Ah, Hill, I could not concentrate for the quiet.
Where is my family?
Mrs. Bennet's in her dressing room, sir,
she doesn't often come out.
Good - and I suppose Kitty to be hiding?
- Send her to me, Hill. - Yes, sir.
And Mary is thinking too philosophically to sing,
and Jane will be attending her mother, and Lizzy...
- Is Lizzy reading? - Yes, sir.
- I will take tea with Lizzy, Hill. - Very good, sir.
Father, I am so sorry for what you have endured.
Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself?
It has been my own doing and I ought to feel it.
You must not be too severe upon yourself.
You may well warn me against such an evil.
People are too prone to fall into it.
No, Lizzy, let me for once in my life
feel how much I have been to blame.
I'm not afraid of being overpowered by the impression.
It will pass away soon enough.
Do you suppose Lydia to be with Wickham in London?
Oh, yes. Where else can they be so well concealed?
Lizzy?
I bear you no ill will for being justified in your advice to me last may,
which considering the event, shows some greatness of mind.
I suppose you have come for your mother's tea,
- which nerves prevent her from taking with her family. - Yes, papa.
Here's a parade which does one good.
It gives a certain elegance to misfortune.
Another day, I will do the same.
I will sit in my library with my nightcap and powdering gown,
and will give as much trouble as I can.
You've only come because you've been sent for.
If ever I should ever go to Brighton, papa,
I would behave better than Lydia.
You go to Brighton?
I would not trust you so near to it as Eastbourne for £50.
No, Kitty, I've at last learned to be cautious,
and you will feel the effects of it.
No officer is ever to enter our house again,
or even to pass through the village.
Balls will be forbidden absolutely,
unless you stand up with one of your sisters.
And you will never be allowed out of doors until you can prove
that you've spent 10 minutes of every day in a rational manner.
- Kitty. - Well, well.
Do not make yourself unhappy,
be a good girl for the next 10 years
and at the end of them I may take you to a military review.
I am mortified,
I am humbled, I am grieved,
and hope against hope that Lydia and Wickham will be married.
And if they are, must marvel at how little happiness
could possibly belong to a couple brought together
because their passions were stronger than their virtue.
There is no letter, either, from Mr. Darcy.
I could not expect it.
There is now a gulf unsupportable between us.
Mr. Darcy would scorn more than ever
to be connected to a family such as ours.
And he is exactly the man to suit me,
in disposition and talents.
I could have softened him, improved his manners.
I beg your pardon, miss Elizabeth, for interrupting.
Is it my mother?
No, miss. Your mother sits quietly.
I was in hopes you might have got some good news from town,
so I took the liberty of coming to ask.
What do you mean, Hill? We have heard nothing from town.
Dear miss, did you not know?
There was an express come for the master,
from Mr. Gardiner, this half hour.
Oh, Jane! Jane!
But what of the letter? Was it good or bad?
Was it from my Uncle Gardiner?
What is there of good in all this to be expected?
You may read the letter if you can find it.
I hardly know myself what it is about.
Your Uncle writes at length.
"Tidings of Lydia, which must bring satisfaction,
enough to know that Lydia and Wickham are discovered, I have seen them both."
It is as I always hoped, they are married.
"I have seen them both, they are not married.
Nor can I find out that there was any intention of being so.
But if you are willing to perform the engagements
which I have ventured on your behalf,
I hope it will not be long before they are."
Oh, father, Wickham is to marry Lydia. Is it possible?
I knew he could not be as undeserving as we feared.
Read on.
"If you will settle on your daughter now £1,000,
and allow her during her life £100 per annum-"
I could hardly believe it!
What man in his senses would marry Lydia
on so slight a temptation as £100 a year?
What else?
Uncle Gardiner has taken Lydia into his household
they are to be married from Gracechurch street.
He requires you to "stay quietly at home,"
and "depend upon his diligence and care".
Oh, father. Have you answered the letter?
I have only just read it.
But it must be done. Every moment is important.
If you dislike the trouble, father, I will do it.
