Chapter 51

THEIR sister’s wedding-day arrived; and Jane and Elizabeth felt for her probably more than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet them at——, and they were to return in it by dinnertime. Their arrival was dreaded by the elder Miss Bennets—and Jane more especially, who gave Lydia the feelings which would have attended herself, had she been the culprit, and was wretched in the thought of what her sister must endure.

Their sister’s wedding day arrived. Jane and Elizabeth probably felt more for her than she felt for herself. The carriage was sent to meet them at an unnamed place. They were to return in the carriage by dinnertime. The two eldest Bennet sisters dreaded their arrival, especially Jane. Jane imagined Lydia felt what she herself would have felt if she had been the one at fault. She was miserable thinking about what her sister must be going through.

They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast-room to receive them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet, as the carriage drove up to the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed, anxious, uneasy.

They arrived. The family had gathered in the breakfast room to welcome them. Mrs. Bennet beamed as the carriage pulled up to the door. Her husband looked deeply serious, his expression unreadable. Her daughters were alarmed, anxious, and uneasy.

Lydia’s voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forwards, embraced her, and welcomed her with rapture; gave her hand with an affectionate smile to Wickham, who followed his lady; and wished them both joy, with an alacrity which showed no doubt of their happiness.

Lydia’s voice could be heard in the entrance hall. The door was flung open, and she ran into the room. Her mother stepped forward, hugged her, and welcomed her with delight. With an affectionate smile, she offered her hand to Wickham, who followed his wife into the room. She eagerly wished them both happiness, showing no doubt that they would be happy.

Their reception from Mr. Bennet, to whom they then turned, was not quite so cordial. His countenance rather gained in austerity; and he scarcely opened his lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was enough to provoke him.

They then turned to Mr. Bennet, whose welcome was not quite as warm. His expression grew somewhat sterner, and he barely said a word. Indeed, the young couple’s casual confidence was enough to irritate him.

Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was shocked. Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned from sister to sister, demanding their congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since she had been there.

Elizabeth was disgusted, and even Miss Bennet was shocked. Lydia was still Lydia: out of control, unashamed, wild, noisy, and fearless. She turned from one sister to the next, demanding their congratulations. When they all finally sat down, she looked eagerly around the room and noticed some small change in it. Then she laughed and remarked that she had not been there for a very long time.

Wickham was not at all more distressed than herself; but his manners were always so pleasing, that, had his character and his marriage been exactly what they ought, his smiles and his easy address, while he claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Elizabeth had not before believed him quite equal to such assurance; but she sat down, resolving within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an impudent man. She blushed, and Jane blushed; but the cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour.

Wickham was no more upset than she was. But his manners were always so charming. If his character and marriage had been exactly as they should, his smiles and relaxed manner would have delighted everyone as he greeted them as family. Elizabeth had not thought him capable of quite such nerve. But she sat down, silently resolving never again to underestimate how shameless a shameless man could be. She blushed, and Jane blushed. But the two people who had caused their embarrassment showed no change of color in their cheeks.

There was no want of discourse. The bride and her mother could neither of them talk fast enough; and Wickham, who happened to sit near Elizabeth, began inquiring after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood, with a good-humoured ease, which she felt very unable to equal in her replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Lydia led voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world.

There was no shortage of conversation. The bride and her mother could neither of them talk fast enough. Wickham happened to be sitting near Elizabeth and began asking about people he knew in the neighbourhood. He spoke with a cheerful ease that she felt quite unable to match in her replies. They each seemed to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing in the past brought back painful memories. Lydia willingly brought up subjects her sisters would not have mentioned for anything in the world.

“Only think of its being three months,” she cried, “since I went away: it seems but a fortnight, I declare; and yet there have been things enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I thought it would be very good fun if I was.”

“Just think, it’s been three months,” she cried, “since I went away! It feels like only two weeks, I swear. And yet so much has happened in that time. Good gracious! When I left, I certainly had no idea I’d be married before I came back! Though I thought getting married would be great fun.”

Her father lifted up his eyes, Jane was distressed, Elizabeth looked expressively at Lydia; but she, who never heard nor saw anything of which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued,—

Her father looked up. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth gave Lydia a pointed look. But Lydia never heard or saw anything she chose to ignore, and she cheerfully continued:

“Oh, mamma, do the people hereabouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not; and we overtook William Goulding in his curricle, so I was determined he should know it, and so I let down the side glass next to him, and took off my glove and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that he might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like anything.”

“Oh, Mama, does everyone around here know I’m married today? I was afraid they might not. And we passed William Goulding in his carriage, so I was determined he should know I was married. So I lowered the window beside him, took off my glove, and rested my hand on the window frame. That way, he could see the ring. Then I nodded and smiled as much as I could.”

