amusement. This is not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to his
wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true philosopher will derive
benefit from such as are given.
Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her father's behaviour as a
husband. She had always seen it with pain; but respecting his abilities, and grateful for his
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affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavoured to forget what she could not overlook, and to
banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal obligation and decorum which, in
exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so highly reprehensible. But she had
never felt so strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of so unsuitable a
marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising from so ill-judged a direction of
talents; talents, which, rightly used, might at least have preserved the respectability of his
daughters, even if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.
When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure she found little other cause for
satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties abroad were less varied than before, and at
home she had a mother and sister whose constant repinings at the dullness of everything around
them threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty might in time regain her
natural degree of sense, since the disturbers of her brain were removed, her other sister, from
whose disposition greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all her folly
and assurance by a situation of such double danger as a watering-place and a camp. Upon the
whole, therefore, she found, what has been sometimes been found before, that an event to which
she had been looking with impatient desire did not, in taking place, bring all the satisfaction she
had promised herself. It was consequently necessary to name some other period for the
commencement of actual felicity—to have some other point on which her wishes and hopes
might be fixed, and by again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console herself for the
present, and prepare for another disappointment. Her tour to the Lakes was now the object of her
happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours which the
discontentedness of her mother and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have included Jane in
the scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.
"But it is fortunate," thought she, "that I have something to wish for. Were the whole
arrangement complete, my disappointment would be certain. But here, by carrying with me one
ceaseless source of regret in my sister's absence, I may reasonably hope to have all my
expectations of pleasure realised. A scheme of which every part promises delight can never be
successful; and general disappointment is only warded off by the defence of some little peculiar
vexation."
When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely to her mother and
Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and always very short. Those to her mother
contained little else than that they were just returned from the library, where such and such
officers had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as made her quite
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wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which she would have described more fully, but
was obliged to leave off in a violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going off to
the camp; and from her correspondence with her sister, there was still less to be learnt—for her
letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were much too full of lines under the words to be made
public.
After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good humour, and cheerfulness
began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything wore a happier aspect. The families who had been
in town for the winter came back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose.
Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the middle of June, Kitty was
so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without tears; an event of such happy promise
as to make Elizabeth hope that by the following Christmas she might be so tolerably reasonable
as not to mention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel and malicious arrangement
at the War Office, another regiment should be quartered in Meryton.
The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast approaching, and a fortnight
only was wanting of it, when a letter arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its
commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from
setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again within a month, and as that
left too short a period for them to go so far, and see so much as they had proposed, or at least to
see it with the leisure and comfort they had built on, they were obliged to give up the Lakes, and
substitute a more contracted tour, and, according to the present plan, were to go no farther
northwards than Derbyshire. In that county there was enough to be seen to occupy the chief of
their three weeks; and to Mrs. Gardiner it had a peculiarly strong attraction. The town where she
had formerly passed some years of her life, and where they were now to spend a few days, was
probably as great an object of her curiosity as all the celebrated beauties of Matlock, Chatsworth,
Dovedale, or the Peak.
Elizabeth was excessively disappointed; she had set her heart on seeing the Lakes, and still
thought there might have been time enough. But it was her business to be satisfied—and
certainly her temper to be happy; and all was soon right again.
With the mention of Derbyshire there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for her to
see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner. "But surely," said she, "I may enter
his county without impunity, and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me."
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The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away before her uncle and
aunt's arrival. But they did pass away, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, with their four children, did at
length appear at Longbourn. The children, two girls of six and eight years old, and two younger
boys, were to be left under the particular care of their cousin Jane, who was the general
favourite, and whose steady sense and sweetness of temper exactly adapted her for attending to
them in every way—teaching them, playing with them, and loving them.
The Gardiners stayed only one night at Longbourn, and set off the next morning with Elizabeth
in pursuit of novelty and amusement. One enjoyment was certain—that of suitableness of
companions; a suitableness which comprehended health and temper to bear inconveniences—
cheerfulness to enhance every pleasure—and affection and intelligence, which might supply it
among themselves if there were disappointments abroad.