Chapter 52

Elizabeth was very glad to receive an answer so quickly. As soon as she had the letter in her hand, she hurried to the little wood where she would not be interrupted. She sat down on a bench and prepared to be happy. The letter was long, so it was clear that it did not hold a refusal.

Gracechurch Street, September 6.

My dear niece,

"I have just received your letter, and I mean to spend the whole morning writing my answer. What I have to tell you cannot be put into a short note. I must confess that your request surprised me. I did not expect such a request from you. I do not mean by that to say I am angry. I only mean that I did not think you would need to ask such a question. If you do not understand me, forgive my rudeness. Your uncle was as surprised as I was. If I had not believed that you were concerned in the matter, I would not have let Mr. Darcy do as he wished. But if you are truly innocent and knew nothing at all, I must speak more plainly. On the very day that I came home from Longbourn, your uncle had an unexpected visitor. Mr. Darcy came, and he talked alone with your uncle for several hours. It was all over before I arrived, so my curiosity was not so painful as yours. Mr. Darcy came to tell Mr. Gardiner that he had found out where your sister and Mr. Wickham were. He said that he had seen the two of them and had spoken with them. He had seen Wickham several times and Lydia once. As far as I could learn, he left Derbyshire only one day after we did. He came to London determined to find the two of them. The reason he gave was this. He was sure that it was his own fault that Wickham's worthless character had not been made known well enough. Because of that, a young woman of good conduct had not been kept from loving or trusting Wickham. He generously laid the whole of it to his own mistaken pride. He admitted that he had once thought it beneath his dignity to lay Wickham's private conduct open to the world. He had believed that his own character should show itself without any explanation. So he said it was his duty to step forward and repair the harm that he had caused. If he had any other motive, I am sure it would have been no dishonor to him. He had been in London several days before he could find the two of them. But he had a clue that we did not have, and knowing that he had it was one of the reasons why he decided to follow us. There is a woman named Mrs. Younge who was until lately the governess of Miss Darcy. She was dismissed for some cause of displeasure, but he did not tell me what it was. After that she took a large house in Edward Street and supported herself by letting out rooms. Mr. Darcy knew that Mrs. Younge was on very close terms with Wickham. As soon as he reached London, he went to her for news of Wickham. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he wanted. I suppose she would not break her trust without a bribe. For she really did know where her friend could be found. Wickham had indeed gone to her when he first came to London, and if she had been able to take them into her house, the two of them would have lodged there. At any rate, our kind friend got the address he wanted at last. The two of them were in a certain street. He saw Wickham, and after that he insisted on seeing Lydia as well. He told us that his first object in seeing her was to persuade her to leave her present disgraceful situation. She was to return to her friends as soon as they could be brought to receive her. He offered his help as far as it was in his power. But he found Lydia absolutely fixed on staying where she was. She cared nothing for what her friends thought, she wanted no help from him, and she would not hear of leaving Wickham. She was sure that they would be married at some time or other, and it did not much matter when. Since her feelings were such, Mr. Darcy thought that nothing was left but to make the marriage certain and to hasten it. From his very first talk with Wickham, he easily saw that Wickham had never intended to marry at all. Wickham confessed that he had been forced to leave the regiment because of debts of honor that were very pressing. And he did not hesitate to say that all the harm caused by Lydia's flight was owing to her own folly alone. He meant to give up his commission at once, and as for his future life, he had hardly thought of it. He had to go somewhere, but he did not know where, and he knew only that he would have no money to live on. Mr. Darcy asked him why he had not married your sister at once. Mr. Bennet might not be a very rich man, but he would be able to do something for him. And his situation would be better for the marriage. But Wickham answered only that he still hoped to gain a fortune more surely by marrying some other woman in some other part of the country. Still, in such a case as his, it would have been hard to refuse a chance of escaping his present want. The two of them met several times. For there was a great deal to discuss. Wickham of course wanted more than he could get. But at last he was forced to be reasonable in his demands. When everything