Such a pity Charlotte Lucas is so very plain.
Lady Lucas is much to be pitied.
But also much to blame.
Poor Charlotte is always wanted at home
to be about the mince pies or the dusting.
To be sure, I keep servants that can do their own work.
Our daughters are brought up very differently.
And Charlotte Lucas will be a very long time marrying,
you take my word for it, if at all.
Of course, she's not so very plain -
I do not mean she's not a very pleasant girl,
but nor is she so very clever, like Mary.
Some girls can afford to do without looks and some can't.
Of course, there's clever and sharp.
Our Lizzy tends to be sharp.
Lizzy, you have only yourself to blame if you find yourself badly treated.
In the company of young gentlemen be advised by me:
Smile and hold your tongue.
It is how I won your father.
I hope, my dear, that you have ordered a good dinner today,
- we shall be one extra. - You cannot mean Charlotte Lucas.
I'm sure my day-to-day dinners are good enough for her.
I do not believe she often sees such at home.
The person of whom I speak is a gentleman, and a stranger.
Mr. Bingley?
Mr. Bingley is coming here!
He cannot keep away from Jane. Jane, you sly thing.
I knew it. Jane has made a conquest.
I do not mean Mr. Bingley.
What? Yet another?
What an excellent father you are, Mr. Bennet.
And is he possessed of a good fortune?
I'm sorry to say that he is, yes.
Sorry? How sorry?
Because it is your daughter's fortune that he possesses, Mrs. Bennet.
I speak of my cousin Mr. Collins.
And when I am dead, he may turn the lot of you
out of this house as soon as he pleases.
But why is Mr. Collins coming here?
He is an odious man. I cannot bear to have his name mentioned.
My nerves are suffering.
It is the hardest thing in the world for me to bear and you know it is,
that your estate should be entailed away from your children.
- He's a monster. - Mother, it is not Mr. Collins' fault
that he's to inherit this house.
- It is the fault of the entailment. - A monster!
A monster? But he claims to be a clergyman.
Perhaps you would like me to read you his letter?
- It is very long. - Odious, hypocritical monster.
- A clergyman? - Who gives tuppence for a clergyman?
I am sure we will find him charming.
But we have none of us met him.
Five unmarried daughters, myself a widow, homeless,
and what do you do about it, sir? Laugh?
No. I will read you part of his letter.
It will quickly stop all mirth.
"Fearing to seem disrespectful of my father's memory
by being on good terms with anyone
to whom it had pleased him to be at variance
but having received ordination into the clergy at Easter... "
A common thief ordained?
And the good fortune to have as my patron, lady Catherine de Bourgh -"
he will worm his way in here as there.
"Whose bounty and beneficence," and so on and so forth,
he's certainly is capable of feeling deference, my dear.
"... and being ever ready to perform those rights and ceremonies
which I instituted by the church of England... " So on and so forth.
The upshot is that his father is dead,
he is a clergyman, and young Mr. Collins
proposes himself the satisfaction
of waiting upon us on Monday the 18th at 4:00
with the intention of staying for a week.
A week?
Good afternoon.
I knew he would be plain.
Any man not in a red coat is plain.
But he is intelligent.
In point of composition, the letter he wrote father
was not deficient and it was very long.
Pray, receive my compliments, Mrs. Bennet,
on your fine family of daughters.
I have heard much of their beauty.
But in this instance, fame has fallen short of the truth.
I do not doubt of you seeing them all in good time disposed of in marriage.
I wish with all my heart it may prove so, Mr. Collins.
Else they will all be destitute.
You would refer perhaps to my ultimate inheritance
of this pleasing house, contents and grounds.
I am sensible of the hardships of my cousins,
but while not wishing to appear forward,
I can assure the young ladies that I come prepared to admire them.
Shall we perhaps go into dinner?
The hall. The hall should be imposing.
This one is spacious enough but a little dark.
Had you thought of mirrors?
Oh, truly a gracious dining room.
Even lady Catherine de Bourgh would not be ashamed to dine here.
The chairs are a good enough match.
And the table though a trifle rustic is solid and well made.
And may I compliment you, Mrs. Bennet,
on the style and graciousness of your home?
It has not of course approached the grandeur of her ladyship's,
but could scarcely be expected to.
