CHAPTER V.
”I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth,” said her uncle, as theydrove from the town; ”and really, upon serious consideration, I am muchmore inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister does of thematter. It appears to me so very unlikely, that any young man shouldform such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected orfriendless, and who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that Iam strongly inclined to hope the best. Could he expect that her friendswould not step forward? Could he expect to be noticed again by theregiment, after such an affront to Colonel Forster? His temptation isnot 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'sopinion. It is really too great a violation of decency, honour, andinterest, for him to be guilty of it. I cannot think so very ill ofWickham. Can you, yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believehim capable of it?”
”Not perhaps of neglecting his own interest. But of every other neglectI can believe him capable. If, indeed, it should be so! But I dare nothope it. Why should they not go on to Scotland, if that had been thecase?”
”In the first place,” replied Mr. Gardiner, ”there is no absolute proofthat they are not gone to Scotland.”
”Oh! but their removing from the chaise into an hackney coach is such apresumption! And, besides, no traces of them were to be found on theBarnet road.”
”Well, then--supposing them to be in London. They may be there, thoughfor the purpose of concealment, for no more exceptionable purpose. It isnot likely that money should be very abundant on either side; and itmight strike them that they could be more economically, though lessexpeditiously, married in London, than in Scotland.”
”But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? Why must theirmarriage be private? Oh! no, no, this is not likely. His most particularfriend, you see by Jane's account, was persuaded of his never intendingto marry her. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. Hecannot afford it. And what claims has Lydia, what attractions has shebeyond youth, health, and good humour, that could make him for her sake,forego every chance of benefiting himself by marrying well? As to whatrestraint the apprehension of disgrace in the corps might throw on adishonourable elopement with her, I am not able to judge; for I knownothing of the effects that such a step might produce. But as to yourother objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good. Lydia has nobrothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my father'sbehaviour, from his indolence and the little attention he has everseemed to give to what was going forward in his family, that _he_ woulddo as little, and think as little about it, as any father could do, insuch a matter.”
”But can you think that Lydia is so lost to every thing 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, withtears in her eyes, ”that a sister's sense of decency and virtue in sucha 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 neverbeen taught to think on serious subjects; and for the last half year,nay, for a twelvemonth, she has been given up to nothing but amusementand vanity. She has been allowed to dispose of her time in the most idleand 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 doingevery thing in her power by thinking and talking on the subject, to givegreater--what shall I call it? susceptibility to her feelings; which arenaturally lively enough. 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 ill ofWickham, as to believe him capable of the attempt.”
”Of whom does Jane ever think ill? And who is there, whatever might betheir 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, whatWickham really is. We both know that he has been profligate in everysense of the word. That he has neither integrity nor honour. That he isas false and deceitful, as he is insinuating.”
”And do you really know all this?” cried Mrs. Gardiner, whose curiosityas 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 atLongbourn, heard in what manner he spoke of the man, who had behavedwith such forbearance and liberality towards him. And there are othercircumstances which I am not at liberty--which it is not worth while torelate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless. Fromwhat he said of Miss Darcy, I was thoroughly prepared to see a proud,reserved, disagreeable girl. Yet he knew to the contrary himself. Hemust know that she was as amiable and unpretending as we have foundher.”
”But does Lydia know nothing of this? Can she be ignorant of what youand Jane seem so well to understand?”
”Oh, yes!--that, that is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, and sawso much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation, Colonel Fitzwilliam, I wasignorant of the truth myself. And when I returned home, the ----shirewas to leave Meryton in a week or fortnight's time. As that was thecase, neither Jane, to whom I related the whole, nor I, thought itnecessary to make our knowledge public; for of what use could itapparently be to any one, that the good opinion which all theneighbourhood had of him, should then be overthrown? And even when itwas settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity ofopening her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That _she_ couldbe in any danger from the deception never entered my head. That such aconsequence as _this_ should ensue, you may easily believe was farenough from my thoughts.”
”When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, Isuppose, to believe them fond of each other.”
”Not the slightest. I can remember no symptom of affection on eitherside; and had any thing of the kind been perceptible, you must be awarethat ours is not a family, on which it could be thrown away. When firsthe entered the corps, she was ready enough to admire him; but so we allwere. Every girl in, or near Meryton, was out of her senses about himfor the first two months; but he never distinguished _her_ by anyparticular attention, and, consequently, after a moderate period ofextravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him gave way, and othersof the regiment, who treated her with more distinction, again became herfavourites.”
* * * * *
It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty could be addedto their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this interesting subject, byits repeated discussion, no other could detain them from it long, duringthe whole of the journey. From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent.Fixed there by the keenest of all anguish, self reproach, she could findno interval of ease or forgetfulness.