between the two of them was settled, Mr. Darcy's next step was to tell your uncle. He called in Gracechurch Street for the first time on the evening before I came home. But he could not see Mr. Gardiner, and on asking further he found that your father was still with him but was to leave London the next morning. He did not judge your father to be so fit a person to consult with as your uncle. So he willingly put off the meeting until after your father had gone. He did not leave his name, and until the next day we knew only that a gentleman had called on business. On Saturday he came again. Your father was gone, and your uncle was at home. As I said before, the two of them talked together for a long while. They met again on Sunday, and then I saw him too. Nothing was settled until Monday. As soon as it was settled, an express was sent to Longbourn. But our visitor was very obstinate. Lizzy, now that I consider it, obstinacy seems to me to be his real fault. He has been blamed for many faults up to now, but this is the real one. He would allow nothing to be done that he did not do himself. I am sure that your uncle would have been most willing to settle the whole business himself. But I do not say this to be thanked, so say nothing of it to anybody. The two of them stood against each other for a long time. And yet neither the gentleman nor the lady concerned deserved so much trouble. But in the end your uncle had to give way, and he was not allowed the chance of helping his niece. Instead he had to bear with getting only the credit for what had been done. That went very much against his feelings. I truly believe that your letter this morning gave him great pleasure. For your request for an explanation let him lay aside an honor borrowed from another man's feathers and give it back where the praise was due. But, Lizzy, this must go no further than yourself, or at most than Jane. You probably know well enough what has been done for the young couple. Wickham's debts are to be paid. I believe they come to a good deal more than a thousand pounds. Another thousand pounds has been settled on Lydia over and above her own share, and Wickham's commission has been bought for him as well. The reason he gave for doing all of this himself was the one I have already written. It was owing to him, he said, that Wickham's character had been so wrongly understood, and that people had therefore received him and noticed him as they did. He said it was owing to his own silence and to a want of the thought that he ought to have given. Perhaps there is some truth in this. But I do not know whether his silence, or anybody's silence, can be held responsible for this affair. Still, in spite of all these fine words, my dear Lizzy, you may be quite sure that your uncle would never have given way if we had not credited Mr. Darcy with another interest in the matter. When everything was settled, he went back to his friends, who were still staying at Pemberley. But it was agreed that he should come to London again for the wedding, and that all the money matters should be finished then. I believe I have now told you everything. By your own account, this story will greatly surprise you. I hope that at least it will not displease you. Lydia came to us, and Wickham was allowed to come to the house whenever he chose. He was exactly what he had been when I knew him in Hertfordshire. But I would not have told you how little I was satisfied with Lydia's behavior while she stayed with us. That is, if I had not learned from Jane's letter last Wednesday that she behaved in just the same way after she got home. So telling you now will give you no fresh pain. I spoke to her very seriously, over and over again. I told her how wicked the thing she had done was, and how much unhappiness she had brought upon her family. If she heard me, it was by good luck. For it is certain that she was not listening. Sometimes I was truly angry. But then I remembered my dear Elizabeth and Jane, and for their sakes I had patience with her. Mr. Darcy came back exactly when he had promised, and, as Lydia told you, he came to the wedding as well. He dined with us the next day, and he was to leave London again on Wednesday or Thursday. My dear Lizzy, will you be very angry with me if I take this chance to say what I never dared to say before? It is how much I like him. His manner toward us was in every way as pleasant as it was in Derbyshire. His understanding and his opinions all please me. If he were only a little more lively, there would be nothing to find fault with. And if he marries wisely, his wife may teach him that liveliness. I thought him a very secretive man. For he hardly ever spoke your name. But being secretive seems to be the fashion these days. Pray forgive me if I have been too bold. Or at least do not punish me so far as to shut me out of Pemberley. I shall never be quite happy until I have gone all the way around the park. A low four-wheeled carriage drawn by a fine pair of ponies would be the best of all. But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me this half hour.

