Chapter 5

"I HAVE been thinking it over again, Elizabeth," said her
uncle as they drove from the town; "and really, upon serious
consideration, I am much more inclined than I was to judge
as your eldest sister does of the matter.  It appears to me so very
unlikely, that any young man should form such a design
against a girl who is by no means unprotected or friendless,
and who was actually staying in his colonel's family, that I
am strongly inclined to hope the best.  Could he expect that
her friends would not step forward?  Could he expect to be
noticed again by the regiment, after such an affront to Colonel
Forster?  His temptation is not adequate to the risk."
"Do you really think so?" cried Elizabeth, brightening up
for a moment.
"Upon my word," said Mrs. Gardiner, "I begin to be of
your uncle's opinion.  It is really too great a violation of
decency, honour, and interest, for him to be guilty ofit.  I 
cannot think so very ill of Wickham.  Can you, yourself, Lizzy,
so wholly give him up, as to believe him capable of it?"
"Not perhaps of neglecting his own interest.  But of every
other neglect I can believe him capable.  If, indeed, it should
be so!  But I dare not hope it.  Why should they not go on to
Scotland, if that had been the case?"
"In the first place," replied Mr. Gardiner, "there is no
absolute proof that they are not gone to Scotland."
"Oh!  but their removing from the chaise into an hackney
coach is such a presumption!  And, besides, no traces of them
were to be found on the Barnet road."
"Well, then -- supposing them to be in London.  They may
be there, though for the purpose of concealment, for no more
exceptionable purpose.  It is not likely that money should be
very abundant on either side; and it might strike them that
they could be more economically, though less expeditiously,
married in London, than in Scotland."
"But why all this secrecy?  Why any fear of detection?  Why
must their marriage be private?  Oh!  no, no, this is not likely.
His most particular friend, you see by Jane's account, was
persuaded of his never intending to marry her.  Wickham will
never marry a woman without some money.  He cannot afford
it.  And what claims has Lydia, what attractions has she
beyond youth, health, and good humour, that could make him
for her sake, forego every chance of benefiting himself by
marrying well?  As to what restraint the apprehension of 
disgrace in the corps might throw on a dishonourable elopement
with her, I am not able to judge; for I know nothing of the
effects that such a step might produce.  But as to your other
objection, I am afraid it will hardly hold good.  Lydia has no
brothers to step forward; and he might imagine, from my
father's behaviour, from his indolence and the little attention
he has ever seemed to give to what was going forward in his
family, that he would do as little, and think as little about it,
as any father could do, in such a matter."
"But can you think that Lydia is so lost to every thing but
love of him, as to consent to live with him on any other terms
than marriage?"
"It does seem, and it is most shocking indeed," replied
Elizabeth, with tears in her eyes, "that a sister's sense of
decency and virtue in such a point should admit of doubt.
But, really, I know not what to say.  Perhaps I am not doing
her justice.  But she is very young; she has never been taught
to think on serious subjects; and for the last half year, nay,
for a twelvemonth, she has been given up to nothing but
amusement and vanity.  She has been allowed to dispose of
her time in the most idle and frivolous manner, and to adopt
any opinions that came in her way.  Since the -- shire were
first quartered in Meryton, nothing but love, flirtation, and
officers, have been in her head.  She has been doing every
thing in her power by thinking and talking on the subject, to
give greater -- what shall I call it?  susceptibility to her feel --
ings; which are naturally lively enough.  And we all know that
Wickham has every charm of person and address that can
captivate a woman."
"But you see that Jane," said her aunt, "does not think so
ill of Wickham, as to believe him capable of the attempt."
"Of whom does Jane ever think ill?  And who is there, what --
ever might be their former conduct, that she would believe
capable of such an attempt, till it were proved against them?
But Jane knows, as well as I do, what Wickham really is.  We
both know that he has been profligate in every sense of the
word.  That he has neither integrity nor honour.  That he is
as false and deceitful, as he is insinuating."
"And do you really know all this?" cried Mrs. Gardiner,
whose curiosity as to the mode of her intelligence was all
alive.
"I do, indeed," replied Elizabeth, colouring.  "I told you the
other day, of his infamous behaviour to Mr. Darcy; and you,
yourself, when last at Longbourn, heard in what manner he
spoke of the man, who had behaved with such forbearance
and liberality towards him.  And there are other circumstances
which I am not at liberty -- which it is not worth while to
relate; but his lies about the whole Pemberley family are endless.  From what he said of Miss Darcy, I was thoroughly prepared 
to see a proud, reserved, disagreeable girl.  Yet he knew
to the contrary himself.  He must know that she was amiable
and unpretending as we have found her."
