To Make Sport for our Neighbours

by Ronald McGowan

  I found it a hard enough letter to write, and had scarce begun when the girls returned and asked whether I wished them to tell the news to their mother.

  “Just as you please." I replied

  "May we take my uncle's letter to read to her?"

  "Take whatever you like, and get away."

  Elizabeth took the letter from the writing table, and they went up stairs together, leaving me to my task.

  It was easy enough, in the end, for what else was I to say, but “Yes”? That and thanks for Gardiner’s efforts were all that could immediately be put on paper, but I resolved when next we met to make what accommodation I could to recompense this obligation.

  I could have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before me. In terms of grateful acknowledgment for the kindness of my brother, though expressed most concisely, I delivered on paper my perfect approbation of all that was done, and my willingness to fulfil the engagements that had been made for me. I had never before supposed that, could Wickham be prevailed on to marry my daughter, it would be done with so little inconvenience to myself, as by the present arrangement. I should scarcely be ten pounds a-year the loser, by the hundred that was to be paid them; for, what with her board and pocket allowance, and the continual presents in money, which passed to her, through her mother's hands, Lydia's expenses had been very little within that sum.

  That it would be done with such trifling exertion on my side, too, was another very welcome surprise; for, to tell the truth, my chief wish at present, was to have as little trouble in the business as possible. When the first transports of rage which had produced my activity in seeking her were over, I naturally returned to what I fear is my customary indolence. My letter was soon dispatched; for though dilatory in undertaking business, I am quick in its execution. I begged to know farther particulars of what I was indebted to my brother; but I was still too angry with Lydia, to send any message to her.

  I had very often wished, before this period of my life, that, instead of spending my whole income, I had laid by an annual sum, for the better provision of my children, and of my wife, if she survived me. I now wished it more than ever. Had I done my duty in that respect, Lydia need not have been indebted to her uncle, for whatever of honour or credit could now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of prevailing on one of the most worthless young men in Great Britain to be her husband, might then have rested in its proper place.

  I was seriously concerned, that a cause of so little advantage to any one, should be forwarded at the sole expense of my brother-in-law, and I was determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his assistance, and to discharge the obligation as soon as I could.

  The good news quickly spread through the house; and with proportionate speed through the neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with decent philosophy. To be sure it would have been more for the advantage of conversation, had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant farmhouse. But there was much to be talked of, in marrying her; and the good-natured wishes for her well-doing, which had proceeded before, from all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton, lost but little of their spirit in this change of circumstances, because with such an husband, her misery was considered certain.

  It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been down stairs, but on this happy day, she again took her seat at the head of her table, and in spirits oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her triumph. The marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object of her wishes, since Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of accomplishment, and her thoughts and her words ran wholly on those attendants of elegant nuptials, fine muslins, new carriages, and servants. She was busily searching through the neighbourhood for a proper situation for her daughter, and, without knowing or considering what their income might be, rejected many as deficient in size and importance.

  "Haye-Park might do," said she, "if the Gouldings would quit it, or the great house at Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger; but Ashworth is too far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for Purvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful."

  I allowed her to talk on without interruption, while the servants remained. But when they had withdrawn, I said to her,

  "Mrs. Bennet, before you take any, or all of these houses, for your son and daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into one house in this neighbourhood, they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the impudence of either, by receiving them at Longbourn."

  A long dispute followed this declaration; but as I was firm it soon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror, that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his daughter. I protested that she should receive from me no mark of affection whatever, on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend it. That my anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable resentment, as to refuse my daughter a privilege, without which her marriage would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all that she could believe possible. She was more alive to the disgrace, which the want of new clothes must reflect on her daughter's nuptials, than to any sense of shame at her eloping and living with Wickham, a fortnight before they took place.

  Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again. To my acknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurances of his eagerness to promote the welfare of any of our family; and concluded with entreaties that the subject might never be mentioned to him again. The principal purport of his letter was to inform us, that Mr. Wickham had resolved on quitting the Militia.

  "It was greatly my wish that he should do so," he added, "as soon as his marriage was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, in considering a 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; and, among his former friends, there are still some who are able and willing to assist him in the army. He has the promise of an ensigncy in General ——'s regiment, now quartered in the North. It is an advantage to have it so far from this part of the kingdom. He promises fairly, and I hope among different people, where they may each have a character to preserve, they will both be more prudent. 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; and 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 her mother.

  Your's, &c.

  E. Gardiner."

  Three of us in the household saw all the advantages of Wickham's removal from the ——shire, as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs. Bennet, was not so well pleased with it. Lydia's being settled in the North just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company, for she had by no means given up her plan of their residing in Hertfordshire, was a severe disappointment; and besides, it was such a pity that Lydia should be taken from a regiment where she was acquainted with every body, and had so many favourites.

