CHAPTER IX.
Their sister's wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for herprobably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meetthem at ----, and they were to return in it, by dinner-time. Theirarrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets; and Jane more especially,who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had _she_been the culprit, was wretched in the thought of what her sister mustendure.
They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room, to receivethem. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet, as the carriage drove up tothe door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed,anxious, uneasy.
Lydia's voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, andshe ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, andwelcomed her with rapture; gave her hand with an affectionate smile toWickham, who followed his lady, and wished them both joy, with analacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness.
Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quiteso cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcelyopened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, wasenough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet wasshocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, andfearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding theircongratulations, and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerlyround the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, andobserved, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had beenthere.
Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his mannerswere always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage beenexactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while heclaimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth hadnot before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down,resolving within herself, to draw no limits in future to the impudenceof an impudent man. _She_ blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks ofthe two who caused their confusion, suffered no variation of colour.
There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neitherof them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit nearElizabeth, began enquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood,with a good humoured ease, which she felt very unable to equal in herreplies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in theworld. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia ledvoluntarily to subjects, which her sisters would not have alluded to forthe world.
”Only think of its being three months,” she cried, ”since I went away;it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been thingsenough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sureI had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though Ithought it would be very good fun if I was.”
Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth lookedexpressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw any thing ofwhich she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, ”Oh! mamma, do thepeople here abouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they mightnot; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I wasdetermined he should know it, and so I let down the side glass next tohim, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the windowframe, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled likeany thing.”
Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room;and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall tothe dining-parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, withanxious parade, walk up to her mother's right hand, and hear her say toher eldest sister, ”Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must golower, because I am a married woman.”
It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment,from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and goodspirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Philips, the Lucases, and alltheir other neighbours, and to hear herself called ”Mrs. Wickham,” byeach of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to shew herring and boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.
”Well, mamma,” said she, when they were all returned to the breakfastroom, ”and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? Iam sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half mygood luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to gethusbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go.”
”Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don'tat all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?”
”Oh, lord! yes;--there is nothing in that. I shall like it of allthings. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. Weshall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be someballs, and I will take care to get good partners for them all.”
”I should like it beyond any thing!” said her mother.
”And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sistersbehind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before thewinter is over.”
”I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Elizabeth; ”but I do notparticularly like your way of getting husbands.”
Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickhamhad received his commission before he left London, and he was to joinhis regiment at the end of a fortnight.
No one but Mrs. Bennet, regretted that their stay would be so short; andshe made the most of the time, by visiting about with her daughter, andhaving very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable toall; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as didthink, than such as did not.
Wickham's affection for Lydia, was just what Elizabeth had expected tofind it; not equal to Lydia's for him. She had scarcely needed herpresent observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, thattheir elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, ratherthan by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caringfor her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certainthat his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; andif that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunityof having a companion.
Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on everyoccasion; 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 onthe first of September, than any body else in the country.
One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her twoelder sisters, she said to Elizabeth,
”Lizzy, I never gave _you_ an account of my wedding, I believe. You werenot by, when I told mamma, and the others, all about it. Are not youcurious to hear how it was managed?”
”No really,” replied Elizabeth; ”I think there cannot be too little saidon the subject.”
”La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We weremarried, you know, at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were inthat parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleveno'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the otherswere to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was insuch a fuss! I was so afraid you know that something would happen to putit off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was myaunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as ifshe 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 toknow whether he would be married in his blue coat.
”Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would neverbe over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and auntwere horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believeme, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there afortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or any thing. To be sure London wasrather thin, but however the little Theatre was open. Well, and so justas the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon businessto that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they gettogether, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did notknow what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyondthe hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came backagain in ten minutes time, and then we all set out. However, Irecollected afterwards, that if he _had_ been prevented going, thewedding 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 promisedthem so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!”
”If it was to be secret,” said Jane, ”say not another word on thesubject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”
”Oh! certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; ”we willask you no questions.”
”Thank you,” said Lydia, ”for if you did, I should certainly tell youall, and then Wickham would be angry.”
On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of herpower, by running away.
But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least itwas impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at hersister'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 herbrain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, asplacing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. Shecould not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper,wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of whatLydia had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had beenintended.
”You may readily comprehend,” she added, ”what my curiosity must be toknow how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparativelyspeaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at sucha time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it--unless it is,for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems tothink necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied withignorance.”
”Not that I _shall_ though,” she added to herself, as she finished theletter; ”and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourablemanner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find itout.”
Jane's delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak toElizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad ofit;--till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive anysatisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.