PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 47

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"I HAVE been thinking
it over again, Elizabeth," said her uncle as they drove from the town;
"and really, upon serious consideration, I am much more inclined than
I was to judge as your eldest sister does of the matter. It appears to
me so very unlikely that any young man should form such a design against
a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and who was actually
staying in his colonel's family, that I am strongly inclined to hope the
best. Could he expect that her friends would not step forward? Could he
expect to be noticed again by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel
Forster? His temptation is not adequate to the risk."

"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening up for a moment.

"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of your uncle's
  opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, and
  interest, for him to be guilty of it. I cannot think so very ill of
  Wickham. Can you, yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up as to believe
  him capable of it?"

"Not perhaps of neglecting his own interest. But of every other neglect
  I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I dare not
  hope it. Why should they not go on to Scotland, if that had been the
  case?"

"In the first place," replied Mr. Gardiner, "there is no absolute
  proof that they are not gone to Scotland."

"Oh! but their removing from the chaise into an hackney coach is
  such a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found
  on the Barnet road."

"Well, then -- supposing them to be in London. They may be there,
  though, for the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptionable purpose.
  It is not likely that money should be very abundant on either side;
  and it might strike them that they could be more economically, though
  less expeditiously, married in London, than in Scotland."

"But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must their
  marriage be private? Oh! no, no, this is not likely. His most particular
  friend, you see by Jane's account, was persuaded of his never intending
  to marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He
  cannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia, what attractions has she
  beyond youth, health, and good humour, that could make him, for her
  sake, forgo every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As
  to what restraint the apprehension of disgrace in the corps might throw
  on a dishonourable elopement with her, I am not able to judge; for I
  know nothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to
  your other objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has
  no brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father's
  behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has ever seemed
  to give to what was going forward in his family, that he would do as
  little, and think as little about it, as any father could do in such
  a matter."

"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to every thing but love
  of him, as to consent to live with him on any other terms than marriage?"

"It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed," replied Elizabeth,
  with tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of decency and virtue
  in such a point should admit of doubt. But, really, I know not what
  to say. Perhaps I am not doing her justice. But she is very young; she
  has never been taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last
  half year, nay, for a twelvemonth, she has been given up to nothing
  but amusement and vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time
  in the most idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions that
  came in her way. Since the ----shire were first quartered in Meryton,
  nothing but love, flirtation, and officers have been in her head. She
  has been doing every thing in her power, by thinking and talking on
  the subject, to give greater -- what shall I call it? -- susceptibility
  to her feelings, which are naturally lively enough. And we all know
  that Wickham has every charm of person and address that can captivate
  a woman."

"But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does not think so ill
  of Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt."

"Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might
  be their former conduct, that she would believe capable of such an attempt,
  till it were proved against them? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what
  Wickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in every
  sense of the word. That he has neither integrity nor honour. That he
  is as false and deceitful, as he is insinuating."

"And do you really know all this?" cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose curiosity
  as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive.

"I do, indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring. "I told you the other
  day, of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and you, yourself, when
  last at Longbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man who had
  behaved with such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there
  are other circumstances which I am not at liberty -- which it is not
  worth while to relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family
  are endless. From what he said of Miss Darcy, I was thoroughly prepared
  to see a proud, reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary
  himself. He must know that she was amiable and unpretending as we have
  found her."

"But does Lydia know nothing of this? Can she be ignorant of what
  you and Jane seem so well to understand?"

"Oh, yes! -- that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent,
  and saw so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation, Colonel Fitzwilliam,
  I was ignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the ----shire
  was to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight's time. As that was the
  case, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it necessary
  to make our knowledge public; for of what use could it apparently be
  to any one that the good opinion which all the neighbourhood had of
  him should then be overthrown? And even when it was settled that Lydia
  should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of opening her eyes to his
  character never occurred to me. That she could be in any danger from
  the deception never entered my head. That such a consequence as this
  should ensue, you may easily believe was far enough from my thoughts."

"When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason,
  I suppose, to believe them fond of each other."

"Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on either
  side; and had any thing of the kind been perceptible, you must be aware
  that ours is not a family on which it could be thrown away. When first
  he entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we
  all were. Every girl in or near Meryton was out of her senses about
  him for the first two months; but he never distinguished her by any
  particular attention, and consequently, after a moderate period of extravagant
  and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and others of the regiment
  who treated her with more distinction again became her favourites."

It may be easily believed that, however little of novelty could be
  added to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject
  by its repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long,
  during the whole of the journey. From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never
  absent. Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self-reproach, she
  could find no interval of ease or forgetfulness.

They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and, sleeping one night
  on the road, reached Longbourn by dinner-time the next day. It was a
  comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have been wearied
  by long expectations.

The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standing
  on the steps of the house as they entered the paddock; and when the
  carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up their
  faces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies in a variety of
  capers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome.

Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them an hasty kiss,
  hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running down stairs
  from her mother's apartment, immediately met her.

Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled
  the eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether any thing had
  been heard of the fugitives.

"Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my dear uncle is come, I
  hope every thing will be well."

"Is my father in town?"

"Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you word."

"And have you heard from him often?"

"We have heard only once. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday, to
  say that he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which
  I particularly begged him to do. He merely added that he should not
  write again till he had something of importance to mention."

