Chapter 10

ELIZABETH had the satisfaction of receiving an answer to
her letter, as soon as she possibly could.  She was no sooner in
possession of it, than hurrying into the little copse, where she
was least likely to be interrupted, she sat down on one of the
benches, and prepared to be happy; for the length of the letter
convinced her that it did not contain a denial.
"Gracechurch-street, Sept.  6.
"MY DEAR NIECE,
"I have just received your letter, and shall devote this whole
morning to answering it, as I foresee that a little writing will
not comprise what I have to tell you.  I must confess myself
surprised by your application; I did not expect it from you,
Don't think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you
know, that I had not imagined such enquiries to be necessary
on your side.  If you do not choose to understand me, forgive
my impertinence.  Your uncle is as much surprised as I am --
and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned,
would have allowed him to act as he has done.  But if you are
really innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit.  On the
very day of my coming home from Longbourn, your uncle
had a most unexpected visitor.  Mr. Darcy called, and was
shut up with him several hours.  It was all over before I
arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as your's
seems to have been.  He came to tell Mr. Gardiner that he had
found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were, and that
he had seen and talked with them both, Wickham repeatedly,
Lydia once.  From what I can collect, he left Derbyshire only
one day after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution
of hunting for them.  The motive professed, was his conviction
of its being owing to himself that Wickham's worthlessness
had not been so well known, as to make it impossible for any
young woman of character, to love or confide in him.  He
generously imputed the whole to his mistaken pride, and con-
 fessed that he had before thought it beneath him, to lay his
private actions open to the world.  His character was to speak
 for itself.  He called it, therefore, his duty to step forward, and
endeavour to remedy an evil, which had been brought on by
 himself.  If he had another motive, I am sure it would never
disgrace him.  He had been some days in town, before he was
able to discover them; but he had something to direct his
search, which was more than we had; and the consciousness
of this, was another reason for his resolving to follow us.  There
is a lady, it seems, a Mrs. Younge, who was some time ago
governess to Miss Darcy, and was dismissed from her charge
on some cause of disapprobation, though he did not say what.
She then took a large house in Edward-street, and has since
maintained herself by letting lodgings.  This Mrs. Younge
was, he knew, intimately acquainted with Wickham; and he
went to her for intelligence of him, as soon as he got to town.
But it was two or three days before he could get from her what
he wanted.  She would not betray her trust, I suppose, without
bribery and corruption, for she really did know where her friend
was to be found.  Wickham indeed had gone to her, on their
first arrival in London, and had she been able to receive them
into her house, they would have taken up their abode with her.
At length, however, our kind friend procured the wished-for
irection.  They were in -- street.  He saw Wickham, and
afterwards insisted on seeing Lydia.  His first object with her,
he acknowledged, had been to persuade her to quit her present
disgraceful situation, and return to her friends as soon as they
could be prevailed on to receive her, offering his assistance,
as far as it would go.  But he found Lydia absolutely resolved
on remaining where she was.  She cared for none of her friends,
she wanted no help of his, she would not hear of leaving
Wickham.  She was sure they should be married some time or
other, and it did not much signify when.  Since such were her
feelings, it only remained, he thought, to secure and expedite
a marriage, which, in his very first conversation with Wickham, 
he easily learnt, had never been his design.  He confessed
himself obliged to leave the regiment, on account of some
debts of honour, which were very pressing; and scrupled not
to lay all the ill-consequences of Lydia's flight, on her own
folly alone.  He meant to resign his commission immediately;
and as to his future situation, he could conjecture very little
about it.  He must go somewhere, but he did not know where,
and he knew he should have nothing to live on.  Mr. Darcy
asked him why he had not married your sister at once.  Though
Mr. Bennet was not imagined to be very rich, he would have
been able to do something for him, and his situation must have
been benefited by marriage.  But he found, in reply to this
question that Wickham still cherished the hope of more
effectually making his fortune by marriage, in some other
country.  Under such circumstances, however, he was not
likely to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief.
They met several times, for there was much to be discussed.
Wickham of course wanted more than he could get; but at
length was reduced to be reasonable.  Every thing being settled
between them, Mr. Darcy's next step was to make your uncle
acquainted with it, and he first called in Gracechurch-street
the evening before I came home.  But Mr. Gardiner could not
be seen, and Mr. Darcy found, on further enquiry, that your
father was still with him, but would quit town the next morning.  
