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"My father is gone to London, and Jane has written to beg my uncle's immediate assistance; and
we shall be off, I hope, in half-an-hour. But nothing can be done—I know very well that nothing
can be done. How is such a man to be worked on? How are they even to be discovered? I have
not the smallest hope. It is every way horrible!"
Darcy shook his head in silent acquiescence.
"When MY eyes were opened to his real character—Oh! had I known what I ought, what I dared
to do! But I knew not—I was afraid of doing too much. Wretched, wretched mistake!"
Darcy made no answer. He seemed scarcely to hear her, and was walking up and down the room
in earnest meditation, his brow contracted, his air gloomy. Elizabeth soon observed, and instantly
understood it. Her power was sinking; everything MUST sink under such a proof of family
weakness, such an assurance of the deepest disgrace. She could neither wonder nor condemn, but
the belief of his self-conquest brought nothing to her consolatory to her bosom, afforded no
palliation of her distress. It was, on the contrary, exactly calculated to make her understand her
own wishes; and never had she so honestly felt that she could have loved him, as now, when all
love must be vain.
But self, though it would intrude, could not engross her. Lydia—the humiliation, the misery she
was bringing on them all, soon swallowed up every private care; and covering her face with her
handkerchief, Elizabeth was soon lost to everything else; and, after a pause of several minutes,
was only recalled to a sense of her situation by the voice of her companion, who, in a manner
which, though it spoke compassion, spoke likewise restraint, said, "I am afraid you have been
long desiring my absence, nor have I anything to plead in excuse of my stay, but real, though
unavailing concern. Would to Heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part that
might offer consolation to such distress! But I will not torment you with vain wishes, which may
seem purposely to ask for your thanks. This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister's
having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley to-day."
"Oh, yes. Be so kind as to apologise for us to Miss Darcy. Say that urgent business calls us home
immediately. Conceal the unhappy truth as long as it is possible, I know it cannot be long."
He readily assured her of his secrecy; again expressed his sorrow for her distress, wished it a
happier conclusion than there was at present reason to hope, and leaving his compliments for her
relations, with only one serious, parting look, went away.
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As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how improbable it was that they should ever see each other
again on such terms of cordiality as had marked their several meetings in Derbyshire; and as she
threw a retrospective glance over the whole of their acquaintance, so full of contradictions and
varieties, sighed at the perverseness of those feelings which would now have promoted its
continuance, and would formerly have rejoiced in its termination.
If gratitude and esteem are good foundations of affection, Elizabeth's change of sentiment will be
neither improbable nor faulty. But if otherwise—if regard springing from such sources is
unreasonable or unnatural, in comparison of what is so often described as arising on a first
interview with its object, and even before two words have been exchanged, nothing can be said
in her defence, except that she had given somewhat of a trial to the latter method in her partiality
for Wickham, and that its ill success might, perhaps, authorise her to seek the other less
interesting mode of attachment. Be that as it may, she saw him go with regret; and in this early
example of what Lydia's infamy must produce, found additional anguish as she reflected on that
wretched business. Never, since reading Jane's second letter, had she entertained a hope of
Wickham's meaning to marry her. No one but Jane, she thought, could flatter herself with such
an expectation. Surprise was the least of her feelings on this development. While the contents of
the first letter remained in her mind, she was all surprise—all astonishment that Wickham should
marry a girl whom it was impossible he could marry for money; and how Lydia could ever have
attached him had appeared incomprehensible. But now it was all too natural. For such an
attachment as this she might have sufficient charms; and though she did not suppose Lydia to be
deliberately engaging in an elopement without the intention of marriage, she had no difficulty in
believing that neither her virtue nor her understanding would preserve her from falling an easy
prey.
She had never perceived, while the regiment was in Hertfordshire, that Lydia had any partiality
for him; but she was convinced that Lydia wanted only encouragement to attach herself to
anybody. Sometimes one officer, sometimes another, had been her favourite, as their attentions
raised them in her opinion. Her affections had continually been fluctuating but never without an
object. The mischief of neglect and mistaken indulgence towards such a girl—oh! how acutely
did she now feel it!
She was wild to be at home—to hear, to see, to be upon the spot to share with Jane in the cares
that must now fall wholly upon her, in a family so deranged, a father absent, a mother incapable
of exertion, and requiring constant attendance; and though almost persuaded that nothing could
be done for Lydia, her uncle's interference seemed of the utmost importance, and till he entered
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the room her impatience was severe. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner had hurried back in alarm,
supposing by the servant's account that their niece was taken suddenly ill; but satisfying them
instantly on that head, she eagerly communicated the cause of their summons, reading the two
letters aloud, and dwelling on the postscript of the last with trembling energy, though Lydia had
never been a favourite with them, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner could not but be deeply afflicted. Not
Lydia only, but all were concerned in it; and after the first exclamations of surprise and horror,
Mr. Gardiner promised every assistance in his power. Elizabeth, though expecting no less,
thanked him with tears of gratitude; and all three being actuated by one spirit, everything relating
to their journey was speedily settled. They were to be off as soon as possible. "But what is to be
done about Pemberley?" cried Mrs. Gardiner. "John told us Mr. Darcy was here when you sent
for us; was it so?"
"Yes; and I told him we should not be able to keep our engagement. THAT is all settled."
"What is all settled?" repeated the other, as she ran into her room to prepare. "And are they upon
such terms as for her to disclose the real truth? Oh, that I knew how it was!"
But wishes were vain, or at least could only serve to amuse her in the hurry and confusion of the
following hour. Had Elizabeth been at leisure to be idle, she would have remained certain that all
employment was impossible to one so wretched as herself; but she had her share of business as