Chapter 51

The day of their sister's wedding came. Jane and Elizabeth felt for her perhaps more deeply than Lydia herself did. The carriage was sent to meet the two of them. They were to return in it by dinnertime. The elder sisters dreaded their coming. Jane in particular thought that Lydia must feel what she herself would have felt if she had been the guilty one. She was miserable at the thought of what her sister had to bear.

The two of them arrived. The family gathered in the breakfast room to receive them. When the carriage stopped at the door, smiles broke out over Mrs. Bennet's face. Her husband looked so grave that nothing of his mind could be read. The daughters were alarmed, anxious, and uneasy.

Lydia's voice was heard in the hall. The door was thrown open, and she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forward, embraced her, and welcomed her with delight. She gave her hand, with an affectionate smile, to Wickham, who followed his wife in. She seemed to have no doubt at all that the two of them were happy. She wished them joy in the liveliest manner.

Mr. Bennet, to whom the two of them turned next, did not welcome them so warmly. His face grew rather more severe. He scarcely opened his lips. The easy and shameless manner of the young couple was indeed enough to make him very angry.

Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still. She was untamed, and she felt no shame. She was wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned from sister to sister and asked them to congratulate her. When at last they all sat down, she looked eagerly around the room. She noticed a few small changes in it, and she laughed as she said that it was a great while since she had been there.

Wickham was no more distressed than Lydia herself. But his manners were always pleasing. If his character and his marriage had been what they ought to have been, his smiles and his easy talk as he claimed their relationship now would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had not believed before that he could be so bold as this. But she sat down now with a resolution. It was to set no limit in the future to the shamelessness of a shameless man. Elizabeth blushed, and Jane blushed. But the cheeks of the two who caused their confusion showed no change at all.

There was no lack of talk. The bride and her mother could neither of them speak fast enough. Wickham, who happened to sit near Elizabeth, began to ask after the neighbors he knew, in a cheerful and easy way. Elizabeth found it very hard to answer him with the same ease. The two of them seemed to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of the past was recalled with pain. And Lydia herself brought up subjects which her sisters would not have mentioned for anything in the world.

"Only think, it is three months since I went away," Lydia cried. "It seems no more than two weeks, I declare. And yet so much has happened in that time. Good heavens! When I went away, I am sure I had no idea at all of being married before I came back again! Though I did think it would be very good fun if I did marry."

Her father lifted his eyes. Jane was distressed, and Elizabeth looked at Lydia with a look full of meaning. But Lydia was a person who never heard or saw anything that she did not choose to know. She went on cheerfully.

"Oh, Mama. Do the people around here know that I am married today? I was afraid that they might not. We overtook William Goulding in his two-wheeled carriage as we drove along, and I was determined that he should know of it. So I let down the side window next to him and took off my glove. I laid my hand upon the window frame so that he might see the ring. And then I bowed and smiled as hard as I could."

Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up and ran out of the room. She did not come back until she heard them pass through the hall to the dining room. Then she joined them at the right moment. She saw Lydia walk up to her mother's right hand, taking care that everyone should notice it. She heard her say this to her eldest sister.

"Ah, Jane. I take your place now. You must go lower down, because I am a married woman."

It was not to be expected that time would give Lydia the embarrassment she had never felt at the first. Her ease and her high spirits only grew greater. She longed to see Mrs. Philips, the Lucas family, and all the other neighbors. She longed to hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham" by every one of them. In the meantime, as soon as dinner was over, she went to show her ring to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids. It was to boast of being married.

When they all came back into the breakfast room, Lydia spoke. "Well, Mama. What do you think of my husband? Is he not a charming man? I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope that they may have half my good luck. You must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get husbands. What a pity it is, Mama, that we did not all go together!"

"That is very true. If I could have had my own way, we would have gone together. But, my dear Lydia, I do not like your going so far away at all. Must it be so?"

"Good heavens! To be sure. It is nothing at all. I shall like it better than anything. You and Papa and my sisters must come down and see us. We shall be at Newcastle all the winter. There will certainly be balls there, so I will take care to get good partners for them all."

"There could be nothing better than that!" said her mother.

"And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind. I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the winter is over."

"I thank you for my share of the favor," said Elizabeth. "But I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands."