He did not judge your father to be a person whom he
could so properly consult as your uncle, and therefore readily
postponed seeing him, till after the departure of the former.
He did not leave his name, and till the next day, it was only
known that a gentleman had called on business.  On Saturday
he came again.  Your father was gone, your uncle at home, and,
as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together.  They
met again on Sunday, and then I saw him too.  It was not all
settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent
off to Longbourn.  But our visitor was very obstinate.  I fancy,
Lizzy, that obstinacy is the real defect of his character after
all.  He has been accused of many faults at different times; but
this is the true one.  Nothing was to be done that he did not do
himself; though I am sure (and I do not speak it to be thanked,
therefore say nothing about it,) your uncle would most readily
have settled the whole.  They battled it together for a long
time, which was more than either the gentleman or lady concerned in it deserved.  But at last your uncle was forced to
yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to his niece,
was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of
it, which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe
your letter this morning gave him great pleasure, because it
required an explanation that would rob him of his borrowed
feathers, and give the praise where it was due.  But, Lizzy, this
must go no farther than yourself, or Jane at most.  You know
pretty well, I suppose, what has been done for the young
people.  His debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to
considerably more than a thousand pounds, another thousand
in addition to her own settled upon her, and his commission
purchased.  The reason why all this was to be done by him
alone, was such as I have given above.  It was owing to him,
to his reserve, and want of proper consideration, that Wickham's character had been so misunderstood, and consequently
that he had been received and noticed as he was.  Perhaps
there was some truth in this; though I doubt whether his
reserve, or anybody's reserve, can be answerable for the event.
But in spite of all this fine talking, my dear Lizzy, you may
rest perfectly assured, that your uncle would never have
yielded, if we had not given him credit for another interest in
the affair.  When all this was resolved on, he returned again
to his friends, who were still staying at Pemberley; but it was
agreed that he should be in London once more when the
wedding took place, and all money matters were then to
receive the last finish.  I believe I have now told you every
thing.  It is a relation which you tell me is to give you great
surprise; I hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure.
Lydia came to us; and Wickham had constant admission to
the house.  He was exactly what he had been, when I knew him
in Hertfordshire; but I would not tell you how little I was
satisfied with her behaviour while she staid with us, if I had
not perceived, by Jane's letter last Wednesday, that her conduct 
on coming home was exactly of a piece with it, and therefore 
what I now tell you, can give you no fresh pain.  I talked
to her repeatedly in the most serious manner, representing to
her all the wickedness of what she had done, and all the unhappiness she had brought on her family.  If she heard me, it
was by good luck, for I am sure she did not listen.  I was sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Elizabeth
and Jane, and for their sakes had patience with her.  Mr. Darcy
was punctual in his return, and as Lydia informed you,
attended the wedding.  He dined with us the next day, and
was to leave town again on Wednesday or Thursday.  Will you
be very angry with me, my dear Lizzy, if I take this opportunity 
of saying (what I was never bold enough to say before)
how much I like him.  His behaviour to us has, in every respect,
been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire.  His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but
a little more liveliness, and that, if he marry prudently, his wife
may teach him.  I thought him very sly; -- he hardly ever
mentioned your name.  But slyness seems the fashion.  Pray
forgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do not
punish me so far, as to exclude me from P.  I shall never be 
quite happy till I have been all round the park.  A low phaeton,
with a nice little pair of ponies, would be the very thing.  But
I must write no more.  The children have been wanting me
this half hour.  Your's, very sincerely,
"M.  GARDINER."
The contents of this letter threw Elizabeth into a flutter of
spirits, in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure
or pain bore the greatest share.  The vague and unsettled
suspicions which uncertainty had produced of what Mr. 
Darcy might have been doing to forward her sister's match,
which she had feared to encourage, as an exertion of goodness
too great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be
just, from the pain of obligation, were proved beyond their
greatest extent to be true!  He had followed them purposely
to town, he had taken on himself all the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which supplication had
been necessary to a woman whom he must abominate and
despise, and where he was reduced to meet, frequently meet,
reason with, persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he
always most wished to avoid, and whose very name it was
punishment to him to pronounce.  He had done all this for
a girl whom he could neither regard nor esteem.  Her heart
did whisper, that he had done it for her.  But it was a hope
shortly checked by other considerations, and she soon felt
that even her vanity was insufficient, when required to depend
on his affection for her, for a woman who had already refused
him, as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence
against relationship with Wickham.  Brother-in-law of Wickham!  Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection.
