Books: Pride and Prejudice
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Jane Austen >> Pride and Prejudice
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Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she
added, "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw
from it this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is
irretrievable; that one false step involves her in endless ruin;
that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful; and
that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards the
undeserving of the other sex."
Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much
oppressed to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to
console herself with such kind of moral extractions from the
evil before them.
In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be
for half-an-hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed
herself of the opportunity of making any inquiries, which Jane
was equally eager to satisfy. After joining in general
lamentations over the dreadful sequel of this event, which
Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss Bennet could
not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued the
subject, by saying, "But tell me all and everything about it
which I have not already heard. Give me further particulars.
hat did Colonel Forster say? Had they no apprehension of
anything before the elopement took place? They must have seen
them together for ever."
"Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some
partiality, especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him any
alarm. I am so grieved for him! His behaviour was attentive and
kind to the utmost. He WAS coming to us, in order to assure us
of his concern, before he had any idea of their not being gone to
Scotland: when that apprehension first got abroad, it hastened
his journey."
"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did
he know of their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster
seen Denny himself?"
"Yes; but, when questioned by HIM, Denny denied knowing
anything of their plans, and would not give his real opinion
about it. He did not repeat his persuasion of their not
marrying--and from THAT, I am inclined to hope, he might
have been misunderstood before."
"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you
entertained a doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?"
"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains?
I felt a little uneasy--a little fearful of my sister's happiness
with him in marriage, because I knew that his conduct had not been
always quite right. My father and mother knew nothing of that;
they only felt how imprudent a match it must be. Kitty then
owned, with a very natural triumph on knowing more than the
rest of us, that in Lydia's last letter she had prepared her for
such a step. She had known, it seems, of their being in love with
each other, many weeks."
"But not before they went to Brighton?"
"No, I believe not."
"And did Colonel Forster appear to think well of Wickham
himself? Does he know his real character?"
"I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he
formerly did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant.
And since this sad affair has taken place, it is said that he
left Meryton greatly in debt; but I hope this may be false."
"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew
of him, this could not have happened!"
"Perhaps it would have been better," replied her sister. "But to
expose the former faults of any person without knowing what
their present feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with
the best intentions."
"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to
his wife?"
"He brought it with him for us to see."
Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth.
These were the contents:
"MY DEAR HARRIET,
"You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot
help laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as
soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you
cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there
is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should
never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You
need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do
not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I
write to them and sign my name 'Lydia Wickham.' What a good
joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make
my excuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancing
with him to-night. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he
knows all; and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball
we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when
I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a
great slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up.
Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you will
drink to our good journey.
"Your affectionate friend,
"LYDIA BENNET."
"Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth when she
had finished it. What a letter is this, to be written at such
a moment! But at least it shows that SHE was serious on the
subject of their journey. Whatever he might afterwards
persuade her to, it was not on her side a SCHEME of infamy.
My poor father! how he must have felt it!"
"I never saw anyone so shocked. He could not speak a word
for full ten minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately,
and the whole house in such confusion!"
"Oh! Jane," cried Elizabeth, "was there a servant belonging to it
who did not know the whole story before the end of the day?"
"I do not know. I hope there was. But to be guarded at such a
time is very difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though
I endeavoured to give her every assistance in my power, I am
afraid I did not do so much as I might have done! But the
horror of what might possibly happen almost took from me
my faculties."
"Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You do
not look well. Oh that I had been with you! you have had
every care and anxiety upon yourself alone."
"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in
every fatigue, I am sure; but I did not think it right for either
of them. Kitty is slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much,
that her hours of repose should not be broken in on. My aunt
Phillips came to Longbourn on Tuesday, after my father went
away; and was so good as to stay till Thursday with me. She
was of great use and comfort to us all. And Lady Lucas has
been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to
condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her
daughters', if they should be of use to us."
"She had better have stayed at home," cried Elizabeth; "perhaps
she MEANT well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one
cannot see too little of one's neighbours. Assistance is
impossible; condolence insufferable. Let them triumph over us
at a distance, and be satisfied."
