The Bride of Northanger by Diana Birchall

Author:Diana Birchall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical British fiction, duke aristocrats nobility rich, 18th century 19th century, classics historical, historical regency, romance gothic satire
Publisher: Diana Birchall
Published: 2019-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Nothing more, naturally enough, was heard of the Frenchman at Northanger Abbey, though Frederick twitted Harriette about her certainty that he would return. Officials throughout the county would remain on the alert for a passing Frenchman who might be able to shed more light upon the General’s sudden decease; but as the chance of his being found was now thought so slim, the coroner could see no reason why the case should not be closed. Accordingly he prepared to hand down the final verdict that the General had died of natural causes, and to give permission for the funeral to take place as soon as the family chose.

He had a final private word with the doctor before concluding. “I confess to not being entirely easy in my mind, Lyford,” he said.

“No. I can see that. So often, in my business, cases of this sort have no clear determination. It occurs far more often than the public thinks, and we must take care not to enlighten them, lest we stir up alarm. It really cannot be helped.”

“If I did not know the people involved, I should suspect it to be the fairly common phenomenon of a family member who murders a tyrannous older relation.”

“Certainly I have seen such things, but you cannot think that possible here, can you, Carter?”

“Why not? Captain Tilney was present at the final dinner.”

“I know, but in all the witness accounts, there was no slightest indication of him doing any thing untoward. There is no evidence.”

“He had opportunity, just the same, and probably motive,” the coroner argued. “He steps into one of the most considerable fortunes in the country. And then, there is the younger son.”

“You can’t think of Henry Tilney as a suspect?” the doctor said incredulously.

“With an irascible, overbearing man like General Tilney, the gentlest family members are known to reach a breaking point.”

“Why, man, he was not even at Northanger, but at his parsonage, twenty miles away, the entire time.”

“A short enough distance for him to have slipped home at night, and tampered with the goblet.”

“Oh, come, come. Someone would have seen him, or his horse. And besides, he is a clergyman. His entire character speaks for himself.”

“Some of the most principled people in the world have been driven to desperation by a tyrant.”

“Well, if that is your thinking, why not suspect the naturalist? He might have possessed some poison to kill vermin or predators.”

“He was hundreds of miles off. Now you are being absurd, Lyford.”

“As is this whole discussion.”

“Well, well, I only wanted to consult with you, and free my mind entirely. I am relieved to have your opinion, and I assure you I don’t mean to pursue this line of thought. I shall sign the inquest verdict at once.”

The service was accordingly held on the Tuesday at the Northanger parish church, with a goodly gathering of the General’s rich and important friends and neighbors present, as he was buried amongst all his Tilney forbears in the churchyard.

The visiting mourners remained for the shortest time possible to politeness, after the General was duly committed to the earth.

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