To which of your many daughters, Mrs. Bennet,
do we owe the excellence of this dinner?
We keep a cook, Mr. Collins.
I did not mean to offend you.
I'm not at all offended. I assure you.
You would be justified in taking offense.
It was an unpardonable suggestion.
He will now apologize for a quarter of an hour.
...to suggest that daughters of such distinction and beauty
would have anything to do in the kitchen
would indeed cause offense.
Let me once again apologize.
I can only congratulate myself
that such errors of judgment come rarely to my lips,
and never so far in the presence of lady Catherine de Bourgh
my most esteemed patroness.
Mr. Collins, you seem very fortunate in your patroness lady Catherine de Bourgh.
Such affability, such condescension.
For me to have the honour of preaching before a person of such rank...
She has even visited my parsonage and inspected it,
and suggested I put in shelves in the upstairs closets.
Does she have sons?
She has a daughter, a miss de Bourgh.
A most charming young lady,
unfortunately of a very sickly constitution
which has prevented her from making that progress in many accomplishments
which otherwise she could not have failed of.
But she is clearly born to be a duchess
as I have more than once observed to lady Catherine.
These are the kind of little remarks which please her ladyship.
People reckon her proud. But, no...
No, she has even allowed me to leave the parish
and come here to visit my humble relations.
She has advised me to marry as soon as I can,
providing, of course, that I do so with discretion.
Having a good house and a sufficient income,
and seeking as I do a reconciliation with your family,
and finding your daughters as handsome and as amiable
as represented by common report,
and it my Christian duty -
although it may seem to others excessively generous -
to make some atonement for inheriting their father's estate,
I mean to choose one of your daughters in marriage, Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Collins.
Jane is of course the eldest,
and we must not forget what is due to seniority.
Jane? Well...
Of course Jane is perfectly lovely.
But I must give mention,
I do feel it incumbent upon me
to hint that Jane is very likely
to be soon engaged and married very well indeed.
But of course, Elizabeth is next to Jane,
both in order of birth and of beauty.
Indeed.
He wishes to walk with me into Meryton, father.
Let the fellow walk with you wherever he will, Elizabeth,
so long as it is out of my earshot.
He insists on following me into the library.
Although I am prepared to meet folly and conceit
in any other room in the house,
I will have my library to myself.
You must all go, all of you.
No. Kitty and Lydia will run after officers
and exclaim over smart bonnets and make noise in general.
And supposing we meet somebody we know?
I will have my library to myself, Elizabeth,
and leisure and tranquillity.
Oh, all right.
Miss Elizabeth.
Yes, Mr. Collins?
- Are we all going? - Yes, Mr. Collins.
If we all go to Meryton, we must all go and visit my aunt Philips.
- Aunt Philips? - She is my mother's sister,
and like my mother, has a good heart and loves visitors.
A very close connection, miss Elizabeth.
And Mr. Philips, he is perhaps in some line of trade?
He is a solicitor.
A modest calling but respectable.
Come along, girls.
Aunt Philips says that colonel Forster does not go to miss Wilson's so often now.
No, it is captain Carter goes there.
I cannot think why. She's so very dull.
Have you ever seen such freckles?
I have often observed how little many young ladies
are interested in books of a serious stamp,
though written solely for their benefit.
For certainly there can be nothing so advantageous to them as instruction.
- Look, it's captain Denny. - Hush, people. We're here.
- Quickly, let us just cross. - We shall miss them. Hurry!
- No. - No.
People will say the Bennet girls
do nothing but talk to officers.
- Good morning, captain Denny. - Good morning.
Ladies, well met.
Pray, let me introduce you to my good friend Mr. Wickham.
Is he not an admirable fellow?
Everything a young lady might require.
A fine countenance, good figure,
- pleasing address. - You won't but let me speak, Mr. Denny.
He has accepted a commission in the corps.
Only this corps would do for him.
And my nose is thoroughly out of joint.
No. I will not present you to him, I will not.
But it was the prospect of good society, Mr. Denny,
constant and agreeable society of the kind that I see here
that lured me to your regiment.
You should not have talked about it so much
or the beauty of the young ladies hereabouts
if you wished me to stay away.
You must find that an interesting book.
