Chapter 48

The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the 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 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 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 to 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 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 sympathise 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 the 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 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 then advise you, 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 offense.

“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 relationship with whom he kept up any connection, and
it was certain that he had no near one living. His former acquaintances 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 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 the 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 had 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,” he cried, “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
last learnt to be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter into 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 ten years, I will take you
to a review at the end of them.”