Chapter 47

by Jane Austen

　　"I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth," said her uncle,as they drove from the town; "and really, upon seriousconsideration, I am much more inclined than I was to judge asyour eldest sister does on the matter. It appears to me so veryunlikely that any young man should form such a design againsta girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless, and whowas actually staying in his colonel's family, that I am stronglyinclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friendswould not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed againby the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? Histemptation is not adequate to the risk!""Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening up for amoment."Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of youruncle's opinion. It is really too great a violation of decency,honour, and interest, for him to be guilty of. I cannot think sovery ill of Wickham. Can you yourself, Lizzy, so wholly givehim up, as to believe him capable of it?""Not, perhaps, of neglecting his own interest; but of every otherneglect I can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so!But I dare not hope it. Why should they not go on to Scotlandif that had been the case?""In the first place," replied Mr. Gardiner, "there is no absoluteproof that they are not gone to Scotland.""Oh! but their removing from the chaise into a hackney coach issuch a presumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to befound 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 exceptionalpurpose. It is not likely that money should be very abundant oneither side; and it might strike them that they could be moreeconomically, though less expeditiously, married in Londonthan in Scotland."But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why musttheir marriage be private? Oh, no, no-- this is not likely. Hismost particular friend, you see by Jane's account, waspersuaded of his never intending to marry her. Wickham willnever marry a woman without some money. He cannot affordit. And what claims has Lydia-- what attraction has she beyondyouth, health, and good humour that could make him, for hersake, forego every chance of benefiting himself by marryingwell? As to what restraint the apprehensions of disgrace in thecorps might throw on a dishonourable elopement with her, I amnot able to judge; for I know nothing of the effects that such astep might produce. But as to your other objection, I am afraidit will hardly hold good. Lydia has no brothers to step forward;and he might imagine, from my father's behaviour, from hisindolence and the little attention he has ever seemed to give towhat was going forward in his family, that he would do aslittle, and think as little about it, as any father could do, in sucha matter.""But can you think that Lydia is so lost to everything but loveof him as to consent to live with him on any terms other thanmarriage?""It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed," replied Elizabeth,with tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of decency andvirtue in such a point should admit of doubt. But, really, Iknow not what to say. Perhaps I am not doing her justice. Butshe is very young; she has never been taught to think onserious subjects; and for the last half-year, nay, for atwelvemonth-- she has been given up to nothing but amusementand vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in themost idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinions thatcame in her way. Since the ----shire were first quartered inMeryton, nothing but love, flirtation, and officers have been inher head. She has been doing everything in her power bythinking and talking on the subject, to give greater-- what shallI call it? susceptibility to her feelings; which are naturally livelyenough. And we all know that Wickham has every charm ofperson and address that can captivate a woman.""But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does not think so veryill of Wickham as to believe him capable of the attempt.""Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatevermight be their former conduct, that she would think capable ofsuch an attempt, till it were proved against them? But Janeknows, as well as I do, what Wickham really is. We both knowthat he has been profligate in every sense of the word; that hehas neither integrity nor honour; that he is as false and deceitfulas he is insinuating.""And do you really know all this?" cried Mrs. Gardiner, whosecuriosity as to the mode of her intelligence was all alive."I do indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring. "I told you, theother day, of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and youyourself, when last at Longbourn, heard in what manner hespoke of the man who had behaved with such forbearance andliberality towards him. And there are other circumstances whichI am not at liberty-- which it is not worth while to relate; but hislies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. From whathe 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 as amiable and unpretending as wehave found her.""But does Lydia know nothing of this? can she be ignorant ofwhat you and Jane seem so well to understand?""Oh, yes! that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, andsaw so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation ColonelFitzwilliam, I was ignorant of the truth myself. And when Ireturned home, the ----shire was to leave Meryton in a week orfortnight's time. As that was the case, neither Jane, to whom Irelated the whole, nor I, thought it necessary to make ourknowledge public; for of what use could it apparently be to anyone, that the good opinion which all the neighbourhood had ofhim should then be overthrown? And even when it was settledthat Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity of openingher eyes to his character never occurred to me. That she couldbe in any danger from the deception never entered my head.That such a consequence as this could ensue, you may easilybelieve, was far enough from my thoughts.""When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had noreason, I suppose, to believe them fond of each other?""Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection oneither side; and had anything of the kind been perceptible, youmust be aware that ours is not a family on which it could bethrown away. When first he entered the corps, she was readyenough to admire him; but so we all were. Every girl in or nearMeryton was out of her senses about him for the first twomonths; but he never distinguished her by any particularattention; and, consequently, after a moderate period ofextravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way,and others of the regiment, who treated her with moredistinction, again became her favourites."It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could beadded to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interestingsubject, by its repeated discussion, no other could detain themfrom it long, during the whole of the journey. From Elizabeth'sthoughts it was never absent. Fixed there by the keenest of allanguish, self-reproach, she could find no interval of ease orforgetfulness.They travelled as expeditiously as possible, and, sleeping onenight on the road, reached Longbourn by dinner time the nextday. It was a comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane couldnot have been wearied by long expectations.The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, werestanding on the steps of the house as they entered the paddock;and, when the carriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprisethat lighted up their faces, and displayed itself over their wholebodies, in a variety of capers and frisks, was the first pleasingearnest of their welcome.Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them a hastykiss, hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came runningdown from her mother's apartment, immediately met her.Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filledthe eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anythinghad been heard of the fugitives."Not yet," replied Jane. "But now that my dear uncle is come, Ihope everything 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 twice. He wrote me a few lines onWednesday to say that he had arrived in safety, and to give mehis directions, which I particularly begged him to do. He merelyadded that he should not write again till he had something ofimportance to mention.""And my mother-- how is she? How are you all?""My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits aregreatly shaken. She is upstairs and will have great satisfactionin seeing you all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room.Mary and Kitty are, 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; andtheir conversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs.Gardiner were engaged with their children,. Was now put an endto by the approach of the whole party. Jane ran to her uncle andaunt, and welcomed and thanked them both, with alternatesmiles and tears.When they were all in the drawing-room, the questions whichElizabeth had already asked were of course repeated by theothers, and they soon found that Jane had no intelligence togive. The sanguine hope of good, however, which thebenevolence of her heart suggested had not yet deserted her;she still expected that it would all end well, and that everymorning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or herfather, to explain their proceedings, and, perhaps, announcetheir marriage.Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a fewminutes' conversation together, received them exactly as mightbe expected; with tears and lamentations of regret, invectivesagainst the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints ofher own sufferings and ill-usage; blaming everybody but theperson to whose ill-judging indulgence the errors of herdaughter must principally be owing."If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going toBrighton, with all my family, this would not have happened;but poor dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her. Why didthe Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure therewas some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not thekind 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 overruled, as I always am. Poor dear child! And nowhere's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fightWickham, wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, andwhat is to become of us all? The Collinses will turn us outbefore 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 herfamily, told her that he meant to be in London the very next day,and would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavour for recoveringLydia."Do not give way to useless alarm," added he; "though it isright to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to lookon it a 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 weknow 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 totown I shall go to my brother, and make him come home withme to Gracechurch Street; and then we may consult together asto what is to be done.""Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactlywhat I could most wish for. And now do, when you get totown, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are notmarried already, make them marry. And as for weddingclothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shallhave as much money as she chooses to buy them, after theyare married. And, above all, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting.Tell him what a dreadful state I am in, that I am frighted outof my wits-- and have such tremblings, such flutterings, allover me-- such spasms in my side and pains in my head, andsuch 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 herclothes till she has seen me, for she does not know which arethe best warehouses. Oh, brother, how kind you are! I knowyou will contrive it all."But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnestendeavours in the cause, could not avoid recommendingmoderation to her, as well in her hopes as her fear; and aftertalking with her in this manner till dinner was on the table, theyall left her to vent all her feelings on the housekeeper, whoattended in the absence of her daughters.Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was noreal occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did notattempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not prudenceenough to hold her tongue before the servants, while theywaited at table, and judged it better that one only of thehousehold, and the one whom they could most trust shouldcomprehend 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 apartmentsto 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, exceptthat the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger which she hadherself incurred in this business, had given more of fretfulnessthan usual to the accents of Kitty. As for Mary, she wasmistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with acountenance of grave reflection, soon after they were seated attable:"This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be muchtalked of. But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour intothe wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterlyconsolation."Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, sheadded, "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may drawfrom it this useful lesson: that loss of virtue in a female isirretrievable; that one false step involves her in endless ruin;that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful; and thatshe cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour towards theundeserving of the other sex."Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too muchoppressed to make any reply. Mary, however, continued toconsole herself with such kind of moral extractions from the evilbefore them.In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be forhalf-an-hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availedherself of the opportunity of making any inquiries, which Janewas equally eager to satisfy. After joining in generallamentations over the dreadful sequel of this event, whichElizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss Bennet couldnot assert to be wholly impossible, the former continued thesubject, by saying, "But tell me all and everything about it whichI have not already heard. Give me further particulars. What didColonel Forster say? Had they no apprehension of anythingbefore the elopement took place? They must have seen themtogether for ever.""Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected somepartiality, especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him anyalarm. I am so grieved for him! His behaviour was attentive andkind to the utmost. He was coming to us, in order to assure usof his concern, before he had any idea of their not being gone toScotland: when that apprehension first got abroad, it hastenedhis journey.""And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry?Did he know of their intending to go off? Had Colonel Forsterseen Denny himself?""Yes; but, when questioned by him, Denny denied knowinganything of their plans, and would not give his real opinionabout it. He did not repeat his persuasion of their notmarrying-- and from that, I am inclined to hope, he mighthave been misunderstood before.""And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of youentertained 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 withhim in marriage, because I knew that his conduct had not beenalways quite right. My father and mother knew nothing of that;they only felt how imprudent a match it must be. Kitty thenowned, with a very natural triumph on knowing more than therest of us, that in Lydia's last letter she had prepared her forsuch a step. She had known, it seems, of their being in love witheach other, many weeks.""But not before they went to Brighton?""No, I believe not.""And did Colonel Forster appear to think well of Wickhamhimself? Does he know he real character?""I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as heformerly did. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant.And since this sad affair has taken place, it is said that he leftMeryton greatly in debt; but I hope this may be false.""Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knewof him, this could not have happened!""Perhaps it would have been better," replied her sister. "But toexpose the former faults of any person without knowing whattheir present feelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted withthe best intentions.""Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note tohis 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 cannothelp laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, assoon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if youcannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for thereis but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I shouldnever be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. Youneed not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you donot like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I writeto them and sign my name 'Lydia Wickham.' What a good jokeit will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make myexcuses to Pratt for not keeping my engagement, and dancingwith him to-night. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when heknows all; and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball wemeet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when Iget to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend agreat slit in my worked muslin gown before they are packed up.Good-bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster. I hope you willdrink to our good journey. Your affectionate friend,"Lydia Bennet.""Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth when shehad finished it. What a letter is this, to be written at such amoment! But at least it shows that she was serious on thesubject of their journey. Whatever he might afterwardspersuade her to, it was not on her side a scheme ofinfamy. My poor father! how he must have felt it!"I never saw any one so shocked. He could not speak a wordfor full ten minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, andthe whole house in such confusion!""Oh! Jane," cried Elizabeth, "was there a servant belonging to itwho 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 atime is very difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though Iendeavoured to give her every assistance in my power, I amafraid I did not do so much as I might have done! But thehorror of what might possibly happen almost took from memy faculties.""Your attendance upon her has been too much for you. You donot look well. Oh that I had been with you! you have had everycare and anxiety upon yourself alone.""Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared inevery fatigue, I am sure; but I did not think it right for either ofthem. Kitty is slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much,that her hours of repose should not be broken in on. My auntPhillips came to Longbourn on Tuesday, after my father wentaway; and was so good as to stay till Thursday with me. Shewas of great use and comfort to us all. And Lady Lucas hasbeen very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning tocondole with us, and offered her services, or any of herdaughters', if they should be of use to us.""She had better have stayed at home," cried Elizabeth; "perhapsshe meant well, but, under such a misfortune as this, onecannot see too little of one's neighbours. Assistance isimpossible; condolence insufferable. Let them triumph over usat a distance, and be satisfied."She then proceeded to inquire into the measures which herfather had intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery ofhis daughter."He meant I believe," replied Jane, "to go to Epsom, the placewhere they last changed horses, see the postilions and try ifanything could be made out from them. His principal objectmust be to discover the number of the hackney coach whichtook them from Clapham. It had come with a fare fromLondon; and as he thought that the circumstance of agentleman and lady's removing from one carriage into anothermight be remarked he meant to make inquiries at Clapham. Ifhe could anyhow discover at what house the coachman hadbefore set down his fare, he determined to make inquiries there,and hoped it might not be impossible to find out the stand andnumber of the coach. I do not know of any other designs thathe had formed; but he was in such a hurry to be gone, and hisspirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in findingout even so much as this."