Well, it is most instructive.
Volume number seven of Fordyce's sermons.
Ladies of accomplishment and refinement.
- Oh no! - It is Mr. Bingley.
And Mr. Darcy. And we are talking to officers.
Quickly come away. We can go to aunt Philips.
Oh no!
- Miss Bennet. - Mr. Bingley.
I was on my way to Longbourn to inquire after your health.
You're quite well? The air is not too cold for you?
No. No.
- It brings colour to your cheeks. - Miss Bennet,
- miss Eliza. - Mr. Darcy.
You are taking the air?
I am taking the air, Mr. Darcy, with my family.
So I see.
My sisters you know, Mr. Darcy.
This is Mr. Collins, captain Denny,
and Mr. Wickham.
I do apologize for this intrusion, Mrs. Philips,
which after all having no previous acquaintance with you,
and yet, I suppose if I flatter myself,
might be justified by my relationship with these charming young ladies.
Pray, do not apologize, Mr. Collins.
You are not elusive, that is the main thing.
Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham have got away - never mind.
Lydia, Kitty, keep at the window in case they come by again.
If they do, call with all your might.
I have some other officers to dine tomorrow
and you shall all come.
And somehow I will contrive to have Mr. Wickham.
And you too, of course, Mr. Collins, if you should deign.
Such an excess of good breeding and good looks in one person.
It quite takes my breath away.
Your sister is all manners, all politeness, Mrs. Bennet.
She has included me in the most generous invitation
though utterly unknown to her before.
I have never met with such attention in the course of my life.
Excepting only in lady Catherine de Bourgh and miss de Bourgh
have I seen such elegance, such civility.
And yet I fear Mr. Bennet may be offended
if I do not attend him every evening.
I should perhaps join him in a game of backgammon
and decline Mrs. Philips' invitation.
Courtesy perhaps demands it - do you not think so, miss Elizabeth?
You should not sacrifice yourself on my father's account,
I do not think he would wish it.
As you wish, miss Elizabeth.
Elizabeth, did you think he was pale? I did.
Mr. Bingley? No.
But did you not think what happened was extraordinary?
What? Mr. Wickham being so very rude to Mr. Darcy?
Yes, I suppose it was.
No, no. It was Mr. Darcy
being proud and ill-mannered to poor Mr. Wickham.
Oh. Was it?
What can it have meant?
This time of year we must expect the inclement weather
and not be cast down by it.
- Quite. - You are right,
to talk about the weather is absurd.
You do it most agreeably, Mr. Wickham.
No, no, no. We will change the subject.
Cards? I know little of games.
And yet I daresay it is my duty to improve myself in these fields,
especially in view of my situation in life.
Do come along, Mr. Collins.
Is not miss Elizabeth to play whist too?
Miss Elizabeth is entertaining Mr. Wickham.
Our officers are a very creditable, gentlemen-like set,
but I'm sure Mr. Wickham is quite the best of them all.
I knew he would not stay away - could not.
Mr. Collins, do join us at the whist table.
Oh, of course, of course. Good evening.
Please accept my apologies.
Tell me, how long has Mr. Darcy been staying at Netherfield?
I was surprised to see him here.
He has large estates in Derbyshire and a clear 10,000 a year.
And our society, you would imply,
would seem a good deal too dull for him.
He is a proud man.
So I've noticed. He's been here a month already,
and is reckoned, alas, a most disagreeable person.
That is unusual.
The world is mostly blinded by his fortune and consequence,
and frightened by his high and imposing manner
into speaking well of him.
You seem to know a great deal about Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham.
I expect he only discourses on the nature of philosophy.
He is interested in books and reading.
I know.
Mr. Darcy and I are not on friendly terms,
I freely admit it.
His father was my godfather
and bequeathed me a living on his Derbyshire estate
so that I could earn my keep as befitted my temperament... As a clergyman.
But it suited Mr. Darcy to give my living to another.
His behaviour to myself has been scandalous.
But I could forgive him that
were it not that he has disgraced the memory of his good father.
Gave your living to another? Why did you not seek legal redress?
There was just such an informality in the terms of the bequest
as to give me no hope in law.
A man of honour would not have doubted the intention,
- however - - but why?
I have a warm and guarded temper.
