by Eliza Gordon
Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet's acknowledgements, he replied, with assurance of his eagerness to promote the welfare of any of his family. And concluded with entreaties that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal purport of his letter was to inform them that Mr. Wickham had resolved on quitting the militia.
"It was greatly my wish that he should do so as soon as his marriage was fixed on," he added. "I think you will agree with me, in considering the removal from that corps as highly advisable, both on his account and my niece's. It is Mr. Wickham's intention to go into the regulars. Among his former friends, there are still some who are able and willing to assist him in the army. I have written to Colonel Forster, to inform him of our present arrangements. And to request that he will satisfy the various creditors of Mr. Wickham in and near Brighton, with assurances of speedy payment, for which I have pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trouble of carrying similar assurances to his creditors in Meryton, of whom I shall subjoin a list according to his information? He has given in all his debts. I hope at least he has not deceived us. Haggerston has our directions, and all will be completed in a week. They will then join his regiment unless they are first invited to Longbourn. I understand from Mrs. Gardiner, that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all before she leaves the South. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered to you and your mother.—Yours, etc.,
"E. GARDINER."
At first, Mr. Bennet was resolved against ever receiving Lydia into the house again.
Jane and Elizabeth urged him so earnestly yet so rationally, to receive her and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were married. He was prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished.
Mrs. Bennet had the satisfaction of knowing that she would be able to show her married daughter in the neighbourhood before the banishment to the North.
When Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, he sent his permission for them to come. It was settled, that as soon as the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn.
That Wickham should consent to such a scheme surprised Elizabeth. Had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him would have been the last object of her wishes.
Chapter 48
Their sister's wedding day arrived.
Jane and Elizabeth felt for her probably more than she felt for herself.
Their arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets.
They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to the door. Her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed, anxious, uneasy.
Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule, the door was thrown open, and she ran into the room.
Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and welcomed her with rapture. With an affectionate smile, gave her hand to Wickham, who followed his lady. And wished them both joy with an alacrity which showed no doubt of their happiness.
Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity, and he scarcely opened his lips.
The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Jane was shocked.
Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their congratulations. When at length they all sat down, she observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there.
Wickham was not distressed his manners were pleasing. Had his character and marriage been exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address would have delighted them all.
Elizabeth had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance. She sat down, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of a man who can show so little respect. She blushed, and Jane blushed. The cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour.
There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither of them talk fast enough. Wickham happened to sit near Elizabeth. He began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood.
She felt very unable to equal his good-humoured ease in her replies.
They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain. Lydia led voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world.
"Only think of its being three months since I went away. It seems but weeks I declare. Yet there have been things enough happened in the time. Good gracious!" she cried. "When I went away, I am sure I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! I thought it would be very good fun if I was."
Her father lifted up his eyes.
Jane was distressed.
Elizabeth looked expressively at Lydia. She, who never heard nor saw anything of which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, "Oh! mamma, do the people hereabouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not. We overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he should know it. I let down the side-glass next to him, took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that he might see the ring. Then I bowed and smiled like anything."
Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up and ran out of the room. She returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to the dining parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with anxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand. To her eldest sister, she said, "Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go lower because I am a married woman."
It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Phillips, the Lucases, and all their other neighbours. Desired to hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham" by each of them. In the mean time, she went after dinner to show her ring, and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.
"Well, mamma, and what do you think of my husband?" said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast room. "Is not he a charming man? I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go."
The visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham had received his commission before he left London. He was to join his regiment in the North at the end of two weeks.
"Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I do not at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?"
"Oh, lord! Yes;—there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all things. You and papa, and my sisters must come down and see us. We shall be at Newcastle all the winter. I dare say there will be some balls, and I will take care to get good partners for them all."
"I should like it beyond anything!" said her mother.
"And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind you. I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the winter is over."
"I thank you for my share of the favour," said Elizabeth; "but I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands."
No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short. She made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter and having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to all. To avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did think, than such as did not.
Wickham's affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected to find it, not equal to Lydia's for him. Their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather than by his. Elizabeth would have wondered why, without especially caring for her, he chose to elope with her at all. She felt certain that his flight was rendered necessary by the financial circumstances. If that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of havin
g a companion.
Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every occasion; no one was to compete with him. He did everything best in the world. She was sure he would kill more birds on the first of September, than anybody else in the country.
One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two elder sisters. "Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You were not by when I told mamma and the others all about it. Are not you curious to hear how it was managed?"
"No really," replied Elizabeth; "I think there cannot be too little said on the subject."
"La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were married, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together, and the others were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he would be married in his blue coat."
"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual. I thought it would never be over. By the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything. To be sure London was rather thin, but, yet, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away. If we were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes' time, and then we all set out. I recollected afterwards that if he had been prevented going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well."
"Mr. Darcy!" repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.
"Oh, yes!—he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!"
"If it was to be secret, say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further," said Jane.
"Oh! Certainly, we will ask you no questions," said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity.
"Thank you, for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would be angry," said Lydia.
On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her power, by running away. But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible, or at least it was impossible not to try for information.
Mr. Darcy had been at her sister's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go.
Conjectures about the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her brain. But she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such suspense. Hastily seizing a sheet of paper, she wrote a short letter to her aunt requesting an explanation.
"You may readily comprehend what my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected with any of us should have been amongst you at such a time. For, he is a stranger to our family comparatively speaking. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in secrecy."
Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall. Elizabeth was glad of it. Till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.
Chapter 49
Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter as soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it than, hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to be interrupted. She sat down on one of the benches and prepared to be happy. The length of the letter convinced her that it did not contain a denial.
"Gracechurch Street, Sept. 6.
"MY DEAR NIECE,
"I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole morning to answering it. I foresee that a little writing will not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your application. I did not expect it from you. Do not think me angry, for I only mean to let you know that I had not imagined such inquiries to be necessary on your side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am. Nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned would have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit.
"On the very day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called and was shut up with him several hours. It was all over before I arrived, so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as yours seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were. he had seen and talked with them both, Wickham repeatedly, Lydia once. From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after ourselves and came to town with the resolution of hunting for them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to himself that Wickham's worthlessness had not been so well known. Had his character been known it would have been impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride and confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to lay his private actions open to the world. His character was to speak for itself. He called it his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on by himself. If he had another motive, I am sure it would never disgrace him. He had been some days in town before he was able to discover them. He had something to direct his search, which was more than we had. The consciousness of this was another reason for his resolving to follow us.
"There is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, and was dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapprobation, though he did not say what. She then took a large house in Edward Street and has since maintained herself by letting lodgings. This Mrs. Younge was, he knew, well acquainted with Wickham. He went to her for intelligence of him as soon as he got to town. It was two or three days before he could get from her what he wanted. She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without bribery and corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found. Wickham had gone to her on their first arrival in London. Had she been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken up their abode with her. At length, our kind friend procured the wished-for direction. He saw Wickham and afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her had been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful situation. Offering his assistance to return her friends and family as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her. He found Lydia absolutely resolved on remaining where she was. She cared for none of her friends. She wanted no help of his. She would not hear of leaving Wickham. She was sure they should be married some time or other, and it did not much signify when. Since such were her feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a wedding. In his very first conversation with Wickham, he easily learnt marriage had never been his design. He confessed himself obliged to leave the regiment, on account of some debts of honour, which were very pressing. And lay all the ill-consequences of Lydia's flight on her folly alone. He meant to resign his commission immediately. As to his future situation, he could conjecture very little about it. He must go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew he should have nothing to live on.
"Mr. D
arcy asked him why he had not married your sister at once. Though Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have been able to do something for him, and his situation must have been benefited by marriage. Wickham still cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage in some other country. Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief.
"They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Wickham, of course, wanted more than he could get; but at length was reduced to be reasonable.
"Everything being settled between them, Mr. Darcy's next step was to make your uncle acquainted with it. He first called in Gracechurch street the evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner could not be seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further inquiry, that your father was still with him, but would quit town the next morning. He did not judge your father to be a person whom he could so properly consult as your uncle. Therefore readily postponed seeing him till after the departure of the former. He did not leave his name, and till the next day it was only known that a gentleman had called on business.
"On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, your uncle at home, and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together.
"They met again on Sunday, and then I saw him too. It was not all settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent off to Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy, Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character, after all. He has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done that he did not do himself. Though I am sure (and I do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it), your uncle would most readily have settled the whole.