Chapter 46

by Jane Austen

　　Elizabeth had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from Jane on their first arrivalat Lambton; and this disappointment had been renewed on each of the mornings that had nowbeen spent there; but on the third her repining was over, and her sister justified, by the receipt oftwo letters from her at once, on one of which was marked that it had been missent elsewhere.Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as Jane had written the direction remarkably ill.They had just been preparing to walk as the letters came in; and her uncle and aunt, leaving her toenjoy them in quiet, set off by themselves. The one missent must first be attended to; it had beenwritten five days ago. The beginning contained an account ofall their little parties and engagements, with such news as thecountry afforded; but the latter half, which was dated a daylater, and written in evident agitation, gave more importantintelligence. It was to this effect:"Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurredof a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid ofalarming you-- be assured that we are all well. What I have tosay relates to poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night,just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, toinform us that she was gone off to Scotland with one of hisofficers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our surprise.To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. Iam very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! But Iam willing to hope the best, and that his character has beenmisunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believehim, but this step (and let us rejoice over it) marks nothing badat heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must knowmy father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadlygrieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I that wenever let them know what has been said against him! we mustforget it ourselves. They were off Saturday night about twelve,as is conjectured, but were not missed till yesterday morning ateight. The express was sent off directly. My dear Lizzy, theymust have passed within ten miles of us. Colonel Forster givesus reason to expect him here soon. Lydia left a few lines for hiswife, informing her of their intention. I must conclude, for Icannot be long from my poor mother. I am afraid you will notbe able to make it out, but I hardly know what I have written."Without allowing herself time for consideration, and scarcelyknowing what she felt, Elizabeth on finishing this letter instantlyseized the other, and opening it with the utmost impatience, readas follows: it had been written a day later than the conclusion ofthe first."By this time, my dearest sister, you have received my hurriedletter; I wish this may be more intelligible, but though notconfined for time, my head is so bewildered that I cannot answerfor being coherent. Dearest Lizzy, I hardly know what I wouldwrite, but I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed.Imprudent as the marriage between Mr. Wickham and our poorLydia would be, we are now anxious to be assured it has takenplace, for there is but too much reason to fear they are not goneto Scotland. Colonel Forster came yesterday, having leftBrighton the day before, not many hours after the express.Though Lydia's short letter to Mrs. F. gave them to understandthat they were going to Gretna Green, something was droppedby Denny expressing his belief that W. never intended to gothere, or to marry Lydia at all, which was repeated to ColonelF., who, instantly taking the alarm, set off from B., intending totrace their route. He did trace them easily to Clapham, but nofurther; for on entering that place, they removed into a hackneycoach, and dismissed the chaise that brought them from Epsom.All that is known after this is, that they were seen to continuethe London road. I know not what to think. After makingevery possible inquiry on that side London, Colonel F. came oninto Hertfordshire, anxiously renewing them at all the turnpikes,and at the inns in Barnet and Hatfield, but without any success--no such people had been seen to pass through. With the kindestconcern he came on to Longbourn, and broke his apprehensionsto us in a manner most creditable to his heart. I am sincerelygrieved for him and Mrs. F., but no one can throw any blameon them. Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My fatherand mother believe the worst, but I cannot think so ill of him.Many circumstances might make it more eligible for them to bemarried privately in town than to pursue their first plan; and evenif he could form such a design against a young woman ofLydia's connections, which is not likely, can I suppose her solost to everything? Impossible! I grieve to find, however, thatColonel F. is not disposed to depend upon their marriage; heshook his head when I expressed my hopes, and said he fear W.was not a man to be trusted. My poor mother is really ill, andkeeps her room. Could she exert herself, it would be better; butthis is not to be expected. And as to my father, I never in mylife saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has anger for havingconcealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence,one cannot wonder. I am truly glad, dearest Lizzy, that youhave been spared something of these distressing scenes; butnow, as the first shock is over, shall I own that I long for yourreturn? I am not so selfish, however, as to press for it, ifinconvenient. Adieu! I take up my pen again to do what Ihave just told you I would not; but