Mr. Darcy proposed?
You are astonished, so was I.
Only astonished for a little.
It would be natural, after all, for anyone to admire you.
Oh, poor Mr. Darcy.
Poor Mr. Darcy?
Well, you're refusal must have made him very unhappy.
I'm heartily sorry for him, Jane,
if that will make you feel any better.
But I am ashamed to have taken
George Wickham's part against him.
There is only enough merit between the two of them
to make one good man.
Of late it's been shifting about pretty much.
For my part, I'm inclined to believe
the merit is all Mr. Darcy's.
But you may do as you choose.
I cannot believe Mr. Wickham is lost to all goodness,
but to have planned to elope with miss Darcy?
Jane, I want your advice.
I want to know whether I ought to make our acquaintances aware
of George Wickham's character.
Surely there can be no occasion for exposing him so dreadfully.
What is your opinion?
It ought not to be attempted.
Mr. Darcy has not authorized me to make his communication public.
On the contrary, all to do with his sister
was meant to be kept to myself.
Mr. Wickham will soon be gone
and there's an end to him and it.
At present I will say nothing about it to anyone.
Lizzy, I suppose the Collinses lived very comfortably, did they?
What sort of table do they keep?
If Charlotte is half as sharp as her mother she's saving enough.
Nothing extravagant in their housekeeping, I daresay.
No, mother, nothing at all.
Oh, they will take care not to outrun their income.
They will never be distressed for money.
I suppose they often speak of having Longbourn when your father is gone.
It was a subject which they could not mention before me.
Well, if they can be easy in an estate that's not lawfully their own,
so much the better.
How you do chatter and delay.
I could almost believe you have no interest in what is going on
- and don't want to walk to Meryton. - No, I do not!
You know what people will say.
The Bennet girls can be home not half a day before they're in pursuit of officers.
Lizzy's been in such a passion since she came back from Charlotte's.
Aunt Philips says she had better have taken Mr. Collins while she could.
But I do not think there would have been any fun in that.
Do you like my bonnet, Lizzy? I don't.
Kitty, what do you think of my bonnet?
I think it is ugly.
If I buy so pretty a colour of satin
and trim it with fresh, I think it will be very tolerable.
But it does not signify what one wears this summer
for the regiment is going to Brighton.
If only father would take us there.
He is far too disagreeable for that.
Jane, do you like my bonnet?
Jane, you will be an old maid soon, I declare,
nearly three and twenty.
I suppose you are still broken-hearted after Mr. Bingley.
Lord, how alarmed I would be not to be married before three and twenty.
I should like to be married before any of you.
Then I could chaperone you about to all the balls.
Come along, everybody.
Wickham so very bad?
It almost past belief.
Oh, and poor Mr. Darcy.
Only consider what he must have suffered, Lizzy -
the knowledge of your ill opinion.
If you lament over him much longer my heart will be as lax as a feather.
But how I shall miss disliking him.
I had meant to be so uncommonly clever in doing so,
without any reason.
It is such a spur to one's genius,
such an opening for wit, to have a dislike of that kind.
One may be continually allusive without ever saying anything just,
but one cannot always be laughing at a man
without stumbling on something witty.
How can you treat the matter so?
I'm uncomfortable enough, I'm even unhappy.
Mr. Darcy did not speak of myself and Mr. Bingley?
No.
I suppose his mind had been full of you
and only you, Elizabeth.
Oh, poor Mr. Darcy.
Lizzy?
Yes, mother?
What is your opinion of this sad business of Jane's?
Well, for my part I never speak of it,
as I told my sister Philips the other day.
But I cannot find out if she saw anything of him in London.
Well, Mr. Bingley is a very undeserving young man.
My comfort is I'm sure she will die of a broken heart
and then he'll be sorry for what he's done.
Oh, and the regiment is going away,
and your father will not take the girls to Brighton no matter how much they cry.
I remember five and twenty years ago
when colonel Miller's regiment went away,
and I cried for two days together.
I thought I should have broke my heart.
Good heavens, what is to become of us?
What are we to do?
My heart will break.
I shall die of boredom.
If we could but go to Brighton...
Papa is so disagreeable.
Lord, I have not slept for a week.
Mama must have a party for the officers
- no matter what papa says. - Yes.
- Elizabeth? - Yes, father?
I want to speak with you.
