Pride and Prejudice
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 her 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 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,” cried he, “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 least learnt to be cautious, and
you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter 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 XLIX.
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.”
/* RIGHT “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 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 quietly at Longbourn, and depend on
my diligence and care. Send back your answer as soon 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 have thought him,” said her
sister. “My dear father, I congratulate you.”
“And have you answered the letter?” said Elizabeth.
“No; but it must be done soon.”
Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose no more time before he
wrote.
“Oh! my dear father,” she cried, “come back and write immediately.
Consider how important every moment is in such a case.”
“Let me write for you,” said Jane, “if you dislike the trouble
yourself.”
“I dislike it very much,” he replied; “but it must be done.”
And so saying, he turned back with them, and walked towards the house.
“And--may I ask?” said Elizabeth; “but the terms, I suppose, must be
complied with.”
“Complied with! I am only ashamed of his asking so little.”
“And they _must_ marry! Yet he is _such_ a man.”
“Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there
are two things that I want very much to know:--one is, how much money
your uncle has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how I am ever
to pay him.”
“Money! my uncle!” cried Jane, “what do you mean, sir?”
“I mean that no man in his proper senses would marry Lydia on so slight
a temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after I am
gone.”
“That is very true,” said Elizabeth; “though it had not occurred to me
before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh,
it must be my uncle’s doings! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has
distressed himself. A small sum could not do all this.”
“No,” said her father. “Wickham’s a fool if he takes her with a farthing
less than ten thousand pounds: I should be sorry to think so ill of him,
in the very beginning of our relationship.”
“Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be
repaid?”
Mr. Bennet made no answer; and each of them, deep in thought, continued
silent till they reached the house. Their father then went to the
library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room.
“And they are really to be married!” cried Elizabeth, as soon as they
were by themselves. “How strange this is! and for _this_ we are to be
thankful. That they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness,
and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice! Oh, Lydia!”
“I comfort myself with thinking,” replied Jane, “that he certainly would
not marry Lydia, if he had not a real regard for her. Though our kind
uncle has done something towards clearing him, I cannot believe that ten
thousand pounds, or anything like it, has been advanced. He has children
of his own, and may have more. How could he spare half ten thousand