Elizabeth could bear it no longer. She got up and ran out of the room; and returned no more, till she heard them passing through the hall to the dining-parlour. She then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with anxious parade, walk up to her mother’s right hand, and hear her say to her eldest sister,—

Elizabeth could stand it no longer. She got up and ran out of the room. She did not return until she heard the others passing through the hall to the dining room. She joined them just in time to see Lydia make a fuss about taking her place at her mother’s right. She also heard Lydia say to her eldest sister:

“Ah, Jane, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am a married woman.”

“Ah, Jane, I’m taking your place now. You must move down because I’m a married woman.”

It was not to be supposed that time would give Lydia that embarrassment from which she had been so wholly free at first. Her ease and good spirits increased. She longed to see Mrs. Philips, the Lucases, and all their other neighbours, and to hear herself called “Mrs. Wickham” by each of them; and in the meantime she went after dinner to show her ring and boast of being married to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.

No one could expect Lydia to grow embarrassed with time when she had felt no embarrassment at first. She only grew more relaxed and cheerful. She longed to see Mrs. Philips, the Lucases, and all their other neighbours. She wanted to hear each of them call her “Mrs. Wickham”. In the meantime, after dinner, she went to show Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids her ring. She also wanted to boast to them about being married.

“Well, mamma,” said she, when they were all returned to the breakfast-room, “and what do you think of my husband? Is not he a charming man? I am sure my sisters must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That is the place to get husbands. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go!”

“Well, Mom,” she said, when they had all returned to the breakfast room, “what do you think of my husband? Isn’t he charming? I’m sure all my sisters must envy me. I only hope they have half my good luck. They must all go to Brighton. That’s the place to find husbands. What a shame we didn’t all go, Mom!”

“Very true; and if I had my will we should. But, my dear Lydia, I don’t at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?”

“Very true. And if I had my way, we would. But, my dear Lydia, I don’t like you going so far away at all. Do you have to go so far?”

“Oh, Lord! yes; there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all things. You and papa, and my sisters, must come down and see us. We shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some balls, and I will take care to get good partners for them all.”

“Oh, Lord! Yes, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll love it more than anything. You and Dad and my sisters must come and visit us. We’ll be in Newcastle all winter, and I expect there will be some balls. And I’ll make sure to find good dance partners for all my sisters.”

“I should like it beyond anything!” said her mother.

“I’d like it more than anything!” said her mother.

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

“And then when you leave, you can leave one or two of my sisters behind. And I expect I’ll find husbands for them before winter is over.”

“I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Elizabeth; “but I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands.”

“Thank you for my share of the favor,” said Elizabeth. “But I don't particularly like your way of finding husbands.”

Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Mr. Wickham had received his commission before he left London, and he was to join his regiment at the end of a fortnight.

Their visitors were to stay with them for no more than ten days. Mr. Wickham had received his commission before leaving London. He was due to join his regiment in two weeks.

No one but Mrs. Bennet regretted that their stay would be so short; and she made the most of the time by visiting about with her daughter, and having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did think than such as did not.

Only Mrs. Bennet was sorry that their stay would be so short. She made the most of the time by visiting others with her daughter and hosting frequent parties at home. Everyone welcomed these parties. Those who did think were even more eager to avoid gatherings of just the family than those who did not.

Wickham’s affection for Lydia was just what Elizabeth had expected to find it; not equal to Lydia’s for him. She had scarcely needed her present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that their elopement had been brought on by the strength of her love rather than by his; and she would have wondered why, without violently caring for her, he chose to elope with her at all, had she not felt certain that his flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and if that were the case, he was not the young man to resist an opportunity of having a companion.

Wickham’s affection for Lydia was just as Elizabeth had expected. He did not love Lydia as much as Lydia loved him. Elizabeth had hardly needed to watch them together to reach a conclusion that already seemed clear from the circumstances. Their elopement had been driven more by Lydia’s love than by his. Why had he chosen to run away with Lydia at all, when he cared so little for her? Elizabeth would have wondered, had she not been certain that his difficult circumstances had forced him to flee. And if he had been forced to flee, he was not the sort to pass up a companion.

Lydia was exceedingly fond of him. He was her dear Wickham on every occasion; no one was to be put in competition with him. He did everything best in the world; and she was sure he would kill more birds on the first of September than anybody else in the country.

Lydia was extremely fond of him. He was always her dear Wickham, and no one could compare with him. He did everything better than anyone in the world. And she was sure he would shoot more birds on September 1 than anyone else in the country.

One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two elder sisters, she said to Elizabeth,—

One morning, soon after their arrival, she was sitting with her two older sisters. She said to Elizabeth:

“Lizzy, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You were not by, when I told mamma, and the others, all about it. Are not you curious to hear how it was managed?”

“Lizzy, I don’t think I ever told you about my wedding. You weren’t there when I told Mom and the others all about it. Aren’t you curious to hear how it was arranged?”

“No, really,” replied Elizabeth; “I think there cannot be too little said on the subject.”

“No, really,” Elizabeth replied. “I think the less said about the subject, the better.”

“La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were married, you know, at St. Clement’s, because Wickham’s lodgings were in that parish. And 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.

