Lizzy! Jane!
What do you think?
Mr Collins has made an offer of marriage to Charlotte Lucas!
She's accepted him!
Charlotte?
Engaged to Mr Collins?
Impossible!
The fireplace in the great room at Rosings would be much larger than that.
A fireplace of truly prodigious dimensions.
But why should you be surprised, my dear Lizzy?
Do you think it incredible that Mr Collins
should be able to procure any woman's good opinion,
because he was not so happy as to succeed with you?
Charlotte, I didn't mean...
I was surprised.
But Charlotte, if Mr Collins has been so fortunate as to secure your affections,
I'm delighted for you both.
I see what you are feeling.
I'm not romantic, you know.
I never was. I ask only a comfortable home.
And, considering Mr Collins' character and situation in life,
I'm convinced my chance of happiness with him
is as fair as people can boast on entering in the marriage state.
My dear Charlotte!
Cousin Elizabeth, you can see before you the happiest of men!
Oh, Jane, it was such a humiliating spectacle!
She knows she's marrying one of the stupidest men in England.
I never believed her capable of that.
Lizzy, you do not make allowances for differences of situation and temper.
Our cousin Mr Collins is not the cleverest of men, perhaps,
but he is respectable.
He is not vicious, and as far as fortune goes, it's an eligible match.
Very eligible! You wouldn't think of marrying a man like that,
simply to secure your own comfort.
No, but Lizzy, not everyone is the same.
Dear Jane!
I doubt that you will have to make a choice
between marrying for love and marrying for more material considerations.
Though you may, perhaps?
This came just now from Netherfield, ma'am.
Thank you.
It's from Caroline Bingley.
She writes...
that the whole party will have left Netherfield by now, for London.
And without any intention of coming back again.
My brother Charles at first thought the business which takes him to London
might be concluded in a few days,
but we're certain that this cannot be so.
I am convinced that when Charles gets to town,
he will be in no hurry to leave it again.
I do not pretend to regret anything
I shall leave in Hertfordshire, my dearest friend,
except your society.
Mr Darcy, of course, is impatient to see his sister.
And to confess the truth,
I'm scarcely less eager to meet her again,
from the hope I dare to entertain of her being hereafter... my sister.
Am I wrong, my dearest Jane,
in indulging the hope of an event
which would secure the happiness of so many?
Is it not clear enough?
Caroline Bingley is convinced her brother is indifferent to me,
and she means most kindly to put me on my guard.
Can there be any other opinion on the subject?
Oh, yes, there can!
Miss Bingley sees that her brother is in love with you,
and she wants him to marry Miss Darcy.
She hopes to keep him in town,
and persuade you that he does not care about you.
Indeed, Jane, you ought to believe me.
No one who has seen you and Bingley together can doubt his affection.
I cannot believe Caroline is capable of wilful deceit.
All I can hope in this case is that she is deceived herself.
Well, believe her to be deceived, by all means,
but she can hardly convince a man so much in love
that he's in love with someone else instead!
If Bingley is not back by your side and dining at Longbourn within two weeks,
I shall be very much surprised.
I don't envy Charlotte in the slightest! Fancy marrying a clergyman!
He'll be reading from Fordyce's sermons every night.
Before they go to bed!
Look at that hideous cloth! It would do very well for Mary, don't you think?
Look! There's Denny and Carter.
And Wickham!
I suppose you'll keep him all to yourself again, Lizzy?
Of course. She's violently in love with him!
For heaven's sake, lower your voice.
Good afternoon to you, Ladies!
What a fortunate meeting!
For we were about to walk towards Longbourn in search of you.
We came into town in search of you!
We were in hope we would see you at the Netherfield ball.
I was very sorry indeed to lose the pleasure of dancing with you there.
But fate, it would seem...
No. With you I must be entirely open.
I decided that it would be wrong for me to be there.
I found as the time drew near that I had better not meet with Mr Darcy.
Scenes might arise unpleasant to more than myself.
I do understand and admire your forbearance.
Not that it would give me a moment's concern
to see Mr Darcy publicly set down,
but in Mr Bingley's house...
