Chapter 6
The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr.
Bennet the next morning, but the post came in without bringing a
single line from him. His family knew him to be, on all common
occasions, a most negligent and dilatory correspondent; but at such
a time they had hoped for exertion. They were forced to conclude,
that he had no pleasing intelligence to send, but even of
that they would have been glad to be certain. Mr. Gardiner
had waited only for the letters before he set off.
When he was gone, they were certain at least of
receiving constant information of what was going on; and their
uncle promised, at parting, to prevail on Mr. Bennet to return to
Longbourn as soon as he could, to the great consolation of his
sister, who considered it as the only security for her husband’s
not being killed in a duel.
Mrs. Gardiner and the children were to remain in
Hertfordshire a few days longer, as the former thought her presence
might be serviceable to her nieces. She shared in their attendance
on Mrs. Bennet, and was a great comfort to them in their hours of
freedom. Their other aunt also visited them frequently, and always,
as she said, with the design of cheering and heartening them up,
though, as she never came without reporting some fresh instance of
Wickham’s extravagance or irregularity, she seldom went away
without leaving them more dispirited than she found them.
All Meryton seemed striving to blacken the man who,
but three months before, had been almost an angel of light. He was
declared to be in debt to every tradesman in the place, and his
intrigues, all honoured with the title of seduction, had been
extended into every tradesman’s family. Every body declared that he
was the wickedest young man in the world; and every body began to
find out, that they had always distrusted the appearance of his
goodness. Elizabeth, though she did not credit above half of what
was said, believed enough to make her former assurance of her
sister’s ruin still more certain; and even Jane, who believed still
less of it, became almost hopeless, more especially as the time was
now come, when, if they had gone to Scotland, which she had never
before entirely despaired of, they must in all probability have
gained some news of them.
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. That Mr. Bennet had been to Epsom
and Clapham, before his arrival, but without gaining any
satisfactory information; and that he was now determined to enquire
at all the principal hotels in town, as Mr. Bennet thought it
possible they might have gone to one of them, on their first coming
to London, before they procured lodgings. 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. He added, that
Mr. Bennet seemed wholly disinclined at present to leave London,
and promised to write again very soon. There was also a postscript
to this effect:—
“I have written to Colonel Forster to desire him to
find out, if possible, from some of the young man’s intimates in
the regiment, whether Wickham has any relations or connections who
would be likely to know in what part of the town he has now
concealed himself. If there were any one that one could apply to,
with a probability of gaining such a clue as that, it might be of
essential consequence. At present we have nothing to guide us.
Colonel Forster will, I dare say, do every thing in his power to
satisfy us on this head. But, on second thoughts, perhaps Lizzy
could tell us what relations he has now living better than any
other person.”
Elizabeth was at no loss to understand from whence
this deference for her authority proceeded; but it was not in her
power to give any information of so satisfactory a nature as the
compliment deserved.
She had never heard of his having had any
relations, except a father and mother, both of whom had been dead
many years. It was possible, however, that some of his companions
in the———shire might be able to give more information; and though
she was not very sanguine in expecting it, the application was a
something to look forward to.
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 first grand object of every
morning’s impatience. Through letters, whatever of good or bad was
to be told would be communicated, and every succeeding day was
expected to bring some news of importance.
But before they heard again from Mr. Gardiner, a
letter arrived for their father, from a different quarter, from Mr.
Collins; which, as Jane had received directions to open all that
came for him in his absence, she accordingly read; and Elizabeth,
who knew what curiosities his letters always were, looked over her,
and read it likewise. It was as follows:—
“MY DEAR SIR,
“I feel myself called upon, by our relationship,
and my situation in life, to condole with you on the grievous
affliction you are now suffering under, of which we were yesterday
informed by a letter from Hertfordshire. Be assured, my dear sir,
that Mrs. Collins and myself sincerely sympathise with you, and all
your respectable family, in your present distress, which must be of
the bitterest kind, because proceeding from a cause which no time
can remove. No arguments shall be wanting on my part, that can
alleviate so severe a misfortune; or that may comfort you, under a
circumstance that must be, of all others, most afflicting to a
parent’s mind. The death of your daughter would have been a
blessing13 in
comparison of this. And it is the more to be lamented, because
there is reason to suppose, as my dear Charlotte informs me, that
this licentiousness of behaviour in your daughter has proceeded
from a faulty degree of indulgence; though, at the same time, for
the consolation of yourself and Mrs. Bennet, I am inclined to think
that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be
guilty of such an enormity, at so early an age. Howsoever that may
be, you are grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only
joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her
daughter, to whom I have related the affair. They agree with me in
apprehending that this false step in one daughter will be injurious
to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine
herself condescendingly says, will connect themselves with such a
family? And this consideration leads me, moreover, to reflect, with
augmented satisfaction, on a certain event of last November; for
had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all your sorrow
and disgrace. Let me advise you, then, my dear sir, to console
yourself as much as possible, to throw off your unworthy child from
your affection for ever, and leave her to reap the fruits of her
own heinous offence.