I may perhaps have spoken my opinion of him -
and to him - too freely.
I can recall nothing worse.
But the fact is, we are very different sort of men -
and that he hates me.
I am very much struck with the style and furniture of this apartment.
I might almost have supposed myself
to be in the small breakfast parlour at lady Catherine de Bourgh's.
At Rosings, one of the chimneypieces alone costs £800.
What? Is it my call? I do apologize.
Please accept my apologies.
Oh, Charlotte. Mr. Wickham is above everyone.
In person, countenance, air -
but Charlotte, what he has told me of Mr. Darcy -
I never liked Mr. Darcy.
I supposed him to be despising his fellow creatures in general,
but did not suspect him capable of injustice, inhumanity.
His disposition must be dreadful.
What can he have done to merit this?
Pray, do not consider my loss of the smallest importance,
the money is a mere trifle.
When persons sit down at a card table
they must take their chance of these things.
Pray, no one must make themselves uneasy on my account.
Five shillings?
My father's cousin Mr. Collins.
His father made him humble,
but lately, lady Catherine de Bourgh has given him a living
which has made him very conceited -
that and a weak head.
Lady Catherine? But she is Mr. Darcy's aunt.
I gather she is remarkable, very sensible and clever.
I think that can only be a rumour
put about by her nephew.
She is arrogant and conceited, dictatorial and insolent.
Perhaps Mr. Darcy cannot tell the difference.
Or does not wish to.
She is after all, to be his mother-in-law.
It is believed Mr. Darcy is to marry the daughter - miss de Bourgh.
The two estates would be united.
Why are you laughing?
I was thinking of poor miss Bingley -
trying so hard, but to no avail.
He is self-destined for another,
but has failed to mentioned it.
Two young persons who will not be separated,
charming. What an excellent evening we are having.
Lizzy, would you believe it?
Rumour has it that Mr. Bingley
has quite lost his heart to your sister Jane.
And more than that, there is to be a ball at Netherfield on Tuesday
- and all are invited. - A ball? Netherfield?
Mr. Collins, would you think it proper
to join in such an evening's entertainment?
Would you venture to dance?
I am by no means of the opinion that a ball of this kind,
given by a young man of character such as Mr. Bingley
to respectable people, can have any evil tendency.
At Netherfield? I will not be invited.
Of that, at least, we can be certain.
In fact, I am so far from objecting to dancing myself
that I shall hope to be honoured with the hands of all my fair cousins
in the course of the evening.
Do come along, Mr. Collins.
¶ Near Woodstock town in Oxfordshire ¶
¶ as I walked forth to take the air... ¶
I think it no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements.
Society has claims on us all.
- Until Tuesday, there is Friday, Saturday,
Sunday and Monday.
If it stopped raining we could at least walk to Meryton.
But it will not.
If we go downstairs, there will be Lydia and Kitty complaining of the rain
and so no walks, no news, no aunt...
And no officers.
And Mr. Collins.
He will ask me to dance with him on Tuesday.
And I mean to dance every dance with Mr. Wickham.
But you told me Mr. Wickham said he would not be invited.
He must be invited. All the officers are invited.
I am sure he will be.
I cannot believe Mr. Darcy to be as wicked as Mr. Wickham says,
or Mr. Bingley would not be his friend, would he?
Charlotte, Mr. Wickham is not here.
I'd been so certain to see him
I dressed with such care,
and now I am disappointed.
He's been purposefully omitted for Mr. Darcy's pleasure.
There are young men here ten times Mr. Wickham's consequence.
You do not think well of Mr. Wickham?
No, I do not.
You are not formed of ill-humour and he has put you in one.
Mr. Wickham went to town
especially to avoid meeting Mr. Darcy.
Captain Denny said so.
Aren't you sorry? Everyone else is.
It is pleasant to see you, miss Elizabeth.
When the dance recommences, miss Eliza, I hope you will partner me.
My cousin Jane is also free,
I trust she attributes my preference to the right causes.
At social events, the honour due to seniority
must sometimes give way to the spirit of jollity.
Thank you, Mr. Collins, I should be honoured.
Don't be such a simpleton, Lizzy.
Don't let your fancy for Mr. Wickham
make you appear unpleasant to Mr. Darcy.