It would grieve me to see him embarrassed and discomfited.
And through him, your sister.
Yes.
I hear Mr Collins is engaged to be married.
Yes, to my good friend Charlotte Lucas.
I had thought that his intentions tended in another direction.
Perhaps they did, but they took a little turn, to everybody's satisfaction.
And relief.
I hope that you will stay and take tea with us.
I should like to introduce you to my mother and father.
Thank you.
Denny!
Oh, young George Wickham is such a charming young man, is he not, my dear?
What? Oh, indeed he is.
It was very good of him to entertain us so eloquently
with stories about his misfortunes.
With such narratives to hand, who would read novels?
But I believe he has been treated contemptibly by Mr Darcy, father.
Well, I dare say he has, Lizzy.
Though Darcy may be turned out no more of a black-hearted villain
than your average rich man, which used to his own way.
It behoves us all to take very careful thought
before pronouncing an adverse judgement on any of our fellow men.
Oh, Lord!
Well, I feel very sorry for poor Mr Wickham.
And so becoming in his regimentals!
I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself well enough.
And I do still in my heart.
And there's no need to smile like that, Miss Lizzy!
Though Mr Wickham has taken a fancy to you,
I'm sure you've done nothing to deserve it,
after your dealings with Mr Collins!
Well, it is all in vain, it will all come to nothing!
The poor young man!
If only he had five or six thousand a year,
I'd be happy to see him marry any of the girls!
But nothing turns out the way it should.
And now Mr Bingley,
of whom we all had such expectations, is gone off forever!
What?
I've heard again from Caroline Bingley.
It's now definite that they will stay in town for the whole winter.
I cannot believe it.
It is true.
Come now, Jane, take comfort.
Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love now and then.
When is it your turn to come, Lizzy?
You will hardly bear to be long outdone by Jane,
when here are officers enough in Meryton
to disappoint all the young ladies in the country.
Let Wickham be your man. He's a pleasant fellow,
and would jilt you creditably.
Thank you, sir, but a less agreeable man would satisfied me.
We must not all expect Jane's good fortune.
True, but it is a comfort to think...
that whatever of that kind may befall you,
you have an affectionate mother who will always make the most of it.
I don't know what will become of us all, indeed I do not!
And I cannot bear to think of Charlotte Lucas
being mistress of this house!
That I should be forced to make way for her, and see her take my place in it!
My dear, don't give way to such gloomy thoughts.
Let us hope for better things.
Let us flatter ourselves that I might outlive you.
You mustn't be anxious for me, Lizzy.
He will be forgot,
and we shall all be as we were before.
But, I may remember him as...
the most amiable man of my acquaintance.
But that is all.
I have nothing either to hope or fear...
and nothing to reproach him with. At least I have not had that pain.
My dear Jane.
You're too good. Your sweetness and disinterestedness are truly angelic.
- Don't tease me, Lizzy. - Indeed I do not tease you.
There are few people whom I really love, and even fewer of whom I think well.
The more I see of the world, the more I am dissatisfied with it.
Jane, what if you were to go to town?
Aunt and Uncle Gardiner would be happy to take you with them
to Gracechurch Street after Christmas.
Why would you have me go to London, Lizzy?
No reason.
A change of scene and society?
Why are you so late?
I'm sure I feared your coach had overset itself,
or you had been attacked by robbers!
Nonsense, we made it in very good time. How do you do, Fanny?
Very ill, Edward. No one knows what I suffer with my nerves.
But then I never complain.
That's the best way to go about it, Fanny.
You're very good, very good.
- Have you brought us some presents? - I see you've not changed, Lydia.
- Why, have I not grown? - Aye, in everything but good sense.
Jane!... Lizzy!... Girls!
Get yourselves in, get yourselves in,
for you have barely time for a change of clothes!
We are bidden to the Philips's this evening.
Lord knows I have no desire to be always going here and there at night.
I should much rather sit at home and rest my poor nerves.
# God rest ye merry gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay,
# Remember Christ our Saviour Was born on Christmas Day,
# To save us all from Satan's pow'r...
Aye, poor Jane. I would not have you think I blame poor Jane at all!
