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On reaching the house, Elizabeth and her relatives were shown through the hall into the saloon. In this house they were received by Miss Darcy, who was sitting there with Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and the lady with whom she lived in London.
Their visit did not continue long; and while Mr. Darcy was attending them to their carriage Miss Bingley was venting her feelings in criticism on Elizabeth’s person, behaviour, and dress. But Georgiana would not join her.
“How very ill Miss Eliza Bennet looks this morning, Mr. Darcy,” she cried; “She is grown so brown and coarse! Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy; and her features are not at all handsome. Her eyes have a sharp, shrewish look, which I do not like at all; and in her air there is something, which is intolerable.”
But Darcy admired Elizabeth.
“Yes,” replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, “but that was only when I first saw her, and now I consider her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”
He then went away.
Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred during their visit, as they returned. Elizabeth wanted to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of Mr. Darcy.
When Elizabeth arrived at Lambton, a letter from Jane was waiting for her.
“Something has occurred, dearest Lizzy. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. Colonel Forster informed us that she was gone off to Scotland with Wickham! Imagine our surprise. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. Colonel Forster will come here soon. Lydia left a few lines for his wife. Dearest Lizzy, I have bad news for you, and it cannot be delayed. Nobody knows where they are! Our distress, my dear Lizzy, is very great. My father and mother believe the worst. My poor mother is really ill. And as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. My father is going to London with Colonel Forster, to try to discover Lydia.”
“Oh! where, where is my uncle?” cried Elizabeth, darting from her seat as she finished the letter, in eagerness to follow him, without losing time. But as she reached the door it was opened by a servant, and Mr. Darcy appeared. Before he could speak, she exclaimed, “I beg your pardon, but I must leave you. I must find Mr. Gardiner this moment, on business that cannot be delayed; I have no time to lose.”
“Good God! what is the matter?” cried he, “I will not detain you a minute; but let me, or let the servant go after Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. You are not well enough; you cannot go yourself.”
Elizabeth hesitated, but her knees trembled under her. She sat down, unable to support herself, and looking miserably ill. “Let me call your maid. You are very ill.”
“No, I thank you,” she replied, endeavouring to recover herself. “There is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well; I am only distressed by some dreadful news which I have just received from Longbourn.”
She burst into tears, and for a few minutes could not speak another word. Then she spoke again. “I have just had a letter from Jane, with such dreadful news. It cannot be concealed from anyone. My younger sister has left all her friends; has thrown herself into the power of Mr. Wickham. They ran away. She has no money, no connections, she is lost for ever.”
“I am shocked indeed,” cried Darcy.
“Oh, yes! They left Brighton together on Sunday night. My father is gone to London. But nothing can be done – I know very well that nothing can be done. How can one find them? I have not the smallest hope. It is horrible!”
Darcy shook his head, he made no answer. He was walking up and down the room, his brow contracted. Elizabeth instantly understood it that everything was lost. It was really shameful for her family.
“Please say that urgent business calls us home immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible.”
He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed his sorrow for her distress, wished it a happier conclusion, and went away.
Her uncle returned. They seated in the carriage, and were on the road to Longbourn.
“Well, let’s suppose that they are in London, Elizabeth,” said her uncle, as they drove from the town; “They may be there. They have very little money.”
“But why all this secrecy? Why any fear of detection? If they are going to marry, why must their marriage be private? Oh, no, no – this is not likely. Wickham will never marry a woman without some money. He cannot afford it. Lydia has no brothers to step forward; that’s why he is so ‘brave’. But can you think that Lydia loves him so much?”
“It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed,” replied Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes, “But, really, I do not know what to say. But she is very young; she has never been taught to think on serious subjects. Nothing but love, flirtation, and officers are in her head. Wickham has neither integrity nor honour; he is as false and deceitful as he is insinuating. His lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless.”
“But does Lydia know nothing of this? can she be ignorant of what you and Jane seem so well to understand?”
“Oh, yes! – that, that is the worst of all. The necessity of opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me. That she could be in any danger from the deception never entered my head.”
They travelled as fast as possible, and, sleeping one night on the road, reached Longbourn by dinner time the next day. Elizabeth asked Jane if she had heard of the fugitives.
“Not yet,” replied Jane. “But now my dear uncle has come, I hope everything will be well.”
“Is my father in town?”
“Yes, he went on Tuesday.”
“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 in safety.”
“And my mother – how is she? How are you all?”