Any civility at all to Mr. Darcy is injury to Mr. Wickham.
Miss Charlotte, may I have the pleasure of this dance?
Why certainly, captain Denny.
May I have the honour, miss Bennet,
in this set, or the next?
Are you enjoying the dance, Mr. Darcy?
Very much.
It's your turn to say something, Mr. Darcy.
I talked about the dance. You should make some kind of remark
about the size of the room or the number of couples.
I will say whatever you wish me to say.
Very well, that remark will do for present.
Perhaps by and by I may remark
that private balls are pleasanter than public ones...
But not yet.
You talk by rule then when dancing?
One must arrange the conversation
so as to have the trouble of speaking as little as possible.
Are you consulting your own feelings,
or do you imagine that you're gratifying mine?
Both.
I see a resemblance in the turn of both our minds.
We are each of a taciturn, unsocial disposition.
Unwilling to speak - unless it be to say something
that will amaze the world.
Mr. Wickham was talking of you the other day.
I see he's not here tonight.
Mr. Wickham is blessed, unlike myself,
with such happy manners as may ensure his making many friends.
He seems to have lost your friendship
in a manner most unfortunate.
He will suffer for it for the rest of his life.
A good dancer as Mr. Darcy must appear quite spectacular in the provinces.
But I hear you were quite delighted with George Wickham, miss Eliza,
the son of old Wickham, the late Mr. Darcy's steward.
As a friend, might I advise you
not to pay too much attention to what he says?
His coming to the country at all was remarkably insolent.
He's guilty of infamous conduct towards poor Mr. Darcy.
I pity you for the discovery of your favourite's guilt,
but considering his descent, one could not expect much better.
His guilt and descent appear to be one and the same.
You have accused him of nothing worse than being the son of Mrs. Darcy's steward.
I beg your pardon. It was meant kindly.
Lizzy, Mr. Bingley has taken every dance.
I hope you were kind to Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Bingley says that he's sure Mr. Wickham's story is untrue.
Mr. Darcy, as we know, shows a different face to many people.
I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity.
But I think he is mistaken, and Mr. Wickham much put upon.
We are so much looking forward to the marriage, my Jane and Mr. Bingley.
Such a charming young man, and so rich.
And living so near - and so good for the other girls.
He will wake up their ideas of a husband. I have no doubt of it.
You mean the match is arranged?
Oh, bound to be. Look at them.
How they bill and coo like doves.
Mother, hush please!
I only hope your dear Charlotte does as well.
And I'm positive she will - positive.
And as for you Eliza, I will speak as loud as I will
where I will, and what if Mr. Darcy does overhear me?
I'm sure we owe him no special civility.
You forget yourself, mother.
We only have to allow for the necessary preparations
of settlement, new carriage, clothes and so on.
And undoubtedly we shall soon see
Jane settled at Netherfield.
And Elizabeth of course with Mr. Collins.
Mr. Collins?!
May I hope, dear madam, to solicit the honour of a private audience
with your daughter Elizabeth during the course of the morning?
Oh, I'm sure Elizabeth will have no objections.
Come with me, Kitty, I need you upstairs.
Dear mother, do not go. I beg you not to go.
Mr. Collins can have nothing to say to me
- that the others will not hear. - Nonsense, Lizzy.
I desire you to stay exactly where you are.
Lizzy, I insist upon you're staying and hearing Mr. Collins.
Come along!
My dear miss Elizabeth,
your modesty does you no disservice.
Rather it adds to your other perfections.
You would have been less amiable in my eyes
had there not been this little... unwillingness?
You can hardly doubt the purport of my discourse,
however your natural delicacy may lead you to dissemble.
My attentions have been too marked to be mistaken.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet,
almost as soon as I entered this house
I singled you out as the companion of my future life.
My reasons for marrying are these:
Firstly, that a clergyman
should set the example of matrimony in his Parrish;
secondly, that I consider it will add to my happiness;
and thirdly, that on two occasions lady Catherine has said that I must marry,
that I must choose an active, useful sort of person,
not brought up too high,
but able to make a small income go a long way.
Of the advantages I have to offer you,
fair cousin,
not least is the kindness and notice
of lady Catherine de Bourgh.
You are too hasty, sir.
