And now to our moral. We should have some maxim, some poetic epigram to stay within the mind. But we are but a poor pen, and:
When in castles, quite romancy,
You come upon a secret, chancy,
Of most, beware your mind’s own fancy!
– suffers not only in sentiment, but also in verse. Thus we shall remain in clumsy prose.
What lessons may we draw from our heroes’ strange venture into those distant lands?
Warnings against the uses and abuses of imagination we have in other novels aplenty, including that far superior novel by that far superior author of which we are a poor continuation.
We might, then, take practical consideration about the sacramental means to dispose of ghosts and other supernatural visitings, or take to wearing specific articles of clothing or jewellery so that in meeting our doppelgänger, those of our acquaintance could discern between us.
We might as well consider the supremacy of a life lived on paper – and keep a firm watch on those documents which give witness to our most important actions; I mean, of course, to our living and our loving and our dying.
But all of this is dry and academic.
What of the far more interesting question of
What happened to everyone besides our heroes
?
For, indeed, we all walk in and out of each other’s stories our entire lives!
To the Dominican sister who was so vastly amused by the English couple, Catherine and Henry are but a footnote, a starting point to
her
adventure.
For no sooner had they left Notre Dame, and the gypsy and her eldest son began again their thieving games, than that good sister saw the gypsy’s second son left stranded in the courtyard to cry and wet himself.
Moved by righteous pity, the Dominican sister had walked briskly up to the shivering, neglected child, picked him up, wiped him off, and walked right away with him into the arches of Notre Dame and to a different life – little knowing how dear she would become to that future saint, nor how dear he would become to her.
Of those other stories in which Catherine and Henry played a rather larger part, the reader may also find of interest.
Colin and Betty served quite happily in Nachtstürm for several years, raising a large, rosy family whose eldest son married the eldest daughter of the Baron and Baroness of Brandenburg.
As for Will and Lucia themselves, they still engaged in fitful expressions of passion, but since there was no audience about to applaud them, in time these grew less and less demonstrative, until they were able to laugh at the passionate foibles of their own young children in love.
Laugh – but only once they had barred the secret ways in and out of the castle, the better to protect their children from amorous idiocy.
Fra Andreas lived to a very great age, although he often visited the graveyard as the years went by, and visitors from Gesette said that he was frequently seen visiting the parish priest in that town, making confession.
He passed away most mysteriously – leaving one day to walk the mountain paths, as was his custom, and simply never returning.
The youngest son of Colin and Betty, who had taken quite a liking to Fra Andreas, said that he saw that good friar sigh into a pure white cloud and walk upward on a sunbeam to the Celestial Sphere – and who knows?
Stranger things have happened.
We may speak as well of Helga, who lived to a ripe old age and never did anything of interest after our adventures here.
Or the Baron and Baroness of Branning who were at first outraged at the thought of losing their title – even if they didn’t want it.
Or of any number of stories into which our heroes wandered.
So may your life as well, dear reader, be part of someone else’s tale.
But ours has ended here at last at Woodston, where Catherine and Henry were warmly greeted by Bear their dog, the parish and all its inhabitants, the Viscountess,
Henry’s sister, and even the fearsome General Tilney.
Of their trip, Catherine spoke little other than to praise Henry’s genius, and Henry spoke almost not at all, except in his continued legal assistance regarding the baronetcy.
The poplin curtains hung from their accustomed place in the parlour; old friends and dearer family might be revisited; and nothing more shocking than a cup of poorly-brewed tea need trouble our hero and his bride again.
So gladly Catherine and Henry settled back into their accustomed way of life – with no more thought of ghosts and gardens for Catherine’s part, or of any of their long nights in Nachtstürm, than ever she thought of Tilneys and trapdoors.
FINIS
Many thanks to those without whom this book would have never seen the light of Alpine thunderstorms!
First to Margaret Sullivan who has made it her mission not only to spread love for Henry Tilney far and near, but who housed this little bit of ivory for years and then ushered it to Girlebooks.com. Thanks as well to Pemberley.com, which community of Austenites provided welcome feedback, encouragement, and conviviality in the midst of our modern world. To Laura McDonald who took on the project with enthusiasm and patience, to my own family who suffered jovially through vision and revision, many thanks. Most importantly my deepest thanks to Jane Austen, whose wit and humour have seen so many of us through a rainy afternoon.
The Twelve Kingdoms
series from Arx Publishing, LLC which includes
Niamh and the Hermit
and
Charming the Moon
, as well as several plays, including
Wallace’s Will
from Playscripts, Inc.
Snyder holds an MA in Theatre Education from Emerson College, Boston, MA and a BA in Literature and Drama from Franciscan University of Steubenville, OH.
When not writing, Emily can most often be seen teaching or directing Shakespeare.
And when not doing that, chances are she’s driving aimlessly in her car, singing at the top of her lungs.
For more information, please visit her website
http://www.christianfantasy.net/emilycasnyder.