She then proceeded to inquire into the measures which her
father had intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery
of his daughter.
"He meant I believe," replied Jane, "to go to Epsom, the place
where they last changed horses, see the postilions and try if
anything could be made out from them. His principal object
must be to discover the number of the hackney coach which
took them from Clapham. It had come with a fare from London;
and as he thought that the circumstance of a gentleman and lady's
removing from one carriage into another might be remarked he
meant to make inquiries at Clapham. If he could anyhow discover
at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he
determined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be
impossible to find out the stand and number of the coach. I do
not know of any other designs that he had formed; but he was in
such a hurry to be gone, and his spirits so greatly discomposed,
that I had difficulty in finding out even so much as this."
Chapter 48
The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the
next morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line
from him. His family knew him to be, on all common occasions,
a most negligent and dilatory correspondent; but at such a time
they had hoped for exertion. They were forced to conclude that
he had no pleasing intelligence to send; but even of THAT they
would have been glad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner had waited
only for the letters before he set off.
When he was gone, they were certain at least of receiving
constant information of what was going on, and their uncle
promised, at parting, to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to
Longbourn, as soon as he could, to the great consolation of his
sister, who considered it as the only security for her husband's
not being killed in a duel.
Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in Hertfordshire
a few days longer, as the former thought her presence might be
serviceable to her nieces. She shared in their attendance on
Mrs. Bennet, and was a great comfort to them in their hours of
freedom. Their other aunt also visited them frequently, and
always, as she said, with the design of cheering and heartening
them up--though, as she never came without reporting some
fresh instance of Wickham's extravagance or irregularity, she
seldom went away without leaving them more dispirited than
she found them.
All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who, but three
months before, had been almost an angel of light. He was
declared to be in debt to every tradesman in the place, and his
intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had been
extended into every tradesman's family. Everybody declared
that he was the wickedest young man in the world; and everybody
began to find out that they had always distrusted the appearance
of his goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above
half of what was said, believed enough to make her former
assurance of her sister's ruin more certain; and even Jane,
who believed still less of it, became almost hopeless, more
especially as the time was now come when, if they had gone to
Scotland, which she had never before entirely despaired of,
they must in all probability have gained some news of them.
Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday his wife
received a letter from him; it told them that, on his arrival,
he had immediately found out his brother, and persuaded him to
come to Gracechurch Street; that Mr. Bennet had been to
Epsom and Clapham, before his arrival, but without gaining
any satisfactory information; and that he was now determined
to inquire at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet
thought it possible they might have gone to one of them, on
their first coming to London, before they procured lodgings.
Mr. Gardiner himself did not expect any success from this
measure, but as his brother was eager in it, he meant to assist
him in pursuing it. He added that Mr. Bennet seemed wholly
disinclined at present to leave London and promised to write
again very soon. There was also a postscript to this effect:
"I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to find out,
if possible, from some of the young man's intimates in the
regiment, whether Wickham has any relations or connections
who would be likely to know in what part of town he has now
concealed himself. If there were anyone that one could apply
to with a probability of gaining such a clue as that, it might be
of essential consequence. At present we have nothing to guide
us. Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do everything in his power
to satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps,
Lizzy could tell us what relations he has now living, better than
any other person."
Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence this
deference to her authority proceeded; but it was not in her
power to give any information of so satisfactory a nature as the
compliment deserved. She had never heard of his having had
any relations, except a father and mother, both of whom had
been dead many years. It was possible, however, that some of
his companions in the ----shire might be able to give more
information; and though she was not very sanguine in expecting
it, the application was a something to look forward to.
Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most
anxious part of each was when the post was expected. The
arrival of letters was the grand object of every morning's
impatience. Through letters, whatever of good or bad was to
be told would be communicated, and every succeeding day was
expected to bring some news of importance.