Sit down, Elizabeth.
Mrs. Forster, young Mrs. Forster,
wife of the unfortunate colonel,
wishes Lydia to accompany her with the regiment to Brighton.
And the house would be a good deal quieter if she went.
They are only recently acquainted.
It is an acquaintance of three months, Lizzy,
and three months these days passes for eternity.
Do not let her go, father, she is so impetuous.
And the temptations of Brighton must be greater than home.
Lydia will never be easy
until she has shown herself in some public place or other,
and we can never expect her to do it with so little expense
or inconvenience to the family as with colonel and Mrs. Forster
with the regiment in Brighton.
Father, Lydia's behaviour is already a great disadvantage to us all,
her manner being so imprudent.
If you only knew the trouble that had already risen from it.
What? Has she frightened away some of your lovers?
Poor little Lizzy.
But do not be downcast,
such squeamish youths as cannot bear to be acquainted
with a little absurdity are not worth the regret.
Absurdity, father?
To be vain, ignorant, idle and absolutely uncontrolled,
without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person,
her spirits are exuberant, father.
And if you do not take the trouble to cure them
she soon will be past curing. Her character will be fixed.
And she will at sixteen be the most determined flirt
that ever made herself and her family ridiculous.
And Kitty will follow where Lydia leads,
and we shall all be drawn into their disgrace.
Sit down, Elizabeth.
We shall have no peace at Longbourn if Lydia does not go to Brighton.
Colonel Forster is a sensible man
and will keep her out of mischief,
luckily she is too poor to be the object of prey to anyone.
Common flirts are two a penny in Brighton.
And Lydia will be of less importance there than here.
And my love,
you and Jane will be respected and valued wherever you go
and will not appear to less advantage for having a couple of -
or I may say, three very silly sisters.
Brighton!
I am the luckiest person in the world.
I see it all in my mind.
It dazzles with row upon row of Scarlet,
with row upon row of regimental tents,
and tens of scores of admirers.
Lord, I shall have a hundred beaus.
Each one an officer upon his knees.
They will all have to be amiable.
I am a friend of the colonel's wife.
I am the unluckiest person in the world.
It is not fair, I am two years older than Lydia
and already I am being left behind.
I have just as much right to be asked as she has.
I have not eaten for a week.
I do not think I shall come down to the party.
What use is it to see officers now who tomorrow will be gone?
It only pains me more.
As for me,
I am happiest with a book -
but owe it to my mother to attend her gathering.
I have a piece of news for you, Lizzy,
if you lend me your lace.
You may gladly have my lace
if you will but keep your news to yourself.
There is no danger of Wickham's marrying Mary King.
She has gone to her Uncle at Liverpool.
Which is just as well, he never cared three straws about her.
Who could, about such a nasty little freckled thing?
Mr. Wickham has become very gallant to you again.
I cannot think why - you are so old and serious.
And he is so idle and frivolous in his gallantry.
He is to be at the party.
He is father's favourite officer,
for all he nearly married miss King.
I shall be pleasant to him if you do not.
I do not need the lace, I think I look very well without it.
I think you should wear it, Lydia.
I shall be heartily glad when tomorrow comes
and the entire regiment is off to Brighton.
Now what's the matter?
Someone said Brighton.
Oh, and I'm so hungry.
I will come to the party after all.
Excuse me.
So, you saw much of Mr. Darcy at Rosings?
I am sorry for you.
I think Mr. Darcy improves upon acquaintance.
Indeed. Is it in address that he improves?
Has he deigned to add aught of civility to his ordinary style?
For I dare not hope that he's improved in essentials.
In essentials, I believe he is very much whatever he wants.
- Would you, uh... - Thank you.
From knowing him better I understand him better.
I rejoice that he wise enough
to assume even the appearance of what is right.
It must deter him from such foul conduct
as I have suffered by.
I imagine this newfound cautiousness
is merely adopted on his visits to his aunt
of whose good opinion and judgment
he stands very much in awe.
Naturally he wishes by a show of charm
to forward the match of miss de Bourgh.
Lydia is very happy tonight?
She goes to Meryton this evening with Mrs. Forster,
and tomorrow sets out with the regiment,
so there is nothing to cloud her joy.
Kitty, on the other hand, does not seem to be happy at all.
I expect someone has mentioned Brighton.
Yes, I shall be glad to go.
