Had Edward's opinion been all drawn from his own family, he could not have formed a very pleasing opinion of conjugal felicity or domestic comfort. Mr. Bennet captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good humour, which youth and beauty generally give, in gentlemen and ladies alike, had entered into matrimony with a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind, had very early in their marriage put an end to what of real affection for her his natural propensity allowed. Respect, esteem, and confidence, had vanished for ever; and all his views of relative domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on, in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He was fond of the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted, than as her ignorance and folly had contributed to his 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.
Edward, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of his father's behaviour as a husband. He had always seen it with pain; but respecting his abilities, and for ever grateful for his affectionate treatment of himself, since the unfortunate circumstances of his birth, he endeavoured to forget what he could not overlook, and to banish from his 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 Edward 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 Edward had rejoiced over Wickham's departure, he found little other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties abroad were less varied than before; and at home he had a mother and sister whose constant repinings at the dulness of every thing 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, he found, what has been sometimes found before, that an event to which he had looked forward with impatient desire, did not in taking place, bring all the satisfaction he had promised himself. It was consequently necessary to name some other period for the commencement of actual felicity; to have some other point on which his wishes and hopes might be fixed, and by again enjoying the pleasure of anticipation, console himself for the present, and prepare for another disappointment. His tour to the Lakes was now the object of his happiest thoughts; it was his best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of his mother and Kitty made inevitable; and could he have included Jane in the scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.
'But it is fortunate,' thought he, '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 realized. 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 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 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 re-appear 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 Edward 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 northward 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.
Edward was excessively disappointed. Once his studies commenced, he would not be at leisure to undertake such a tour; he had set his heart on seeing the Lakes, and still thought there might have been time enough. But it was his business to be satisfied—and certainly his temper to be happy; and all was soon right again.
With the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for him to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner. 'But surely,' said he, 'I may enter his county without impunity, and rob it of a few petrified spars without his perceiving me.'
The period of expectation was now doubled. Four weeks were to pass away before his 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 staid only one night at Longbourn, and set off the next morning with Edward 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.
It is not the object of this work to give a description of Derbyshire, nor of any of the remarkable places through which their route thither lay; Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham, &c. are sufficiently known. A small part of Derbyshire is all the present concern. To the little town of Lambton, the scene of Mrs. Gardiner's former residence, and where she had lately learned some acquaintance still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen all the principal wonders of the country; and within five miles of Lambton, Edward found from his aunt, that Pemberley was situated. It was not in their direct road, nor more than a mile or two out of it. In talking over their route the evening before, Mrs. Gardiner expressed an inclination to see the place again: Mr. Gardiner declared his willingness, and Edward was applied to for his approbation.
'My love, should not you like to see a place of which you have heard so much?' said his aunt. 'A place too, with which so many of your acquaintance are connected. Wickham passed all his youth there, you know.'
Edward was distressed. He felt that he had no business at Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. He must own that he was tired of seeing great houses; after going over so many, he really had no pleasure in fine carpets or satin curtains.
Mrs. Gardiner abused his stupidity. 'If it were merely a fine house richly furnished,' said she, 'I should not care about it myself; but the grounds are delightful. They have some of the finest woods in the country.'
Edward said no more—but his mind could not acquiesce. The possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly occurred. It would be dreadful! He blushed at the very idea; and thought it would be better to speak openly to his aunt, than to run such a risk. But against this, there were objections; and he finally resolved that it could be the last resource, if his private inquiries as to the absence of the family, were unfavourably answered.
Accordingly, when he retired at night, he asked the chambermaid whether Pemberley were not a very fine place, what was the name of its proprietor, and with no little alarm, whether the family were down for the summer. A most welcome negative followed the last question—and his alarms being now removed, he was at leisure to feel a great deal of curiosity to see the house himself; and when the subject was revived the next morning, and he was again applied to, could readily answer, and with a proper air of indifference, that he had not really any dislike to the scheme.
To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
END OF THE SECOND VOLUME
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