But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a letter arrived
for their father, from a different quarter, from Mr. Collins;
which, as Jane had received directions to open all that came for
him in his absence, she accordingly read; and Elizabeth, who
knew what curiosities his letters always were, looked over her,
and read it likewise. It was as follows:
"MY DEAR SIR,
"I feel myself called upon, by our relationship, and my situation
in life, to condole with you on the grievous affliction you are now
suffering under, of which we were yesterday informed by a letter
from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir, that Mrs. Collins
and myself sincerely sympathise with you and all your respectable
family, in your present distress, which must be of the bitterest
kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time can remove.
No arguments shall be wanting on my part that can alleviate so
severe a misfortune--or that may comfort you, under a circumstance
that must be of all others the most afflicting to a parent's mind.
The death of your daughter would have been a blessing in comparison
of this. And it is the more to be lamented, because there is
reason to suppose as my dear Charlotte informs me, that this
licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has proceeded from
a faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time, for the
consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think
that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not
be guilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that
may be, you are grievously to be pitied; in which opinion I am not
only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and
her daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with
me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be
injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady
Catherine herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves
with such a family? And this consideration leads me moreover
to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, on a certain event
of last November; for had it been otherwise, I must have been
involved in all your sorrow and disgrace. Let me then advise you,
dear sir, to console yourself as much as possible, to throw off
your unworthy child from your affection for ever, and leave her
to reap the fruits of her own heinous offense.
"I am, dear sir, etc., etc."
Mr. Gardiner did not write again till he had received an answer
from Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of a pleasant
nature to send. It was not known that Wickham had a single
relationship with whom he kept up any connection, and it
was certain that he had no near one living. His former
acquaintances had been numerous; but since he had been in the
militia, it did not appear that he was on terms of particular
friendship with any of them. There was no one, therefore, who
could be pointed out as likely to give any news of him. And
in the wretched state of his own finances, there was a very
powerful motive for secrecy, in addition to his fear of discovery
by Lydia's relations, for it had just transpired that he had
left gaming debts behind him to a very considerable amount.
Colonel Forster believed that more than a thousand pounds
would be necessary to clear his expenses at Brighton. He owed
a good deal in town, but his debts of honour were still more
formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal these
particulars from the Longbourn family. Jane heard them with
horror. "A gamester!" she cried. "This is wholly unexpected.
I had not an idea of it."
Mr. Gardiner added in his letter, that they might expect to see
their father at home on the following day, which was Saturday.
Rendered spiritless by the ill-success of all their endeavours, he
had yielded to his brother-in-law's entreaty that he would return
to his family, and leave it to him to do whatever occasion might
suggest to be advisable for continuing their pursuit. When Mrs.
Bennet was told of this, she did not express so much satisfaction
as her children expected, considering what her anxiety for his
life had been before.
"What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?" she cried.
"Sure he will not leave London before he has found them. Who
is to fight Wickham, and make him marry her, if he comes away?"
As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it was settled
that she and the children should go to London, at the same time
that Mr. Bennet came from it. The coach, therefore, took them
the first stage of their journey, and brought its master back
to Longbourn.
Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about Elizabeth
and her Derbyshire friend that had attended her from that part
of the world. His name had never been voluntarily mentioned
before them by her niece; and the kind of half-expectation which
Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their being followed by a letter
from him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had received none
since her return that could come from Pemberley.
The present unhappy state of the family rendered any other
excuse for the lowness of her spirits unnecessary; nothing,
therefore, could be fairly conjectured from THAT, though
Elizabeth, who was by this time tolerably well acquainted with
her own feelings, was perfectly aware that, had she known
nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of Lydia's
infamy somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought,
one sleepless night out of two.
When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance of his usual
philosophic composure. He said as little as he had ever been in
the habit of saying; made no mention of the business that had
taken him away, and it was some time before his daughters had
courage to speak of it.
It was not till the afternoon, when he had joined them at tea,
that Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then, on
her briefly expressing her sorrow for what he must have
endured, he replied, "Say nothing of that. Who should suffer
but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it."
"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth.
"You may well warn me against such an evil. Human nature is
so prone to fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my life
feel how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being
overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough."
"Do you suppose them to be in London?"
"Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?"
"And Lydia used to want to go to London," added Kitty.
