
                    PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

                      vol. 2

                     chapter 19



HAD Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family,
she could not have formed a very pleasing picture of conjugal
felicity or domestic comfort.  Her father captivated by youth
and beauty, and that appearance of good humour, which
youth and beauty generally give, had married a woman whose
weak understanding and illiberal mind, had very early in their
marriage put an end to all real affection for her.  Respect,
esteem, and confidence, had vanished for ever; and all his
views of domestic happiness were overthrown.  But Mr.
Bennet was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the dis-
appointment 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 enjoy-
ments.  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 entertain-
ment are wanting, the true philosopher will derive benefit
from such as are given.
Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impro-
priety of her father's behaviour as a husband, She had always
seen it with pain; but respecting his abilities, and grateful for
his 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 chil-
dren, 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 pre-
served 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 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 situa-
tion of such double danger as a watering place and a camp.
Upon the whole, therefore, she found, what has been some-
times found before, that an event to which she had looked for-
ward 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 consola-
tion for all the uncomfortable hours, which the discontented-
ness 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 my 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 orna-
ments 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 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 con-
tracted 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 prob-
ably 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 with 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 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 staid 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
as companions; a suitableness which comprehendcd 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,
Kenelworth, 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 resi-
dence, and where she had lately learned that some acquain-
tance still remained, they bent their steps, after having seen
all the principal wonders of the country; and within five miles
of Lambton, Elizabeth found from her 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 Elizabeth
was applied to for her approbation.
"My love, should not you like to see a place of which you
have heard so much?" said her aunt.  "A place too, with which
so many of your acquaintance are connected.  Wickham passed
all his youth there, you know."
Elizabeth was distressed.  She felt that she had no business
at Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for
seeing it.  She must own that she was tired of great houses;
after going over so many, she really had no pleasure in fine
carpets or satin curtains.
Mrs. Gardiner abused her 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."
Elizabeth said no more -- but her mind could not acquiesce.
The possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the
place, instantly occurred.  It would be dreadful!  She blushed
at the very idea; and thought it would be better to speak
openly to her aunt, than to run such a risk.  But against this,
there were objections; and she finally resolved that it could
be the last resource, if her private enquiries as to the absence
of the family, were unfavourably answered.
Accordingly, when she retired at night, she 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 her alarms
being now removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of
curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was
revived the next morning, and she was again applied to, could
readily answer, and with a proper air of indifference, that she
had not really any dislike to the scheme.
To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