"But does Lydia know nothing of this?  Can she be ignorant
of what you and Jane seem so well to understand?"
"Oh, yes! -- that, that is the worst of all.  Till I was in Kent,
and saw so much both of Mr. Darcy and his relation, Colonel
Fitzwilliam, I was ignorant of the truth myself.  And when I
returned home, the -- shire was to leave Meryton in a week
or fortnight's time.  As that was the case, neither Jane, to
whom I related the whole, nor I, thought it necessary to make
our knowledge public; for of what use could it apparently be
to any one, that the good opinion which all the neighbourhood
had of him, should then be overthrown?  And even when it
was settled that Lydia should go with Mrs. Forster, the necessity 
of opening her eyes to his character never occurred to me.
That she could be in any danger from the deception never
entered my head.  That such a consequence as this should
ensue, you may easily believe was far enough from my
thoughts."
"When they all removed to Brighton, therefore, you had no
reason, I suppose, to believe them fond of each other."
"Not the slightest.  I can remember no symptom of affection 
on either side; and had any thing of the kind been perceptible, 
you must be aware that ours is not a family, on which
it could be thrown away.  When first he entered the corps, she
was ready enough to admire him; but so we all were.  Every
girl in, or near Meryton, was out of her senses about him for
the first two months; but he never distinguished her by any
particular attention, and, consequently, after a moderate
period of extravagant and wild admiration, her fancy for him
gave way, and others of the regiment, who treated her with
more distinction, again became her favourites."
It may be easily believed, that however little of novelty
could be added to their fears, hopes, and conjectures, on this
interesting subject, by its repeated discussion, no other could
detain them from it long, during the whole of the journey.
From Elizabeth's thoughts it was never absent.  Fixed there
by the keenest of all anguish, self reproach, she could find no
interval of ease or forgetfulness.
They travelled as expeditiously as possible; and sleeping
one night on the road, reached Longbourn by dinner-time the
next day.  It was a comfort to Elizabeth to consider that Jane
could not have been wearied by long expectations.
The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, were
standing on the steps of the house, as they entered the paddock; 
and when the carriage drove up to the door, the joyful
surprise that lighted up their faces, and displayed itself over
their whole bodies, in a variety of capers and frisks, was the
first pleasing earnest of their welcome.
Elizabeth jumped out; and, after giving each of them an
hasty kiss, hurried into the vestibule, where Jane, who came
running down stairs from her mother's apartment, immediately 
met her.
Elizabeth, as she affectionately embraced her, whilst tears
filled the eyes of both, lost not a moment in asking whether
any thing had been heard of the fugitives.
"Not yet," replied Jane.  "But now that my dear uncle is
come, I hope every thing will be well."
 "Is my father in town?"
"Yes, he went on Tuesday as I wrote you word."
"And have you heard from him often?"
"We have heard only once.  He wrote me a few lines on
Wednesday, to say that he had arrived in safety, and to give
me his directions, which I particularly begged him to do.
He merely added, that he should not write again, till he had
something of importance to mention."
"And my mother -- How is she?  How are you all?"
"My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits
are greatly shaken.  She is up stairs, and will have great 
satisfaction in seeing you all.  She does not yet leave her 
dressing-room.  Mary and Kitty, thank Heaven!  are quite well."
"But you -- How are you?" cried Elizabeth.  "You look pale.
How much you must have gone through!"
Her sister, however, assured her, of her being perfectly
well; and their conversation, which had been passing while
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were engaged with their children, was
now put an end to, by the approach of the whole party.  Jane
ran to her uncle and aunt, and welcomed and thanked them
both, with alternate smiles and tears.
When they were all in the drawing room, the questions
which Elizabeth had already asked, were of course repeated
by the others, and they soon found that Jane had no intelligence 
to give.  The sanguine hope of good, however, which
the benevolence of her heart suggested, had not yet deserted
her; she still expected that it would all end well, and that
every morning would bring some letter, either from Lydia
or her father, to explain their proceedings, and perhaps
announce the marriage.
Mrs. Bennet, to whose apartment they all repaired, after a
few minutes conversation together, received them exactly as
might be expected; with tears and lamentations of regret,
invectives against the villanous conduct of Wickham, and
complaints of her own sufferings and ill usage; blaming every
body but the person to whose ill judging indulgence the errors
of her daughter must be principally owing.
"If I had been able," said she, "to carry my point of going to
Brighton, with all my family, this would not have happened;
but poor dear Lydia had nobody to take care of her.  Why did
the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight?  I am sure there
was some great neglect or other on their side, for she is not the
kind of girl to do such a thing, if she had been well looked after.
I always thought they were very unfit to have the charge of
her; but I was over-ruled, as I always am.  Poor dear child!
