Chapter 7
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 vestibule into the
breakfast-room; from thence to the library;—their father was in
neither; and they were on the point of seeking him up stairs with
their mother, when they were met by the butler, who said,—
“If you are looking for my master, ma’am, he is
walking towards the little copse.”
Upon this information, they instantly passed
through the hall once more, and ran across the lawn after their
father, who was deliberately pursuing his way towards a small wood
on one side of the paddock.
Jane, who was not so light, nor so much in the
habit of running as Elizabeth, soon lagged behind, while her
sister, 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.”
GRACECHURCH STREET,
MONDAY, AUGUST 2.
MONDAY, AUGUST 2.
“MY DEAR BROTHER,
At last I am able to send you some tidings of my
niece, and such as, upon the whole, I hope will give you
satisfaction. Soon after you left me on Saturday, I was fortunate
enough to find out in what part of London they were. The
particulars I reserve till we meet. It is enough to know they are
discovered: 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, nor
can I find there was any intention of being so; but if you are
willing to perform the engagements which I have ventured to make on
your side, I hope it will not be long before they are. All that is
required of you is, to assure to your daughter, by settlement, her
equal share of the five thousand pounds, secured among your
children after the decease of yourself and my sister; and,
moreover, to enter into an engagement of allowing her, during your
life, one hundred pounds per annum. These are conditions which,
considering every thing, I had no hesitation in complying with, as
far as I thought myself privileged, for you. I shall send this by
express, that no time may be lost in bringing me your answer. You
will easily comprehend, from these particulars, that Mr. Wickham’s
circumstances are not so hopeless as they are generally believed to
be. The world has been deceived in that respect; and 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.
If, as I conclude will be the case, you send me full powers to act
in your name throughout the whole of this business, I will
immediately give directions to Haggerston for preparing a proper
settlement. There will not be the smallest occasion for your coming
to town again; therefore stay quietly at Longbourn, and depend on
my diligence and care. Send back your answer as soon as you can,
and be careful to write explicitly. We have judged it best that my
niece should be married from this house, of which I hope you will
approve. She comes to us today. I shall write again as soon as any
thing more is determined on. Yours, &c.
EDW. GARDINER.”
“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 have
thought him,” said her sister. “My dear father, I congratulate
you.”
“And have you answered the letter?” said
Elizabeth.
“No; but it must be done soon.”
Most earnestly did she then entreat him to lose no
more time before he wrote.
“Oh, my dear father,” she cried, “come back and
write immediately. Consider how important every moment is in such a
case.”
“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 so saying, he turned back with them, and walked
towards the house.
“And may I ask?” said Elizabeth; “but the terms, I
suppose, must be complied with.”
“Complied with! 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 that I want very much to know:
—one is, how much money your uncle has laid down to bring it about;
and the other, how I am 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; “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, I am afraid he has distressed himself. A small
sum could not do all this.”
“No,” said her father. “Wickham’s a fool if he
takes her with a farthing less than ten thousand pounds: I should
be sorry to think so ill of him, in the very beginning of our
relationship.”
“Ten thousand pounds! Heaven forbid! How is half
such a sum to be repaid?”
Mr. Bennet made no answer; and each of them, deep
in thought, continued silent till they reached the house. Their
father then 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 by themselves. “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. Though our kind uncle has done something towards
clearing him, I cannot believe that ten thousand pounds, or any
thing like it, has been advanced. He has children of his own, and
may have more. How could he spare half ten thousand pounds?”
“If we are ever able to learn what Wickham’s debts
have been,” said Elizabeth, “and how much is settled on his side on
our sister, we shall exactly know what Mr. Gardiner has done for
them, because Wickham has not sixpence of his own. The kindness of
my uncle and aunt can never be requited. Their taking her home, and
affording her their personal protection and countenance, is such a
sacrifice to her advantage as years of gratitude cannot enough
acknowledge. By this time she is actually with them! If such
goodness does not make her miserable now, she will never deserve to
be happy! What a meeting for her, when she first sees my
aunt!”
“We must endeavour to forget all that has passed on
either side,” said Jane: “I hope and trust they will yet be happy.
His consenting to marry her is a proof, I will believe, that he is
come to a right way of thinking. Their mutual affection will steady
them; and I flatter myself they will settle so quietly, and live in
so rational a manner, as may in time make their past imprudence
forgotten.”
“Their conduct has been such,” replied Elizabeth,
“as neither you, nor I, nor any body, 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, therefore, 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 from his writing-table,
and they went up stairs together. Mary and Kitty were both with
Mrs. Bennet: one communication would, therefore, do for all. 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 hope of Lydia’s being soon married, her joy burst forth,
and every following sentence added to its exuberance. She was now
in an irritation as violent from delight as she had ever been
fidgety from alarm and vexation.
To know that her daughter would be married was
enough. She was disturbed by no fear for her felicity, nor humbled
by any remembrance of her misconduct.
“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 how it
would be—I knew he would manage every thing. How I long to see her!
and to see dear Wickham too! 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.
I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear Lydia! How merry
we shall be together when we meet!”
Her eldest daughter endeavoured to give some relief
to the violence of these transports, by leading her thoughts to the
obligations which Mr. Gardiner’s behaviour laid them all
under.
“For we must attribute this happy conclusion,” she
added, “in a great measure to his kindness. We are persuaded that
he has pledged himself to assist Mr. Wickham with money.”
“Well,” cried her mother, “it is all very right;
who should do it but her own uncle? If he had not had a family of
his own, I and my children must have had all his money, you know;
and it is the first time we have ever had any thing from him except
a few presents. 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. My dear Jane, I am in such a flutter, that
I am sure I can’t write; so I will dictate, and you write for me.
We will settle with your father about the money afterwards; but the
things should be ordered immediately.”
She was then proceeding to all the particulars of
calico, muslin, and cambric, and would shortly have dictated some
very plentiful orders, had not Jane, though with some difficulty,
persuaded her to wait till her father was at leisure to be
consulted. One day’s delay, she observed, would be of small
importance; and her mother was too happy to be quite so obstinate
as usual. Other schemes, too, came into her head.
“I will go to Meryton,” said she, “as soon as I am
dressed, and tell the good, good news to my sister Philips. And as
I come back, I can call on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. Kitty, run
down and order the carriage. An airing would do me a great deal of
good, I am sure. Girls, can I do any thing for you in Meryton? 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.”
Mrs. Hill began instantly to express her joy.
Elizabeth received her congratulations amongst the rest, and then,
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, in looking forward, 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.