s have another crack at it and see if you can’t manage it better this time.’

‘Honestly, I’m too tired.’

He gave a heavy, put-upon sigh. ‘OK, then let’s go walkabout and see who we can rip the piss out of.’

‘Really, I’m happy where I am. On you go, though. Don’t let me spoil your fun.’

He looked as if he was about to make another attempt, but just then his sister Jess came by and he snagged her arm. ‘Jess, let’s go and see who we can wind up. Come on, we’ll show them how to have a good time.’

For the rest of the evening, Cat skulked round the fringes of the fun. She moved between the ballroom and the supper room, trying to look purposeful. She even took a couple of selfies to post on her Facebook page so she could pretend to her sisters that she was having the time of her life.

Later, as the balmy night air filled her bedroom, she studied the photos more closely, the better to decide which to post. In the background of one, to her surprise and consternation, was the unmistakable figure of Henry Tilney, his dark inscrutable eyes fixed unswervingly on her.

9

Cat’s reaction to the photograph was not, as might be supposed, unmitigated pleasure. Instead, she was filled with an overwhelming desire to eat chocolate. Mr Allen came home towards midnight to find her working her way through the remains of a chocolate fudge cake from the fridge. ‘The raging munchies,’ he said, eyebrows raised, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. ‘Tell me you’ve not been smoking dope, Cat.’

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