And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away, and I know he will
fight Wickham, wherever he meets him, and then he will be
killed, and what is to become of us all?  The Collinses will turn
us out, before he is cold in his grave; and if you are not kind
to us, brother, I do not know what we shall do."
They all exclaimed against such terrific ideas; and Mr. 
Gardiner, after general assurances of his affection for her and
all her family, told her that he meant to be in London the very
next day, and would assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavour for
recovering Lydia.
"Do not give way to useless alarm," added he, "though it is
right to be prepared for the worst, there is no occasion to look
on it as certain.  It is not quite a week since they left Brighton.
In a few days more, we may gain some news of them, and till
we know that they are not married, and have no design of
marrying, do not let us give the matter over as lost.  As soon
as I get to town, I shall go to my brother, and make him come
home with me to Gracechurch Street, and then we may consult together as to what is to be done."
 "Oh!  my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is
exactly what I could most wish for.  And now do, when you
get to town, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they
are not married already, make them marry.  And as for wedding
clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall
have as much money as she chuses, to buy them, after they
are married.  And, above all things, keep Mr. Bennet from
fighting.  Tell him what a dreadful state I am in, -- that I am
frightened out of my wits; and have such tremblings, such
flutterings all over me such spasms in my side, and pains in
my head, and such beatings at heart, that I can get no rest by
night nor by day.  And tell my dear Lydia, not to give any
directions about her clothes, till she has seen me, for she does
not know which are the best warehouses.  Oh, brother, how
kind you are!  I know you will contrive it all."
But Mr. Gardiner, though he assured her again of his
earnest endeavours in the cause, could not avoid recommending moderation to her, as well in her hopes as her fears; and,
 after talking with her in this manner till dinner was on table,
they left her to vent all her feelings on the housekeeper, who
 attended, in the absence of her daughters.
Though her brother and sister were persuaded that there
was no real occasion for such a seclusion from the family, they
did not attempt to oppose it, for they knew that she had not
 prudence enough to hold her tongue before the servants, while
they waited at table, and judged it better that one only of the
household, and the one whom they could most trust, should
comprehend all her fears and solicitude on the subject.
In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and
Kitty, who had been too busily engaged in their separate
apartments, to make their appearance before.  One came from
her books, and the other from her toilette.  The faces of both,
however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible in
either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger
which she had herself incurred in the business, had given
something more of fretfulness than usual, to the accents of
Kitty.  As for Mary, she was mistress enough of herself to
whisper to Elizabeth with a countenance of grave reflection,
soon after they were seated at table,
"This is a most unfortunate affair; and will probably be
much talked of.  But we must stem the tide of malice, and pour
into the wounded bosoms of each other, the balm of sisterly
consolation."
Then, perceiving in Elizabeth no inclination of replying,
she added, "Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia we may
draw from it this useful lesson; that loss of virtue in a female
is irretrievable -- that one false step involves her in endless
ruin -- that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful,"
 -- and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behaviour
towards the undeserving of the other sex."
Elizabeth lifted up her eyes in amazement, but was too
much oppressed to make any reply.  Mary, however, continued 
to console herself with such kind of moral extractions
from the evil before them.
In the afternoon, the two elder Miss Bennets were able to
be for half an hour by themselves; and Elizabeth instantly
availed herself of the opportunity of making many enquiries,
which Jane was equally eager to satisfy.  After joining in
general lamentations over the dreadful sequel of this event,
which Elizabeth considered as all but certain, and Miss
Bennet could not assert to be wholly impossible; the former
continued the subject, by saying, "But tell me all and every
thing about it, which I have not already heard.  Give me farther
particulars.  What did Colonel Forster say?  Had they no
apprehension of any thing before the elopement took place?
They must have seen them together for ever."
"Colonel Forster did own that he had often suspected some
partiality, especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give him
any alarm.  I am so grieved for him.  His behaviour was
attentive and kind to the utmost.  He was coming to us, in
order to assure us of his concern, before he had any idea of
their not being gone to Scotland: when that apprehension
first got abroad, it hastened his journey."
"And was Denny convinced that Wickham would not
marry?  Did he know of their intending to go off?  Had Colonel
Forster seen Denny himself?"
 "Yes; but when questioned by him Denny denied knowing
any thing of their plan, and would not give his real opinion
about it.  He did not repeat his persuasion of their not marrying -- and from that, I am inclined to hope, he might have been
misunderstood before."
"And till Colonel Forster came himself, not one of you
entertained a doubt, I suppose, of their being really married?"
