by Jane Austen
“I should like it beyond any thing!” said her mother.
“And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind you;17 and 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.”
Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join his regiment at the end of a fortnight.
No one but Mrs. Bennet, regretted that their stay would be so short; and 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,18 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. She had scarcely needed her present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances;19 and if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of having a companion.
Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every thing best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on the first of September,20 than any body else in the country.
One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth,
“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.21 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 morning22 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.23 And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon.24 However, I did not hear above 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.25
“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt were horrid26 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,27 or any thing. To be sure London was rather thin,28 but however the Little Theatre29 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.30 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; and if we were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day.31 But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes' time, and then we all set out. However, 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!32 What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!”
“If it was to be secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”
“Oh! certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; “we will ask you no questions.”
“Thank you,” said Lydia, “for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would be angry.”
On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her power, by running away.33
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 as to 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; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what Lydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been intended.
“You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it—unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance.”
“Not that I shall though,” she added to herself, as she finished the letter; “and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out.”34
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.
1. That is, they felt more shame and concern.
2. at——: presumably at the church or neighborhood in London where they are getting married. The carriage would be the Bennets' own coach.
3. his lady: his wife.
4. easy assurance: uninhibited audacity or confidence; lack of embarrassment.
5. easy address: relaxed or uninhibited manner of speaking.
6. impudence … impudent: shamelessness … shameless.
7. This is one more example of Elizabeth's inclination to reflect upon and learn from her experiences, an inclination that few other characters in the book exhibit and that signals her worthiness as a heroine in the world of Jane Austen.
8. want of discourse: lack of conversation.
9. insensible: unaware.
10. curricle: an open carriage.
11. side glass: window of the carriage.
12. parade: show, ostentation.
13. Lydia refers to rules of precedence, which dictate, among other things, the order in which people should enter the dining room. Mr. and Mrs. Ben-net would enter first, followed by their daughters in order of birth. A married woman, however, takes precedence over a single one, so Lydia, as she triumphantly exclaims, now moves from last position to one just behind her mother and in front of her eldest sister, Jane. Lydia's statement suggests that the Bennets follow rules of precedence as a matter of course, even for purely family dinners, a practice that reveals the formality prevailing in this society.
14. This passage gives the strongest clue as to the size of the staff employed by the Bennets. Besides Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids (the latter two would be responsible for cleaning the house as well as probably serving as lady's maids to the Bennet daughters), a footman and a butler have earlier been mentioned. In addition, the Bennets most likely employ a coachman to drive their coach and a gardener to take care of their grounds; the coachman and gardener may each have a man assisting him. Finally, they almost certainly have a cook—sometimes the housekeeper could serve as a cook, but the glimpses provided of Mrs. Hill show her occupied with other things—as well as perhaps a s
cullery maid to assist the cook. This would result ultimately in an establishment of eight to eleven servants, which would be within the normal range for a family with their annual income.
15. breakfast room: this occurs after dinner, but just as a room would normally be chosen for breakfast because it lets in plenty of daylight, the same room might also be used after dinner during the summer, when it is still light outside.
16. Newcastle: a town very far north in England, almost to Scotland. See map on p. 742.
17. As a married woman, Lydia could host her unmarried sisters.
18. That is, it was desirable to avoid being left with Lydia and Wickham and Mrs. Bennet and have to watch their foolish or irresponsible behavior.
19. distress of circumstances: a reference to his debts. Elizabeth's observations here about Wickham's feelings and motives confirm her earlier suppositions about why he ran away with Lydia (see p. 508).
20. first of September: the opening of the season for hunting game birds, par-ticulary the main ones of partridge and pheasant. By law killing them in the period before September 1 was forbidden.
21. By law a marriage normally had to take place in the parish where either the bride or groom resided.
22. Monday morning: this establishes that the marriage took place just over four weeks from Lydia and Wickham's arrival in London: they ran away on a Saturday night, and arrived in London on a Sunday; it was two weeks and a day later that Mr. Gardiner wrote to say that they had been found and the marriage arranged; Lydia then stayed, as she reveals below, for two weeks at the Gardiners (for more detail on dates, see chronology, pp. 717-718). The reason for and significance of this timing is discussed in note 30 below.
23. distracted: mad, frantic. The term shows Lydia's tendency to exaggerate.
24. Mrs. Gardiner would of course be trying to make Lydia understand the error of her earlier conduct.
25. blue coat: dark colors like blue had become more fashionable for men (see p. 15, note 3).
26. horrid: a slang term that Jane Austen generally puts in the mouth of vulgar characters who tend to exaggerate. Lydia uses it again in this speech.
27. scheme: plan (of activity).
28. thin: sparsely populated. Many left London during the summer, and this meant there were far fewer amusements there.
29. Little Theatre: the “Little Theatre in the Haymarket” (so-called to distinguish it from the larger opera house, or King's Theatre, in the same location). The Licensing Act then in force permitted only three theaters in London to present spoken drama. Covent Garden and Drury Lane, the two largest, could present plays most of the year, and the Little Theatre was allowed to present plays from mid-June to mid-September, when the other two were closed.
