CHAPTER XLVIII.

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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.

Everybody declared that he was the wickedest young man in the world; and

everybody 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 inquire 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 anyone 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 everything 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 sympathize 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 blessing 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

[Illustration:

“To whom I have related the affair”

[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]

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,” etc., etc.

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 honour 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, 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 Eastbourne,

for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at least 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.”

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