But as Elizabeth could not receive comfort from any such expectation, she made
"Well, Lizzy," continued her mother soon afterwards, "and so the Collinses live
very comfortable, do they? Well, well, I only hope it will last. And what sort of
table do they keep?
Charlotte is an excellent manager, I dare say. If she is half as sharp as her
mother, she is saving enough. There is nothing extravagant in their housekeeping,
I dare say."
"No, nothing at all."
"A great deal of good management, depend upon it. Yes, yes.
They will take care not to outrun their income. They will never be distressed
for money. Well, much good may it do them! And so, I suppose, they often talk of
having Longbourn when your father is dead. They look upon it quite as their own,
I dare say, whenever that happens."
"It was a subject which they could not mention before me."
"No. It would have been strange if they had. But I make no doubt, they often
talk of it between themselves. Well, if they can be easy with an estate that is
not lawfully their own, so much the better. I should be ashamed of having one
that was only entailed on me."
<CHAPTER XVIII (41)>
THE first week of their return was soon gone. The second began. It was the last
of the regiment's stay in Meryton, and 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. Very
frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and Lydia, whose
own misery was extreme, and who 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,
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 Millar's regiment
went away. I thought I should have broke 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 for ever."
"And my aunt Philips 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; and never had she before 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; for 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 of their three months' acquaintance they had been intimate two.
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 ecstacy,
calling for everyone's congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence
than ever; whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repining 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," said she,
"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
In vain did Elizabeth attempt to reasonable, and Jane to make her resigned. As
for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from exciting in her the same
feelings as in her mother and Lydia, that she considered it as the death-warrant
of all possibility of common sense for the latter; and detestable as such a step
must make her were it known, she could not help secretly advising her father not
to let her go. 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.
He heard her attentively, and then said, "Lydia will never be easy till she has
exposed herself in some public place or other, and 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," said Elizabeth, "of the very great disadvantage to us all,
which must arise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and imprudent manner;
nay, which has already arisen from it, I am sure you would judge differently in
"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 the pitiful fellows who have been kept aloof by
"Indeed you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent, It is not of peculiar,
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.
If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits,
and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her
life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed,
and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt that ever made herself and
her family ridiculous. A flirt, too, 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 portion of that universal
contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger Kitty is also
comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. -- Vain, ignorant, idle, and
absolutely 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 saw that her whole heart was in the subject; and affectionately taking
her hand, said in reply, "Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and
Jane are known, you must be respected and valued; and 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;
and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to any body. 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 authorizing us to lock her up for the rest of her life."
With this answer Elizabeth was forced to be content; but her own opinion continued
the same, and she left him disappointed and sorry. It was not in her nature, however,
to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed
her duty, and 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.
In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of earthly
happiness. She saw, with the creative eye of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing
place covered with officers. She saw herself the object of attention to tens and
to scores of them at present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp; its tents
stretched forth in beauteous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young and the
gay, and dazzling with scarlet; and to complete the view, she saw herself seated
beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once.
Had she known that her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and such
realities as these, what would have been her sensations? They could have been understood
only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the same. Lydia's going to Brighton
was all that consoled her for the melancholy conviction of her husband's never intending
to go there himself.
But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed; and their raptures continued,
with little intermission, to the very day of Lydia's leaving home.
Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been frequently
in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty well over; the agitations
of former partiality entirely so. She had even learnt to detect, in the very gentleness
which had first delighted her, an affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary.
In his present behaviour to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure,
for the inclination he soon testified of renewing those attentions which had marked
the early part of their acquaintance could only serve, after what had since passed,
to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in finding herself thus selected as
the object of such idle and frivolous gallantry; and while she steadily repressed
it, could not but feel the reproof contained in his believing that, however long,
and for whatever cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified
and her preference secured at any time by their renewal.