circumstances are such thatI cannot help earnestly begging you all to come here as soon aspossible. I know my dear uncle and aunt so well, that I am notafraid of requesting it, though I have still something more toask of the former. My father is going to London with ColonelForster instantly, to try to discover her. What he means to doI am sure I know not; but his excessive distress will not allowhim to pursue any measure in the best and safest way, andColonel Forster is obliged to be at Brighton again to-morrowevening. In such and exigence, my uncle's advice and assistancewould be everything in the world; he will immediatelycomprehend what I must feel, and I rely upon his goodness.""Oh! where, where is my uncle?" cried Elizabeth, darting fromher seat as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him,without losing a moment of the time so precious; but as shereached the door it was opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcyappeared. Her pale face and impetuous manner made him start,and before he could recover himself to speak, she, in whosemind every idea was superseded by Lydia's situation, hastilyexclaimed, "I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I mustfind Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot bedelayed; I have not an instant to loose.""Good God! what is the matter?" cried he, with more feelingthan politeness; then recollecting himself, "I will not detain youa minute; but let me, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs.Gardiner. You are not well enough; you cannot go yourself."Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her and shefelt how little would be gained by her attempting to pursue them.Calling back the servant, therefore, she commissioned him,though in so breathless an accent as made her almostunintelligible, to fetch his master and mistress home instantly.On his quitting the room she sat down, unable to supportherself, and looking so miserably ill, that it was impossible forDarcy to leave her, or to refrain from saying, in a tone ofgentleness and commiseration, "Let me call your maid. Isthere nothing you could take to give you present relief? Aglass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill.""No, I thank you," she replied, endeavouring to recover herself."There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I amonly distressed by some dreadful news which I have justreceived from Longbourn."She burst into tears as she alluded to it, and for a few minutescould not speak another word. Darcy, in wretched suspense,could only say something indistinctly of his concern, andobserve her in compassionate silence. At length she spokeagain. "I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadfulnews. It cannot be concealed from any one. My younger sisterhas left all her friends-- has eloped; has thrown herself into thepower of-- of Mr. Wickham. They are gone off together fromBrighton. You know him too well to doubt the rest. She hasno money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to-- sheis lost for ever."Darcy was fixed in astonishment. "When I consider," she addedin a yet more agitated voice, "that I might have prevented it!I, who knew what he was. Had I but explained some part ofit only-- some part of what I learnt, to my own family! Had hischaracter been known, this could not have happened. But it isall-- all too late now.""I am grieved indeed," cried Darcy; "grieved-- shocked. But isit certain-- absolutely certain?""Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night, andwere traced almost to London, but not beyond; they arecertainly not gone to Scotland.""And what has been done, what has been attempted, to recoverher?""My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg myuncle's immediate assistance; and we shall be off, I hope, inhalf-an-hour. But nothing can be done-- I know very well thatnothing can be done. How is such a man to be worked on?How are they even to be discovered? I have not the smallesthope. It is every way horrible!"Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence."When my eyes were opened to his real character-- Oh! had Iknown what I ought, what I dared to do! But I knew not-- Iwas afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!"Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, andwas walking up and down the room in earnest meditation, hisbrow contracted, his air gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, andinstantly understood it. Her power was sinking; everythingmust sink under such a proof of family weakness, such anassurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither wondernor condemn, but the belief of his self-conquest brought nothingto her consolatory to her bosom, afforded no palliation of herdistress. It was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make herunderstand her own wishes; and never had she so honestly feltthat she could have loved him, as now, when all love must bevain.But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia--the humiliation, the misery she was bringing on them all, soonswallowed up every private care; and covering her face with herhandkerchief, Elizabeth was soon lost to everything else; and,after a pause of several minutes, was only recalled to a sense ofher situation by the voice of her companion, who, in a mannerwhich, though it spoke compassion, spoke likewise restraint,said, "I am afraid you have been long desiring my absence, norhave I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, thoughunavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything could beeither said or done on my part that might offer consolation tosuch distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes,which may seem purposely to ask for your thanks. Thisunfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's having thepleasure of seeing you at Pemberley to-day.""Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy. Saythat urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal theunhappy truth as long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long."He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed hissorrow for her distress, wished it a happier conclusion thanthere was at present reason to hope, and leaving hiscompliments for her relations, with only one serious, partinglook went away.As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it wasthat they should ever see each other again on such terms ofcordiality as had marked their several meetings in Derbyshire;and as she threw a retrospective glance over the whole of theiracquaintance, so full of contradictions and varieties, sighed atthe perverseness of those feelings which would now havepromoted its continuance, and would formerly have rejoiced inits termination.If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection,Elizabeth's change of sentiment will be neither improbable norfaulty. But if otherwise-- if regard springing from such sourcesis unreasonable or unnatural, in comparison of what is so oftendescribed as arising on a first interview with its object, and evenbefore two words have been exchanged, nothing can be said inher defence, except that she had given somewhat of a trial to thelatter method in her partiality for Wickham, and that its illsuccess might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the other lessinteresting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw himgo with regret; and in this early example of what Lydia's infamymust produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on thatwretched business. Never, since reading Jane's second letter,had she entertained a hope of Wickham's meaning to marry her.No one but Jane, she thought, could flatter herself with such anexpectation. Surprise was the least of her feelings on thisdevelopment. While the contents of the first letter remained inher mind, she was all surprise-- all astonishment that Wickhamshould marry a girl whom it was impossible he could marry formoney; and how Lydia could ever have attached him hadappeared incomprehensible. But no it was all too natural. Forsuch an attachment as this she might have sufficient charm; andthough she did not suppose Lydia to be deliberately engaging inan elopement without the intention of marriage, she had nodifficulty in believing that neither her virtue nor herunderstanding would preserve her from falling an easy prey.She had never perceived, while the regiment was inHertfordshire, that Lydia had any partiality for him; but she wasconvinced that Lydia wanted only encouragement to attachherself to anybody. Sometimes one officer, sometimes another,had been her favourite, as their attentions raised them in heropinion. Her affections had continually been fluctuating butnever without an object. The mischief of neglect and mistakenindulgence towards such a girl-- oh! how acutely did she nowfeel it!She was wild to be at home-- to hear, to see, to be upon thespot to share with Jane in the cares that must now fall whollyupon her, in a family so deranged, a father absent, a motherincapable of exertion, and requiring constant attendance; andthough almost persuaded that nothing could be done for Lydia,her uncle's interference seemed of the utmost importance, andtill he entered the room her impatience was severe. Mr. andMrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing by theservant's account that their niece was taken suddenly ill; butsatisfying them instantly on that head, she eagerly communicatedthe cause of their summons, reading the two letters aloud, anddwelling on the postscript of the last with trembling energy,though Lydia had never been a favourite with them, Mr. andMrs. Gardiner could not but be deeply afflicted. Not Lydiaonly, but all were concerned in it; and after the firstexclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner promisedevery assistance in his power. Elizabeth, though expecting noless, thanked him with tears of gratitude; and all three beingactuated by one spirit, everything relating to their journey wasspeedily settled. They were to be off as soon as possible. "Butwhat is to be done about Pemberley?" cried Mrs. Gardiner."John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent for us; was itso?""Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep ourengagement. That is all settled.""What is all settled?" repeated the other, as she ran into herroom to prepare. "And are they upon such terms as for her todisclose the real truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!"But wishes were vain, or at least could only serve to amuse herin the hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Elizabethbeen at leisure to be idle, she would have remained certain thatall employment was impossible to one so wretched as herself;but she had her share of business as well as her aunt, andamongst the rest there were notes to be written to all theirfriends at Lambton, with false excuses for their suddendeparture. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; andMr. Gardiner meanwhile having settled his account at the inn,nothing remained to be done but to go; and Elizabeth, after allthe misery of the morning, found herself, in a shorter space oftime than she could have supposed, seated in the carriage, andon the road to Longbourn.