I imagine you will be, Mr. Wickham.
I hear that you are shortly to go to the lakes with your aunt Gardiner.
Yes, I too look forward to going away.
Oh, a letter.
It is not likely to be from Mr. Bingley.
Poor Jane. But I must not say that
or you will feel sorry for yourself.
I just prefer him to every other man,
and I will never see him again.
I'm sure he valued you, Jane.
I'm sure of it.
Then, why?
Perhaps it's from Mr. Darcy...
Oh, I hope not.
Letters from Mr. Darcy are not altogether agreeable.
...or Charlotte?
Now that would be agreeable.
She always draws such a pleasing picture
of conjugal felicity and domestic comfort
that I'm sure we'd never draw from our own household.
Oh, Elizabeth!
But father is a true philosopher.
He derives benefit from mother's ignorance and folly,
other enjoyments from her being lacking.
Elizabeth!
Ah! I'm sorry.
Hill!
Madam.
Oh, Lizzy, it is for you.
Why do you get all the letters, miss?
It's from your aunt Gardiner.
Oh, we are to go to Derbyshire and not the lakes...
- And have three weeks instead of four. - Oh.
Mr. Darcy is from Derbyshire.
I think Derbyshire is very large, Jane,
and I do not imagine the Darcy family
will find much in common with the Gardiners.
So I think I may enter the county with impunity.
I cannot be blind
to my father's impropriety of behaviour as a husband.
I always see it with pain.
He exposes his wife to the contempt of her own children.
It is so unsuitable a marriage.
She, of weak understanding and a liberal mind;
he, captivated at first by youth and beauty,
and that appearance of good humour which youth and beauty generally give,
quickly to lose all respect, esteem, and confidence,
then to devote all his many talents to contempt -
talents which might at least have preserved
the respectability of his daughters,
even if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.
Pemberley is only a mile or two out of our route,
shall we go and see it?
We've been to Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Birmingham,
we've seen all the principal wonders of Derbyshire,
why should we not add Pemberley to our list?
It is not on our direct road to Lambton and your friends.
Oh, my love, should you not like to see a place of which you've heard so much?
Wickham passed all his youth there, you know,
it's the home of the Darcy family.
We have seen many great houses.
I confess to being a bit weary of fine carpets and satin curtains.
If it were merely a fine house richly furnished
I should not care about it myself,
but the grounds are delightful.
You know they have some of the finest woods in England?
They say that those who come to view are made most welcome -
- by whom? - By the housekeeper, of course.
You would not expect to find a Darcy on such an errand.
No, I would not.
We have here some of the finest rooms in the country,
and many choose to view them.
If you will follow me, I will be of what help I can.
We are not taking you away from your work, Mrs. Reynolds?
Of course not. I shall be delighted.
Well...
Have you ever seen anything like it, Lizzy?
It is certainly better than Rosings.
Here has more real elegance.
Mr. Darcy himself is away?
Oh, yes, but we expect him tomorrow
with a large party of friends.
Come and look, Lizzy.
It's the likeness of Mr. Wickham.
How do you like that?
Well enough.
That young gentleman is son to my late master's steward.
He was brought up at the Darcy expense,
but has now gone into the army,
and I'm afraid he's turned out very wild.
And that is my present master,
and very like.
Is it, Lizzy?
Is he really as handsome as his likeness?
Does the young lady know Mr. Darcy?
A little.
Mr. Darcy is the handsomest,
the most accomplished young man,
and so good natured.
I have never had a cross word from Mr. Darcy in all my life,
and I've known him ever since he was four years.
If I was to go through the world, I could not meet with a better.
I have observed that they who are good natured when they are young
are good natured when they grow up.
And Mr. Darcy was always the sweetest tempered,
most generous hearted boy in all the world.
Mr. Darcy?
Mr. Darcy is the best landlord
and best master that ever lived.
There is not one of his servants or tenants
but will give him a good name.
Some people call him proud,
but I never saw anything of it.
To my fancy it is because he does not rattle away like other young men,
and so good to miss Darcy.
Whatever can give his sister pleasure
is sure to be done in a moment.
I do not see nearly so much of them as I would wish,
they are forever in London.
If only my master would marry I might see more of him,
but I do not know when that will be.
I do not know who would be good enough for him.
Brother, landlord, master.