“I AM, DEAR SIR,” &C. &C.
Mr. Gardiner did not write again, till he had
received an answer from Colonel Forster; and then he had nothing of
a pleasant nature to send. It was not known that Wickham had a
single relation with whom he kept up any connection, and it was
certain that he had no near one living. His former acquaintance had
been numerous; but since he had been in the militia, it did not
appear that he was on terms of particular friendship with any of
them. There was no one, therefore, who could be pointed out as
likely to give any news of him. And in the wretched state of his
own finances, there was a very powerful motive for secrecy, in
addition to his fear of discovery by Lydia’s relations; for it had
just transpired that he had left gaming debts behind him to a very
considerable amount. Colonel Forster believed that more than a
thousand pounds would be necessary to clear his expenses at
Brighton. He owed a good deal in the town, but his debts of
honourbe were
still more formidable. Mr. Gardiner did not attempt to conceal
these particulars from the Longbourn family; Jane heard them with
horror. “A gamester!” she cried. “This is wholly unexpected; I had
not an idea of it.”
Mr. Gardiner added, in his letter, that they might
expect to see their father at home on the following day, which was
Saturday. Rendered spiritless by the ill success of all their
endeavours, he had yielded to his brother-in-law’s entreaty that he
would return to his family, and leave it to him to do whatever
occasion might suggest to be advisable for continuing their
pursuit. When Mrs. Bennet was told of this, she did not express so
much satisfaction as her children expected, considering what her
anxiety for his life had been before.
“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?”
As Mrs. Gardiner began to wish to be at home, it
was settled that she and her children should go to London at the
same time that Mr. Bennet came from it. The coach, therefore, took
them the first stage of their journey, and brought its master back
to Longbourn.
Mrs. Gardiner went away in all the perplexity about
Elizabeth and her Derbyshire friend that had attended her from that
part of the world. His name had never been voluntarily mentioned
before them by her niece; and the kind of half-expectation which
Mrs. Gardiner had formed, of their being followed by a letter from
him, had ended in nothing. Elizabeth had received none since her
return, that could come from Pemberley.
The present unhappy state of the family rendered
any other excuse for the lowness of her spirits unnecessary;
nothing, therefore, could be fairly conjectured from that,
though Elizabeth, who was by this time tolerably well acquainted
with her own feelings, was perfectly aware that, had she known
nothing of Darcy, she could have borne the dread of Lydia’s infamy
somewhat better. It would have spared her, she thought, one
sleepless night out of two.
When Mr. Bennet arrived, he had all the appearance
of his usual philosophic composure. He said as little as he had
ever been in the habit of saying; made no mention of the business
that had taken him away, and it was some time before his daughters
had courage to speak of it.
It was not till the afternoon, when he joined them
at tea, that Elizabeth ventured to introduce the subject; and then,
on her briefly expressing her sorrow for what he must have endured,
he replied, “Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It
has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it.”
“You must not be too severe upon yourself,” replied
Elizabeth.
“You may well warn me against such an evil. Human
nature is so prone to fall into it! No, Lizzy, let me once in my
life feel how much I have been to blame. I am not afraid of being
overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon
enough.”
“Do you suppose them to be in London?”
“Yes; where else can they be so well
concealed?”
“And Lydia used to want to go to London,” added
Kitty.
“She is happy, then,” said her father, drily; “and
her residence there will probably be of some duration.”
Then, after a short silence, he continued, “Lizzy,
I bear you no ill-will for being justified in your advice to me
last May, which, considering the event, shows some greatness of
mind.”
They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to
fetch her mother’s tea.
“This is a parade,” cried he, “which does one good;
it gives such an elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the
same; I will sit in my library, in my nightcap and powdering
gown,bf and
give as much trouble as I can,—or perhaps I may defer it till Kitty
runs away.”
“I am not going to run away, papa,” said Kitty,
fretfully; “if I should ever go to Brighton, I would behave
better than Lydia.”
“You go to Brighton! I would not trust you
so near it as East Bourne, for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at
last learnt to be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No
officer is ever to enter my house again, nor even to pass through
the village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited, unless you stand
up with one of your sisters. And you are never to stir out of
doors, till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every
day in a rational manner.”
Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious
light, began to cry.
“Well, well,” said he, “do not make yourself
unhappy. If you are a good girl for the next ten years, I will take
you to a review at the end of them.”