“My mother is tolerably well, I think. Mary and Kitty, thank Heaven, are quite well.”
“But you – how are you?” cried Elizabeth. “You look pale!”
Her sister, however, assured her of her being perfectly well. Jane ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and thanked them both.
Mary whispered to Elizabeth, soon after they were seated at table:
“This is a most unfortunate affair. We must do something.”
Everybody was in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next morning, but the post came in without bringing a single line from him.
All Meryton was striving to blacken the man who, three months before, had been almost an angel. Elizabeth and even Jane became almost hopeless.
Mr. Gardiner left Longbourn on Sunday; on Tuesday his wife received a letter from him; it told them that, on his arrival, he had immediately found out his brother, and persuaded him to come to Gracechurch Street; and that he was now looking for the fugitives at all the principal hotels in town. Mr. Gardiner himself did not expect any success from this measure, but as his brother was eager in it, he meant to assist him in pursuing it. There was also a postscript to this letter:
“At present we have nothing to guide us. Colonel Forster will do everything in his power. But, perhaps, Lizzy could tell us what relatives that officer could have in London.”
Elizabeth was ready to help; but it was not in her power to give any useful information. She had never heard of any Wickham’s relatives, except a father and mother, both of whom had been dead many years.
Every day at Longbourn was now a day of anxiety; but the most anxious part of each was when the post was expected. The arrival of letters was the grand object of every morning’s impatience.
Mr. Gardiner wrote in his letter, that they might expect to see their father at home on the following day, which was Saturday. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did not express so much satisfaction as her children expected.
“What, is he coming home, and without poor Lydia?” she cried. “Sure he will not leave London before he has found them. Who is to fight Wickham, and make him marry her, if he comes away?”
When Mr. Bennet arrived, he said as little as he usually did.
“Do you suppose them to be in London?” asked Elizabeth
“Yes; where else can they be so well hidden? And Lydia is happy then,” said her father drily.
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. She said to Miss Bennet, “I beg your pardon, madam, for interrupting you, but there is a letter for you from Mr. Gardiner.”
The girls ran away. They ran through the vestibule into the breakfast-room; from thence to the library:
“Oh, papa, what news – what news? Have you heard from my uncle?”
“Yes I have had a letter from him.”
“Well, and what news does it bring – good or bad?”
“Read it aloud,” said their father and gave them a letter.
“Gracechurch Street, Monday, August 2.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,
“At last I have seen them both – ”
“Then it is as I always hoped,” cried Jane; “they are married!”
Elizabeth read on:
“I have seen them both. They are not married; but if you are willing to perform the engagements, I hope it will not be long before they are. Mr. Wickham’s circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to be. I am happy to say there will be some little money, even when all his debts are discharged, to settle on my niece, in addition to her own fortune. Yours, Edw. Gardiner.”
“Is it possible?” cried Elizabeth, when she had finished. “Can it be possible that he will marry her?”
“Wickham is not so bad, 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.”
“Oh! my dear father,” she cried, “come back and write immediately.”
“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.”
“And they must marry!”
“Yes, yes, they must marry. There is nothing else to be done. But there are two things that I want very much to know; one is, how much money your uncle promised him; and the other, how will I give it back to him.”
“Money! My uncle!” cried Jane, “what do you mean, sir?”
“I mean, that no Wickham would marry poor Lydia.”
“That is true,” said Elizabeth; “though it had not occurred to me before. His debts to be discharged, and something still to remain! Oh! it must be my uncle’s doings! Generous, good man! A small sum could not do all this.”
“No,” said her father; “Wickham’s a fool if he takes less than ten thousand pounds.”
“Ten thousand pounds! How is such a sum to be repaid?”
Mr. Bennet made no answer, and each of them continued silent till they reached the house. Their father then went on to the library to write, and the girls walked into the breakfast-room.
“And they are really to be married!” cried Elizabeth. “How strange this is! Oh, Lydia!”
Elizabeth took the letter, and they went up stairs together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet. After a slight preparation for good news, the letter was read aloud. Mrs. Bennet could hardly contain herself. As soon as Jane had read Mr. Gardiner’s letter, her joy burst forth. To know that her daughter would be married was enough.
“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! But the clothes, the wedding clothes! I will write to my sister 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. My dear, dear Lydia! How merry we shall be together when we meet!”
Her eldest daughter reminded her about Mr. Gardiner’s help.
“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! And she was only sixteen last June.”
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