How many people's happiness are in your guardianship?
How much good or evil can be done by you?
I'm very thankful for your regard for me.
How stark you look in your portrait.
But I remember your warmth,
and would soften that look.
You are very quiet, Elizabeth.
Do you not admire it?
Oh, yes.
I've never seen a place where nature has done so much,
or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted
by an awkward taste.
It is all delightful,
and of this place I might have been mistress.
I could have welcomed here as guests my Uncle and aunt,
but no... That could never be.
I should not have been allowed to invite them.
They would have been lost to me.
I regret nothing.
...from the time of the Jacobins.
- Later. Later. - Oh, impossible.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Mr. Darcy.
You are not at Longbourn?
No.
When did you leave?
Uh... ten days ago - eleven.
I do not know.
I thought you at Longbourn.
Ooh.
Your family, they are well?
Yes.
If it were in that reign
the architraves would be more pronounced.
They would be less pronounced.
How is one to say when it comes to it,
whether an architrave is pronounced or not?
Lizzy, we need your advice.
I do not think I can be very sensible.
- What is the matter? - My coming here -
the most unfortunate, ill-judged thing in the world.
In what disgraceful light will I not appear to him?
Only ten minutes sooner and it would not have happened.
- Elizabeth. - I saw Mr. Darcy.
I spoke with Mr. Darcy.
Oh, is that Mr. Darcy? He is a very fine figure.
It will seem as if I had purposely thrown myself in his way.
I am sure he was very pleased to see you.
Pain or pleasure, I cannot tell.
He certainly did not see me with composure.
The building was started in 1627.
As to walks, it is ten Miles to circumscribe the entire park.
I think we should better confine ourselves to the accustomed circuit.
It provides a waterfall, and a Glenn, and a lake,
and a stream - a stream with trout.
Or perhaps you're fatigued?
I am not a very great walker, Mr. Gardiner,
but a lake and a trout stream?
What do you say, Elizabeth?
- It shall be as you wish. - Oh, will you lead on?
Oh, what can it mean?
That he should even speak to me is amazing.
And to speak with such civility,
to inquire about my family,
he has never spoken with such gentleness.
Oh, the perverseness of such a meeting.
What must he think of me?
Perhaps in defiance of everything
I am still dear to him?
Oh, at this very minute,
what is passing through his mind?
Where is he?
Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy is following us.
Oh.
It is such a beautiful place, Mr. Darcy,
delightful, charming.
I did not know you were to be here.
Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Gardiner - Mr. Darcy.
My Uncle and aunt from Gracechurch street.
You were right to doubt the reign of Elizabeth.
The central section was besieged by Cromwell's men
and later rebuilt in the same style
but not to my mind with any degree of perfection.
It looks well enough to the untrained eye of course.
Perhaps an angler? A complete angler?
Mr. Walton's book is my Bible.
While you continue in the neighbourhood, you must do all the fishing you can.
I can supply you with any tackle you may need.
Mrs. Gardiner, you are not fatigued?
Seeing Pemberley is a hard business.
But perhaps your niece takes after you.
No weather or no walk is too much for her.
We have a large party here, just arrived, miss Eliza,
what good fortune.
I came ahead.
You will be pleased to renew old acquaintance
with Mr. Bingley and his sisters, and Mr. Hurst.
And there is one other member of our party
who will more particularly wish to be known to you.
Will you allow me, or do I ask too much,
to introduce my sister to your acquaintance?
Miss Darcy? I should be pleased.
I have spoken much of you to her, miss Eliza.
You will all wait upon us, I hope, during your stay at Lambton?
- Perhaps tomorrow? - You are very kind.
It is not kindness, it is a pleasure.
He is perfectly well behaved,
polite, unassuming.
There is something stately in him to be sure,
but it is confined to his air and is not unbecoming.
He is decidedly handsome!
How came you, Elizabeth, to tell us he was so disagreeable?
You do not seem to find him disagreeable now.
I've never seen him as pleasant as now.
Ah, then perhaps he's a little whimsical
in his civilities.
Great men often are.
I shall not take him at his word about the fishing,
because he might change his mind another day
and warn me off his grounds.
An invitation to Pemberley...
Well, what shall I wear?
Ah, I have the apricot silk with the long sleeves.
And you, Elizabeth, what do you have?
I have a mind amazed at its own discomposure.
