Their sister’s wedding day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her
probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet
them at ——, and they were to return in it by dinner-time.
Their arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets, and Jane more
especially, who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself,
had she been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her
sister must endure.🔗
They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive
them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to
the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed,
anxious, uneasy.🔗
Lydia’s voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and
she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and
welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, to
Wickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both joy with an alacrity
which shewed no doubt of their happiness.🔗
Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite
so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely
opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was
enough to provoke him. Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was
shocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and
fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their
congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly
round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed,
with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there.🔗
Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself, but his manners were
always so pleasing, that had his character and his marriage been exactly
what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he claimed their
relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had not before
believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, resolving
within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an impudent
man. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of the two who caused
their confusion suffered no variation of colour.🔗
There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither of
them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near Elizabeth,
began enquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood, with a good
humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her replies. They
seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of
the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led voluntarily to subjects
which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world.🔗
“Only think of its being three months,” she cried, “since I went away; it
seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things enough
happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure I had no
more idea of being married till I came back again! though I thought it
would be very good fun if I was.”🔗
Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked
expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of which
she chose to be insensible, gaily continued, “Oh! mamma, do the people
hereabouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not; and we
overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he should
know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to him, and took off my
glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that he might
see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like anything.”🔗
Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up, and ran out of the room;
and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to the
dining parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with
anxious parade, walk up to her mother’s right hand, and hear her say to
her eldest sister, “Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go
lower, because I am a married woman.”🔗
It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment
from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good spirits
increased. She longed to see Mrs. Phillips, the Lucases, and all their
other neighbours, and to hear herself called “Mrs. Wickham” by each of
them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to show her ring, and
boast of being married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.🔗
“Well, mamma,” said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast
room, “and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I am
sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my good
luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get husbands.
What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go.”🔗
“Very true; and if I had my will, we should. But my dear Lydia, I don’t at
all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?”🔗
“Oh, lord! yes;—there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all
things. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We shall
be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some balls,
and I will take care to get good partners for them all.”🔗
“I should like it beyond anything!” said her mother.🔗
“And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind
you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the winter is
over.”🔗
“I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Elizabeth; “but I do not
particularly like your way of getting husbands.”🔗
Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham
had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join his
regiment at the end of a fortnight.🔗
No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; and
she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, and
having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to
all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did
think, than such as did not.🔗
Wickham’s affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected to find
it; not equal to Lydia’s for him. She had scarcely needed her present
observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that their
elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love, rather than by
his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring for her, he
chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain that his flight
was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and if that were the
case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of having a
companion.🔗
Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every
occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did every thing
best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on the first
of September, than any body else in the country.🔗
One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two
elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth:🔗
“Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You
were not by, when I told mamma and the others all about it. Are not you
curious to hear how it was managed?”🔗
“No really,” replied Elizabeth; “I think there cannot be too little said
on the subject.”🔗
“La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were
married, you know, at St. Clement’s, because Wickham’s lodgings were in
that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven
o’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together; and the others were
to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a
fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it
off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt,
all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was
reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was
thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he
would be married in his blue coat.”🔗
“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never be
over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my uncle and aunt were
horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you’ll believe me, I
did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not
one party, or scheme, or anything. To be sure London was rather thin, but,
however, the Little Theatre was open. Well, and so just as the carriage
came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to that horrid
man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is
no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for my
uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond the hour, we could not be
married all day. But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes’ time,
and then we all set out. However, I recollected afterwards that if he had
been prevented going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might
have done as well.”🔗
“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.🔗
“Oh, yes!—he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But gracious
me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised
them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!”🔗
“If it was to be secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the subject.
You may depend upon my seeking no further.”🔗
“Oh! certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; “we will
ask you no questions.”🔗
“Thank you,” said Lydia, “for if you did, I should certainly tell you all,
and then Wickham would be angry.”🔗
On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her
power, by running away.🔗
But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it
was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her
sister’s wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, where
he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as
to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her brain; but she was
satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct
in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such
suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short letter to
her aunt, to request an explanation of what Lydia had dropt, if it were
compatible with the secrecy which had been intended.🔗
“You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be to
know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively speaking)
a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such a time.
Pray write instantly, and let me understand it—unless it is, for
very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to think
necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance.”🔗
“Not that I shall, though,” she added to herself, as she finished
the letter; “and my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable
manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it
out.”🔗
Jane’s delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to Elizabeth
privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad of it;—till
it appeared whether her enquiries would receive any satisfaction, she had
rather be without a confidante.🔗