“Oh! You’re so strange! But I must tell you how it all went. You know, we were married at St. Clement’s because Wickham was staying in that parish. We agreed that we should all be there by eleven o’clock. My uncle and aunt and I were to go together. The others were to meet us at the church.

“Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if she was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Wickham. I longed to know whether he would be married in his blue coat.

“Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a state! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to delay the wedding. If that had happened, I would have gone completely out of my mind. And there was my aunt, lecturing me the whole time I was getting dressed, as if she were reading a sermon. But I didn't hear more than one word in ten because, as you can imagine, I was thinking of my dear Wickham. I couldn't wait to find out whether he would wear his blue coat for the wedding.

“Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual: I thought it would never be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand that my uncle and aunt were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you’ll believe me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or anything! To be sure, London was rather thin, but, however, the Little Theatre was open.

“Well, so we had breakfast at ten as usual. I thought breakfast would never end. Because, by the way, you should know my uncle and aunt were horribly unpleasant the whole time I stayed with them. Believe me, I never once set foot outside, though I was there for two weeks. Not one party, or outing, or anything! Of course, London was rather empty, but still, the Little Theatre was open.

“Well, and so, just as the carriage came to the door, my uncle was called away upon business to that horrid man Mr. Stone. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for my uncle was to give me away; and if we were beyond the hour we could not be married all day. But, luckily, he came back again in ten minutes’ time, and then we all set out. However, I recollected afterwards, that if he had been prevented going, the wedding need not be put off, for Mr. Darcy might have done as well.”

“Well, just as the carriage reached the door, my uncle was called away on business to that horrid Mr. Stone. And then, you know, once those two get together, there’s no end to it. Well, I was so frightened I didn’t know what to do, because my uncle was supposed to give me away. And if we were late, we couldn’t get married at all that day. But luckily, he came back in ten minutes, and then we all set off. However, I remembered afterwards that if he had been unable to go, the wedding need not have been postponed. Mr. Darcy could have given me away just as well.”

“Mr. Darcy!” repeated Elizabeth, in utter amazement.

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth repeated in complete amazement.

“Oh, yes! he was to come there with Wickham, you know. But, gracious me! 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!”

“Oh, yes! He was supposed to come there with Wickham, you know. But, goodness me! I completely forgot! I shouldn’t have said a word about it. I promised them so firmly! What will Wickham say? It was supposed to be such a secret!”

“If it was to be a secret,” said Jane, “say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.”

“If it was meant to be a secret,” said Jane, “don’t say another word about it. You can count on me not to ask any more questions.”

“Oh, certainly,” said Elizabeth, though burning with curiosity; “we will ask you no questions.”

“Oh, of course,” said Elizabeth, though she was intensely curious. “We won’t ask you any questions.”

“Thank you,” said Lydia; “for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Wickham would be so angry.”

“Thank you,” said Lydia. “Because if you did, I would certainly tell you everything. And then Wickham would be so angry.”

On such encouragement to ask, Elizabeth was forced to put it out of her power, by running away.

With such encouragement to ask questions, Elizabeth had no choice but to make further questioning impossible by running away.

But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it was impossible not to try for information. Mr. Darcy had been at her sister’s wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, where he had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into her brain; but she was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. She could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short letter to her aunt, to request an explanation of what Lydia had dropped, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been intended.

But she could not remain ignorant about such a matter. Or at least she could not help trying to find out more. Mr. Darcy had been at her sister’s wedding. He seemed to have almost no reason to attend that particular event or be among those particular people. Nor could he have had much desire to go. Wild guesses about his reasons rushed through her mind, but none satisfied her. The explanations she liked best, because they showed his behavior in the noblest light, seemed the least likely. She could not bear the uncertainty. Hastily grabbing a sheet of paper, she wrote a short letter to her aunt. She asked her aunt to explain what Lydia had let slip, if the intended secrecy allowed her to do so.

“You may readily comprehend,” she added, “what my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and, comparatively speaking, a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it—unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Lydia seems to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance.”

“You can easily imagine,” she added, “how curious I am to know why someone with no connection to any of us was among you then. He is, after all, a relative stranger to our family. Please write at once and explain, unless there are very strong reasons for the secrecy Lydia seems to think necessary. In that case, I must try to be content not knowing.”

“Not that I shall, though,” she added to herself, and she finished the letter; “and, my dear aunt, if you do not tell me in an honourable manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out.”

“Not that I will, though,” she added to herself. She finished the letter: “And, my dear aunt, if you don't tell me honestly, I'll certainly have to resort to tricks and schemes to find it out.”

Jane’s delicate sense of honour would not allow her to speak to Elizabeth privately of what Lydia had let fall; Elizabeth was glad of it:—till it appeared whether her inquiries would receive any satisfaction, she had rather be without a confidante.

Jane’s strong sense of honour kept her from speaking privately to Elizabeth about what Lydia had let slip. Elizabeth was glad of Jane’s silence. Until she knew whether her inquiries would bring any answers, she preferred not to confide in anyone.