Lydia need not have been indebted to her uncle for whatever of honour or credit could now be
purchased for her. The satisfaction of prevailing on one of the most worthless young men in
Great Britain to be her husband might then have rested in its proper place.
He was seriously concerned that a cause of so little advantage to anyone should be forwarded at
the sole expense of his brother-in-law, and he was determined, if possible, to find out the extent
of his assistance, and to discharge the obligation as soon as he could.
When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly useless, for, of course,
they were to have a son. The son was to join in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of
age, and the widow and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters
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successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. Bennet, for many years
after Lydia's birth, had been certain that he would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it
was then too late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy, and her husband's love of
independence had alone prevented their exceeding their income.
Five thousand pounds was settled by marriage articles on Mrs. Bennet and the children. But in
what proportions it should be divided amongst the latter depended on the will of the parents. This
was one point, with regard to Lydia, at least, which was now to be settled, and Mr. Bennet could
have no hesitation in acceding to the proposal before him. In terms of grateful acknowledgment
for the kindness of his brother, though expressed most concisely, he then delivered on paper his
perfect approbation of all that was done, and his willingness to fulfil the engagements that had
been made for him. He had never before supposed that, could Wickham be prevailed on to marry
his daughter, it would be done with so little inconvenience to himself as by the present
arrangement. He would scarcely be ten pounds a year the loser by the hundred that was to be
paid them; for, what with her board and pocket allowance, and the continual presents in money
which passed to her through her mother's hands, Lydia's expenses had been very little within that
sum.
That it would be done with such trifling exertion on his side, too, was another very welcome
surprise; for his wish at present was to have as little trouble in the business as possible. When the
first transports of rage which had produced his activity in seeking her were over, he naturally
returned to all his former indolence. His letter was soon dispatched; for, though dilatory in
undertaking business, he was quick in its execution. He begged to know further particulars of
what he was indebted to his brother, but was too angry with Lydia to send any message to her.
The good news spread quickly through the house, and with proportionate speed through the
neighbourhood. It was borne in the latter with decent philosophy. To be sure, it would have been
more for the advantage of conversation had Miss Lydia Bennet come upon the town; or, as the
happiest alternative, been secluded from the world, in some distant farmhouse. But there was
much to be talked of in marrying her; and the good-natured wishes for her well-doing which had
proceeded before from all the spiteful old ladies in Meryton lost but a little of their spirit in this
change of circumstances, because with such an husband her misery was considered certain.
It was a fortnight since Mrs. Bennet had been downstairs; but on this happy day she again took
her seat at the head of her table, and in spirits oppressively high. No sentiment of shame gave a
damp to her triumph. The marriage of a daughter, which had been the first object of her wishes
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since Jane was sixteen, was now on the point of accomplishment, and her thoughts and her
words ran wholly on those attendants of elegant nuptials, fine muslins, new carriages, and
servants. She was busily searching through the neighbourhood for a proper situation for her
daughter, and, without knowing or considering what their income might be, rejected many as
deficient in size and importance.
"Haye Park might do," said she, "if the Gouldings could quit it—or the great house at Stoke, if
the drawing-room were larger; but Ashworth is too far off! I could not bear to have her ten miles
from me; and as for Pulvis Lodge, the attics are dreadful."
Her husband allowed her to talk on without interruption while the servants remained. But when
they had withdrawn, he said to her: "Mrs. Bennet, before you take any or all of these houses for
your son and daughter, let us come to a right understanding. Into ONE house in this
neighbourhood they shall never have admittance. I will not encourage the impudence of either,
by receiving them at Longbourn."
A long dispute followed this declaration; but Mr. Bennet was firm. It soon led to another; and
Mrs. Bennet found, with amazement and horror, that her husband would not advance a guinea to
buy clothes for his daughter. He protested that she should receive from him no mark of affection
whatever on the occasion. Mrs. Bennet could hardly comprehend it. That his anger could be
carried to such a point of inconceivable resentment as to refuse his daughter a privilege without
which her marriage would scarcely seem valid, exceeded all she could believe possible. She was
more alive to the disgrace which her want of new clothes must reflect on her daughter's nuptials,
than to any sense of shame at her eloping and living with Wickham a fortnight before they took
place.
Elizabeth was now most heartily sorry that she had, from the distress of the moment, been led to
make Mr. Darcy acquainted with their fears for her sister; for since her marriage would so
shortly give the proper termination to the elopement, they might hope to conceal its unfavourable
beginning from all those who were not immediately on the spot.
She had no fear of its spreading farther through his means. There were few people on whose
secrecy she would have more confidently depended; but, at the same time, there was no one
whose knowledge of a sister's frailty would have mortified her so much—not, however, from any
fear of disadvantage from it individually to herself, for, at any rate, there seemed a gulf
impassable between them. Had Lydia's marriage been concluded on the most honourable terms,
it was not to be supposed that Mr. Darcy would connect himself with a family where, to every
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other objection, would now be added an alliance and relationship of the nearest kind with a man
whom he so justly scorned.
From such a connection she could not wonder that he would shrink. The wish of procuring her
regard, which she had assured herself of his feeling in Derbyshire, could not in rational
expectation survive such a blow as this. She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though
she hardly knew of what. She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no longer hope to be
benefited by it. She wanted to hear of him, when there seemed the least chance of gaining