"And my mother -- How is she? How are you all?"

"My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly
  shaken. She is up stairs, and will have great satisfaction in seeing
  you all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank
  Heaven! are quite well."

"But you -- How are you?" cried Elizabeth. "You look pale. How
  much you must have gone through!"

Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well; and
  their conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner
  were engaged with their children, was now put an end to by the approach
  of the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and
  thanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears.

When they were all in the drawing room, the questions which Elizabeth
  had already asked were of course repeated by the others, and they soon
  found that Jane had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of good,
  however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested, had not yet deserted
  her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that every morning
  would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father, to explain
  their proceedings, and perhaps announce the marriage.

Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutes
  conversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; with
  tears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villainous
  conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill usage;
  blaming every body but the person to whose ill-judging indulgence the
  errors of her daughter must be principally owing.

"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point of going to
  Brighton, with all my family, this would not have happened; but poor
  dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever
  let her go out of their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect
  or other on their side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a
  thing, if she had been well looked after. I always thought they were
  very unfit to have the charge of her; but I was over-ruled, as I always
  am. Poor dear child! And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know
  he will fight Wickham wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed,
  and what is to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out, before
  he is cold in his grave; and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do
  not know what we shall do."

They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner,
  after general assurances of his affection for her and all her family,
  told her that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would
  assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia.

"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he; "though it is right
  to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as
  certain. It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days
  more, we may gain some news of them, and till we know that they are
  not married, and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the
  matter over as lost. As soon as I get to town, I shall go to my brother
  and make him come home with me to Gracechurch Street, and then we may
  consult together as to what is to be done."

"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what
  I could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out,
  wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, make them
  marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but
  tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chuses to buy them, after
  they are married. And, above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting.
  Tell him what a dreadful state I am in, -- that I am frightened out
  of my wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings all over me such
  spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart,
  that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Lydia,
  not to give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for
  she does not know which are the best warehouses. Oh, brother, how kind
  you are! I know you will contrive it all."

But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavours
  in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well
  in her hopes as her fears; and, after talking with her in this manner
  till dinner was on table, they left her to vent all her feelings on
  the housekeeper, who attended in the absence of her daughters.

Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no real
  occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt
  to oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold
  her tongue before the servants while they waited at table, and judged
  it better that one only of the household, and the one whom they could
  most trust, should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject.

In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had
  been too busily engaged in their separate apartments, to make their
  appearance before. One came from her books, and the other from her toilette.
  The faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible
  in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger
  which she had herself incurred in the business, had given something
  more of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary,
  she was mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance
  of grave reflection, soon after they were seated at table,

"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much talked
  of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms
  of each other the balm of sisterly consolation."

Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added,
  "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this useful
  lesson: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable -- that one
  false step involves her in endless ruin -- that her reputation is no
  less brittle than it is beautiful, -- and that she cannot be too much
  guarded in her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex."

Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed
  to make any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with
  such kind of moral extractions from the evil before them.

In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for half
  an hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of the
  opportunity of making many enquiries, which Jane was equally eager to
  satisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequel
  of this event, which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss
  Bennet could not assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued
  the subject by saying, "But tell me all and every thing about it which
  I have not already heard. Give me farther particulars. What did Colonel
  Forster say? Had they no apprehension of any thing before the elopement
  took place? They must have seen them together for ever."

"Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality,
  especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am
  so grieved for him. His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost.
  He was coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he
  had any idea of their not being gone to Scotland; when that apprehension
  first got abroad, it hastened his journey."

"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he know
  of their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny himself?"

"Yes; but when questioned by him, Denny denied knowing any thing
  of their plan, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did
  not repeat his persuasion of their not marrying -- and from that, I
  am inclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood before."

"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained
  a doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?"

"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains! I
  felt a little uneasy -- a little fearful of my sister's happiness with
  him in marriage, because I knew that his conduct had not been always
  quite right. My father and mother knew nothing of that, they only felt
  how imprudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned, with a very natural
  triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's last letter
  she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of their
  being in love with each other many weeks."

"But not before they went to Brighton?"

"No, I believe not."

"And did Colonel Forster appear to think ill of Wickham himself?
  Does he know his real character?"

"I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he formerly
  did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant. And since this
  sad affair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly
  in debt; but I hope this may be false."

"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him,
  this could not have happened!"

"Perhaps it would have been better," replied her sister. "But to
  expose the former faults of any person, without knowing what their present
  feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions."

"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to
  his wife?"

"He brought it with him for us to see."

Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth.
  These were the contents:

"MY DEAR HARRIET,

You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing
  myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I
  am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall
  think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love,
  and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it
  no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going,
  if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater when
  I write to them and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it
  will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt,
  for not keeping my engagement and dancing with him to night. Tell him
  I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance
  with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send
  for my 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 shews 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 any one 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 Phillips 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 enquire 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 any thing
  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 enquiries at Clapham. If he could any
  how discover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare,
  he determined to make enquiries 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."

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1. Ebooks list page : 81
2. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 53
3. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 37
4. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 36
5. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 35
6. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 31
7. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 30
8. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 34
9. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 29
10. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 27
11. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 28
12. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 26
13. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 38
14. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 39
15. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 52
16. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 51