They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and sleeping one night onthe road, reached Longbourn by dinner-time the next day. It was acomfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane could not have been weariedby long expectations.
The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were standingon the steps of the house, as they entered the paddock; and when thecarriage drove up to the door, the joyful surprise that lighted up theirfaces, and displayed itself over their whole bodies, in a variety ofcapers and frisks, was the first pleasing earnest of their welcome.
Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them an hasty kiss,hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came running down stairsfrom her mother's apartment, immediately met her.
Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears filled theeyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether any thing had beenheard of the fugitives.
”Not yet,” replied Jane. ”But now that my dear uncle is come, I hopeevery thing 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 once. He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday, to saythat he had arrived in safety, and to give me his directions, which Iparticularly begged him to do. He merely added, that he should not writeagain, till he had something of importance to mention.”
”And my mother--How is she? How are you all?”
”My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatlyshaken. She is up stairs, and will have great satisfaction in seeing youall. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thankHeaven! are quite well.”
”But you--How are you?” cried Elizabeth. ”You look pale. How much youmust have gone through!”
Her sister, however, assured her, of her being perfectly well; and theirconversation, which had been passing while Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner wereengaged with their children, was now put an end to, by the approach ofthe whole party. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed andthanked them both, with alternate smiles and tears.
When they were all in the drawing-room, the questions which Elizabethhad already asked, were of course repeated by the others, and they soonfound that Jane had no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of good,however, which the benevolence of her heart suggested, had not yetdeserted her; she still expected that it would all end well, and thatevery morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia or her father,to explain their proceedings, and perhaps announce the marriage.
Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a few minutesconversation together, received them exactly as might be expected; withtears and lamentations of regret, invectives against the villanousconduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill usage;blaming every body but the person to whose ill judging indulgence theerrors of her daughter must be principally owing.
”If I had been able,” said she, ”to carry my point of going to Brighton,with all my family, _this_ would not have happened; but poor dear Lydiahad nobody to take care of her. Why did the Forsters ever let her go outof their sight? I am sure there was some great neglect or other on theirside, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a thing, if she hadbeen well looked after. I always thought they were very unfit to havethe charge of her; but I was over-ruled, as I always am. Poor dearchild! And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will fightWickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be killed, and what isto become of us all? The Collinses will turn us out, before he is coldin his grave; and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know whatwe shall do.”
They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. Gardiner, aftergeneral assurances of his affection for her and all her family, toldher that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assistMr. Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia.
”Do not give way to useless alarm,” added he, ”though it is right to beprepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look on it as certain.It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days more, wemay gain some news of them, and till we know that they are not married,and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over aslost. As soon as I get to town, I shall go to my brother, and make himcome home with me to Gracechurch Street, and then we may consulttogether as to what is to be done.”
”Oh! my dear brother,” replied Mrs. Bennet, ”that is exactly what Icould most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out,wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, _make_ themmarry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, buttell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chuses, to buy them,after they are married. And, above all things, keep Mr. Bennet fromfighting. Tell him what a dreadful state I am in,--that I am frightenedout of my wits; and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me,such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings atheart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dearLydia, not to give any directions about her clothes, till she has seenme, for she does not know which are the best warehouses. Oh, brother,how kind you are! I know you will contrive it all.”
But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his earnest endeavoursin the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well inher hopes as her fears; and, after talking with her in this manner tilldinner was on table, they left her to vent all her feelings on thehousekeeper, who attended, in the absence of her daughters.
Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there was no realoccasion for such a seclusion from the family, they did not attempt tooppose it, for they knew that she had not prudence enough to hold hertongue before the servants, while they waited at table, and judged itbetter that _one_ only of the household, and the one whom they couldmost trust, should comprehend all her fears and solicitude on thesubject.
In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had beentoo busily engaged in their separate apartments, to make theirappearance before. One came from her books, and the other from hertoilette. The faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no changewas visible in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, orthe anger which she had herself incurred in the business, had givensomething more of fretfulness than usual, to the accents of Kitty. Asfor Mary, she was mistress enough of herself to whisper to Elizabethwith a countenance of grave reflection, soon after they were seated attable,
”This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be much talked of.But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms ofeach other, the balm of sisterly consolation.”
Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying, she added,”Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we may draw from it this usefullesson; that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable--that one falsestep involves her in endless ruin--that her reputation is no lessbrittle than it is beautiful,--and that she cannot be too much guardedin her behaviour towards the undeserving of the other sex.”
Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed tomake any reply. Mary, however, continued to console herself with suchkind of moral extractions from the evil before them.