Why, because you are to meet miss Darcy?
Rumour has it that she is very proud.
Is she not destined for Mr. Bingley?
Mr. Wickham would have it that she is proud
and miss Bingley that she is destined for her brother.
But as to the truth of it, I do not know.
It is a great compliment indeed to be asked to meet miss Darcy.
But I wish I were not.
Mr. Wickham does not find favour hereabouts, Eliza.
They say he leaves debts wherever he goes.
I have not heard that rumour.
- No amount of warmth will remove these creases. - Oh, be patient.
But I know this dress well,
I wore it often enough at Rosings.
It was not grand enough there,
and this is Pemberley.
I cannot believe that Mr. Darcy
would behave in a cruel way to anyone.
In short, you may be very wrong
to attribute virtue to Mr. Wickham and malice to Mr. Darcy.
Aunt, it is true
that Mr. Darcy's character is not so faulty,
or Mr. Wickham so amiable as appeared to me and many in Hertfordshire.
Indeed I have reason to believe
that Mr. Wickham behaved very badly towards Mr. Darcy.
Why did you not tell us this?
I did not wish to speak of something I had heard,
but did not know for certain.
Then this is a changed Elizabeth indeed.
There is a curricle at the door, wife,
the inn is all in amazement at the honour of it.
It has the Darcy crest. It bears Mr. and miss Darcy.
And since I doubt they've come to talk about fishing,
I conclude they come calling on our niece.
- Husband. - Oh.
Elizabeth, quickly.
Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Gardiner, miss Bennet,
may I introduce miss Georgiana Darcy?
My sister has just arrived from the South,
and I hastened to introduce her.
Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Gardiner, miss Bennet,
my brother has spoken of you.
Well, shall we sit down?
Miss Darcy was not proud at all.
If she was quiet it was because she was shy,
and very tired.
It is a long journey from London.
She scarcely said a word,
but she looked very pleasant.
Her figure is very well formed for sixteen.
Her appearance in general was womanly and graceful.
I expected her to be quite as frightening as her brother,
but she was not. She was charming and easy.
I do not find Mr. Darcy frightening.
He is so acute an observer.
So are you, Eliza.
I hope you will be pleasant to Mr. Bingley tomorrow.
Of course, my anger against him has been long since done away.
I look forward to seeing him,
although I'm not so sure about his sisters.
Whenever I am in the country
I never wish to leave it,
and when I am in town
it's pretty much the same.
This part of the country is a very long way.
Say what you will about its delights - thank you -
in a country neighbourhood, the society is confined and unvarying.
For the most part I prefer shooting to fishing.
I can't understand a man who likes fishing.
The hills hereabouts might almost be mistaken for mountains.
And I find mountains to be very dull -
they lack refinement.
Do you not think so, miss Darcy?
I am sorry, I did not hear you.
Do you not think so, Mrs. Gardiner?
Oh, yes - yes indeed.
Nature was much at fault when she provided mountains.
I can't abide a Mountain.
I'm most eager to take up your kind invitation
to fish here tomorrow, Mr. Darcy.
My dear Charles, should you ever build your own house,
let it be in the style of Pemberley, but nearer home.
And how is your family, miss Eliza, all your family?
They are well enough, I think.
You think? You do not know?
In family life, we sometimes know only what we are told
and not the truth of the matter.
They tell me they are well enough.
It is above eight months since we all met,
not since the 26th of November,
when we all danced together at Netherfield.
Pray, miss Eliza, are not the militia now removed from Meryton?
They must be a great loss to your family.
They are gone to Brighton, but we manage without them.
Your little sisters have not followed them?
There is a wild grandeur of scenery hereabouts, miss Darcy.
You must find it very different from the South.
The scenery is different, but the friends remain the same.
How very ill Eliza Bennet looks.
I never in my life saw anyone so much altered
as she is since the winter.
She's grown so... Brown and coarse.
Louisa and I were agreeing we would not have known her.
Then I confess I never did see any beauty in her.
Her face is too thin, her complexion has no brilliancy,
her features are - well, they're not at all handsome.
Your coffee is over there.
Her nose lacks character,
there's nothing marked in its lines.
Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way.
- Of whom can you be speaking? - Eliza Bennet.
And as for her eyes
which have sometimes been called so fine,
they have a sharp, shrewish look,
which I confess I do not like at all.
