Chapter 42

If Elizabeth had judged marriage and home life only by what she saw in her own family, she could not have formed a very happy picture of either. Her father had married a woman because youth and beauty had caught his eye. Youth and beauty often make a person seem lively and pleasant. But his wife had a weak understanding and a narrow mind. So the real love he had felt at the start of their marriage had faded away completely. His respect, his esteem, and his trust in her were gone forever too. Every hope he had once held for a happy home life had come to nothing. Still, Mr. Bennet was not a man who turned to the pleasures that unhappy people often seek, just to soothe the disappointment his own thoughtlessness had brought on him. He loved the countryside and he loved books, and he found great joy in both. The only thing he got from his wife was that her ignorance and her foolishness gave him something to laugh at. This is not the kind of happiness that most men wish for in a wife. But when other pleasures are lacking, a true philosopher makes good use of whatever he is given.

But Elizabeth had never been able to close her eyes to how poorly her father behaved as a husband. Seeing it always hurt her. Still, she respected his mind, and she was grateful for how kindly he had always treated her. So she tried to forget what she could not truly excuse. Placing his wife before their children's contempt was a thing that deserved real blame. So was his endless failure to keep the duties and manners a husband owes his wife. Elizabeth tried hard to push these thoughts away. But she had never felt so keenly, until now, the harm that comes to children born of such an unequal marriage. Only now did she fully understand the damage caused by her father's misuse of his own gifts. If he had used those gifts well, he might not have been able to broaden his wife's mind, but he could at least have kept his daughters' reputations safe from disrespect.

After she had felt glad to see Wickham go, Elizabeth found little else to be pleased about now that the regiment was gone. Their outings away from home had grown duller than before. At home there were her mother and her younger sister. The two of them complained endlessly that everything around them was dull, and they cast a real gloom over the house. Kitty might, in time, get back the good sense nature had given her, now that the people who had turned her head were gone. But her other sister had a nature likely to lead her into greater trouble. Between the two dangers of a seaside town and a military camp, that girl's foolishness and boldness seemed sure to grow even more fixed. So Elizabeth learned something that others sometimes learn too. An event looked forward to with such eagerness does not, once it finally arrives, bring all the satisfaction it seemed to promise. So she had to set a different time for her true happiness to begin. She had to find some new place to rest her wishes and her hopes, and comfort the present with the pleasure of looking forward once more. And in doing so, she had to prepare herself for yet another disappointment. For now, the trip to the Lake District had become her most pleasant thought. It would be her greatest comfort against all the discomforts she must bear because of her mother's and Kitty's complaints. If Jane could only join the plan, everything would be perfect.

'But,' she thought, 'it is a good thing that one wish is still left to hope for. If every part of the plan were perfect, I would surely be disappointed. If I carry the regret of Jane's absence with me, I can reasonably hope that all the pleasure I expect will actually come true. A plan that promises nothing but delight can never truly succeed. One small, particular trouble must stand guard, or it will keep off a greater disappointment.'

When Lydia left, she promised her mother and Kitty that she would write very often and in great detail. But her letters always came after a long wait, and they were always very short. The ones to her mother usually said only this much. She had just come back from the lending library, and some officers had gone there with her. She had seen such beautiful ornaments there that she had grown quite excited. She had bought a new dress or a parasol and wanted to describe it further, but Mrs. Forster was calling her to come to the camp. She was in such a hurry that she had to stop writing at once. Her letters to Kitty told even less. The letters she sent Kitty were a little longer. But so many words were underlined with secret meanings that Kitty could not show them to anyone else.

In the first two or three weeks after Lydia left, health and good spirits and cheerfulness began to return to Longbourn. Everything seemed happier. The families who had gone to London for the winter came back again. Summer clothes and summer engagements appeared once more. Mrs. Bennet regained her usual calm, complaining as always but at peace. By the middle of June, Kitty had recovered enough to walk into Meryton without crying. This was a very hopeful sign. Elizabeth hoped that by the next Christmas, Kitty might grow sensible enough not to mention officers more than once a day. That is, unless the War Office was cruel and spiteful enough to station another regiment at Meryton.