30. Mr. Stone: this could be Lydia's mistaken version of “Haggerston,” the man Mr. Gardiner mentioned in his letters as helping him with the marriage settlement. Whether that is the case or not, it is possible that the business he has with Mr. Gardiner is essential to the wedding, which would make Lydia's complaint about him especially ridiculous. By law a license for marriage could only be issued after one of the couple had resided in the appropriate parish for four weeks—this is why Lydia waited two weeks at the Gardiners'. Since Wickham has just fulfilled this requirement on the previous day, a Sunday (not a normal day for conducting business), there is a good chance that the purpose of the man meeting with Mr. Gardiner is to bring the marriage license.
31. By law a marriage had to be performed between 8 a.m. and noon. Lydia already stated that they were scheduled to meet at 11, so if Mr. Gardiner were detained too long, the marriage would have to be postponed until the next day.
32. promised them so faithfully: the hero of Northanger Abbey, who likes to find fault with people's use of language, ridicules the redundancy of describing someone as having “promised so faithfully”: “A faithful promise! —That puzzles me.—I have heard of a faithful performance. But a faithful promise—the fidelity of promising!” In this case Lydia's use of the term signals both her lack of care in speaking, and her lack of fidelity in fulfilling her promises.
33. In other words, Elizabeth knows it would be improper to force such a secret; but since she also yearns to know, and Lydia indicates she could easily be made to tell, Elizabeth can only avoid committing such an impropriety by leaving the room.
34. Thus even a good person like Elizabeth, who earnestly wishes not to act dishonorably, will be willing to act that way if it becomes necessary for a vital purpose. This is something often seen in Jane Austen: while she presents, and praises, good characters, she does not idealize them to the point of pretending that they are saints who would never do anything wrong or never act on a less than pure motive. Many of the novels of the time—including those by her favorite authors, Samuel Richardson and Fanny Burney—tend to present unrealistically perfect heroes and heroines, and this forms a favorite target of Jane Austen's satire. For example, in her youthful story “Evelyn” she presents a family of such absurdly pure altruism that they gladly surrender money, their house and grounds, and their daughter's hand to a stranger who happens upon them and simply requests these things. In “Plan for a Novel” she humorously outlines a possible novel that represents the absolute reverse of her literary values: it includes a hero and heroine of absolute perfection, who are so pure and refined that the hero cannot even avow his love for her until the very end, while the heroine cannot bear that anyone might propose to her without first asking her father's permission. Of this projected novel, Jane Austen says, “All the Good will be unexceptionable in every respect—and there will be no foibles or weaknesses but with the Wicked, who will be completely depraved & infamous, hardly a resemblance of Humanity left in them.”
Chapter Ten
E lizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter, as soon as she possibly could.1 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; for 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, as I foresee that a little writing will not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your application;2 I did not expect it from you. Don't think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know, that I had not imagined such enquiries to be necessary on your side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my impertinence3 Your uncle is as much surprised as I am—and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned, would have allowed him to act as he has done.4 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 visitor5 Mr. Darcy called, and was shut up with him several hours. It was all over before I anived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as your's seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that he had seen and talked with them both, Wickham repeatedly, Lydia once. From what I can collect,6 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 worth-lessness had not been so well known, as to make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or confide in him.7 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 itself8 He called it, therefore, 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.9 He had been some days in town, before he was able to discover them; but he had some thing to direct his search, which was more than we had; and 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.10 She then took a large house in Edward-street,11 and has since main tained herself by letting lodgings.12 This Mrs. Younge was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Wickham; and he went to her for intel ligence of him, as soon as he got to town. But 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 indeed had gone to her, on their first arrival in London,13 and had she been able to receive them into her house, they would have taken up their abode with her. At length, however, our kind friend procured the wished-for direction.14 They were in——street.15 He saw Wick ham, and afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia. His first object with her, he acknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present disgraceful situation, and return to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive her, offering his assistance, as far as it would go. But 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 sig nify when. Since such were her feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite a marriage, which, in his very first conversation with Wickham, he easily learnt, had never been his design. He confessed himself obliged to leave the regiment, on
account of some debts of honour,16 which were very pressing; and scrupled not17 to lay all the ill-consequences of Lydia's flight, on her own folly alone.18 He meant to resign his commission19 immediately; and 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.20 Mr. Darcy 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. But he found, in reply to this question, that Wickham still cherished the hope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage, in some other country21 Under such circumstances, however, he was not likely to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief22 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.23 Every thing being settled between them, Mr. Darcy's next step was to make your uncle acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch-street the evening before I came home.24 But Mr. Gardiner could not be seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further enquiry, 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, and therefore readily postponed seeing him, till after the departure of the former.25. 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 express26 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. They battled it together for a long time, which was more