Music Welcome to Snewscast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snewscast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by a most determined flirt. Tonight, we'll read the next part to Pride and Prejudice, written by Jane Austen. Our Friday rotation is capped at four series now so that each episode will only be a month out from the next of a particular story. If you'd like to listen to this series in order, please go to snoozecast.com slash series. In the last episode, younger sisters Lydia and Kitty share some capital news about Wickham, that he is still an eligible bachelor. When they arrive home, Mr. Bennett is glad to see Elizabeth and Jane. Mrs. Bennett wants to hear about the latest fashions, and Kitty and Lydia want to walk to Maryton to see the officers.

To avoid seeing Wickham, Elizabeth chooses not to accompany them.

Later, Elizabeth tells Jane how Darcy proposed to her and also shares the part of Darcy's letter about Wickham. Elizabeth and Jane agree not to publicize Wickham's

misdeeds for the sake of Darcy and his sister. They agree that Wickham will soon leave along with the regiment with no harm done. Let's get cozy.

Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. The first week of their return was soon gone.

The second began. It was the last of the regiments stay in Mariton, and all the young ladies in the neighborhood were drooping a pace. The dejection was almost universal. Elder elder, misbeneats alone were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very frequently, where they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and Lydia, whose own misery was extreme and who could not comprehend such hard-heartedness in any of the family. Good Heaven, what has to become of us? What are we to do? Would they often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. How can you be so smiling, Lizzie? Their affectionate mother shared all their grief. She remembered what she had herself endured on a similar occasion five and twenty years ago.

I am sure," said she. I cried for two days together when Colonel Miller's regiment went away. I thought I should have broken my heart. I am sure I shall break mine," said Lydia. IfIf one could but go to Brighton,' observed Mrs. Bennett. "'Oh, yes, if one could but go to Brighton. But Papa is so disagreeable.' The little seabathing would set me up forever. And my aunt Phillips is sure it would do me a great deal of good, added kitty. Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through long-born house. Elizabeth tried to be diverted by them, but all sense of pleasure was lost in shame. She felt anew the justice of Mr. Darcy's objections, and never had she been so much disposed to pardon his interference in the views of his friend. But the gloom of Lydia's prospect was shortly cleared away. For she received an invitation from Mrs. Forster, the wife of the colonel of the regiment, accompany her to Brighton. This invaluable friend was a very young woman and very lately married. A resemblance in good humor and good spirits had recommended her and Lydia to each other, And out of their three months acquaintance, they had been intimate, too. The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennett, and the mortification of Kitty Kitty are scarcely to be described. Holy, inattentive to her sister's feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone's congratulations and laughing and talking with more violence than ever. Whilst the luckless kitty continued in the parlour repining at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was pee-fish, I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask me as well as Lydia," said she. Though I am not her particular friend, I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more, too, for I am two years older." Vane did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable and Jane to make her resigned. As for Elizabeth herself, this invitation was so far from exciting in her the same feelings as in her mother and Lydia that she considered it as the death warrant of all possibility of common sense for the latter. And a testable as such a step must make her where it known. She could not help secretly advising her father not to let her go. She represented to him all the imperpriities 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, where the temptations must be greater than at home. He heard her attentively and then said, Lydia will never be easy until she has exposed herself in some public place or other, and You can never expect her to do it with so little expense or inconvenience to her family as under the present circumstances. "'If you were aware,' said Elizabeth, of the very great disadvantage to us all which must rise from the public notice of Lydia's unguarded and imprudent manner, Nay, which has already arisen from it. I am sure you would judge differently in the affair." Already arisen? Repeated Mr. Bennett? What? Has she frightened away some of your lovers? Poor little Lizzie. But do not be cast down. Such squeamish youths, as cannot bear to be connected with a little absurdity, are not worth a regret. Come. Let me see the list of pitiful fellows who have been kept aloof by Lydia's folly. Indeed, you are mistaken. I have no such injuries to resent. It is not of particular, but of general evils, which I am now complaining. Our importance, our respectability in the world must be affected by the wild volatility, the assurance and disdain of all restraint which Mark Liddy is character. Excuse me for I must speak plainly. If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberance spirits, of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life. She will soon be beyond the reach of amendment. Her character will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt that ever made herself or her family ridiculous. A flirt, too, in the worst and meanest degree of flirtation, without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person. And from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind, holy, unable to ward off any portion of that universal contempt, which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger, Kitty also is comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled. Oh, my dear father, can you suppose it possible that they will not be censored and despised wherever they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the disgrace?" Mr. Bennett saw that her whole heart was in the subject, and affectionately taking her hand said in reply, Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known, you must be respected and valued, and you will not appear to less advantage for having a couple of, or may I say three, very silly sisters. We shall have no peace at longborn if Lydia does not go to Brighton. Let her go then. Colonel Forster is a sensible man, and will keep her out of any real mischief, and she is luckily too poor to be an object of prey to anybody. At Brighton, she will be of less importance even as a common flirt than she has been here. The officers will find women better worth their notice. Let us hope therefore that her being there may teach her her own insignificance. At any rate, she cannot grow many degrees worse without authorizing us to lock her up for the rest of her life. With this answer, Elizabeth was forced to be content.

