Pride and Prejudice — Chapter Forty-Nine

Two days after Mr. Bennet's return, as Jane and Elizabeth were walking together in the shrubbery behind the house, they saw the housekeeper coming towards them, and, concluding that she came to call them to their mother, went forward to meet her; but, instead of the expected summons, when they approached her, she said to Miss Bennet, "I beg your pardon, madam, for interrupting you, but I was in hopes you might have got some good news from town, so I took the liberty of coming to ask."

"What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town."

"Dear madam," cried Mrs. Hill, in great astonishment, "don't you know there is an express come for master from Mr. Gardiner? He has been here this half-hour, and master has had a letter."

Away ran the girls, too eager to get in to have time for speech. They ran through the house looking for their father, and were told by the butler that he was walking towards the little copse. They ran across the lawn after him. Jane soon lagged behind, while Elizabeth, panting for breath, came up with him and eagerly cried out: "Oh, papa, what news — what news? Have you heard from my uncle?"

"Yes, I have had a letter from him by express."

"Well, and what news does it bring — good or bad?"

"What is there of good to be expected?" said he, taking the letter from his pocket. "But perhaps you would like to read it."

Elizabeth impatiently caught it from his hand. Jane now came up. "Read it aloud," said their father, "for I hardly know myself what it is about."

"Is it possible?" cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. "Can it be possible that he will marry her?"

"Wickham is not so undeserving, then, as we thought him," said her sister. "My dear father, I congratulate you."

"And have you answered the letter?" cried Elizabeth.

"No; but it must be done soon."

She earnestly begged him to lose no more time before he wrote. "Let me write for you," said Jane, "if you dislike the trouble yourself." "I dislike it very much," he replied; "but it must be done."

As they walked back, Elizabeth said, "The terms, I suppose, must be complied with." "Complied with!" said her father. "I am only ashamed of his asking so little." "And they must marry! Yet he is such a man!" "Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there are two things I want very much to know: one is, how much money your uncle has laid down to bring it about; and the other, how am I ever to pay him."

"Money! My uncle!" cried Jane. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean that no man in his senses would marry Lydia on so slight a temptation as one hundred a year during my life, and fifty after I am gone."

"That is very true," said Elizabeth. "His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh! it must be my uncle's doing! Generous, good man, I am afraid he has distressed himself."

"No," said her father; "Wickham's a fool if he takes her with a farthing less than ten thousand pounds."

"Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half such a sum to be repaid?"

Mr. Bennet made no answer, and they continued silent until they reached the house. Their father went to the library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room.

"And they are really to be married!" cried Elizabeth, as soon as they were alone. "How strange this is! And for this we are to be thankful. That they should marry, small as is their chance of happiness, and wretched as is his character, we are forced to rejoice. Oh, Lydia!"

"I comfort myself with thinking," replied Jane, "that he certainly would not marry Lydia if he had not a real regard for her. I cannot believe that ten thousand pounds has been advanced. He has children of his own, and may have more. How could he spare half such a sum?"

"The kindness of my uncle and aunt can never be requited," said Elizabeth. "Their taking her home, and affording her their personal protection, is such a sacrifice as years of gratitude cannot enough acknowledge. By this time she is actually with them! What a meeting for her, when she first sees my aunt!"

"We must endeavour to forget all that has passed," said Jane. "I hope and trust they will yet be happy. His consenting to marry her is a proof that he is come to a right way of thinking."

"Their conduct has been such," replied Elizabeth, "as neither you, nor I, nor anybody can ever forget. It is useless to talk of it."

It now occurred to the girls that their mother was in all likelihood perfectly ignorant of what had happened. They went to the library and asked their father whether he would not wish them to make it known to her. He was writing and, without raising his head, coolly replied: "Just as you please."

"May we take my uncle's letter to read to her?"

"Take whatever you like, and get away."

Elizabeth took the letter and they went upstairs together. After the letter was read aloud, Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As soon as Jane read Mr. Gardiner's hope of Lydia's being soon married, her joy burst forth, and every following sentence added to its exuberance. "My dear, dear Lydia!" she cried. "This is delightful indeed! She will be married! I shall see her again! She will be married at sixteen! My good, kind brother! I knew he would manage everything! How I long to see her! But the clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister Gardiner about them directly. Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him how much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, Kitty, for Hill. My dear, dear Lydia! How merry we shall be together when we meet!"

Jane tried to remind her of their obligation to Mr. Gardiner's kindness, suggesting that he must have pledged money to help Wickham. "Well," cried her mother, "it is all very right; who should do it but her own uncle? Well! I am so happy! In a short time I shall have a daughter married. Mrs. Wickham! How well it sounds!"

Mrs. Bennet then began planning fabrics and wedding clothes, and only with difficulty did Jane persuade her to wait until their father could be consulted. "I will go to Meryton," she said, "as soon as I am dressed, and tell the good news to my sister Philips. Oh! Here comes Hill! My dear Hill, have you heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall all have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding."

Elizabeth, sick of this folly, took refuge in her own room, that she might think with freedom. Poor Lydia's situation must, at best, be bad enough; but that it was no worse, she had need to be thankful. She felt it so; and though neither rational happiness nor worldly prosperity could be justly expected for her sister, in looking back to what they had feared only two hours ago, she felt all the advantages of what they had gained.