Pride & Prejudice, ch. 41: Summer Loving

After the two eldest Bennet daughters, we switch focus to the younger. (I guess Mary’s shut up in her room with her summer reading list, as she has no interest in the topic of the regiment moving to Brighton.) Mrs. Bennet unthinkingly encourages Lydia’s and Kitty’s overblown disappointment. There’s talk of broken hearts and vacationing in Brighton and how sea-bathing would do Kitty “a great deal of good” (her ill-timed coughs apparently point to some physical weakness). Their moaning is so embarrassing that Lizzy doesn’t find anything funny about it, as “never had she before been so much disposed to pardon [Darcy’s] interference in the views of [Bingley].” Holy crap, her sisters must be really annoying if she’s willing to give Darcy even more credit than before.

Salvation (question mark) for Lydia comes in the form of one Mrs. Forster, who invites her “intimate” bestie with her and her colonel husband to Brighton. The two girls/women (we never get an exact age for Harriett Forster) presumably met after chapter 12, when it was first reported that Colonel Forster was engaged, and the two of them were “intimate [for] two” of the three months they’d known each other. To put it another way, imagine your newest friend that you’ve known since the beginning of spring (try to imagine a non-pandemic year, if you can) inviting you on a summer vacation with her and her brand-new husband. And then pretend that you have all the self-preserving instincts and maturity of a teen airhead who gets away with everything because her parents have spoiled her rotten.

Well, that deserves a yikes.

Lizzy, perhaps sensing disaster, goes to Mr. Bennet to convince him to intercede. She argues that Lydia going would be bad due to “all the improprieties of Lydia’s general behavior, the little advantage she could derive from the friendship of such a woman as Mrs. Forster, and the probability of her being yet more imprudent with such a companion at Brighton.” Hmm. Does this not remind one of an earlier situation where Lizzy tried (and failed) to convince a male character of the “impropriety” of his intended actions? Hmm, am I blithely comparing everyone’s favorite literary dad to an especially irritating and fluff-brained clergyman? Hm. I guess I am.

I know I’ve been harsh on Mr. Bennet during this read-through. Though it wasn’t something I initially counted on, I’m not going to ease up on it. His initial reply to Lizzy’s plea is a dismissive, “Lydia will never be easy till she has exposed herself in some public place or other.” In other words, he is more than willing to risk Lydia experiencing public embarrassment (and not just willing, as he appears to anticipate it). Even when it means that all the “[Bennet] sisters will … be often involved in the disgracer,” as Lizzy points out later. Mr. Bennet actually teases her about the “squeamish youths as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity,” as if he thinks that Lizzy is only thinking about boys. Come on, Pa Bennet! You’re mixing up your boy-crazy daughters with your responsible one!

Lizzy lays down the law, informing him that if he refuses to “[teach] Lydia that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment.” I will note that in no other Austen novel does a daughter speak so harshly to her father, and indeed no father other than Mr. Bennet would give her the opportunity. In trying to reassure her, he singles out her and Jane as the two Bennet sisters whose reputations would not be damaged by the younger set. And he offers the view that Lydia “is luckily* too poor to be an object of prey” and the hope that she will face “her own insignificance.” That’s right: he thinks that Lydia being unable to attract any of the officers will humble her. [Scoff of disbelief.]

Part of what may be influencing Lizzy is the constant presence of Wickham, who has now become a thorn in her side. Seems that Georgiekins wants her back as a flirting partner and he ain’t being subtle about it. She now notices an “affectation” in his manners that “disgust[s]” her. His behavior gives off the distinct vibe of “his [belief] that, however long, and for whatever cause, his attentions had been withdrawn, her vanity would be gratified and her preference secured at any time by their renewal.” On its own, this is an incredibly infuriating assumption on his part, and the fact that Wickham is not bothering to hide it pretty much destroys the reader’s previous image of his charisma (to say nothing of one’s view of his morals).

So maybe she’s a little justified in her desire to antagonize him when he asks about her visit to Hunsford. She brings up Col. Fitzwilliam (never mentioned by Wickham when he was disparaging Darcy) and Wickham has a couple of general, vague compliments to give, despite his initial “alarmed” reaction. He turns the subject to Darcy, hoping to do a little compare/contrast, but Lizzy stops him short. “I think Mr. Darcy improves on acquaintance,” she suggests to the visibly shaken Wickham. “I dare not hope [...] that he is improved in essentials,” he whispers.

“In essentials, I believe, he is very much what he ever was,” Lizzy assures him. Translation: I’ve got your number, you lying, fortune-hunting dumb-dumb.

After finally regaining control over himself, Wickham spouts some bull that Darcy is “wise enough to assume even the appearance of what is right” before trying to sell Lizzy on the notion that Darcy adjusts his behavior for Lady Catherine, who, Wickham would have us believe, puts the fear of God in Darcy. And even after Lizzy all but outright states that Darcy revealed the full truth of Wickham’s past, Georgiekins still insists that he has “suffered” by Darcy’s hands. But he has enough presence of mind to politely ignore her for the rest of the day.

There are two possibilities for Wickham’s stubborn woe-is-me act that I can discern. One: he is persuaded that he can convince Lizzy again through his charm that he is the victim. After all, she doesn’t give a specific example of what she’s learned about him, so maybe he’s counting on the idea that Darcy only shared vague details. Two: he doesn’t care one way or the other and he’s counting on her adherence to propriety that she won’t just blatantly accuse him right then and there of being a lying liar who lies. If we only count his character’s portrayal up to this chapter, both of these options ring true. Later stuff will be discussed, you know, later, and I’ll come back to this assessment. 

For now, we say goodbye to Lydia, pour one out for Kitty, and wait for better things.

Chapter the next: Lizzy reflects on her ill-suited parents, we get a purposefully vague update on Lydia’s vacation, and some last-minute change in plans alters Lizzy’s entire summer.

*As much as I gripe about him, I will award Mr. Bennet all the points for his mastery of irony.