"How was it possible that such an idea should enter our
brains!  I felt a little uneasy -- a little fearful of my sister's
happiness with him in marriage, because I knew that his
conduct had not been always quite right.  My father and
mother knew nothing of that, they only felt how imprudent
a match it must be.  Kitty then owned, with a very natural
triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia's
last letter, she had prepared her for such a step.  She had
known, it seems, of their being in love with each other,
many weeks."
"But not before they went to Brighton?"
"No, I believe not."
"And did Colonel Forster appear to think ill of Wickham
himself?  Does he know his real character?"
"I must confess that he did not speak so well of Wickham
as he formerly did.  He believed him to be imprudent and
extravagant.  And since this sad affair has taken place, it is
said, that he left Meryton greatly in debt; but I hope this may
be false."
"Oh, Jane, had we been less secret, had we told what we
knew of him, this could not have happened!"
"Perhaps it would have been better;' replied her sister.
"But to expose the former faults of any person, without
knowing what their present feelings were, seemed unjustifiable.  We acted with the best intentions."
"Could Colonel Forster repeat the particulars of Lydia's
note to his wife?"
"He brought it with him for us to see."
Jane then took it from her pocket-book, and gave it to
Elizabeth.  These were the contents:
"MY DEAR HARRIET,
"You will laugh when you know where I am gone, and I
cannot help laughing myself at your surprise to-morrow
morning, as soon as I am missed.  I am going to Gretna Green,
and if you cannot guess with who, I shall think you a simpleton,
for there is but one man in the world I love, and he is an angel.
I should never be happy without him, so think it no harm to
be off.  You need not send them word at Longbourn of my
going, if you do not like it, for it will make the surprise the
greater, when I write to them, and sign my name Lydia
Wickham.  What a good joke it will be!  I can hardly write for
laughing.  Pray make my excuses to Pratt, for not keeping my
engagement, and dancing with him to night.  Tell him I hope
he will excuse me when he knows all, and tell him I will dance
with him at the next ball we meet, with great pleasure.  I shall
send for my clothes when I get to Longbourn; but I wish you
would tell Sally to mend a great slit in my worked muslin
gown, before they are packed up.  Good bye.  Give my love to
Colonel Forster, hope you will drink to our good journey.
"Your affectionate friend,
"LYDIA BENNET."
 "Oh!  thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" cried Elizabeth
when she had finished it.  "What a letter is this, to be written
at such a moment.  But at least it shews, that she was serious
in the object of her journey.  Whatever he might afterwards
persuade her to, it was not on her side a scheme of infamy.  My
poor father!  how he must have felt it!"
"I never saw any one so shocked.  He could not speak a word
for full ten minutes.  My mother was taken ill immediately,
and the whole house in such confusion!"
"Oh!  Jane ' cried Elizabeth "was there a servant belonging
to it, who did not know the whole story before the end of
the day?"
"I do not know. -- I hope there was. -- But to be guarded at
such a time, is very difficult.  My mother was in hysterics, and
though I endeavoured to give her every assistance in my
power, I am afraid I did not do so much as I might have done!
But the horror of what might possibly happen, almost took
from me my faculties."
"Your attendance upon her, has been too much for you.
You do not look well.  Oh!  that I had been with you, you have
had every care and anxiety upon yourself alone."
"Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have
shared in every fatigue, I am sure, but I did not think it right
for either of them.  Kitty is slight and delicate, and Mary
studies so much, that her hours of repose should not be broken
in on.  My aunt Phillips came to Longbourn on Tuesday, after
my father went away; and was so good as to stay till Thursday
with me.  She was of great use and comfort to us all, and lady
Lucas has been very kind; she walked here on Wednesday
morning to condole with us, and offered her services, or any
of her daughters, if they could be of use to us."
"She had better have stayed at home," cried Elizabeth;
"perhaps she meant well, but, under such a misfortune as this,
one cannot see too little of one's neighbours.  Assistance is
impossible; condolence, insufferable.  Let them triumph over
us at a distance, and be satisfied."
She then proceeded to enquire into the measures which
her father had intended to pursue, while in town, for the
recovery of his daughter.
"He meant, I believe," replied Jane, "to go to Epsom, the
place where they last changed horses, see the postilions, and
try if any thing could be made out from them.  His principal
object must be, to discover the number of the hackney coach
which took them from Clapham.  It had come with a fare from
London; and as he thought the circumstance of a gentleman
and lady's removing from one carriage into another, might be
remarked, he meant to make enquiries at Clapham.  If he
could any how discover at what house the coachman had
before set down his fare, he determined to make enquiries
there, and hoped it might not be impossible to find out the
stand and number of the coach.  I do not know of any other
designs that he had formed: but he was in such a hurry to be
gone, and his spirits so greatly discomposed, that I had 
difficulty in finding out even so much as this."