Their visitors were not to stay with them more than ten days. Mr. Wickham had received his commission as an officer before he left London. He was to join his regiment at the end of two weeks.

No one but Mrs. Bennet was sorry that their stay would be so short. She went about visiting here and there with her daughter. She had company at the house very often, and so she made the most of the time. These gatherings were welcome to everybody. To sit only with the family was a thing they wished to avoid. That wish was stronger in those who thought than in those who did not.

Wickham's affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected. It was not equal to Lydia's affection for him. It was her strong love, rather than his, that had brought about the flight. She could have known this without what she now saw. The circumstances alone were enough to make her certain. Why had he run away with her at all, when he did not love her passionately? Elizabeth would have wondered at it. But she was certain that his own difficult money matters had forced him to flee as well. In such a case he was not a young man to refuse the chance of a companion.

Lydia was very fond of him. Whatever he did, he was her dear Wickham. No one could be compared with him. He did everything in the world best. She was sure that on the first of September he would shoot more birds than anybody else in the country.

It was one morning not long after the two of them had come. Lydia was sitting with her two elder sisters, and she spoke to Elizabeth.

"Lizzy, I do not think I have ever told you about my wedding. You were not there when I told Mama and the others all about it. Are you not curious to hear how it was managed?"

"No, indeed," Elizabeth answered. "I think the less that is said about it, the better."

"Oh, my! How strange you are! But I must tell you how it went. We were married at St. Clement's, because Wickham's lodgings were in that parish. It was settled that we should all be there by eleven o'clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together, and the others were to meet us at the church.

"Monday morning came, and I was in such a flutter! I was so afraid that something would happen to put the wedding off. If that had happened, I should have gone quite wild. And all the time I was dressing, my aunt kept scolding and talking away as if she were reading a sermon. But I did not hear above one word in ten. For I was thinking, as you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he would be married in his blue coat.

"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual. I thought it would never be over. And, by the way, you must understand that my uncle and aunt were horribly unpleasant the whole time I was with them. Would you believe it? I did not once put my foot out of doors in the whole two weeks I was in that house. Not one party, not one plan, nothing at all! To be sure, London was rather empty of people, but still the Little Theater was open.

"Well, and just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away on business by that dreadful Mr. Stone. And then, you know, once those two meet, there is no end to it. My uncle was to give me away, and if we passed the hour we could not be married that day. I was so frightened that I did not know what to do. But luckily he came back again in ten minutes, and then we all set out. It came into my mind afterward, though, that if he had not been able to go, the wedding need not have been put off. For Mr. Darcy might have done it just as well."

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth repeated in the greatest astonishment.

"Oh, yes! He was to come there with Wickham, you know. But, good heavens! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Wickham say? It was to be such a secret!"

"If it is to be a secret," said Jane, "say not another word about it. You may depend upon it that I shall ask no more."

"Oh, certainly," said Elizabeth, though she was burning with curiosity. "We will ask you no questions."

"Thank you," said Lydia. "If you did ask, I should certainly tell you everything, and then Wickham would be very angry."

With such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth could only run away from the room so that she would be unable to do it at all.

But to live in ignorance of such a thing was impossible. Or at least it was impossible not to try to find out. Mr. Darcy had been at her sister's wedding. It was the very place where he had the least to do and the least wish to go. He had been among exactly those people. Guesses at what it meant rushed through her mind, quick and wild. But she was satisfied with none of them. Those that pleased her best, by making his conduct most noble, seemed the least likely of all. She could not bear this uncertainty. She snatched up a sheet of paper and wrote a short letter to her aunt. She asked her to explain what Lydia had let fall. That was, if it could be done without breaking the secret they had meant to keep.

She added this in her letter. "You may easily understand how curious I must be to know why a person who has no connection with us, and who is, comparatively speaking, a stranger to our family, should have been among you at such a time. Please write to me at once and let me understand it. That is, unless there are very strong reasons for keeping the secret that Lydia thinks necessary, and then I must try to be satisfied with knowing nothing."

"But I shall not manage it," she added to herself as she finished the letter. "And, my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honorable way, I shall certainly have to use tricks and schemes to find it out."

Jane's fine sense of honor would not let her speak to Elizabeth alone about what Lydia had let fall. Elizabeth was glad of that. Until it appeared whether her inquiries would bring a satisfactory answer, she would rather have nobody to confide in.