Pride and Prejudice
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 in the object of her 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 Philips 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 could 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 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 XLVIII.
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 still 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 the 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 for
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 first 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 sympathize 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, 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 advise you, then,
my 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 offence.
“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 relation with whom he kept up
any connection, and it was certain that he had no near one living. His
former acquaintance 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 the
town, but his debts of honour were still more formidable. Mr. Gardiner
did not attempt to conceal these particulars from the Longbourn family;