Pride and Prejudice — Chapter Forty-Seven

"I have been thinking it over again, Elizabeth," said her uncle, as they drove from the town, "and really, upon serious consideration, I am much more inclined than I was to judge as your eldest sister does of the matter. It appears to me so very unlikely that any young man should form such a design against a girl who is by no means unprotected, and who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that I am strongly inclined to hope the best."

"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening for a moment.

"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of your uncle's opinion. Can you yourself, Lizzy, so wholly give him up, as to believe him capable of it?"

"Not, perhaps, of neglecting his own interest; but of every other neglect I can believe him capable. 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."

"But why all this secrecy? Why must their marriage be private?" Elizabeth said. "Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He cannot afford it. What attractions has Lydia beyond youth, health, and good-humour, that could make him give up every chance of marrying well?"

"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to everything but love of him as to consent to live with him on any other terms than marriage?"

"It does seem most shocking," Elizabeth replied, with tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of decency should admit of doubt. But she is very young; she has never been taught to think on serious subjects, and for the last twelvemonth she has been given up to nothing but amusement and vanity. We all know that Wickham has every charm of person and address that can captivate a woman."

"And do you really know all this of him?" cried Mrs. Gardiner, curious as to how her niece had learned it.

"I do, indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring. "I told you the other day of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy. From what he said of Miss Darcy, I was prepared to see a proud, disagreeable girl — yet he knew to the contrary himself; she is as amiable as we found her."

"But does Lydia know nothing of this?"

"That is the worst of all. Till I was in Kent and saw so much of Mr. Darcy, I was ignorant of the truth myself; and by the time I returned, the regiment was soon to leave Meryton, so neither Jane nor I thought it necessary to make our knowledge public. Even when Lydia was to go with Mrs. Forster, it never occurred to me that she could be in any danger."

It may easily be believed that such anxious talk occupied the whole journey. Elizabeth's thoughts, fixed by the keenest self-reproach, found no rest.

They travelled as quickly as possible, and reached Longbourn by dinner-time the next day. The little Gardiner children ran out to greet the carriage, and Elizabeth, jumping out and kissing them hastily, hurried inside, where Jane met her, both in tears. "Not yet," Jane answered, before Elizabeth could even ask. "But now that our uncle is come, I hope everything will be well."

"Is my father in town?"

"Yes, he went on Tuesday. We have heard from him only once — a few lines to say he had arrived safely."

"And my mother — how is she?"

"Tolerably well, though her spirits are greatly shaken. 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 assured her she was perfectly well, though she still hoped every morning would bring a letter announcing the marriage.

Mrs. Bennet received them with tears and complaints against Wickham's "villainous conduct," blaming everyone but the person truly responsible for her daughter's poor upbringing. "If I had been able to carry my point of going to Brighton with all my family, this would not have happened!" she cried. "The Collinses will turn us out before your poor father is cold in his grave, and if you are not kind to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do!"

Mr. Gardiner, after assuring her of his affection, told her he meant to go to London the next day to assist Mr. Bennet. "Do not give way to useless alarm," he added. "It is not quite a week since they left Brighton. In a few days we may gain some news of them."

"Oh, my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I could most wish for! Find them out, wherever they may be, and if they are not married already, make them marry! And above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting."

Mr. Gardiner recommended moderation in both her hopes and fears, and after dinner they left her to vent her feelings on the housekeeper, in the absence of her daughters.

At dinner, Mary offered Elizabeth a solemn moral reflection: "This is a most unfortunate affair, and will probably be much talked of. But we must stem the tide of malice... one false step involves a woman in endless ruin — her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful." Elizabeth was too oppressed to reply.

That afternoon the two eldest sisters finally had a moment alone, and Elizabeth eagerly asked for every detail. "Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some partiality, especially on Lydia's side," Jane explained, "though nothing to alarm him. Kitty later confessed that Lydia's last letter had prepared her for such a step — she had known for weeks that they were in love."

"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret about what we knew of him, this could not have happened!"

"Perhaps," replied Jane. "But to expose someone's past faults without knowing their present feelings seemed unfair. We acted with the best intentions."

Jane then produced the note Lydia had left for Mrs. Forster, brought by Colonel Forster himself.

"Oh! thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth. "But at least it shows she was serious in the object of her journey — whatever he might afterwards persuade her to. My poor father! How he must have felt it!"

"I never saw anyone so shocked. He could not speak a word for ten minutes. My mother was taken ill immediately."

"Your attendance upon her has been too much for you," Elizabeth said. "Oh, that I had been with you!"

Jane explained that their aunt Philips and Lady Lucas had both come to offer comfort, though Elizabeth thought little of it: "She had better have stayed at home. Assistance is impossible; condolence insufferable. Let them triumph over us at a distance, and be satisfied."

She then asked what measures their father intended to pursue in town. "He meant, I believe," said Jane, "to go to Epsom, where they last changed horses, to try to discover the number of the hackney-coach that took them from Clapham, and trace it from there. I do not know what other plans he had; he was in such a hurry to be gone, and so distressed, that I could learn little more than this."