But her own opinion continued the same, and she left disappointed and sorry. He was not in her nature, however, to increase her vexations by dwelling on them. She was confident of having performed her duty, and to fret over unavoidable evils, or augment them by anxiety, was no part of her disposition. Had Lydia and her mother known the substance of her conference with her father, their indignation would hardly have found expression in their united voluability. In Lydia's imagination, a visit to Brighton comprised every possibility of earthly happiness. saw with the creative eye of fancy, the streets of that gay bathing place covered with officers. She saw herself the object of attention, to tens and to scores of them at present unknown. She saw all the glories of the camp. Its tents stretched forth in beautyous uniformity of lines, crowded with the young and the gay, and dazzling with scarlet, and to complete the view she saw herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with at least six officers at once. Had she known her sister sought to tear her from such prospects and such realities as these, what would have been her sensations? could have been understood only by her mother, who might have felt nearly the same. Lydia's going to Brighton was all that consoled her for her melancholy conviction of her husband's never intending to go there himself. But they were entirely ignorant of what had passed, and their raptures continued with little intermission to the very day of Lydia's leaving home. Elizabeth was now to see Mr. Wickham for the last time. Having been frequently in company with him since her return, agitation was pretty well over. The agitations of former partiality entirely so. She had even learned to detect, in the very gentleness which had first delighted her and affectation and a sameness to disgust and weary. In his present behavior to herself, moreover, she had a fresh source of displeasure. For the inclination he soon testified of renewing those intentions, which had marked the early part of their acquaintance, could only serve, after what had since passed, to provoke her. She lost all concern for him in finding herself thus selected as an object of such idol and frivolous gallantry. And while she steadily repressed it, could not but feel the reproof contained in his believing 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 the very last day of the regiments remaining at Meriton, he dined, with the others of the officers at Longborn, and so little was Elizabeth disposed to part with him in good humor, that on his making some inquiry as to the manner in which her time had passed at Hunsford. She mentioned Colonel Fitzwilliams and Mr. Darcy's having both spent three weeks at Rosings, and asked him if he was acquainted with the former. He looked surprised, displeased, alarmed, but with a moment's recollection and a returning smile replied that he had formally seen him often, and after observing that he was a very gentleman like man, asked her how she had him. Her answer was warmly in his favor. With an air of indifference, he soon afterwards added, how long did you say he was at Rosings? Nearly three weeks. And you saw him frequently? Yes, almost every day. His manners are very different from his cousins. Yes, very different. But I think Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance. Indeed, cried Mr. Wickham with a look which did not escape her. And pray, may I ask. But checking himself, he added in a gay or tone, is it in a dress that he improves? Has he deign to add ought of civility to his ordinary style for I dare not hope. He continued in a lower and more serious tone that he is improved in essentials. Oh no, Settle Isbeth. In essentials I believe he is very much what he ever was. While she spoke, Wickham looked as if scarcely knowing whether to rejoice over her words, or to distrust their meaning. There was a something in her countenance which made him listen with an apprehensive and anxious attention, while she added. When I said that he improved on acquaintance, I did not mean that his mind or his manners were in a state of improvement, but that, from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood. Wickham's alarm now appeared in a heightened complexion and agitated look. For a few minutes he was silent, till shaking off his embarrassment, he turned to her again, and said, in the gentlest of accents, you, who so well know my feeling toward Mr. Darcy, will readily comprehend how sincerely I must rejoice that he is wise enough to assume even the appearance of what is right. His pride, in that direction, may be of service, if not to himself, to many others, for it must only deter him from such foul misconduct as I have suffered by. I only fear that the sort of cautiousness to which you, I imagine, have been alluding is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt, of whose good opinion and judgment he stands much in awe. His fear of her has always operated, I know, when they were together, and a good deal is to be imputed to his wish of forwarding the match with Mr. Burke, which I am certain he is very much at heart. Elizabeth could not repress a smile at this, but she answered only by a slight inclination of the head. She saw that he wanted to engage her on the old subject of his grievances, and she was in no humor to indulge him. The rest of the evening passed with the appearance on his side of usual cheerfulness, but with no further attempt to distinguish Elizabeth, and they parted at last with mutual civility and possibly a mutual desire of never meeting again. When the party broke up, Lydia returned with Mrs. Forster to Mariton, from once they were to set out early the next morning. The separation between her and her family was rather noisy than pathetic. Kitty was the only one who shed tears, but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs. Bennett was diffuse in her good wishes for the fallicity of her daughter, and impressive in her injunctions that she must not miss the opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible. which there was every reason to believe would be well attended to. And in the clamorous happiness of Lydia herself, in bidding farewell, the more gentle adoes of her sisters were uttered without being heard. CHAPTER 42 Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could not have formed a very pleasing opinion of conjugal Felicity or domestic comfort. Her father, captivated by youth and beauty, and that appearance of good humor 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 forever, and all his views of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennett 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 consol 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, then 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. Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of her father's behavior as a husband. She had always seen it with pain, but respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavored 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 children, was so highly reprehensible. K 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 preserved 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 dullness of everything 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, however, she found what had been before, sometimes now, that an event to which she had looked forward 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 consolation for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentness 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, though she, 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 defense 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 off to the camp. And from her correspondence with her sister, there was still less to be learned. For her letters to Kitty, the rather longer, were much too full of lines under the words to be made public. After the first four nights or three weeks of her absence. Health, good humor, and cheerfulness began to appear at

long-born.

Everything wore a happier aspect. you