<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter 48 </h2>
<p>The whole party were in hopes of a letter from Mr. Bennet the next
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 <i>that</i> they would have been glad to be certain. Mr.
Gardiner had waited only for the letters before he set off.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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:</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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:</p>
<p>"MY DEAR SIR,</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>"I am, dear sir, etc., etc."</p>
<p>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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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?"</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 <i>that</i>, 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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."</p>
<p>"You must not be too severe upon yourself," replied Elizabeth.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Do you suppose them to be in London?"</p>
<p>"Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?"</p>
<p>"And Lydia used to want to go to London," added Kitty.</p>
<p>"She is happy then," said her father drily; "and her residence there will
probably be of some duration."</p>
<p>Then after a short silence he continued:</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>They were interrupted by Miss Bennet, who came to fetch her mother's tea.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"I am not going to run away, papa," said Kitty fretfully. "If I should
ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia."</p>
<p>"<i>You</i> 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."</p>
<p>Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry.</p>
<p>"Well, well," said he, "do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good
girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of
them."</p>
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