I am very sensible to the honour of your proposals,
but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline them.
It's quite usual for young ladies
to decline the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept
a first, a second, and even a third time.
I am by no means discouraged.
Mr. Collins, pay me the compliment of believing what I say.
I wish you very happy, and very rich,
and by refusing your hand do all in my power
to prevent you being otherwise.
You have satisfied your delicacy of feeling in regard of our estate,
and may take possession of it eventually,
without any self-reproach.
The matter may be considered settled.
Miss Eliza,
you are merely following the custom of elegant females.
You will accept me presently - indeed, you must accept me.
In spite of your manifold attraction,
it is by no means certain that another offer of marriage will ever be made to you.
Your position is unhappily most small.
I am persuaded that when sanctioned
by the express authority of both parents,
my proposal will not fail to be - acceptable.
Mr. Collins.
Lizzy shall be brought to reason,
depend upon it, Mr. Collins.
She is a very foolish headstrong girl
and does not know her own interest, but I shall make her know it -
Pardon me for interrupting you, madam,
but if she is really headstrong and foolish,
I know not altogether whether she would be
a very desirable wife for a man in my situation.
Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately. We're all in an uproar.
You must come and make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins,
for she vows she will not have him.
And if we do not make haste, he will change his mind and not have her.
Of what are you speaking, Mrs. Bennet?
Of Lizzy and Mr. Collins.
Oh, you must speak to her yourself.
Troublesome child. Where is she?
Lizzy! Step forward.
Yes, step forward, Lizzy,
and you shall hear my opinion
though it seems a hopeless business.
Come here, child.
I must speak to you, it seems, of an affair of importance.
I understand that you have received an offer of marriage
from Mr. Collins.
- Is this true? - Yes.
And this offer you have refused?
I have, sir.
But your mother insists on your accepting it.
Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?
Yes. Or I will never see her again!
An unhappy alternative is before you, Lizzy.
From this day, you must be a stranger to one of your parents.
Your mother will never see you again
if you do not marry Mr. Collins,
and I... will never see you again if you do.
And now may I have my library to myself?
I am glad you are come, for there is such fun here.
What do you think has happened?
Mr. Collins has made an offer to Lizzy
and she will not have him.
Lydia!
- I tell you what, miss Lizzy,
I have done with you from this very day.
I told you I'd never speak to you again
and I shall be as good as my word.
If you take it into your head
to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way,
you'll never get a husband at all.
And who will maintain you when your father is dead? I'm sure I cannot.
Oh, Mr. Collins.
My dear madam,
far be it from me to resent the behaviour of your daughter.
Resignation to marital evils is the duty of us all.
You will not, I hope, consider me
as showing any disrespect to your family,
my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions
to your daughter Elizabeth's favour.
If my manner has been in any way reprehensible,
I here beg leave to apologize.
Poor Jane. Poor dear Jane.
"So, we are all off to London
and I do not pretend to regret anything I shall leave behind
except your society, my dearest Jane.
Mr. Bingley himself left yesterday,
and though he talked earlier of his quick return,
I suspect both our absence
and the presence of miss Darcy in London
will lead him to stay there.
You know of miss Georgiana Darcy, of course,
Mr. Darcy's sister.
I really do not think Georgiana Darcy
has her equal of beauty, elegance and accomplishments.
My brother Charles is of course most capable,
or too capable, of engaging any woman's heart.
All these circumstances, I do suspect,
favour an attachment between my brother and miss Darcy,
which will secure the happiness of many."
Oh dear. Have I put it rightly?
I fear there can be no other way of putting it.
He is going.
He will return no more this winter.
And worse, Elizabeth,
Caroline Bingley neither expects nor wishes me to be her sister.
She suspects the nature of my feelings
and puts me on my guard.
Miss Bingley sees that her brother is in love with you,
but wants him to marry miss Darcy,
and so writes you such a letter.
Of course he will return, Jane.
Of course.
Hertfordshire, at least we need not regret
the leaving of so damned and tedious a place.
Are you not thankful, brother, to have so much business in London
as to prevent your ever returning?
Mr. Darcy, what will you remember best?
Miss Eliza Bennet's beautiful eyes?
Or miss Eliza Bennet's mother's voice?