  "She is so fond of Mrs. Forster," said she, "it will be quite shocking to send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she likes very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General ——'s regiment."

  Lydia’s request, for such it might be considered, of being admitted into her family again, before she set off for the North, received from me at first an absolute negative. But Jane and Elizabeth, who agreed in wishing, for the sake of their sister's feelings and consequence, that she should be noticed on her marriage by her parents, urged me so ea
rnestly, yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were married, that I allowed myself to be prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they wished. And their mother had the satisfaction of knowing, that she should be able to show her married daughter in the neighbourhood, before she was banished to the North.

  When I wrote again to my brother, therefore, I sent my permission for them to come; and it was settled, that as soon as the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn.

  Their sister's wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet them at ——, and they were to return in it, by dinner-time. Their arrival was dreaded by my elder daughters; and Jane more especially, who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had she been the culprit, was wretched in the thought of what her sister must endure.

  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, I sincerely hope, 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; gave her hand with an affectionate smile to Wickham, who followed his lady, and wished them both joy, with an alacrity which showed no doubt of their happiness.

  Their reception from me, to whom they then turned, was not quite so cordial. My countenance, I hope, rather gained in austerity; and I scarcely opened my lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was enough to provoke a saint. Elizabeth was obviously disgusted, and even Miss Bennet appeared shocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their congratulations, and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there.

  Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners were always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. I had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but I sat down, resolving within myself, to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an impudent man.

  There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither of them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near Elizabeth began enquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood, with a good humoured ease, which none felt able to equal in their replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led voluntarily to subjects, which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world.

  "Only think of its being three months," she cried, "since I went away; it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! Though I thought it would be very good fun if I was."

  I lifted up my eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw any thing of which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, "Oh! mamma, do the people here abouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he should know it, and so I let down the side glass next to him, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like any thing."

  Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room; and returned no more, till she heard us passing through the hall to the dining-parlour. She then joined us soon enough to see Lydia, with anxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say to her eldest sister,

  "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. Philips, the Lucases, and all their other neighbours, and to hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham," by each of them; and 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," said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast room, "and what do you think of my husband? 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."

  "Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don't 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, and 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 any thing!" said her mother.

  "And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind you; 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."

  Our visitors were not to remain above ten days with us. 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, than such as did not.

  Wickham's affection for Lydia, was just what one would have expected to find it; not equal to Lydia's for him. I had scarcely needed the 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 I would have wondered why, without violently caring for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had I not felt certain that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; 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, than any body else in the country.

  The pair of them lingered about with us their full ten days, becoming more annoying with each day that passed. I noticed that Wickham could not help making up to Elizabeth in his old fashion, attempting to join her on solitary walks, and offering to whisper to her in corners, but she soon set him right, as I had known she would.

  The day of his and Lydia's departure came, at last, and Mrs. Bennet was forced to submit to a separation, which, as her husband by no means entered into her scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to continue at least a twelvemonth.

  "Oh! my dear Lydia," she cried, "when shall we meet again?"

  "Oh, lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years perhaps."

  "Write to me very often, my dear."

  "As often as I can. But you know married women have never much time for writing. My sisters may write to me. They will have nothing else to do."

  Mr. Wickham's adieus were much more affectionate than his wife's. He smiled, looked handsome, and said many pretty things.

  "He is as fine a fellow," I could not help saying, as soon as they were out of the house, "as ever I saw. He simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud of him. I defy even Sir W
illiam Lucas himself, to produce a more valuable son-in-law."

  Chapter Thirty-one A Surfeit of Sons-in-Law

  The loss of her daughter made Mrs. Bennet very dull for several days.

  "I often think," said she, "that there is nothing so bad as parting with one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them."

  "This is the consequence you see, Madam, of marrying a daughter," said Elizabeth. "It must make you better satisfied that your other four are single."

  “It is no such thing. Lydia does not leave me because she is married; but only because her husband's regiment happens to be so far off. If that had been nearer, she would not have gone so soon."

  But the spiritless condition which this event threw her into, was shortly relieved, and her mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by an article of news, which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper at Netherfield had received orders to prepare for the arrival of her master, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several weeks. Mrs. Bennet was quite in the fidgets. She looked at Jane, and smiled, and shook her head by turns.

  The subject which had been so warmly and repeatedly canvassed about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again.

  "As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes, my dear," said Mrs. Bennet, "you will wait on him of course."

  "No, no. You forced me into visiting him last year, and promised if I went to see him, he should marry one of my daughters. But it ended in nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool's errand again."

  My wife represented to me how absolutely necessary such an attention would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on his returning to Netherfield.