Her dress was out of fashion.
It was much worn, and it was creased.
I remember when we first knew her in Hertfordshire,
how amazed we all were to hear that she was reputed a beauty.
And I particularly recollect your saying one evening,
"she a beauty? I would as soon call her mother a wit."
Yes, but that only when I first knew her.
And for many months now I have considered her
as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.
"Dearest Lizzy, something has occurred
of the most unexpected and serious nature.
What I have to say concerns poor Lydia.
A letter came at midnight from colonel Forster
to say that she has eloped to Scotland with Mr. Wickham.
Our mother is sadly grieved.
Father bears it better.
He has nothing against Mr. Wickham
except a charge of imprudence.
And I certainly am willing to hope the best.
And though he may be thoughtless and indiscreet,
this elopement may mean nothing bad at heart.
He certainly does not pursue her for fortune,
for she has none."
Jane,
I must go to London at once.
Look after the house, and look after your mother.
It is bad news.
Lydia and Wickham may not have gone to Gretna Green.
No, a marriage may not have taken place at all.
They were last seen on the road to London, not Scotland,
and colonel Forster has reason to believe
that Wickham has no intention of marrying Lydia.
No, it is not an elopement that he plans, Jane,
but the ruin of Lydia
he may indeed already have accomplished.
Father, you are too distressed.
You must not go alone. You must be sure of acting properly.
I am well enough.
My eyes are a little affected.
I will meet colonel Forster in London.
You do not know what they intend.
They may plan a private marriage.
You delude yourself.
Oh, she cannot be so lost to all judgment.
She can and she is!
She is like her mother. I blame her mother for this.
"Elizabeth, I earnestly beg you all to come home.
I know my dear Uncle and aunt so well
that I am not afraid of requesting it.
What father means to do I am sure I know not.
But my Uncle Gardiner's advice and assistance
would be everything in the world."
- Good God, what is the matter? - I beg your pardon,
but I believe my Uncle is here.
I must find him this moment, on business that cannot be delayed.
- I have not an instant to lose. - I will not detain you.
Let me or the servant go out to Mr. Gardiner. You're not well enough.
Find Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, bring them here with haste, but do not alarm them.
Please, sit down.
A glass of wine shall I get you? You're very ill.
No, no, there is nothing the matter with me. I am quite well.
I am only distressed by some dreadful news
I've just received from Longbourn.
- Tell me. - I'm so ashamed.
You may trust me.
It cannot be concealed.
My youngest sister has left all her friends,
eloped, and thrown herself in the power of Mr. Wickham.
They are gone off together from Brighton.
You know him too well to doubt the rest.
She has no money, no connections,
nothing which could tempt him to marry her.
She is lost forever.
When I consider I might have prevented it,
I who knew what he was,
had I but explained some part of it only -
but it is all too late.
I am grieved.
- But it is certain? - Oh, yes.
They've been traced almost to London.
Certainly not to Scotland where such marriages take place.
My father has gone to London,
and my Uncle, I know, will want to help him.
We shall all be off.
It's no use.
Nothing can be done.
I have not the smallest hope.
It is horrible.
I would to heaven that anything could be either said or done on my part
that might offer consolation to such distress...
But I will not torment you with vain hopes
which might seem to require your thanks.
This unfortunate affair will, I fear, prevent my sister
from having the pleasure of seeing you at Pemberley today.
Be so kind as to apologize to miss Darcy.
Say that urgent business called us home immediately.
Conceal the unhappy truth for as long as it is possible -
I fear it cannot be long.
You have the assurance of secrecy.
I hope the matter may be more happily concluded
than you have at present reason to hope.
I will now leave you to the care of your relatives.
Eliza?
What is the matter?
I think we should judge as Jane does,
and hope for the best.
It is very unlikely that Mr. Wickham,
or indeed any young man whatever his character,
should form such a design against a girl
who's by no means unprotected or friendless,
and who was actually staying in his colonel's family.
That Lydia could be in danger from my silence
never occurred to me.
I can remember no symptom of affection on either side.
Every girl in Meryton was out of their senses
about him for the first two months,
but he never distinguished Lydia by any particular attention.
Her fancy soon gave way,
and other officers became her favourites.
Everything must sink under such a proof of family weakness
as Lydia has brought upon us.
