Chapter 52

by Jane Austen

　　Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to herletter as soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner inpossession of it than, hurrying into the little copse, whereshe was least likely to be interrupted, she sat down on one ofthe benches and prepared to be happy; for the length of theletter convinced her that it did not contain a denial."Gracechurch-street, Sept. 6.My Dear Niece,I have just received your letter, and shall devote this wholemorning to answering it, as I foresee that a little writingwill not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confessmyself surprised by your application; I did not expect it fromyou. Don't think me angry, however, for I only mean to letyou know that I had not imagined such enquiries to be necessaryon your side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgivemy impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am --and nothing but the belief of your being a party concernedwould have allowed him to act as he has done. But if you arereally innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit. On thevery day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle had amost unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy called, and was shut upwith him several hours. It was all over before I arrived; somy curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as your's seems tohave been. He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that he had found outwhere your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that he had seenand talked with them both; Wickham repeatedly, Lydia once.From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day afterourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting forthem. The motive professed was his conviction of its beingowing to himself that Wickham's worthlessness had not been sowell known as to make it impossible for any young woman ofcharacter to love or confide in him. He generously imputed thewhole to his mistaken pride, and confessed that he had beforethought it beneath him to lay his private actions open to theworld. His character was to speak for itself. He called it,therefore, his duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy anevil which had been brought on by himself. If he hadanother motive, I am sure it would never disgrace him. Hehad been some days in town, before he was able to discoverthem; but he had something to direct his search, which was morethan we had; and the consciousness of this was another reasonfor his resolving to follow us. There is a lady, it seems, aMrs. Younge, who was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, andwas dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapprobation,though he did not say what. She then took a large house inEdward-street, and has since maintained herself by lettinglodgings. This Mrs. Younge was, he knew, intimately acquaintedwith Wickham; and he went to her for intelligence of him assoon as he got to town. But it was two or three days before hecould get from her what he wanted. She would not betray hertrust, I suppose, without bribery and corruption, for shereally did know where her friend was to be found. Wickhamindeed had gone to her on their first arrival in London, andhad she been able to receive them into her house, they wouldhave taken up their abode with her. At length, however, ourkind friend procured the wished-for direction. They were in---- street. He saw Wickham, and afterwards insisted on seeingLydia. His first object with her, he acknowledged, had been topersuade her to quit her present disgraceful situation, andreturn to her friends as soon as they could be prevailed on toreceive her, offering his assistance, as far as it would go.But he found Lydia absolutely resolved on remaining where shewas. She cared for none of her friends; she wanted no help ofhis; she would not hear of leaving Wickham. She was sure theyshould be married some time or other, and it did not muchsignify when. Since such were her feelings, it only remained,he thought, to secure and expedite a marriage, which, in hisvery first conversation with Wickham, he easily learnt hadnever been his design. He confessed himself obliged to leavethe regiment, on account of some debts of honour, which werevery pressing; and scrupled not to lay all the ill-consequencesof Lydia's flight on her own folly alone. He meant to resignhis commission immediately; and as to his future situation, hecould conjecture very little about it. He must go somewhere,but he did not know where, and he knew he should have nothingto live on. Mr. Darcy asked him why he had not married yoursister at once. Though Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be veryrich, he would have been able to do something for him, and hissituation must have been benefited by marriage. But he found,in reply to this question, that Wickham still cherished thehope of more effectually making his fortune by marriage in someother country. Under such circumstances, however, he was notlikely to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief.They met several times, for there was much to be discussed.Wickham of course wanted more than he could get; but at lengthwas reduced to be reasonable. Every thing being settledbetween them, Mr. Darcy's next step was to make your uncleacquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch-streetthe evening before I came home. But Mr. Gardiner could not beseen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further enquiry, that your fatherwas still with him, but would quit town the next morning. Hedid not judge your father to be a person whom he could soproperly consult as your uncle, and therefore readily postponedseeing him till after the departure of the former. He did notleave his name, and till the next day it was only known that agentleman had called on business. On Saturday he came again.Your father was gone, your uncle at home, and, as I saidbefore, they had a great deal of talk together. They met againon Sunday, and then I saw him too. It was not all settledbefore Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent off toLongbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. I fancy,Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character,after all. He has been accused of many faults at differenttimes, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done thathe did not do himself; though I am sure (and I do not speak itto be thanked, therefore say nothing about it), your unclewould most readily have settled the whole. They battled ittogether for a long time, which was more than either thegentleman or lady concerned in it deserved. But at last youruncle was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to beof use to his niece, was forced to put up with only having theprobable credit of it, which went sorely against the grain; andI really believe your letter this morning gave him greatpleasure, because it required an explanation that would rob himof his borrowed feathers, and give the praise where it was due.But, Lizzy, this must go no farther than yourself, or Jane atmost. You know pretty well, I suppose, what has been done forthe young people. His debts are to be paid, amounting, Ibelieve, to considerably more than a thousand pounds, anotherthousand in addition to her own settled upon her, and hiscommission purchased. The reason why all this was to be doneby him alone, was such as I have given above. It was owing tohim, to his reserve and want of proper consideration, thatWickham's character had been so misunderstood, and consequentlythat he had been received and noticed as he was. Perhaps therewas some truth in this; though I doubt whether his reserve,or anybody's reserve, can be answerable for the event. Butin spite of all this fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may restperfectly assured that your uncle would never have yielded, ifwe had not given him credit for another interest in theaffair. When all this was resolved on, he returned again tohis friends, who were still staying at Pemberley; but it wasagreed that he should be in London once more when the weddingtook place, and all money matters were then to receive the lastfinish. I believe I have now told you every thing. It is arelation which you tell me is to give you great surprise;I hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure.Lydia came to us; and Wickham had constant admission to thehouse. He was exactly what he had been when I knew him inHertfordshire; but I would not tell you how little I wassatisfied with her behaviour while she staid with us, if Ihad not perceived, by Jane's letter last Wednesday, that herconduct on coming home was exactly of a piece with it, andtherefore what I now tell you can give you no fresh pain.I talked to her repeatedly in the most serious manner,representing to her all the wickedness of what she had done,and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family. If sheheard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure she did notlisten. I was sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollectedmy dear Elizabeth and Jane, and for their sakes had patiencewith her. Mr. Darcy was punctual in his return, and as Lydiainformed you, attended the wedding. He dined with us the nextday, and was to leave town again on Wednesday or Thursday.Will you be very angry with me, my dear Lizzy, if I take thisopportunity of saying (what I was never bold enough to saybefore) how much I like him. His behaviour to us has, in everyrespect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. Hisunderstanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing buta little more liveliness, and that, if he marry prudently,his wife may teach him. I thought him very sly; -- he hardlyever mentioned your name. But slyness seems the fashion. Prayforgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do notpunish me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never bequite happy till I have been all round the park. A lowphaeton, with a nice little pair of ponies, would be the verything. But I must write no more. The children have beenwanting me this half hour. Your's, very sincerely,M. Gardiner."The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutterof spirits, in which it was difficult to determine whetherpleasure or pain bore the greatest share. The vague andunsettled suspicions which uncertainty had produced of whatMr. Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's match,which she had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodnesstoo great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to bejust, from the pain of obligation, were proved beyond theirgreatest extent to be true! He had followed them purposely totown, he had taken on himself all the trouble and mortificationattendant on such a research; in which supplication had beennecessary to a woman whom he must abominate and despise, andwhere he was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason with,persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wishedto avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him topronounce. He had done all this for a girl whom he couldneither regard nor esteem. Her heart did whisper that he haddone it for her. But it was a hope shortly checked by otherconsiderations, and she soon felt that even her vanity wasinsufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her-- for a woman who had already refused him -- as able toovercome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence againstrelationship with Wickham. Brother-in-law of Wickham! Everykind of pride must revolt from the connection. He had, to besure, done much. She was ashamed to think how much. But hehad given a reason for his interference, which asked noextraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that heshould feel he had been wrong; he had liberality, and he hadthe means of exercising it; and though she would not placeherself as his principal inducement, she could, perhaps,believe that remaining partiality for her might assist hisendeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must bematerially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, toknow that they were under obligations to a person who couldnever receive a return. They owed the restoration of Lydia,her character, every thing, to him. Oh! how heartily did shegrieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever encouraged,every saucy speech she had ever directed towards him. Forherself she was humbled; but she was proud of him. Proud thatin a cause of compassion and honour, he had been able to getthe better of himself. She read over her aunt's commendationof him again and again. It was hardly enough; but it pleasedher. She was even sensible of some pleasure, though mixed withregret, on finding how steadfastly both she and her uncle hadbeen persuaded that affection and confidence subsisted betweenMr. Darcy and herself.She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by someone's approach; and before she could strike into another path,she was overtaken by Wickham."I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear sister?"said he, as he joined her."You certainly do," she replied with a smile; "but it does notfollow that the interruption must be unwelcome.""I should be sorry indeed, if it were. We were always goodfriends; and now we are better.""True. Are the others coming out?""I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in thecarriage to Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I find, fromour uncle and aunt, that you have actually seen Pemberley."She replied in the affirmative."I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it wouldbe too much for me, or else I could take it in my way toNewcastle. And you saw the old housekeeper, I suppose? PoorReynolds, she was always very fond of me. But of course shedid not mention my name to you.""Yes, she did.""And what did she say?""That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had-- not turned out well. At such a distance as that, youknow, things are strangely misrepresented.""Certainly," he replied, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped shehad silenced him; but he soon afterwards said,"I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month. We passedeach other several times. I wonder what he can be doingthere.""Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh," saidElizabeth. "It must be something particular, to take him thereat this time of year.""Undoubtedly. Did you see him while you were at Lambton?I thought I understood from the Gardiners that you had.""Yes; he introduced us to his sister.""And do you like her?""Very much.""I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved withinthis year or two. When I last saw her, she was not verypromising. I am very glad you liked her. I hope she will turnout well.""I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age.""Did you go by the village of Kympton?""I do not recollect that we did.""I mention it, because it is the living which I ought to havehad. A most delightful place! -- Excellent Parsonage House!It would have suited me in every respect.""How should you have liked making sermons?""Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of myduty, and the exertion would soon have been nothing. One oughtnot to repine; -- but, to be sure, it would have been such athing for me! The quiet, the retirement of such a life wouldhave answered all my ideas of happiness! But it was not to be.Did you ever hear Darcy mention the circumstance, when you werein Kent?""I have heard from authority, which I thought as good,that it was left you conditionally only, and at the will of thepresent patron.""You have. Yes, there was something in that; I told you sofrom the first, you may remember.""I did hear, too, that there was a time, when sermon-makingwas not so palatable to you as it seems to be at present; thatyou actually declared your resolution of never taking orders,and that the business had been compromised accordingly.""You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You mayremember what I told you on that point, when first we talkedof it."They were now almost at the door of the house, for shehad walked fast to get rid of him; and unwilling, for hersister's sake, to provoke him, she only said in reply, witha good-humoured smile,"Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know.Do not let us quarrel about the past. In future, I hope weshall be always of one mind."She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionategallantry, though he hardly knew how to look, and theyentered the house.