Who could blame poor Jane for the matter?
She is the dearest girl in the world!
And I was telling our dear sister, Mrs Gardiner, she did her best.
She would have got Bingley if she could.
She would. She did her best, and no one could do any more than that.
But, oh, sister, when I think about Lizzy!
- It must be very hard, sister. - It is very hard.
To think she could have been Mr Collins's wife by now!
That would have given you such comfort!
Oh, those Lucases are such artful people indeed.
They are all for what they can get!
However, your coming just at this time is the greatest of comforts.
And we are very pleased to hear
what you tell us about the latest fashions for long sleeves.
May I present Mr Wickham to you, Aunt?
I understand you come from Derbyshire, Mr Wickham.
Indeed I do, ma'am. Do you know the country?
Very well.
I spent some of the happiest years of my life at Lambton.
But that is not five miles from where I grew up, at Pemberley!
Pemberley! Surely Pemberley is the most handsome house in Derbyshire,
and consequently in the world!
I see you take my view of things, ma'am.
- Are you acquainted with the family? - No, not at all.
I had the good fortune to be the protege of old Mr Darcy.
He was the very best of men, Mrs Gardiner.
I wish you could have known him.
And a four on yours, and I'm out! Lord, I've won again!
Let's have some dancing now. I long for a dance!
Mary!
Mary, play Grimstock.
Capital! Capital!
- Fine girls, are they not, Mr Gardiner? - Indeed they are, Sir William.
- The two eldest in particular, perhaps? - Indeed, indeed.
They would grace the court of St. James itself!
But let's not forget the younger Miss Bennets!
Aye, they have arms and legs enough between them,
and are three of the silliest girls in England.
When do you go into Kent?
We shall spend the wedding night at Lucas Lodge,
and then travel to Hunsford on Friday.
You will write to me, Lizzy?
I believe I am not likely to leave Kent for some time.
I shall depend on hearing from you very often.
That you certainly shall.
My father and Maria are to come to me in March.
Lizzy, will you promise to be one of the party?
Indeed, you will be as welcome as either of them.
Then how could I refuse?
But I'll only come if you guarantee me
a glimpse of the famous chimney piece at Rosings Park!
That you could scarcely avoid, even if you wished to!
Charlotte!
Have you asked her? Charlotte? Is she to come to Hunsford with us?
- Yes. - Oh, good!
I shan't be half so frightened of Lady Catherine,
if you are with us, Lizzy!
Who is that girl dancing with Mr Wickham?
Her name is Mary King.
She's come to stay with her uncle in Meryton.
- She's not very pretty, is she? - Beauty is not the only virtue, Maria.
She's just inherited a fortune of 10,000 pounds, I understand.
Now that is a definite virtue!
It is very hard, very hard.
And I might be sorry for Lizzy, though she is done little to deserve it.
For Wickham to pursue Miss King all the way to Barnet,
just for her 10,000 pounds!
I wish someone would die and leave me 10,000 pounds.
Then all the officers would be violently in love with me!
I'm sure they would, Kitty dear, I am sure they would.
Did you think her pretty, mamma?
No indeed, she has nothing to any of you.
A little short freckled thing! Poor Wickham. How he must be suffering.
January the 12th.
My dearest Lizzy,
here we continue at Gracechurch Street to be quiet and comfortable.
And my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner could not be kinder or more attentive.
All I lack here, dear Lizzy, is you, to make me laugh at myself.
You will remember three weeks ago, when our Aunt was going to that part of town,
I took the opportunity of calling on Miss Bingley in Grosvenor Street.
I was very eager to see Caroline again. And I thought she was glad to see me,
though a little out of spirits.
She reproached me for giving her no notice of my coming to London,
and I thought it very strange
that both my letters should have gone astray.
Very strange indeed.
My visit was not long, as Caroline and Mrs Hurst were going out.
Goodbye, Miss Bennet.
But they gave me every promise to call at Gracechurch Street in a day or two.
I waited at home every morning for three weeks,
and at length, today she came.
