Mr. Bennet had very often wished before this period of his life that, instead
of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum for the better
provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived him. He now
wished it more than ever. Had he done his duty in that respect, Lydia need
not have been indebted to her uncle for whatever of honour or credit could
now be purchased for her. The satisfaction of prevailing on one of the most
worthless young men in Great Britain to be her husband might then have
rested in its proper place.
He was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyone
should be forwarded at the sole expense of his brother-in-law, and he was
determined, if possible, to find out the extent of his assistance, and to dis-
charge the obligation as soon as he could.
When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly
useless, for, of course, they were to have a son. The son was to join in cut-
ting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow and
younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters suc-
cessively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. Bennet,
for many years after Lydia's birth, had been certain that he would. This
event had at last been despaired of, but it was then too late to be saving.
Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy, and her husband's love of indepen-
dence had alone prevented their exceeding their income.
Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet
and the children. But in what proportions it should be divided amongst the
latter depended on the will of the parents. This was one point, with regard to
Lydia, at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennet could have no
hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In terms of grateful ac-
knowledgment for the kindness of his brother, though expressed most con-
cisely, he then delivered on paper his perfect approbation of all that was
done, and his willingness to fulfil the engagements that had been made for
him. He had never before supposed that, could Wickham be prevailed on to
marry his daughter, it would be done with so little inconvenience to himself
as by the present arrangement. He would scarcely be ten pounds a year the
loser by the hundred that was to be paid them; for, what with her board and
pocket allowance, and the continual presents in money which passed to her
through her mother's hands, Lydia's expenses had been very little within
that sum.
That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was an-
other very welcome surprise; for his wish at present was to have as little
trouble in the business as possible. When the first transports of rage which
had produced his activity in seeking her were over, he naturally returned to
all his former indolence. His letter was soon dispatched; for, though dilatory
in undertaking business, he was quick in its execution. He begged to know
further particulars of what he was indebted to his brother, but was too angry
with Lydia to send any message to her.
The good news spread quickly through the house, and with proportionate
speed through the neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with decent phi-
losophy. To be sure, it would have been more for the advantage of conver-
sation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the happiest alter-
native, been secluded from the world, in some distant farmhouse. But there
was much to be talked of in marrying her; and the good-natured wishes for
her well-doing which had proceeded before from all the spiteful old ladies
in Meryton lost but a little of their spirit in this change of circumstances,
because with such an husband her misery was considered certain.
It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been downstairs; but on this
happy day she again took her seat at the head of her table, and in spirits op-
pressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a damp to her triumph. The
marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object of her wishes since
Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of accomplishment, and her
thoughts and her words ran wholly on those attendants of elegant nuptials,
fine muslins, new carriages, and servants. She was busily searching through
the neighbourhood for a proper situation for her daughter, and, without
knowing or considering what their income might be, rejected many as defi-
cient in size and importance.
"Haye Park might do," said she, "if the Gouldings could quit it—or the
great house at Stoke, if the drawing-room were larger; but Ashworth is too
far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles from me; and as for Pulvis
Lodge, the attics are dreadful."
Her husband allowed her to talk on without interruption while the ser-
vants remained. But when they had withdrawn, he said to her: "Mrs. Ben-
net, before you take any or all of these houses for your son and daughter, let
us come to a right understanding. Intoone house in this neighbourhood they
shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the impudence of either,
by receiving them at Longbourn."
A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm. It
soon led to another; and Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror,
that her husband would not advance a guinea to buy clothes for his daugh-
ter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of affection
whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend it. That
his anger could be carried to such a point of inconceivable resentment as to
refuse his daughter a privilege without which her marriage would scarcely
seem valid, exceeded all she could believe possible. She was more alive to
the disgrace which her want of new clothes must reflect on her daughter's
nuptials, than to any sense of shame at her eloping and living with Wick-
ham a fortnight before they took place.
Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of
the moment, been led to make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears for her
sister; for since her marriage would so shortly give the proper termination
to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its unfavourable beginning
from all those who were not immediately on the spot.
She had no fear of its spreading farther through his means. There were
few people on whose secrecy she would have more confidently depended;
but, at the same time, there was no one whose knowledge of a sister's frailty
would have mortified her so much—not, however, from any fear of disad-
vantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate, there seemed a gulf
impassable between them. Had Lydia's marriage been concluded on the
most honourable terms, it was not to be supposed that Mr. Darcy would
connect himself with a family where, to every other objection, would now
be added an alliance and relationship of the nearest kind with a man whom
he so justly scorned.
