Chapter Chapter 42 · 第42章

Had Elizabeth’s opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could

not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal felicity or domestic

comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance

of good-humour which youth and beauty generally give, had married a

woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in

their marriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect,

esteem, and confidence had vanished for ever; and all his views of

domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of a

disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own

imprudence had brought on in any of those pleasures which too often

console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of

the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal

enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted than as

her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement. This is not

the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his

wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true

philosopher will derive benefit from such as are given.

Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her

father’s behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but

respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of

herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to

banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation

and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own

children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so

strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of so

unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising

from so ill-judged a direction of talents--talents which, rightly used,

might at least have preserved the respectability of his daughters, even

if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.

When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham’s departure, she found little

other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties

abroad were less varied than before; and at home she had a mother and

sister, whose constant repinings at the dulness of everything around

them threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty

might in time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers

of her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition

greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all her

folly and assurance, by a situation of such double danger as a

watering-place and a camp. Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what

has been sometimes found before, that an event to which she had looked

forward with impatient desire, did not, in taking place, bring all the

satisfaction she had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to

name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity; to have

some other point on which her wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by

again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the

present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the Lakes

was now the object of her happiest thoughts: it was her best consolation

for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of her mother

and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have included Jane in the

scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.

“But it is fortunate,” thought she, “that I have something to wish for.

Were the whole arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain.

But here, by carrying with me one ceaseless source of regret in my

sister’s absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my expectations of

pleasure realized. A scheme of which every part promises delight can

never be successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by

the defence of some little peculiar vexation.”

When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely

to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and

always very short. Those to her mother contained little else than that

they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers

had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as

made her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which

she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a

violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going to the

camp; and from her correspondence with her sister there was still less

to be learnt, for her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were much

too full of lines under the words to be made public.

After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health,

good-humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything

wore a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter

came back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs.

Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and by the middle

of June Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton

without tears,--an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth

hope, that by the following Christmas she might be so tolerably

reasonable as not to mention an officer above once a day, unless, by

some cruel and malicious arrangement at the War Office, another regiment

should be quartered in Meryton.

The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast

approaching; and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter

arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and

curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from

setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again

within a month; and as that left too short a period for them to go so

far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to see it with

the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up

the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour; and, according to the

present plan, were to go no farther northward than Derbyshire. In that

county there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of their three

weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The

town where she had formerly passed some years of her life, and where

they were now to spend a few days, was probably as great an object of

her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth,

Dovedale, or the Peak.

Elizabeth was excessively disappointed: she had set her heart on seeing

the Lakes; and still thought there might have been time enough. But it

was her business to be satisfied--and certainly her temper to be happy;

and all was soon right again.

With the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was

impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its

owner. “But surely,” said she, “I may enter his county with impunity,

and rob it of a few petrified spars, without his perceiving me.”

The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away

before her uncle and aunt’s arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr. and

Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at length appear at

Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two

younger boys, were to be left under the particular care of their cousin

Jane, who was the general favourite, and whose steady sense and

sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to them in every

way--teaching them, playing with them, and loving them.

The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and set off the next

morning with Elizabeth in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One

enjoyment was certain--that of suitableness as companions; a

suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear

inconveniences--cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure--and affection

and intelligence, which might supply it among themselves if there were

disappointments abroad.

It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire,

nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither

lay--Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham, etc., are

sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present

concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner’s

former residence, and where she had lately learned that some

acquaintance still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen

all the principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of

Lambton, Elizabeth found, from her aunt, that Pemberley was situated. It

was not in their direct road; nor more than a mile or two out of it. In

talking over their route the evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed an

inclination to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner declared his

willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation.

“My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so

much?” said her aunt. “A place, too, with which so many of your

acquaintance are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you

know.”

Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at

Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. She

must own that she was tired of great houses: after going over so many,

she really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.

Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity. “If it were merely a fine house

richly furnished,” said she, “I should not care about it myself; but the

grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the

country.”

Elizabeth said no more; but her mind could not acquiesce. The

possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly

occurred. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea; and

thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt, than to run such

a risk. But against this there were objections; and she finally resolved

that it could be the last resource, if her private inquiries as to the

absence of the family were unfavourably answered.

Accordingly, when she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid

whether Pemberley were not a very fine place, what was the name of its

proprietor, and, with no little alarm, whether the family were down for

the summer? A most welcome negative followed the last question; and her

alarms being now removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of

curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the

next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and

with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike

to the scheme.

To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.

[Illustration:

“Conjecturing as to the date”

]