I know, my dear Lizzy,
you will be incapable of triumphing at my expense,
when I confess I have been entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for me.
She made it very evident that she took no pleasure in seeing me.
When I asked after her brother,
she made it clear that he knows of my being in town,
but is much engaged at present with Mr Darcy and his sister.
I must conclude then,
that Mr Bingley now no longer cares for me.
Lizzy! Come quick! Denny and Carter are here.
And guess who else? Wickham!
I heard that you are going into Kent.
I felt I could not let you go without calling to see you once.
I'm very glad you did. I've missed our conversations.
I hear I am to congratulate you on your forthcoming betrothal to Miss King?
You must despise me.
Indeed I do not, believe me!
I understand, as my younger sisters are not yet able to,
that handsome young men must have something to live on,
as well as the plain ones.
Miss Bennet...
I would wish you to believe me that... had circumstances been different...
Had old Mr Darcy never had a son?
Oh, yes.
But life is full of these trials, as my sister Mary reminds us daily.
I sincerely wish you every happiness in the world.
- You are very forbearing. - I flatter myself I am!
I think Jane would be quite proud of me.
I hope you and I, at least, will always be good friends.
I'm sure we shall, Mr Wickham.
Well, Lizzy, on pleasure bent again.
Never a thought of what your poor parents will suffer in your absence?
It is a pleasure I could well forego, father, as I think you know.
But I shall be happy to see Charlotte again.
What of your cousin Mr Collins and the famous Lady Catherine de Bourgh?
As a connoisseur of human folly,
I should have thought you impatient to be savouring these delights.
Of some delights, I believe, sir, a little goes a long way.
Yes. Well, think of me, Lizzy.
Till you or your sister Jane return,
I shall not hear two words of sense spoken together.
You'll be very much missed, my dear.
Very well, very well. Go along then. Get along with you.
Aye, Maria. All that land to the left of us belongs to Rosings Park.
All of it? Oh, Lady Catherine must be very rich indeed!
I believe so, I believe so! And she has many favours in her gift.
Your sister has made a fortunate alliance!
Yes, well, I believe the next turn takes us on to Hunsford.
Sir William! Maria!
Cousin Elizabeth.
I am truly honoured to be able to welcome you to my humble abode!
- My dear Sir! - My dear Mr Collins!
I am deeply honoured to make a humble welcome to the Parsonage...
- I am happy to see you, Elizabeth. - And I you.
The staircase, I flatter myself,
is eminently suitable for a clergyman in my position,
being neither too shallow nor too steep.
As serviceable a staircase as I've ever seen, sir. Now, at St. James' Court...
Though it is nothing, of course, to the staircases you will see at Rosings.
I say staircases, because there are several,
and each in its way very fine.
And here, if you would permit me, cousin Elizabeth.
This will be your bedchamber, while you are with us.
And I trust you will find it comfortable and convenient.
- Indeed it is a very pleasant room. - Observe that closet, cousin Elizabeth.
- What do you say to that? - Well...
Is it not the very essence of practicality and convenience?
Lady Catherine de Bourgh herself
was kind enough to suggest
that these shelves be fitted exactly as you see them here.
Shelves in the closet... Happy thought indeed.
She is kindness itself.
Nothing is too small to be beneath her notice, is it not, my dear?
She is a very attentive neighbour.
We dine at Rosings Park twice every week!
And are never allowed to walk home.
That is generosity itself, is it not, Maria?
Her Ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us.
I should say one of her Ladyship's carriages, for she has several.
And now, Sir William,
you were kind enough to express a wish to see my gardens.
Mr Collins tends the gardens himself,
and spends a good part of every day in them.
- The exercise must be beneficial. - Oh, yes.
I encourage him to be in his garden as much as possible.
And he has to walk to Rosings nearly every day.
So often? Is that necessary?
Perhaps not, but I confess I encourage him in that as well.
- Walking is very beneficial exercise. - Oh, indeed it is.
And when he's in the house, he is mostly in his book room,
which affords a good view of the road,
whenever Lady Catherine's carriage should drive by.
- And you prefer to sit in this parlour? - Yes.
