"True, dear Ma'am. Yet must we not own there was imprudence in permitting
a young girl of Miss Darcy's beauty and expectations to be so unguardedly
in the company of Willoughby? Forcibly indeed has that thought struck me
more than once. Poor unfortunate parents! Let us hasten to condole with
them."
Mrs Collins was too overcome to attend us, and the Admiral giving me his
arm, we set off through the Park, he speaking his mind with the bluffness
of a sailor on Miss Darcy's behaviour. Well did she know, he said, that
her parents would never consent to a match so far below her pretensions,
and therefore--But I dare not emulate his frankness.
We found Mrs Darcy pale but composed, a mounted messenger having returned
from Mr Darcy with the news that he had heard of a post-chaise going at
full galloping speed on the road to Merton, and was following it up. He
begged Mrs Darcy to sustain her spirits, and call on the Admiral for aid
if occasion should arise in his absence.
O Sophia, how describe the looks of fear and horror which surrounded us on
all sides in that hitherto so happy household! Caroline fainted in her
mother's arms and was instantly conveyed to her room, where we attended
her until consciousness was restored and misery with it. The Admiral
employed himself in the library, in questioning the men and women, with a
view to discover some more certain clew to pursuit, or possibly some
accomplice, his experience as president of courts-martial standing him in
such good stead that he terrified them all, and I feel certain, had any
been a party to the flight, it must have been known. So valuable is manly
presence of mind in such emergencies! Nothing, however, transpired.
Time advanced, and Mrs Darcy requested we would remain. The shades of
night darkened, and still no news. It was impossible not to admire Mrs
Darcy's fortitude, for indeed this must have forcibly recalled the time
when her sister Mrs Wickham (as I have learnt from Marianne Dashwood) made
the fatal elopement with Wickham which has secured her a lifetime of
wretched poverty and uneasiness. I readily understood her deplorable
appearance at the Sundale inn on hearing her story. Fatal indeed, Sophia,
are the steps of female error, and how impossible to be retrieved!
We are not to judge Providence, yet it certainly appears that masculine
imprudences are viewed more leniently from on high. Rectitude, no doubt,
is demanded from all; but it must be owned the consequences are less
severe when a man forsakes the narrow path of virtue. As the Admiral
frequently observes--woman is the weaker vessel and therefore much more is
rightly expected from her, and the punishment justly more severe, as we
observe in the case of Eve and other examples for our learning. This,
however, is a bewildering subject, and more suited to my dear Admiral's
understanding, so I pursue it no further.
We were all unable to eat, and were sitting listless in the parlour as
midnight approached, when my ear caught the gallop of a horse. "Mr Darcy!"
I cried, starting to my feet and trembling with agitation.
Mrs Darcy, exercising an almost superhuman composure, sat rigidly in her
chair. The door was flung open and in rushed _Mr Wickham_--disordered
with speed and riding, but recognisable to me as the handsome,
dissipated-looking man we had seen at the inn at Sundale. He seized Mrs
Darcy's almost lifeless hand and cried: "Courage, Ma'am! She is safe. She
is with Mrs Wickham at Sundale, and the miscreant fled."
How is it possible, Sophia, that I should describe the scene that ensued?
Hearing the commotion, Caroline tottered downstairs and swooned again at
our feet, yet was scarcely heeded--all crowding round Wickham, who
obligingly soothed our anxiety.
"When," he said, "the officers of our regiment returned to Chatham from
the enjoyment of Mr Darcy's hospitality, the incidents of their stay were
naturally broached, and Willoughby spoken of. Nothing, however, transpired
until Colonel Vaughan returned from leave, when the subject happened to
come up again. 'But, good God, who is this?' cried Colonel Vaughan. 'Young
Willoughby died eight months ago at Calcutta, and was an only child. My
own brother attended his obsequies. Who can this person be?' All was
astonishment. His brother, Mr James Vaughan, was hastily summoned from his
residence in the Dockyard, and fully confirmed this, he having lately
returned from India. He looked very gravely upon the matter, and mentioned
that Mr Willoughby, senior, had formed years ago an illicit connection
with a Portuguese female, of which there were two sons of most
disreputable character. I waited not to hear more, but called for my
horse, and in regimentals, as you see me, rode at full speed for Sundale,
where Mrs Wickham was awaiting me for the Sundale Steeplechase, that being
the nearest way here."