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
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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.
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.
"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."
Her father lifted up his eyes. Jane was distressed. Elizabeth looked expressively at Lydia; but
she, who never heard nor saw any thing of which she chose to be insensible, gaily continued,
"Oh! mamma, do the people here abouts 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 any thing."
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, "Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am 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. Phillips,
the Lucases, and all their other neighbours, and to hear herself called "Mrs. Wickham" by each
of them; and in the mean time, she went after dinner to show her ring, and boast of being
married, to Mrs. Hill and the two housemaids.
"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
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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."
"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?"
"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."
"I should like it beyond any thing!" 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."
"I thank you for my share of the favour," said Elizabeth; "but I do not particularly like your way
of getting 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.
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.
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.
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 every thing best in the world; and she was sure he would
kill more birds on the first of September, than any body else in the country.
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One morning, soon after their arrival, as she was sitting with her two elder 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?"
"No really," replied Elizabeth; "I think there cannot be too little said on the subject."
"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. 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, 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 any thing. To be sure London was rather thin, but, however, 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,