So, it often happens that a whole day passes
in which we haven't spent more than a few minutes in each other's company.
I see.
I find that I can bear the solitude very cheerfully.
I find myself...
quite content with my situation, Lizzy.
- Charlotte, my dear, come quickly! - What is it, my dear?
Lizzy! Lizzy!
Come into the dining room.
There's such a sight to be seen! Make haste!
Look, Lizzy, look!
Is this all? I expected that at least the pigs had got into the garden!
Here's merely Lady Catherine and her daughter.
No, Lizzy, that's old Mrs Jenkinson, not Lady Catherine.
With her is Miss Anne de Bourgh!
Well, she is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out in this wind!
- What a little creature she is! - I like her appearance.
She looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do very well.
She'll make him a proper wife.
Who, Lizzy?
Mark the windows.
There are 64 in all. 64!
And I have it on good authority
that the glazing alone originally cost in excess of 600 pounds!
It's a very handsome building, and prettily situated, sir.
And by no means lacking in windows.
Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel.
Lady Catherine is far from requiring that elegance of dress,
which becomes herself and her daughter.
She won't think the worse of you for being simply dressed.
She likes to preserve the distinction of rank.
Thank you, Mr Collins, that is a great comfort.
An apothecary will serve your needs quite adequately.
Make sure it be no one but Nicholson, Mrs Collins.
I shall be extremely angry if I hear you have gone elsewhere.
I assure you I have no intention to, Lady Catherine.
No indeed. No intention at all.
Well.
Your friend appears to be quite a genteel pretty sort of girl, Mrs Collins.
Her father's estate is entailed on Mr Collins, I understand.
Yes, ma'am, and I am, believe me...
Do you have brothers and sisters, Miss Bennet?
Yes, ma'am, I am the second of five sisters.
Are any of your younger sisters out?
- Yes, ma'am, all of them. - All?
What? All five out at once?
The younger ones out before the older are married?
Your youngest sisters must be very young?
Yes, ma'am, my youngest is not sixteen.
Well!
She is full young to be out much in company.
But really, ma'am, I think it would be hard upon younger sisters,
that they not have their share of society and amusement,
simply because their elder sisters have not the means
or inclination to marry early.
Sir William, wouldn't you agree?
- Well... - Upon my word!
You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person!
Pray, what is your age?
With three younger sisters grown up,
your Ladyship can hardly expect me to own it.
Miss Bennet, you cannot be more than twenty, I am sure.
Therefore there is no need to conceal your age!
I am not one and twenty.
Mrs Collins, did I tell you of Lady Metcalf's calling on me yesterday?
She thanked me for sending her Miss Pope. "Lady Catherine," said she,
"you have given me a treasure." Yes!
Yes.
It is beautiful.
I could grow almost as fond of these woods and hills as you have, Charlotte.
Lizzy?
We have been here three weeks,
and already we have dined at Rosings Park six times!
I would never have expected it to be so many!
No, nor I.
My dear!
Maria! Cousin Elizabeth!
Mr Darcy is arrived at Rosings!
And with him his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam!
The younger son of the Earl of Matlock!
Both gentlemen is about to vouchsafed us the greatest honour.
They are coming to call upon us at the Parsonage!
- When, my dear? - Even now, Mrs Collins, even now!
They're hard upon my heels! Make haste! Make haste!
I think it must be due to you.
Mr Darcy wouldn't come so soon to wait upon me.
You're mistaken, Charlotte, for I know he dislikes me as much as I do him.
Make haste! Make haste!
I'm delighted to make your acquaintance at last, Miss Bennet!
At last, sir?
Well, I've heard much of you,
and none of the praise hasn't been exaggerated, I assure you.
I can well believe that. Mr Darcy is my severest critic.
I hope we shall see you frequently at Rosings, while we are here.
I'm fond of lively conversation.
And this you do not find at Rosings Park?
My aunt does talk a great deal, but seldom requires a response.
My friend speaks hardly a word when he comes into Kent,
though he's lively enough in other places.
Nobody plays, nobody sings.
