Pride & Prejudice, ch. 51: The Whole Fam-Damily

The more I re-read this chapter, the more convinced I become that Jane Austen could’ve written a truly biting episode of The Office. 

I mean, take a look at what we have. There’s an obviously mismatched pair of parents, with a mismatched set of values. There are a couple of smarter older sisters who are too shocked and dismayed to mask their reactions. And then there’s a couple of newlyweds, with the wife constantly saying stuff that will embarrass anyone with a shred of decency and a husband whose self-assured manners come across as blatantly insincere. There’s so much cringe in this episode of cringe comedy that it’s edging out the comedy altogether.

“Lydia was Lydia still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless,” though the narrator leaves the reader to add words like insufferable, immature, and downright rude. As for Worst Moment, the contenders seem to be Lydia acting like living in sin for two weeks before marriage was a vacation, or the smugness as she takes her place in line ahead of Jane as per protocol. Funny how Lydia could rattle that tidbit (“I take your place now, you must go lower”) off with ease while happily ignoring the circumstances of her marriage. Definitely shows what she expects to get out of being married.

Wickham, on the other hand, plays things a little too coolly. He chooses to make small talk with Lizzy (which appears to be a deliberate, and if so, sadistic choice), “enquiring [sic] after his acquaintance in that neighbourhood, with a good humoured ease which she felt very unable to equal in her replies.” It is, of course, absolutely infuriating. No one’s asking these newlyweds to crawl on their hands and knees begging forgiveness, but … actually, now that I think about it, that pretty much is what’s expected of them. Let’s remember that Jane, at least, has posited that Wickham chose to marry Lydia because guilt got the better of him. He’s not acting guilty here. In fact, he seems to be taking for granted that his new in-laws are just going to roll with it. If so, he’s right: Mrs. Bennet is out to lunch and Mr. Bennet, though angry, isn’t about to confront him. He gets away with his behavior because confrontation isn’t an option. Even Lizzy ends up going to her room to regroup rather than take any opportunity to tell Wickham off.

Lydia reveals another way she plans to enjoy wifehood: she wants to invite all her sad, lonely, single sisters to her new home up north and play matchmaker. The parallels between mother and daughter are so obvious at this point that I feel dumb for even pointing them out. Oh my God—do Lydia and Wickham ever have kids of their own? 

*skips to end* 

Funnily enough, the book doesn’t outright say that they do, though Austen is also vague on whether the other couples procreate … for my sanity, I’m going to assume that Wickham’s swimmers are duds.

ANYWAY, Lizzy puts her observation skills to use. It looks to her like Lydia’s exuberant display of affection for Wickham was the inciting incident for the elopement, and that Wickham clearly isn’t as fond of her sister as she is of him. She concludes that “[Wickham’s] 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.” I’d crack a joke here normally, but it feels so icky—not necessarily in an older-guy-takes-advantage-of-a-younger-woman way, but more in a you-should’ve-known-better way. The guy could have left without Lydia, he could’ve pushed her away or tricked her into thinking he’d come back for her or something. But I guess that would have required effort on his part, and, as we all know, “the temptation of immediate pleasure was too strong for a mind unused to make any sacrifice to right.”*

Now we get to the actual point of this chapter (thankyouLydiagoodbyenow). As she prattles away, complaining about Aunt Gardiner scolding her (thank you for your service, Aunt Gardiner), she reveals that there was a special guest at her wedding: Mr. Darcy. Since Lydia doesn’t want to upset Wickham, Lizzy has to pretend that she doesn’t want to know any more. But she immediately runs away—no, literally, Lizzy’s really getting her steps in—and writes to Aunt Gardiner for an explanation. She inquires “to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively speaking) a stranger to our family[, Mr. Darcy], should have been amongst you at such a time.” Note that here, she refers to him explicitly as a “stranger,” a description that will surprise her aunt and uncle. There is also a note of bittersweet longing here as Lizzy won’t let herself give into the hope that Darcy’s presence there was a good thing: “[t]hose [conjectures] that best pleased her, as placing his conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable.” 

Lizzy, he’s a rich guy with a conscience who is totally into you. Maybe give him a little credit.

Next time: A detailed explanation throws Lizzy into a flutter, but she keeps her cool when Wickham goes on the charm offensive.

*This little ditty is from Mansfield Park, where the narrator gives us insight into the true shallowness of Henry Crawford’s thought process. Funny how well it applies to Wickham, too.