Lizzy, Jane, where are you?
What shall we tell mother?
As little as possible.
Even if he does return,
how could I be happy in accepting a man
whose sisters and friends are all wishing him to marry elsewhere?
If upon mature deliberation
you find that the misery of disobliging his two sisters
is more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife,
I advise you, by all means, to refuse him.
Oh, Lizzy, how can you talk so?
Jane! Lizzy!
Oh, come along.
- Why Mr. Collins. - Miss Lucas.
I must speak with you most urgently.
But of course, Mr. Collins.
...you would make me the happiest of men, miss Lucas.
To be able to return to lady Catherine
with the news of my betrothal.
Very well, Mr. Collins.
I will marry you.
My dear miss Lucas,
my dear Charlotte if I may,
you are too amiable.
Let me reassure you on two counts -
no ungenerous reproach as to your lack of fortune
shall pass my lips when we are married;
and secondly that had I not deemed it seemly
to offer myself first to the Bennet family
that the eventual loss of their father
might not entail the loss of their home as well,
I should have singled you out directly
as the companion of my future life.
Such amiability, such economy, such sense.
I only ask one thing, Mr. Collins,
that we keep our betrothal a secret
until I have had the opportunity of speaking to Elizabeth.
But I long to publish my prosperous love.
- How can I keep silent? - You must try, Mr. Collins.
You must try.
¶ Early one morning just as the sun was rising ¶
¶ I heard a young maid sing in the valley below ¶
¶ oh, don't deceive me ¶
¶ oh, never leave me ¶
¶ how could you use a poor maiden's so? ¶
is something the matter, Mr. Collins?
Does something distress you?
Indeed, sir, nothing is the matter.
I am the happiest of men.
It is Mary's singing that entrances him, Mr. Bennet.
She's such a clever girl.
So talented. Had you not noticed, Mr. Collins,
that Jane has beauty? Elizabeth has -
well... but Mary has intelligence.
It is a great quality in a wife, is it not, Mr. Bennet?
How would I know a thing like that, Mrs. Bennet?
Engaged to Mr. Collins?
My dear Charlotte, impossible.
Do you think it impossible for Mr. Collins to procure
any woman's good opinion because he did not succeed with you?
I am sorry.
I wish you all imaginable happiness, Charlotte.
I see what you're feeling.
You must be surprised, very much surprised.
I'm not romantic, you know, not like you.
I never was.
I ask only a comfortable home.
And considering Mr. Collins' character, connections and situation in life,
I'm convinced my chance of happiness with him
is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state.
Charlotte.
I don't believe a word of it - not a word.
Charlotte Lucas engaged to Mr. Collins?
It is not possible.
- But did not Mr. Collins want to marry Lizzy? - Shhh!
A clergyman. I mean to be an officer's wife
and brush his red coat every morning.
I hope they are happy.
Well, they may be happy.
A heart finds happiness in the strangest places.
Mr. Collins has been taken in by a...
A hussy.
Oh, the whole world knows Charlotte Lucas to be a hussy.
I have been barbarously used by everyone.
I'm so unhappy.
You -
to the library. Don't worry for me,
I'm perfectly happy.
I'm gratified to discover that Charlotte Lucas,
whom I'd always thought of as tolerably sensible,
is as foolish as my wife, and more foolish than Elizabeth.
Oh, here she comes. Lady Lucas - I knew it.
She comes to congratulate herself on having a daughter well married,
and to commiserate with me for having five unmarried!
How can I endure it?
Jane, you are my only consolation,
you must be married to Mr. Bingley at once.
I do not understand why you delayed the matter.
I do not understand anything!
Hope is over,
entirely over.
He will not return and I must accept it.
It is from miss Bingley.
She writes she's increasingly convinced
that an announcement will soon be made
concerning her brother
and miss Georgiana Darcy.
Poor Mr. Bingley.
And poor mother.
What shall we tell mother?
It is from Mr. Collins.
On the eleventh page he informs me
of his intention of returning in a fortnight
the better to enjoy miss Lucas' company.
And they will visit here. And I hate having visitors in the house
when my health is indifferent.
And lovers, of all people, are the most disagreeable.
And Elizabeth, where is Mr. Bingley I should like to know?
Why does Mr. Bingley delay his return?