I believe you play and sing, Miss Bennet?
A little, and very ill.
I wouldn't wish to excite your anticipation.
I'm sure you're too modest.
But any relief would be profoundly welcome, I assure you.
Can you tell me why Mr Darcy keeps staring at me?
What do you think offends him?
- I hope your family is in good health. - I thank you, yes.
My sister has been in town these three months.
Have you never happend to see her?
No.
No, I have not had that pleasure.
Mr Darcy and I are not the best of friends.
Well, I am very surprised to hear that.
Why should you be? I always believe in first impressions,
and his good opinion once lost, is lost forever.
So you see, it is a hopeless case, is it not, Colonel Fitzwilliam?
You will never play really well, Miss Bennet, unless you practise more.
You may come to Rosings as often as you like,
and play on the pianoforte in Mrs Jenkinson's room.
She would be in nobody's way in that part of the house.
Thank you, ma'am.
There are few people in England,
I suppose, who have more true enjoyment in music than myself.
Or a better taste.
And if I had ever learnt, I should be a true proficient.
And so would Anne.
Do you mean to frighten me, Mr Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me?
I won't be alarmed.
My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.
I know you find great enjoyment in professing opinions
which are not your own.
Your cousin would teach you
not to believe a word I say, Colonel Fitzwilliam.
- That is ungenerous of him, is it not? - It is indeed, Darcy!
Impolitic too, for it provokes me to retaliate
and say somewhat of his behaviour in Hertfordshire,
which may shock his relations.
- I'm not afraid of you. - What can you accuse him of?
I should dearly like to know how he behaves among strangers!
The first time I ever saw Mr Darcy was at a ball,
where he danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce,
and more than one lady was in want of a partner.
- I am sorry to pain you, but so it was. - I can well believe it!
I fear I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers.
Shall we ask him why?
Why a man of sense and education, who has lived in the world,
should be ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers?
I...
I have not that talent which some possess,
of conversing easily with strangers.
I do not play this instrument so well as I should wish to,
but I have supposed that to be my own fault,
because I would not take the trouble of practising!
You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better.
No one privileged of hearing you could think anything wanting.
We neither of us perform to strangers.
What are you talking of?
What are you telling Miss Bennet?
I must have my share in the conversation!
As for the daughter, she is a pale sickly creature
with little conversation and no talent.
I'm sorry to be hard on any of our sex, but there it is...
Mr Darcy shows no inclination for her,
and treats her with the same indifference he shows everyone,
but Lady Catherine is clear determined to have him for a son-in-law,
and she is not a woman to be gainsaid.
Mr Darcy.
Mrs Collins and Maria are just now gone into Hunsford village with my cousin.
You find me all alone this morning, Mr Darcy.
I beg your pardon. I would not wish to intrude upon your privacy.
I was just writing a letter to my sister Jane in London, that is all.
Ah.
Mr Bingley and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?
Perfectly so, I thank you.
I understand Mr Bingley has not much idea for ever returning to Netherfield?
It is probable that he may spend little time there in the future.
If he means to be but a little, it would be better for the neighbourhood
that he should give up the place entirely.
I should not be surprised if he were to give it up,
as soon as any eligible purchase offers.
This seems a very comfortable house.
Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it
when Mr Collins first came to Hunsford.
I believe she did.
And she couldn't have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful recipient.
Mr Collins appears extremely fortunate in his choice of wife.
Yes, indeed he is. Though seen in a prudential light,
it is a good match for her as well.
It must be agreeable to her to live within easy distance of her family.
Easy distance do you call it? It's nearly fifty miles!
What is fifty miles of good road? Yes, I call it a very easy distance.
Near and far are relative terms.
It is possible for a woman to be settled too near her family.
Yes, exactly.
You would not wish to be always near Longbourn, I think.
I shall trespass on your time no longer.
Please convey my regards to Mrs Collins and her sister.
No, no, please don't trouble yourself.
- Miss Bennet! - Colonel Fitzwilliam.
I have been making the tour of the park as do every year.
Shall we take this way together?
With pleasure.
Do you know Mr Bingley and his sisters?