From such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink. The
wish of procuring her regard, which she had assured herself of his feeling in
Derbyshire, could not in rational expectation survive such a blow as this.
She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she hardly knew
of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no longer hope
to be benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there seemed the
least chance of gaining intelligence. She was convinced that she could have
been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they should meet.
What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the
proposals which she had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now
have been most gladly and gratefully received! He was as generous, she
doubted not, as the most generous of his sex; but while he was mortal, there
must be a triumph.
She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in dis-
position and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper,
though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an
union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveli-
ness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved; and from
his judgement, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have re-
ceived benefit of greater importance.
But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude
what connubial felicity really was. An union of a different tendency, and
precluding the possibility of the other, was soon to be formed in their
family.
How Wickham and Lydia were to be supported in tolerable indepen-
dence, she could not imagine. But how little of permanent happiness could
belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions
were stronger than their virtue, she could easily conjecture.
Mr. Gardiner soon wrote again to his brother. To Mr. Bennet's acknowl-
edgments he briefly replied, with assurance of his eagerness to promote the
welfare of any of his family; and concluded with entreaties that the subject
might never be mentioned to him again. The principal purport of his letter
was to inform them that Mr. Wickham had resolved on quitting the militia.
"It was greatly my wish that he should do so," he added, "as soon as his
marriage was fixed on. And I think you will agree with me, in considering
the removal from that corps as highly advisable, both on his account and
my niece's. It is Mr. Wickham's intention to go into the regulars; and among
his former friends, there are still some who are able and willing to assist
him in the army. He has the promise of an ensigncy in General ——'s regi-
ment, now quartered in the North. It is an advantage to have it so far from
this part of the kingdom. He promises fairly; and I hope among different
people, where they may each have a character to preserve, they will both be
more prudent. I have written to Colonel Forster, to inform him of our
present arrangements, and to request that he will satisfy the various credi-
tors of Mr. Wickham in and near Brighton, with assurances of speedy pay-
ment, for which I have pledged myself. And will you give yourself the trou-
ble of carrying similar assurances to his creditors in Meryton, of whom I
shall subjoin a list according to his information? He has given in all his
debts; I hope at least he has not deceived us. Haggerston has our directions,
and all will be completed in a week. They will then join his regiment, un-
less they are first invited to Longbourn; and I understand from Mrs. Gar-
diner, that my niece is very desirous of seeing you all before she leaves the
South. She is well, and begs to be dutifully remembered to you and your
mother.—Yours, etc.,
"E. GARDINER."
Mr. Bennet and his daughters saw all the advantages of Wickham's re-
moval from the ——shire as clearly as Mr. Gardiner could do. But Mrs.
Bennet was not so well pleased with it. Lydia's being settled in the North,
just when she had expected most pleasure and pride in her company, for she
had by no means given up her plan of their residing in Hertfordshire, was a
severe disappointment; and, besides, it was such a pity that Lydia should be
taken from a regiment where she was acquainted with everybody, and had
so many favourites.
"She is so fond of Mrs. Forster," said she, "it will be quite shocking to
send her away! And there are several of the young men, too, that she likes
very much. The officers may not be so pleasant in General ——'s
regiment."
His daughter's request, for such it might be considered, of being admitted
into her family again before she set off for the North, received at first an ab-
solute negative. But Jane and Elizabeth, who agreed in wishing, for the sake
of their sister's feelings and consequence, that she should be noticed on her
marriage by her parents, urged him so earnestly yet so rationally and so
mildly, to receive her and her husband at Longbourn, as soon as they were
married, that he was prevailed on to think as they thought, and act as they
wished. And their mother had the satisfaction of knowing that she would be
able to show her married daughter in the neighbourhood before she was
banished to the North. When Mr. Bennet wrote again to his brother, there-
fore, he sent his permission for them to come; and it was settled, that as
soon as the ceremony was over, they should proceed to Longbourn. Eliza-
beth was surprised, however, that Wickham should consent to such a
scheme, and had she consulted only her own inclination, any meeting with
him would have been the last object of her wishes.