Well, mother, it is possible, I suppose,
that Mr. Bingley will not return at all.
Not return at all?
I don't understand such a thing. He loves Jane.
Heaven knows what she can have done to drive him away.
Oh, and we'll be asked to dinner at the Lucas'
and lady Lucas will gloat,
because Mr. Collins is to be Charlotte's and not yours.
And it's all your fault, Lizzy.
Oh!
The weeks pass, Jane waits and pines,
and grows thin and hopes against hope.
As for Mr. Bingley, he sacrifices his own happiness
to the caprice of his inclinations.
Makes me angry.
Eliza, how your eyes sparkle in defence of a sister you love.
What privilege to be loved by such as you.
Jane is too good. She is an angel.
I do not know what to say to her.
She is hurt if I speak ill of anyone.
But I must.
There are few people who I really love,
and still fewer of whom I think well.
The more I see of the world,
the more dissatisfied I am with it.
Mr. Bingley is a foolish young fellow.
If he does not return it is no great loss to your sister.
I do not attribute his conduct to design.
He is thoughtless and wanting in resolution.
His sisters do not want resolution.
They no doubt wish him to marry a girl who has
all the importance of money and great connections.
That is the effect the Darcy household has on everyone.
It taints whomsoever it touches.
What kind of a girl is miss Darcy?
When she was a child at Pemberley
I had devoted hours and hours to her amusement.
But now, I wish I could call her amiable.
But she is too much like her brother -
and very, very proud.
Poor Jane.
Poor Mr. Bingley.
My aunt Gardiner is coming to cheer us up.
She is my mother's sister-in-law and very elegant and a great favourite.
Perhaps she will take Jane to stay with her in London.
I hope she does not take you.
Oh, thank you.
Long sleeves, Mrs. Gardiner?
We were wearing those when I was a girl.
Very gloomy they were.
One might as well stay here in the country.
You'd think they'd do better than that in London.
Oh, sister, since we last saw you -
So I have heard.
I do not blame Jane because she would have got Mr. Bingley if she could,
but within the week, Charlotte Lucas is to be married
to Mr. Collins who should have been Lizzy's.
It makes me very nervous and poorly, sister,
to be so thwarted in my own family.
I must go to my room.
Long sleeves.
Such a disappointment.
You look very pretty, Elizabeth.
Are you in love?
Well, you must tell me everything that has happened.
These things happen so often.
A young man, such as you described Mr. Bingley to me,
falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks.
Then when accident separates them,
he so easily forgets her.
But it was no accident, it was design.
It's not very often
that a young man of an independent fortune
is persuaded to think no more of a girl
with whom he was violently in love but a few days before.
Violently in love?
That is a phrase as often applied to feelings
which arise from half an hour's acquaintance
as from a real strong attachment.
Pray, how violent was Mr. Bingley's love?
I never saw a more promising inclination.
He had grown quite inattentive to other people.
And is not general incivility the very essence of love?
Oh, Lizzy.
It had better have happened to you,
you would have laughed yourself out of it.
Now poor Jane.
She shall come to stay with us in London,
in Gracechurch street, the better to get over it.
But not in any hope of meeting the young man.
Mr. Bingley is at present in the custody of Mr. Darcy,
who may perhaps have heard of Gracechurch street
but would hardly think a month's ablutions
enough to cleanse himself from its impurities.
And Mr. Bingley never stirs without Mr. Darcy.
They are not likely to meet.
And you, Lizzy?
What about you?
Oh, you are too sensible to fall in love
simply because you have been warned against it.
So, I shall warn you,
be on your guard against Mr. Wickham.
Do not involve yourself or endeavour to involve him
in an affection which want of fortune would make imprudent.
Want of fortune? That was Mr. Darcy's doing.
Now that is neither here nor there.
The fact is, you must not let your fancy run away with you.
Aunt, this is serious talk indeed.
But you have sense...
We all expect you to use it.
I am not at present in love with Mr. Wickham.
But he is, beyond all comparison,
the most agreeable man I ever saw.
And although I do not want to make anyone unhappy,
least of all you, aunt Gardiner,
young people seldom refrain from falling in love
because of want of fortune.
And how can I promise to be wiser than the rest of mankind?