Oh, I know them a little.
Bingley is a pleasant, gentleman-like man.
He's a great friend of Darcy's.
Yes. Mr Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr Bingley,
and takes a prodigious deal of care of him.
Yes, I believe Darcy does take care of him.
I... understand that he congratulates himself
on having lately saved Mr Bingley
the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage.
Did Mr Darcy give his reasons for this interference?
I understand there were some very strong objections to the lady.
And why was he to be the judge?
You're disposed to think his interference officious?
I don't see what right Mr Darcy had to determine and direct
in what way his friend was to be happy.
But, as you say, we know none of the particulars.
Perhaps there was not much affection in the case.
Perhaps not. But if that were the case,
it lessens the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly, don't you think?
- Miss Bennet, are you unwell? - A sudden headache.
Perhaps I have walked too far today.
Let us take the shorter way back.
You're sure? I would willingly stay at home with you,
and brave all Lady Catherine's displeasure.
My dear Charlotte, I beg you to consider...
I shall be quite all right. It's only a headache.
It will pass, and I'm sure more speedily in quiet and solitude.
I am quite sure,
when all the circumstances are explained to Lady Catherine,
she will not be angry,
for she has indeed such Christian generosity of spirit...
- My dear, but the time! - My dear! Why did you not say before?
I cannot begin to count the occasions on which her Ladyship
has impressed upon me the sovereign importance of punctuality...
Forgive me. I hope you are feeling better.
I am, thank you.
Will you not sit down?
In vain I have struggled. It will not do!
My feelings will not be repressed.
You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
In declaring myself thus I'm fully aware
that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family,
my friends, and, I hardly need add, my own better judgement.
The relative situation of our families is such
that any alliance between us must be regarded
as a highly reprehensible connection.
Indeed as a rational man I cannot but regard it as such myself,
but it cannot be helped.
Almost from the earliest moments of our asquaintance
I have come to feel for you...
a passionate admiration and regard,
which despite my struggles, has overcome every rational objection.
I beg you, most fervently, to relieve my suffering
and consent to be my wife.
In such cases as these,
I believe the established mode is to express a sense of obligation.
But I cannot.
I have never desired your good opinion,
and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.
I'm sorry to cause pain to anyone, but it was unconsciously done,
and I hope will be of short duration.
And this is all the reply I am to expect?
I might wonder why, with so little effort at civility, I am rejected.
I might wonder why, with so evident a desire to offend and insult me,
you chose to tell me that you like me against your will,
your reason, and even against your character!
Was this not some excuse for incivility if I was uncivil?
I have every reason in the world to think ill of you.
Do you think any concideration would tempt me to accept the man
who has been the means of ruining the happiness of a most beloved sister?
Can you deny that you have done it?
I have no wish to deny it.
I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister,
and I rejoice in my success.
Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.
But it is not merely that on which my dislike of you is founded.
Long before it had taken place my dislike of you was decided
when I heard Mr Wickham's story of your dealings with him.
How can you defend yourself on that subject?
You take eager interest in that gentleman's concerns!
Who that knows what his misfortunes have been can help feeling an interest in him?
His misfortunes! Yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed!
And of your infliction!
You have reduced him to his present state of poverty,
and yet you can treat his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule!
And this is your opinion of me?
My faults by this calculation are heavy indeed.
But perhaps these offences might have been overlooked,
had not your pride been hurt by the confession of the scruples
long prevented my forming serious design on you.
Had I concealed my struggles and flattered you.
But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence.
Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just.
Did you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?
To congratulate myself on the hope of relations
whose condition in life is so decidedly below my own?
You are mistaken, Mr Darcy.
The mode of your declaration merely spared me any concern
I might have felt in refusing you,
had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.
You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way
that would have tempted me to accept it.
From the very beginning, your manners impressed me
with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit,
and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others.
I had not known you a month
before I felt you were the last man in the world whom I could ever marry.
You've said quite enough, madam.
I perfectly comprehend your feelings...
and now have only to be ashamed of what my own have been.
Please forgive me for having taken up your time, and...
accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.