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- pride-and-prejudice
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- could be done for Lydia, her uncle’s interference seemed of the utmost
importance, and till he entered the room the misery of her impatience
was severe. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm, supposing,
by the servant’s account, that their niece was taken suddenly ill; but
satisfying them instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the
cause of their summons, reading the two letters aloud, and dwelling on
the postscript of the last with trembling energy. Though Lydia had never
been a favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be
deeply affected. Not Lydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after
the first exclamations of surprise and horror, Mr. Gardiner readily
promised every assistance in his power. Elizabeth, though expecting no
less, thanked him with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated
by one spirit, everything relating to their journey was speedily
settled. They were to be off as soon as possible. “But what is to be
done about Pemberley?” cried Mrs. Gardiner. “John told us Mr. Darcy was
here when you sent for us;--was it so?”
“Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement.
_That_ is all settled.”
“What is all settled?” repeated the other, as she ran into her room to
prepare. “And are they upon such terms as for her to disclose the real
truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!”
But wishes were vain; or, at best, could serve only to amuse her in the
hurry and confusion of the following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure
to be idle, she would have remained certain that all employment was
impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share of
business as well as her aunt, and amongst the rest there were notes to
be written to all their friends at Lambton, with false excuses for their
sudden departure. An hour, however, saw the whole completed; and Mr.
Gardiner, meanwhile, having settled his account at the inn, nothing
remained to be done but to go; and Elizabeth, after all the misery of
the morning, found herself, in a shorter space of time than she could
have supposed, seated in the carriage, and on the road to Longbourn.
[Illustration:
“The first pleasing earnest of their welcome”
]
CHAPTER XLVII.
[Illustration]
“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, Lizzie, 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 a 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
forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to what
restraint the apprehensions 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 everything 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
everything 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 as 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.