It is not the trouble. It is the consequence I fear.
Oh, well, I suppose I must have Wickham as a son-in-law.
But how much money has your Uncle had to lay down to bring it about?
And how will I ever repay it?
- More money, sir? - Depend upon it.
Wickham's debts have been discharged by your Uncle
so that he may come out of hiding and marry.
He's a fool if he takes a farthing less than £10,000.
£10,000?
How is half such a sum ever to be recovered?
If Uncle Gardiner's goodness
does not make Lydia miserable now,
then she can never deserve to be happy.
Oh, they will be happy, Lizzy.
Their mutual affection will steady them.
They will settle so quietly
and live in so rational a manner
as may in time make their past imprudence forgotten.
Their conduct has been such that neither you nor I
nor anyone can ever forget.
It is useless to talk of it.
She will be married at 16.
Oh, my dear, dear Lydia.
I knew it. I always knew it.
And my good kind brother, I knew he would manage everything.
Oh, how I long to see her and her dear, dear Wickham.
But her clothes, her wedding clothes.
Lizzy, my dear.
Run and ask your father how much he will give her.
Oh, you have long faces, the pair of you.
Well, 'tis envy, I suppose.
You should have taken Mr. Collins while you could, Lizzy,
and Jane should not have chased away Mr. Bingley.
You grand girls do not have the sense of one Lydia,
for all your father says.
Mother, we are under great obligation to Uncle Gardiner.
If my brother had not chosen to marry and have children,
I should have had all his money.
He's never given us a thing before,
apart from a few presents.
"Mrs. Wickham," how well it sounds. And only 16.
Haye park might do, if the Gouldings would quit it.
No, it would not do, it is not nearly large enough.
Lydia would never endure to be cramped.
She has such high spirits.
And there is the great house at stoke
if the drawing room were larger, but Ashworth is too far off.
As for Purvis lodge, I can just see Wickham
descending the staircase in his Scarlet.
Oh, but the attics are dreadful.
Mrs. Bennet, before you take any or all of these houses
for your son and daughter, let us come to a right understanding.
Into one house they shall never have admittance.
I will not encourage the impudence of either
by ever receiving them here at Longbourn.
And further... I will not advance a Guinea for clothes.
We are disgraced!
I will not move. I am fixed upon it.
I have the satisfaction of prevailing upon
one of the most worthless men in Britain to be Lydia's husband.
And that is enough for me.
In any case, he may not enter our house.
He is an officer, is he not, Kitty?
Shh!
I am now most heartily sorry
that in the distress of the moment
I made Mr. Darcy acquainted with our fears for Lydia.
The matter would have been better concealed.
For though there are few people on whose secrecy
I could more confidently depend,
there is no one whose knowledge of his sister's frailty
could mortify me more.
Lizzy? Lizzy.
You must come at once and reason with your father.
A letter has come from Lydia.
Her angel Wickham has resolved on quitting the militia
and joining the regulars in the north, still your father will not move.
But there is to be a marriage?
If you can call it a marriage with no family and no clothes.
I'm sure I do not.
So, Mrs. Bennet, your daughter is to be banished to the north?
Good.
But it will be quite shocking for her.
She's so fond of Mrs. Forster and now to be sent away?
And there are several of the young men too,
who she likes very much and will surely miss.
The officers will not be nearly so pleasant in the north.
She writes to me, Mr. Bennet,
that her heart would break
were she not so happy to be shortly married to her handsome Wickham,
and all because you would not admit her.
Well, it is insupportable!
Inconceivable!
For the sake of Lydia's feelings and consequence, sir,
her marriage should be noticed by her parents.
Well, Lydia is our sister, sir, and your daughter.
And our mother has much pleasure and pride in her company.
Very well.
They are aired, Hill? You are quite sure they are aired?
My Lydia should not catch a chill,
or her darling Wickham.
So young a bride - 16.
What are you dreaming of, Kitty?
I'm sure if Lydia can be married, so can I.
I am older than she is.