"She is happy then," said her father drily; "and her residence
there will probably be of some duration."
Then after a short silence he continued:
"Lizzy, I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice
to me last May, which, considering the event, shows some
greatness of mind."
They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her
mother's tea.
"This is a parade," he cried, "which does one good; it gives such
an elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I
will sit in my library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and
give as much trouble as I can; or, perhaps, I may defer it till
Kitty runs away."
"I am not going to run away, papa," said Kitty fretfully. "If I
should ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia."
"YOU go to Brighton. I would not trust you so near it as
Eastbourne for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to
be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever
to enter into my house again, nor even to pass through the
village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited, unless you stand up
with one of your sisters. And you are never to stir out of doors
till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day
in a rational manner."
Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry.
"Well, well," said he, "do not make yourself unhappy. If you
are a good girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review
at the end of them."
Chapter 49
Two days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and Elizabeth were
walking together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw
the housekeeper coming towards them, and, concluding that she
came to call them to their mother, went forward to meet her;
but, instead of the expected summons, when they approached
her, she said to Miss Bennet, "I beg your pardon, madam, for
interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some
good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask."
"What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town."
"Dear madam," cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, "don't
you know there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner?
He has been here this half-hour, and master has had a letter."
Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech.
They ran through the vestibule into the breakfast-room; from
thence to the library; their father was in neither; and they
were on the point of seeking him upstairs with their mother,
when they were met by the butler, who said:
"If you are looking for my master, ma'am, he is walking
towards the little copse."
Upon this information, they instantly passed through the hall
once more, and ran across the lawn after their father, who was
deliberately pursuing his way towards a small wood on one side
of the paddock.
Jane, who was not so light nor so much in the habit of running
as Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her sister, panting for
breath, came up with him, and eagerly cried out:
"Oh, papa, what news--what news? Have you heard from my
uncle?"
"Yes I have had a letter from him by express."
"Well, and what news does it bring--good or bad?"
"What is there of good to be expected?" said he, taking the
letter from his pocket. "But perhaps you would like to read it."
Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up.
"Read it aloud," said their father, "for I hardly know myself what
it is about."
"Gracechurch Street, Monday,
August 2.
"MY DEAR BROTHER,
"At last I am able to send you some tidings of my niece, and
such as, upon the whole, I hope it will give you satisfaction.
Soon after you left me on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to
find out in what part of London they were. The particulars I
reserve till we meet; it is enough to know they are discovered.
I have seen them both--"
"Then it is as I always hoped," cried Jane; "they are married!"
Elizabeth read on:
"I have seen them both. They are not married, nor can I find
there was any intention of being so; but if you are willing to
perform the engagements which I have ventured to make on your
side, I hope it will not be long before they are. All that is
required of you is, to assure to your daughter, by settlement,
her equal share of the five thousand pounds secured among your
children after the decease of yourself and my sister; and,
moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during
your life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions
which, considering everything, I had no hesitation in complying
with, as far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall
send this by express, that no time may be lost in bringing me
your answer. You will easily comprehend, from these particulars,
that Mr. Wickham's circumstances are not so hopeless as they
are generally believed to be. The world has been deceived in
that respect; and I am happy to say there will be some little
money, even when all his debts are discharged, to settle on my
niece, in addition to her own fortune. If, as I conclude will
be the case, you send me full powers to act in your name
throughout the whole of this business, I will immediately give
directions to Haggerston for preparing a proper settlement.
There will not be the smallest occasion for your coming to town
again; therefore stay quiet at Longbourn, and depend on my
diligence and care. Send back your answer as fast as you can,
and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it best that
my niece should be married from this house, of which I hope
you will approve. She comes to us to-day. I shall write again
as soon as anything more is determined on. Yours, etc.,
"EDW. GARDINER."
"Is it possible?" cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. "Can it
be possible that he will marry her?"
"Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we thought him," said
her sister. "My dear father, I congratulate you."
"And have you answered the letter?" cried Elizabeth.
"No; but it must be done soon."
Most earnestly did she then entreaty him to lose no more time
before he wrote.
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