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The first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was the last of the regiment's stay in Meryton. All the young ladies in the neighbourhood were drooping apace. The dejection was almost universal.
The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. They were reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and Lydia, whose own misery was extreme. They could not comprehend such hard-heartedness in any of the family.
"Good Heaven! What is to become of us? What are we to do?" would they often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. "How can you be smiling so, Lizzy?"
Their affectionate mother shared all their grief. She remembered what she had herself endured on a similar occasion, five-and-twenty years ago.
"I am sure," said she, "I cried for two days together when Colonel Miller's regiment went away. I thought I should have broken my heart."
"I am sure I shall break mine," said Lydia.
"If one could but go to Brighton!" observed Mrs. Bennet.
"Oh, yes!—if one could but go to Brighton! But papa is so disagreeable."
"A little sea-bathing would set me up forever."
"And my aunt Phillips is sure it would do me a great deal of good," added Kitty.
Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through Longbourn House.
Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them, but all sense of pleasure was lost in shame.
She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy's objections. Never had she been so much disposed to pardon his interference in the views of his friend.
But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away. She received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of the regiment, to accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a very young woman, and very lately married. A resemblance in good humour and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, and out they had become close friends for two months.
The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone's congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever.
Meanwhile, the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repined at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish. "I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask me as well as Lydia. Though I am not her particular friend. I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older."
In vain Elizabeth attempted to make her reasonable, and Jane to make her resigned.
As for Elizabeth herself, she considered this invitation as the death warrant of common sense for Lydia. Such a step must make her detestable as were it known.
Elizabeth secretly advised her father not to let it happen. She represented to him all the improprieties of Lydia's general behaviour. The little advantage she could derive from the friendship of such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more imprudent with such a companion at Brighton, where the temptations must be greater than at home.
Mr. Bennet listened attentively. "Lydia will never be easy until she has exposed herself in some public place or other. We can never expect her to do it with so little expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present circumstances."
"If you were aware of the very great disadvantage to us all which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and imprudent manner, I am sure you would judge differently."
"Already arisen?" repeated Mr. Bennet. "What, has she frightened away some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzy! But do not be cast down. Such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity are not worth a regret. Come, let me see the list of pitiful fellows who have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly."
"Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not of particular, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our importance, our respectability in the world must be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which mark Lydia's character. Excuse me, for I must speak plainly. Teach her that her present pursuits are not the business of her life. My dear father, if you do not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits she will soon be beyond reach. Her character will be fixed. She will be the most determined flirt that ever made herself or her family ridiculous. At sixteen, a flirt in the worst and meanest degree of flirtation. Without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person. And from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any universal contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger, Kitty also is comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain, ignorant, idle, and uncontrolled! Oh! my dear father, can you suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever they are known. And that their sisters will not be often involved in the disgrace?"
Mr. Bennet took her hand and replied, "Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known you must be respected and valued. You will not appear to less advantage for having a couple of—or I may say, three—very silly sisters. We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. Let her go, then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man and will keep her out of any real mischief. She is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to anybody. At Brighton, she will be of less importance even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find women better worth their notice. Let us hope, therefore, that her being there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow many degrees worse, without authorising us to lock her up for the rest of her life."
Disappointed with this answer, Elizabeth's own opinion continued the same. It was not in her nature to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed her duty. To fret over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her disposition.
Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her father, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their united volubility. They were entirely ignorant of what had passed. Their raptures continued, with little intermission, to the very day of Lydia's leaving home.
Elizabeth was to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. On the very last day of the regiment's remaining at Meryton, he dined, with other of the officers, at Longbourn.
Elizabeth was little disposed to part from him in good humour. He asked as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford. In reply, she mentioned both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy having spent three weeks at Rosings. And she asked him if he was acquainted with Colonel Fitzwilliam.
He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed. With a moment's recollection and a returning smile, replied, that he had seen him often in the past. After observing that he was a very gentlemanlike man, he asked her how she had liked him. Her answer was warmly in his favour.
With an air of indifference he soon afterwards added, "How long did you say he was at Rosings?"
"Nearly three weeks."
"And you saw him frequently?"
"Yes, almost every day."
"His manners are very different from his cousin's."
"Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance."
"Indeed! And pray, may I ask?—" But checking himself, Mr. Wickham added, in a gayer serious tone, "Is it in address that he improves? Has he deigned to add aught of civility to his ordinary style? For I dare not hope that he is improved in essentials."
"Oh, no!" said Elizabeth. "In essentials, he is very much what he ever was."
While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to rejoice over her words or to distrust their meaning.
She added, "I said that he improved on acquaintance. I did not mean that his mind or his manners were in a state of improvement, but that, from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood."
Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look. For a few minutes, he was silent. He turned to her again, and said in the gentlest of accents, "You so well know my feeling towards Mr. Darcy. You will readily comprehend how I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume even the appearance of what is right. His pride may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must only deter him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered. I only fear that the sort of cautiousness to which you have been alluding is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt. Of her good opinion and judgement, he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always operated, I know, when they were together. A good deal is to be imputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Miss de Bourgh, which I am certain he has very much at heart."
Elizabeth could not help but smile at this. She answered with only a slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humour to indulge him.
The rest of the evening passed with the appearance, on his side, of usual cheerfulness and no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth. They parted at last with mutual civility, and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again.
When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Meryton, from whence they were to set out early the next morning.
Mrs. Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter. Impressive in her injunctions that she should not miss the opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible. There was every reason to believe this advice would be well attended to.