And my acquaintance with Mr. Darcy
has been so full of contradictions,
and perverseness and variety of feelings on my side,
nothing can be said in my defence.
Oh, I am wild to be home.
It is your father's fault.
If I'd been able to carry my point of going to Brighton with all my family,
this wouldn't have happened.
Poor, dear Lydia. And no one to take care of her.
Why did the Forsters ever let her go out of their sight?
I'm sure there was some great neglect or other on their side,
for she's not the sort of girl to do such a thing if she'd been well looked after.
I always felt they were most unfit to have the charge of her.
I was overruled. I always am.
Poor dear child.
And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away,
and I know he will find Wickham wherever he meets him,
and he will be killed, and what will become of us all?
The Collinses will turn us out before he's cold in his grave.
And if - if you are not kind to us, brother,
I do not know what we shall do.
I will be in London tomorrow.
I will make sure Mr. Bennet does not die.
I will even make him come home.
And do not any of you give way to useless alarm.
Though it is right to be prepared for the worst,
there's no occasion to look upon it as certain.
And when you find them, if they are not married, make them marry.
And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that,
but tell Lydia, she may have as much money as she chooses,
to buy them after they are married.
Oh- no.
And, but... above all,
stop Mr. Bennet from fighting.
Tell him what a dreadful state I'm in -
I'm frightened out of my wits.
I have tremblings and flutterings all over me,
spasms in my side.
And tell Lydia not to make any directions
about her clothes until she's seen me,
because she does not know which are the best shops.
Such pains in my head - beatings in my heart.
I get no rest - by day or by night.
Unhappy as the event must be for Lydia,
we may draw from it this useful lesson:
That loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable;
that one false step involves her in endless ruin;
that her reputation is no less brittle
than it is beautiful.
I don't feel very well.
What I knew, I knew in confidence.
Now father is so angry with me.
You liked him, Lizzy. You admired Mr. Wickham.
When he was to marry odious miss King with the freckles, you cried.
I saw no harm in him.
Lydia left a note with Mrs. Forster,
she said she was going to Gretna Green with an angel.
And when she came back she would sign her name "Lydia Wickham,"
and what a good joke it would be,
and she could hardly write for laughing.
All may yet be resolved
in a perfectly happy manner.
We must all be discreet,
and very private
until it is resolved.
- What?! - And Mr. Wickham is in debt.
To every tradesman in Meryton.
Take comfort, sister.
Everyone knows him to be the wickedest young man in the world.
They believe Lydia to be foolish,
but they honour Mr. Wickham with the title -
seducer.
Ohh.
I never liked him.
I told Lizzy so when she was so fond of him.
It is from Mr. Bennet? He is killed.
It is from Mr. Collins to Mr. Bennet.
And since we have been authorized to open all that comes to him in his absence,
- we have accordingly read it. - Oh, Mr. Collins too?
So it appears, mother.
He feels himself called on by our relationship
and his situation in life
to condole us on our grievous affliction -
he refers to us as respectful,
for which, I suppose, we must be grateful.
This is what he says,
"The death of your daughter would have been a blessing
in comparison to this. Howsoever that may be,
you are grievously to be pitied in which opinion
I am joined, not only by Mrs. Collins,
but likewise by lady Catherine and her daughter,
to whom I have related the affair.
And this leads me to reflect with augmented consideration
on a certain event of last November,
for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved
in all your sorrow and disgrace.
Let me advise you then, my dear sir,
to throw off your unworthy child from your affection forever,
and leave her to reap the fruits of her own heinous offense."
- Why thank you, Hill. - Thank you, miss Jane.
It is from Mr. Gardiner.
And he has nothing of a pleasant nature to write.
"The couple are not found.
Wickham has not a single relation near
nor is he on terms of particular friendship with anyone,
although his acquaintance is numerous.
So there is no one likely to give any news of him.
His finances are in a wretched state." -
so there's a powerful motive for secrecy -
"He has left gaming debts behind him.
More than £1,000 will be needed to clear his expenses in Brighton."
A gamester?
I had not an idea of it. How horrible.
But father is coming home tomorrow.
Oh, I wish he would not.
We must pour into the wounded bosom of each other
the balm of sisterly consolation.
Oh, nonsense! Coming home without dear Lydia -
but who's to fight Wickham and make him marry her,
if Mr. Bennet comes away? I wish he would stay.