Mr. Bingley is coming to Netherfield, mama,
everyone says so.
And he's not an officer, so father may let him in to the house.
And then we will see what we will see.
Bingley? He is nothing to us.
I'm sure I never want to see him again.
However, he is very welcome to come to Netherfield if he likes it.
Oh, the splendid time you'll have with Lydia,
back to laugh and be merry.
We'll visit all about and have parties -
as frequently as Mr. Bennet will allow.
And the gentlemen will go shooting,
Mr. Wickham does everything best in the world.
I'm sure he will kill more birds
on the 1st of September than anyone in the county.
- If you please, madam. - What is it, Hill?
The undersheet is wrongly laid, madam.
- It will not tuck. - Well, see to it yourself.
I'm all a-flutter with happiness.
Lydia is coming.
It's been my experience that an event looked forward to
with much impatient desire
does not always bring its promised satisfaction.
Silly girl.
Hmm.
Here she comes! Here is the carriage.
My darling Lydia is home again.
I cannot endure it.
How will Lydia endure it?
To meet your parents again thus after such a disgrace?
He must apologize. He must show his contrition.
I will blush.
Oh, he will blush. And she will blush.
- Surely we need not - - oh, Jane,
if only we expected you and Mr. Bingley.
Oh, hush. That is all over. It must be.
Here they are. Here they are.
What a time it's been since I was here.
Everything looks so small, Wickham,
does it not?
Everything is as pleasant as ever, Lydia,
and my new family even pleasanter.
Madam, Elizabeth, Jane,
Kitty, Mary...
- Sir. - Wickham.
Well, Lydia, what happened? What happened?
And how was the marriage?
And who was there, and what did they say?
How did you manage with clothes?
My poor, poor Lydia.
Oh, lucky, clever Lydia.
Only three months, yet it seems like a fortnight.
So much has happened, I hardly know where to begin.
Good gracious.
When I went away I had no more idea
of being married until I came back again,
though I thought it would be very good fun if I was.
Oh, mama, do people hereabouts know I am married?
Oh, yes, of course.
I was afraid they might not.
And we overtook William Goulding in his curricle.
So I was determined that he should know it.
So I let down the side glass next to me,
took off my glove,
let my hand rest upon the window frame so he might see the ring.
Then I bowed and smiled like anything.
Oh, Lydia, you are funny.
What a shame you weren't all there.
I wanted to be there.
I will tell you all about it.
I must take your place, Jane,
and you must go lower because I am a married woman.
I long to see everyone -
the Phillips, and the Lucases,
and hear myself called "Mrs. Wickham".
Hill, do you see my ring?
I am married.
I'm sure my sisters must all envy me.
Jane and Lizzy will not be so superior now.
They must all go to Brighton, mama.
That is the place to get husbands.
Mama, you and papa, and everyone
must come up to the regiment to the north.
There will be balls, and I dare say
I shall get husbands for all my sisters before the winter is over.
Thank you for my share of the favour,
but I'm not sure I like your way of getting husbands.
My dear Wickham.
Dear Wickham. Is he not handsome?
I'm excessively fond of him.
He does everything best in the world.
I do not particularly like the blue.
Blue is not the least the fashion in London for ladies.
You must take my advice on these matters now.
The yellow will do tolerably well.
Otherwise, everything is much the same. How horrible.
Let me tell you about my wedding, Lizzy.
I've told everyone else.
I think there cannot be too little said on the subject.
My Uncle and aunt Gardiner
were horrid and unpleasant all the time I was with them.
Not a party, or theatre, or anything.
And Uncle always talking and talking in some other room -
business of some kind.
We were to be at St. Clements at 11:00.
I was so afraid something would happen to put it off,
and then I should have gone quite distracted.
And there was my aunt, all the time I was dressing,
preaching and talking away, as if she were reading a sermon.
I did not hear above one word in 10,
for wondering whether Wickham would be married in his blue coat.
Then some horrid lawyer came and took Mr. Gardiner away and talked some more.
