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- pride-and-prejudice
- text
- if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity
of having a companion.
Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every
occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did
everything best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds
on the first of September than anybody else in the country.
One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two
elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth,--
“Lizzy, I never gave _you_ an account of my wedding, I believe. You were
not by, when I told mamma, and the others, all about it. Are not you
curious to hear how it was managed?”
“No, really,” replied Elizabeth; “I think there cannot be too little
said on the subject.”
“La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were
married, you know, at St. Clement’s, because Wickham’s lodgings were in
that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven
o’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others
were to meet us at the church.
“Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid,
you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should
have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was
dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a
sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was
thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether
he would be married in his blue coat.
“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual: I thought it would never
be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand that my uncle and aunt
were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you’ll believe
me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a
fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything! To be sure, London was
rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open.
“Well, and so, just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was
called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you
know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so
frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away;
and if we were beyond the hour we could not be married all day. But,
luckily, he came back again in ten minutes’ time, and then we all set
out. However, I recollected afterwards, that if he _had_ been prevented
going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as
well.”
“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.
“Oh, yes! he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But, gracious me!
I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised
them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!”
“If it was to be a secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the
subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”
“Oh, certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; “we will
ask you no questions.”
“Thank you,” said Lydia; “for if you did, I should certainly tell you
all, and then Wickham would be so angry.”
On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her
power, by running away.
But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it
was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her
sister’s wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people,
where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go.
Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her
brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as
placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She
could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper,
wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what
Lydia had dropped, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been
intended.
“You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be to
know how a person unconnected with any of us, and, comparatively
speaking, a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such
a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it--unless it is,
for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to
think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with
ignorance.”
“Not that I _shall_, though,” she added to herself, and she finished the
letter; “and, my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable
manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it
out.”
Jane’s delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to
Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad of
it:--till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any
satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.
[Illustration:
“I am sure she did not listen.”
]
CHAPTER LII.
[Illustration]
Elizabeth had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to her letter as
soon as she possibly could. She was no sooner in possession of it, than
hurrying into the little copse, where she was least likely to be
interrupted, she sat down on one of the benches, and prepared to be
happy; for the length of the letter convinced her that it did not
contain a denial.
/* RIGHT “Gracechurch Street, _Sept. 6_. */
“My dear Niece,
“I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole
morning to answering it, as I foresee that a _little_ writing will
not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself
surprised by your application; I did not expect it from _you_.
Don’t think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know,
that I had not imagined such inquiries to be necessary on _your_
side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my
impertinence. Your uncle is as much surprised as I am; and nothing
but the belief of your being a party concerned would have allowed
him to act as he has done. But if you are really innocent and
ignorant, I must be more explicit. On the very day of my coming
home from Longbourn, your uncle had a most unexpected visitor. Mr.
Darcy called, and was shut up with him several hours. It was all
over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked
as _yours_ seems to have been. He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that he
had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that he
had seen and talked with them both--Wickham repeatedly, Lydia once.
From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only one day after
ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for
them. The motive professed was his conviction of its being owing to
himself that Wickham’s worthlessness had not been so well known as
to make it impossible for any young woman of character to love or
confide in him. He generously imputed the whole to his mistaken
pride, and confessed that he had before thought it beneath him to
lay his private actions open to the world. His character was to
speak for itself. He called it, therefore, his duty to step
forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on
by himself. If he _had another_ motive, I am sure it would never
disgrace him. He had been some days in town before he was able to
discover them; but he had something to direct his search, which was
more than _we_ had; and the consciousness of this was another
reason for his resolving to follow us. There is a lady, it seems, a
Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago governess to Miss Darcy, and was
dismissed from her charge on some cause of disapprobation, though
he did not say what. She then took a large house in Edward Street,
and has since maintained herself by letting lodgings.