In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to be for half anhour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly availed herself of theopportunity of making many enquiries, which Jane was equally eager tosatisfy. After joining in general lamentations over the dreadful sequelof this event, which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and MissBennet could not assert to be wholly impossible; the former continuedthe subject, by saying, ”But tell me all and every thing about it, whichI have not already heard. Give me farther particulars. What did ColonelForster say? Had they no apprehension of any thing before the elopementtook place? They must have seen them together for ever.”
”Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality,especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him any alarm. I am sogrieved for him. His behaviour was attentive and kind to the utmost. He_was_ coming to us, in order to assure us of his concern, before he hadany idea of their not being gone to Scotland: when that apprehensionfirst got abroad, it hastened his journey.”
”And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry? Did he know oftheir intending to go off? Had Colonel Forster seen Denny himself?”
”Yes; but when questioned by _him_ Denny denied knowing any thing oftheir plan, and would not give his real opinion about it. He did notrepeat his persuasion of their not marrying--and from _that_, I aminclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood before.”
”And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained adoubt, I suppose, of their being really married?”
”How was it possible that such an idea should enter our brains! I felt alittle uneasy--a little fearful of my sister's happiness with him inmarriage, because I knew that his conduct had not been always quiteright. My father and mother knew nothing of that, they only felt howimprudent a match it must be. Kitty then owned, with a very naturaltriumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's lastletter, she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems,of their being in love with each other, many weeks.”
”But not before they went to Brighton?”
”No, I believe not.”
”And did Colonel Forster appear to think ill of Wickham himself? Does heknow his real character?”
”I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham as he formerlydid. He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant. And since this sadaffair has taken place, it is said, that he left Meryton greatly indebt; but I hope this may be false.”
”Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we knew of him,this could not have happened!”
”Perhaps it would have been better;” replied her sister. ”But to exposethe former faults of any person, without knowing what their presentfeelings were, seemed unjustifiable. We acted with the best intentions.”
”Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to hiswife?”
”He brought it with him for us to see.”
Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to Elizabeth. Thesewere the contents:
”MY DEAR HARRIET,
”You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow morning, as soon as I am missed. I am going to Gretna Green, and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton, for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel. I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to be off. You need not send them word at Longbourn of my going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the greater, when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia Wickham. What a good joke it will be! I can hardly write for laughing. Pray make my excuses to Pratt, for not keeping my engagement, and dancing with him to-night. Tell him I hope he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure. I shall send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin gown, before they are packed up. Good bye. Give my love to Colonel Forster, I hope you will drink to our good journey.
”Your affectionate friend,
”LYDIA BENNET.”
”Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!” cried Elizabeth when she hadfinished it. ”What a letter is this, to be written at such a moment. Butat least it shews, that _she_ was serious in the object of her journey.Whatever he might afterwards persuade her to, it was not on her side a_scheme_ of infamy. My poor father! how he must have felt it!”
”I never saw any one so shocked. He could not speak a word for full tenminutes. My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house insuch confusion!”
”Oh! Jane,” cried Elizabeth, ”was there a servant belonging to it, whodid 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 a time, isvery difficult. My mother was in hysterics, and though I endeavoured togive her every assistance in my power, I am afraid I did not do so muchas I might have done! But the horror of what might possibly happen,almost took from me my faculties.”
”Your attendance upon her, has been too much for you. You do not lookwell. Oh! that I had been with you, you have had every care and anxietyupon yourself alone.”
”Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in everyfatigue, I am sure, but I did not think it right for either of them.Kitty is slight and delicate, and Mary studies so much, that her hoursof repose should not be broken in on. My aunt Philips came to Longbournon Tuesday, after my father went away; and was so good as to stay tillThursday with me. She was of great use and comfort to us all, and ladyLucas has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning tocondole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters, ifthey could be of use to us.”
”She had better have stayed at home,” cried Elizabeth; ”perhaps she_meant_ well, but, under such a misfortune as this, one cannot see toolittle of one's neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence,insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied.”
She then proceeded to enquire into the measures which her father hadintended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his daughter.
”He meant, I believe,” replied Jane, ”to go to Epsom, the place wherethey last changed horses, see the postilions, and try if any thing couldbe made out from them. His principal object must be, to discover thenumber of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. It had comewith a fare from London; and as he thought the circumstance of agentleman and lady's removing from one carriage into another, might beremarked, he meant to make enquiries at Clapham. If he could any howdiscover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, hedetermined to make enquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossibleto find out the stand and number of the coach. I do not know of anyother designs that he had formed: but he was in such a hurry to be gone,and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had difficulty in findingout even so much as this.”