PRIDE & PREJUDICE: JANE AUSTEN: CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

As they drove from the town her uncle said, "Elizabeth, I am inclined to take the view of Jane, in this regard.  It is unlikely that a young man should form such a design against a young girl, who is by no means unprotected and friendless, and who was actually staying in his Colonel's family.  Could he expect that her friends would not step forward?  Could he not expect to be noticed by the regiment, after such an affront to the Colonel.  His temptation is not equal to the risk. I am strongly inclined to hope the best."

"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth brightening up.

"Upon my word," said Mrs Gardiner, "I begin to be of your uncle's opinion.  It is too great a violation of decency, honour and interest for him to be a guilty of.  I cannot think so very ill of Wickham.  Can you yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe him capable of it?"

"Not perhaps, of neglecting his own interest.  But in every other, he is capable of.  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 leaving chaise and catching hackney coach is such a presumption!  And besides, there is no trace of them on the Barnet road."

"Well, then - supposing them to be in London.  They may be there, though for hiding.  It is not likely that they may have enough money.  It might strike them that they could be more economically though less expeditiously married in London than Scotland."

"But why this secrecy?  Oh, no, no - this is not likely.  His most particular friend, by Jane's account, was persuaded to believe of his never intending to marry her.  He will never marry a woman without some money.  He cannot afford it.  And what claims has Lydia - what attraction has she beyond youth, health and good humour that could make him forego the chance of benefitting himself by marrying well?

I am not able to judge the apprehension of disgrace on the elopement in the corps.  I know nothing of the effects that such a step might produce.  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 what was going on 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 terms other 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 does not allow it.  Really I do not know what to say.  Perhaps I am not doing her justice.  But she is very young, and she has never been taught to think on serious subjects.  And for the last one year she has been given up to nothing but amusement and vanity.  She has been allowed to dispose of her time in idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt any opinion 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, to give greater susceptibility to her feelings.  And we all know that Wickham has every charm that can captivate a woman."

"But you see," said Mrs Gardiner, "Jane does not think so very ill of Wickham."

"Of whom does Jane ever think ill? But Jane knows, as well as I do, what Wickham really is. Both of us know that he is 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 his insinuation against Miss Darcy against whom his trickery could not win only because of her confidence in her brother."

"But does Lydia know nothing of this? Can she be ignorant of what you and Jane are well aware of?"

"Oh, yes - that, this is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent, I was ignorant of the truth myself.  I came to know of it in Kent from Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam.  I have shared this with Jane.  But by this time it was settled that Lydia should go with Mrs Forster.  The necessity of of opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That she could be in any danger from deception never occurred to me."

"When they all went to Brighton, therefore, you had no reason, I suppose, to believe them fond of each other."

"Not the slightest.  I did not find any symptoms of affection on either side."

 

After one night's journey they reached Longbourn by dinner time the next day.  The little Gardiners were standing on the steps of the house, as they entered the paddock. When the carriage drove upto the door their faces lighted up and they came running upto the carriage.  Elizabeth jumped out; and after giving a hasty kiss to each of them, hurried into the vestibule, where Jane immediately met her.

Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, tears in the eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether anything had been heard of the fugitives.

"Not yet," replied Jane.  But now that my dear uncle is come, I hope everything will be well."

"Is my father in town?"

"Yes, he went on Tuesday, as I wrote you."

"And have you heard from him often?"

"We have heard only twice.  He wrote me a few lines on Wednesday to say that he had arrived safely, and to give me his directions.  He merely added that he will write again if he had something to mention."

"And my mother - how is she?  How are you all?"

"My mother is tolerably well, though her spirits are greatly shaken.  She is upstairs and will have great satisfaction in seeing you all.  She does not yet leave her dressing room.  Mary and Kitty, thank Heaven are quite well."

"But you - how are you?" cried Elizabeth, "You look pale.  How much you must have gone through!"

Jane, however assured of her being perfectly well.  Mr and Mrs Gardiner, engaged with their children were now free, and they came towards the sisters.  Jane ran to them, and welcomed and thanked them both with smiles and tears.

Doubts, questions, and worries were once again repeated, but they hoped that it would all end well.

Now they were in Mrs Bennet's apartment.  Tears, lamentations of regret,  the invectives against the villainous conduct of Wickham, and complaints of her own sufferings and ill-usage followed. 

"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point in going to Brighton, with all my family, this would not have happened; but poor Lydia had nobody to take care of her; why did the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight? I am sure there was some neglect on their side, for she is not the kind of girl to do such a kind of thing if she had been well looked after.  I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of her, but I was overruled, as I always am.  Poor dear child! And now here's Mr Bennet gone away, and I know he will fight Wickham wherever he meets him and then he will be killed, and what is to become of us all?  The Collinses will turn us out before he is cold in his grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do."

