Pride and Prejudice
few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended;
but at the same time there was no one whose knowledge of a sister’s
frailty would have mortified her so much. Not, however, from any fear of
disadvantage from it individually to herself; for at any rate there
seemed a gulf impassable between them. Had Lydia’s marriage been
concluded on the most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that
Mr. Darcy would connect himself with a family, where to every other
objection would now be added an alliance and relationship of the nearest
kind with the man whom he so justly scorned.
From such a connection she could not wonder that he should shrink. The
wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his
feeling in Derbyshire, could not in rational expectation survive such a
blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she
hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no
longer hope to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there
seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that
she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they
should meet.
What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the
proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago would now
have been gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she
doubted not, as the most generous of his sex. But while he was mortal,
there must be a triumph.
She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in
disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and
temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It
was an union that must have been to the advantage of both: by her ease
and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved;
and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must
have received benefit of greater importance.
But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what
connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and
precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their
family.
How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported in tolerable independence she
could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could belong to
a couple who were only brought together because their passions were
stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture.
Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet’s
acknowledgments he briefly replied, with assurances 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,” 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.--Yours, etc.
“E. GARDINER.”
Mr. Bennet and his daughters 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 everybody, 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.”
His daughter’s request, for such it might be considered, of being
admitted into her family again, before she set off for the north,
received 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 him so earnestly, yet so rationally and so mildly, to receive her
and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were married, that he was
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 Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, therefore, he
sent his permission for them to come; and it was settled, that, as soon
as the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn. Elizabeth
was surprised, however, that Wickham should consent to such a scheme;
and, had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with him
would have been the last object of her wishes.
CHAPTER LI.
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 dinnertime. Their arrival
was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets--and Jane more especially, who
gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had _she_
been the culprit, and 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 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 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 Miss Bennet was 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. Elizabeth
had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat
down, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the
impudence of an impudent man. _She_ blushed, and Jane blushed; but 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; and Wickham, who happened to sit near
Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood,
with a good-humoured ease, which she felt very unable to equal in her
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.”
Her father lifted up his eyes, Jane was distressed, Elizabeth looked
expressively at Lydia; but 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; 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 anything.”
Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up and ran out of the room;
and 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, 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 meantime 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 anything!” 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