Happy Birthday Jane Collection
A new ending to
Northanger Abbey:
Every year on Jane Austen's Birthday, I release a reworked aspect of one of her classic Regency romance novels. This year, I finish off Northanger Abbey. If you've ever want to know what happened to Eleanor Tilney, wonder no more. I got you!
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This one picks up from page 503 (which version? Mine of course - but don't worry, it's all completely free when you subscribe).
Happy Birthday Miss Austen
As Lord Longtown’s cousin, Mr Norley was considered a passable friendship for Henry Tilney at Cambridge. His residence at Northanger used up the last summer before Eleanor’s coming out. Norley took great pains to amuse her during his stay, his sunny nature finding delight in drawing joy toward the ‘quiet Miss Tilney’. His image stood out to her – taller and sparer than Henry, he nevertheless had a smile more ready than any other man’s she’d met. His blue eyes denoted a sharp-witted intellect he rarely deployed, though he enjoyed matching Henry’s bon-mots.
He was quieter than both her brothers, and never less than deferential to General Tilney, despite the latter’s barely-civil mode of address for ‘Longtown’s penniless cousin.' Eleanor’s gut tightened when she recalled her father’s mode of address, though she soon smiled at her favourite memory. Once Norley divined her love of reading novels (and the General’s aversion to such publications in Northanger’s otherwise excellent library), he found the guineas for the circulating library.
Turning his membership over to Eleanor for the selection of the publications, he’d proceeded to accost her with readings at odd moments throughout her days at Northanger, having memorised entire chapters from Mrs Radcliffe, and Sir Walter Scott.
It was a generous act from a man of straitened means. Eleanor knew Norley was not rich, but he was kind and she thought him handsome. Indeed, she thought of him as she imagined Catherine thought of Henry.
A young curate amusing a lonely, pretty girl too easily turned to love – and so it had been with Mr Norley, though Eleanor knew the General would never allow it.
Norley knew this too; indeed, the only one who held out any hope at all for their union was Henry but even he could not be sanguine. In the end Mr Norley left Northanger, rather than persuading Eleanor into any kind of agreement – and it was right, fair and honourable that he should do so.
He’d made no promise, nor exacted one – behaving better than Frederick and with no less honour than Henry. Eleanor had nothing to regret in his conduct. Nevertheless, she found herself terribly cast down by his departure, and only Henry knew the reason. He’d treated her with too much consideration ever since, as though Eleanor was now fragile and might blow over with a breath.
Eleanor shook herself, inhaling the rich scent of cypress. She wondered if Mr Norley had a scent. He didn’t – so far as she knew – wear cologne. I must stop thinking of him… but try as she might, Eleanor found Mr Norley had taken up residence in her head and she couldn’t dislodge him. Not this gentleman she most wished – and feared – to meet again.
I’ve no cause to feel scorned. This was true, and to witness his joy in being wed to another and with a family now – Eleanor might bear this well in passing, but for a fortnight at Longtown’s? She feared she’d not manage it at all. Unlike her eldest brother, carelessness in love formed no part of her nature.