They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas, and Mr Gardiner, after general assurances of his affection for her and all her family, told her that he meant to be in London the very next day, and would assist Mr Bennet in every endeavour for recovering Lydia.

"Do not give away to useless alarm," added he; "though it is right to be prepared 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 we may get some news of them; and we will know that they are not married, and have no design of marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost.  As soon as I get to the town I shall go to my brother, and make him come home with me to the Gracechurch Street, and then we may consult together as to what is to be done."

"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs Bennet, "that is exactly what I could most wish  for.  And now when you get to the town, find them out, whatever they may be; and if they are not married, make them marry.  And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, after they are married.  And, above all, keep Mr Bennet away from fighting.  Tell him what a dreadful state I am in.  I am frightened out of my wits, and have such tremblings and such flutterings all over me, such spasms in my side, and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day.  And tell my dear Lydia not to give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she does not know which are the best warehouses.  Oh, brother, how kind you are!  I know you will contrive it all."

In the dining room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty.  They were tolerably calm, but Kitty was more fretful at the loss of her favourite sister.  Mary was mistress of herself to whisper to Elizabeth, with a countenance of great reflection, soon after they were seated at the table:

"This is most unfortunate, and will probably be much talked of.  But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour into the wounded bosoms of each other the balm of sisterly consolation."

Then finding that Elizabeth had no inclination to reply, she added, "unhappy as the event must be for Lydia, we must draw from it the useful lesson: that the loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable, that one false step involves her in endless ruin, that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful, and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour to the undeserving of the other sex."

Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too much oppressed to make any reply.  Mary, however, continued to console herself with such kind of moral extractions from the evil before them.

In the afternoon, Jane and Elizabeth sat together, and confided themselves about Lydia's elopement.

"Colonel Forster," said Jane, did own that he had suspected some partiality, especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him any alarm.  I am so grieved for him!"

"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not marry?  Did he know of their intending to go off?  Had Colonel Forster seen Denny himself?"

"Yes; when questioned by him, Denny denied knowing anything about their plans, and would not give his real opinion about it.  He did not repeat his earlier presumption of their not marrying - and from that, I inclined to hope, he might have been misunderstood."

"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you entertained a doubt."

"How was it possible?  Kitty owned that, in Lydia's last letter she was preparing herself for such a step.  She had known, it seems, they were in love with each other, many weeks."

"But not before they went Brighton?"

"No, I believe not."

"And did Colonel Forster appear to think we'll of Wickham?"

"He did not.  He believed him to be imprudent and extravagant.  And since this sad affair has taken place, it is said that he left Meryton greatly in debt, but I hope this may be false."

"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's note to his wife?"

"He brought it with him for us to see."

Jane then took it from her pocket, and gave it to Elizabeth.  These were the contents:

"My dear Harriet,

You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I cannot help laughing myself at your surprise tomorrow 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 tonight.  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 had finished it.  "What a letter, to be written at such a moment!  She was serious about the journey, she never thought it a scheme of infamy.  My poor father!  He must have felt it!"

"I never saw anyone so shocked.  He could not speak a word for some time.  My mother was taken ill immediately, and the whole house in confusion."

"Oh! Jane," cried Elizabeth, was there any servant in the house who did not know the whole story before the end of the day?"

"I do not hope.  I hope there was. To be guarded at such a time is very difficult.  My mother was in hysterics, though I tried to give every assistance in my power. I am afraid, I did not do so much as I should have done!   The horror of it took from me my faculties."

"I know, it was too much for you. You do not look well.  Oh! Had I been with you!  You have had every care and anxiety upon yourself alone."

"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in every fatigue, I am sure, but I did not think it right for them.  Kitty is slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much, that her hours of repose should not be broken.  Lady Lucas has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday morning to condole with us, and offered her services, or any of her daughters, if they should be of use to us."

"She had better have stayed at home. Perhaps she meant well.  One cannot see too little of one's neighbours. Assistance is impossible; condolence insufferable.  Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied."

Elizabeth then proceeded to inquire into the measures which her father intended to pursue, while in town, for the recovery of his daughter.

"He meant, I believe," replied Jane, to go to Epsom, the place where they last changed horse, see the positions and try if anything could be made out from them.  His principal object must be to discover the number of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham.  It had come with a fare from London; and as he thought the circumstance of a gentleman and lady's removal from one carriage into another might be remarked he meant to make inquiries at Clapham.  If he could discover at what house the coachman had before set down his fare, he determined to make inquiries there, and hoped it might not be impossible to find out the stand and number of the coach.  I do not know any other designs that he had formed; but he was in such a hurry to be gone, and his spirits so greatly discomposed, I had difficulty in finding out even so much as this."

THE END