The day set for the trip to the north drew near quickly. When only two weeks were left, a letter came from Mrs. Gardiner. It put off the start of the trip at once, and it shortened the journey too. Business kept Mr. Gardiner from leaving until two weeks later than the original date in July. What was more, he had to be back in London within a month. That left too little time to go as far and see as much as they had planned. At least, it left too little time to see it all with the ease and comfort they had hoped for. They had to give up the Lake District and travel a smaller circuit instead. Under the new plan, they would not go farther north than Derbyshire. Derbyshire held enough sights to fill most of the three weeks. Mrs. Gardiner felt a special pull toward Derbyshire. The town where she had once lived for several years, and where she meant to stay a few days again, drew her curiosity just as much as the famous beauty of Matlock, Chatsworth, Dovedale, and the Peak.

Elizabeth was deeply disappointed. She had set her heart on seeing the Lake District, and she still thought there might have been time enough. But being satisfied was her duty. Being happy was surely part of her own nature too. Soon everything felt right again.

The name Derbyshire brought countless thoughts along with it. Hearing it, she could not help thinking of Pemberley and its owner. "But surely," she said, "I can go into the county where he lives without any trouble, and carry off a few hard little stones as souvenirs. He will have no way of noticing me."

Now the waiting time felt doubled. Four weeks remained before her aunt and uncle would come. But even that time passed. The Gardiners finally arrived at Longbourn with their four children. The two girls, aged six and eight, and the two younger boys, were to stay behind, in the special care of their cousin Jane. Jane, everyone's favorite, was always sensible and kind. She was exactly suited to teaching the children, playing with them, and looking after them with love.

The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn. The next morning, they set out with Elizabeth in search of new scenes and new pleasures. One pleasure at least was certain. They were well-suited companions for each other. They had the health and the temper to bear the discomforts of travel. They also had the good cheer that makes every pleasure greater. And they had the affection and the good sense to entertain one another even when things outside disappointed them.

It is not the purpose of this story to describe Derbyshire, or the notable places passed on the way there. Places such as Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, and Birmingham are already well known. Only a small part of Derbyshire concerns us now. After seeing all the main sights of the county, the party turned toward the small town of Lambton. It was the place where Mrs. Gardiner had once lived. She had recently learned that a few of her old acquaintances still remained there. Elizabeth heard from her aunt that Pemberley lay within five miles of Lambton. It was not directly on their road. Still, it lay only a mile or two out of their way. The evening before, while they discussed their route, Mrs. Gardiner said she would like to see the place again. Mr. Gardiner said he was glad to go. And he asked Elizabeth whether she agreed.

"My dear, would you not like to see a place you have heard so much about?" her aunt said. "It is a place tied to several people you know. Wickham spent all his younger years there too."

Elizabeth was troubled. She felt she had no business at Pemberley. Still, she had to pretend she did not wish to see it. She admitted that she was tired of grand houses by now. After looking through so many of them, she truly found no pleasure left in fine carpets or satin curtains.

Mrs. Gardiner scolded her niece for talking such nonsense. "If it were only a fine house, richly furnished, I would not care for it either," she said. "But the grounds are truly beautiful. It has some of the finest woods in the whole country."

Elizabeth said no more. But her heart could not agree. At once she thought of the chance that she might meet Mr. Darcy while looking around the place. How dreadful that would be! She blushed at the very thought. She thought it would be better to speak honestly to her aunt than to risk such a thing. But there were difficulties in saying so as well. So she decided to quietly ask whether the family was away from home. Only if the answer was unfavorable would she confess the truth as a last resort.

That night, when Elizabeth withdrew to her room, she asked the maid who waited on her whether Pemberley was not a very fine place. She asked the owner's name too. And with no small anxiety, she asked whether the family had come down for the summer. To her last question came the most welcome answer: no. With her worry gone, she could now feel her own curiosity to see the house without any check. The next morning, when the subject came up again and she was asked once more, she said that, in truth, she did not dislike the plan. She was able to answer readily, keeping a properly indifferent look on her face.

And so it was settled that they would go to Pemberley.