"Yours sincerely,

"Mrs. Gardiner."

This letter shook Elizabeth deeply. It was hard to tell whether pleasure or pain was the greater. She had held vague and unsettled suspicions about what Mr. Darcy might have done to bring about her sister's marriage. It was too great a piece of goodness to be believed true. She had not dared to hope for it. And yet, because of the pain of being in his debt, she had feared that it might be true. And now everything, far beyond those suspicions, was shown to be true! He had gone to London on purpose, following the two of them. He had taken upon himself all the trouble and the humiliation of that search. He had been forced to beg from a woman he must have hated and despised. He had met the man he most wished to avoid. He had met many times with a man whose very name he had felt it a punishment to speak, and he had argued with him and persuaded him. In the end he had even bought him with money. And he had done all of it for a girl whom he could neither respect nor value. One part of her heart whispered that he had done it for her own sake. But other thoughts soon crushed that hope. It was only natural that he should hate the thought of becoming related to Wickham by marriage. Her vanity was not great enough to let her believe that affection for a woman who had already refused him could conquer such a feeling. To become Wickham's brother-in-law! Every kind of pride must revolt against such a connection. Darcy had certainly done a great deal. She was ashamed when she thought how much he had done. But he had given a reason that was not particularly hard to believe. It was reasonable that he should feel he had been in the wrong. He had generosity, and he had the power to act upon it. Elizabeth did not think that she herself had been his chief reason. But she could believe that a lingering affection had added strength to his effort to settle a matter so closely bound up with her own peace of mind. To know that she was in debt to a person she could never repay was painful, painful indeed. Lydia's return and the recovery of her good name were all owing to him. How sincerely she now regretted every unkind feeling she had allowed herself to hold toward him and every impertinent word she had spoken to him! For herself she was humbled, but for him she was proud. She was proud that in a matter of compassion and of honor he had conquered himself. She read over and over again the part where her aunt praised him. It was hardly praise enough, but it pleased her. She even felt a little pleasure, mixed with regret, in finding that her aunt and uncle had been so steadily certain that there was affection and trust between Mr. Darcy and herself.

The sound of someone coming near roused Elizabeth from her seat and from her thoughts. Before she could turn into another path, Wickham overtook her.

He came up to her side and spoke. "My dear sister, I am afraid that I am interrupting your solitary walk."

"You certainly are," Elizabeth answered with a smile. "But that does not mean the interruption is unwelcome."

"I should be truly sorry if it were. We were always good friends, and now we have become something closer still."

"That is true. Are the others coming out?"

"I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia are going in the carriage to Meryton. And so, my dear sister, I hear from your uncle and aunt that you have actually seen Pemberley."

Elizabeth answered that she had.

"I almost envy you that pleasure. But it would have been too painful for me. If it were not for that, I might have stopped there on my way to Newcastle. You saw the old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Mrs. Reynolds was always very fond of me. But of course she would not have spoken my name to you."

"She did."

"What did she say?"

"She said that you had gone into the army. She said as well that she was afraid things had not gone… well. At such a distance, you know, stories are apt to be strangely changed."

"Certainly," he answered, biting his lips. Elizabeth hoped that he would be silent. But not long afterward Wickham said this.

"I was surprised to see Darcy in London last month. We passed each other several times. I wonder what he was doing there."

"Perhaps he was preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh," said Elizabeth. "It must be something particular that would take him to London at this time of year."

"There can be no doubt of it. Did you see him while you were at Lambton? I thought so from what the Gardiners said."

"Yes. He introduced his sister to us."

"Did you like her?"

"Very much."

"I have indeed heard that she has improved wonderfully within the last two years. When I saw her last, she did not look very promising. I am very glad that you liked her. I hope she will turn out well."

"I dare say she will. She has already passed the hardest age."

"Did you go through the village of Kympton?"

"I do not remember that we did."

"I told you that it is the living I ought to have had. What a wonderful place! What an excellent parsonage house! It would have suited me perfectly in every way."

"Would the writing of sermons have pleased you?"

"Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, and the effort would soon have become nothing at all. One ought not to complain, but truly, what a good thing it would have been for me! The quiet and the retirement of such a life would have suited every idea I had of happiness! But fate did not allow it. Did you ever hear Darcy speak of the matter when you were in Kent?"

"I did hear it from a person I thought quite as trustworthy as he is. The living was left to you only on certain conditions. It depended on the will of the present patron."

"You have heard that! Yes, there was something in that. You will remember that I told you so from the first."

"I also heard that there was a time when writing sermons did not please you as much as it seems to now. That you actually declared you would never take orders, and that the matter was arranged accordingly."

"You have heard that too! And it was not wholly without foundation. You will remember what I said when we first talked about this."

They were now almost at the door of the house. Elizabeth had walked fast in order to get rid of him. For her sister's sake she did not wish to make him angry. So, with a good-humored smile, she made only this answer.

"Come, Mr. Wickham. We are as good as brother and sister now. Do not let us quarrel about the past. In the future I hope we shall always be of one mind."

She held out her hand. Wickham hardly knew what look he ought to put on. Still, he kissed it with affectionate gallantry. The two of them went into the house.