He had to be sure done much.  She was ashamed to think how
much.  But he had given a reason for his interference, which
asked no extraordinary stretch of belief.  It was reasonable that
he should feel he had been wrong; he had liberality, and he had
the means of exercising it; and though she would not place
herself as his principal inducement, she could, perhaps,
believe, that remaining partiality for her, might assist his
endeavours in a cause where her peace of mind must be
materially concerned.  It was painful, exceedingly.  painful, to
know that they were under obligations to a person who could
never receive a return.  They owed the restoration of Lydia,
her character, every thing to him.  Oh!  how heartily did
she grieve over every ungracious sensation she had ever
encouraged, every saucy speech she had ever directed towards
him.  For herself she was humbled; but she was proud of him.
Proud that in a cause of compassion and honour, he had been
able to get the better of himself.  She read over her aunt's commendation of him again and again.  It was hardly enough; but
it pleased her.  She was even sensible of some pleasure, though
mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both she and
her uncle had been persuaded that affection and confidence
subsisted between Mr. Darcy and herself.
She was roused from her seat, and her reflections, by some
one's approach; and before she could strike into another path,
she was overtaken by Wickham.
"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear
sister?" said he, as he joined her.
"You certainly do," she replied with a smile; "but it does not
follow that the interruption must be unwelcome."
"I should be sorry indeed, if it were.  We were always good
friends; and now we are better."
"True, Are the others coming out?"
"I do not know.  Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in
the carriage to Meryton.  And so, my dear sister, I find
from our uncle and aunt, that you have actually seen
Pemberley."
She replied in the affirmative.
 "I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would
be too much for me, or else I could take it in my way to
Newcastle.  And you saw the old housekeeper, I suppose?
Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of me.  But of course
she did not mention my name to you."
"Yes, she did."
"And what did she say?"
"That you were gone into the army, and she was afraid had
not turned out well.  At such a distance as that, you know,
things are strangely misrepresented."
"Certainly," he replied, biting his lips.  Elizabeth hoped she
had silenced him; but he soon afterwards said,
"I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month.  We passed
each other several times.  I wonder what he can be doing
there."
"Perhaps preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh,"
said Elizabeth.  "It must be something particular, to take him
there at this time of year."
"Undoubtedly.  Did you see him while you were at Lambton?
I thought I understood from the Gardiners that you had."
"Yes; he introduced us to his sister."
"And do you like her?"
"Very much."
"I have heard, indeed, that she is uncommonly improved
within this year or two.  When I last saw her, she was not very
promising.  I am very glad you liked her.  I hope she will turn
out well."
"I dare say she will; she has got over the most trying age."
"Did you go by the village of Kympton?"
"I do not recollect that we did."
"I mention it, because it is the living which I ought to have
had.  A most delightful place! -- Excellent Parsonage House!
It would have suited me in every respect."
"How should you have liked making sermons?"
"Exceedingly well.  I should have considered it as part of
my duty, and the exertion would soon have been nothing.
One ought not to repine; -- but, to be sure, it would have been
such a thing for me!  The quiet, the retirement of such a life,
would have answered all my ideas of happiness!  But it was
not to be.  Did you ever hear Darcy mention the circumstance,
when you were in Kent?"
"I have heard from authority, which I thought as good, that
it was left you conditionally only, and at the will of the
present patron."
"You have.  Yes, there was something in that; I told you so
from the first, you may remember."
"I did hear, too, that there was a time, when sermon-making
was not so palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that
you actually declared your resolution of never taking orders,
and that the business had been compromised accordingly."
"You did!  and it was not wholly without foundation.  You
may remember what I told you on that point, when first we
talked of it."
They were now almost at the door of the house, for she had
walked fast to get rid of him; and unwilling for her sister's
sake, to provoke him, she only said in reply, with a good-
humoured smile,
"Come, Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister, you know.
Do not let us quarrel about the past.  In future, I hope we shall
be always of one mind."
She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though he hardly knew how to look, and they entered
the house.