I was so frightened that he would not come back,
and I would never be given away.
But now I come to think of it, I need not have worried.
- Mr. Darcy would have done just as well. - Mr. Darcy?
Gracious me! I forgot.
I promised so faithfully -
it is a secret. Don't you want to know?
Oh, if it is a secret, I shall seek no further.
Thank you. For if you did, I should certainly tell you all,
and then Wickham would be angry.
"Aunt Gardiner, pray write instantly and tell me.
Mr. Darcy at Lydia's wedding?
My dear aunt,
if you do not tell me in an honourable manner
I shall certainly be reduced
to tricks and stratagems to find it out."
I hope I do not interrupt you, my dear sister.
You certainly do, but it does not follow
that the interruption must be an unwelcome one.
I should be very sorry indeed if it were.
We were always good friends.
- And now we are better. - True.
An interesting letter?
It is from aunt Gardiner. Are the others coming out?
I do not know. Mrs. Bennet and Lydia -
they're going in the carriage to Meryton.
And so, my dear sister,
I hear from our Uncle and aunt
that you have actually seen Pemberley.
I almost envy you the pleasure,
yet I believe it would be too much for me.
And you met the old housekeeper, I suppose?
Poor Reynolds, she was always very fond of me,
but of course, she did not mention my name to you?
Oh, yes, she did.
And what did she say?
She said you had gone into the army.
She was afraid you had not turned out well.
But at such a distance as that, you know,
things are strangely misrepresented.
Shall we go into the house?
I have some letters to write.
I was surprised to see Darcy in town last month.
I wonder what he can have been doing.
Perhaps preparing for his marriage to miss de Bourgh.
It must have been something particular
to take him there at this time of year.
Did you meet miss Darcy at Pemberley?
I did.
I have heard she is uncommonly improved this last year or two.
Oh, she is.
I hope she will turn out well.
I dare say she will...
When she's got over the most trying age.
Did you go by the village of Kympton?
A most delightful place,
an excellent parsonage house.
It is the living I should have had.
One ought not to repine, but to be sure
it would have been such a thing for me.
Quiet, a retirement of such a life
would have answered all my ideas of happiness.
Did you ever hear Darcy mention the circumstances?
I did hear it was left to you, conditionally only.
And I did hear there was a time when sermon making
was not so palatable to you as it seems to be at present
and you declared your resolution of never taking orders.
You may remember what I told you on that part
when first we talked of it.
Mr. Wickham, we are brother and sister you know,
do not let us quarrel about the past.
I hope in future we shall always be of one mind.
"Mr. Darcy discovered Wickham's whereabouts,
and came to inform your Uncle Gardiner
and to try and remedy an evil for which he felt himself responsible.
Lydia was with Wickham in a lodging house,
she would not leave him.
And it was not Wickham's plan to marry Lydia,
she not being rich enough to solve his problems,
it was Mr. Darcy who saw to it that they were married,
Mr. Darcy who provided the money.
I like him very much.
And, Elizabeth, I am sure there is another reason for his goodness
other than his remorse."
I have been so ungracious,
so ungenerous to Mr. Darcy.
And now we owe the restoration of Lydia - of everything - to him.
My heart whispers that he has done it for me,
but the whisper is quickly hushed.
Brother-in-law to Wickham?
It is useless.
When shall we meet again?
Lord, I don't know, mama.
Not these two or three years perhaps.
Well, write to me very often, my dear.
I'll write as often as I can, mama, but you know,
married women never have much time for writing.
My sisters may write to me.
They will have nothing else to do.
As fine and kind a family as any man could hope for.
I had none of my own, but now my loss is amply recompensed.
Madam, sir, sisters,
I bid you farewell but keep you always in my heart.
Goodbye, Lydia. Goodbye, goodbye.
Oh...
He's as fine a fellow as ever I saw:
He simpers and smirks, makes love to us all,
and I'm prodigiously proud of him.
I defy even sir William Lucas himself
- to produce a more valuable son-in-law. - He is a fine fellow.
I knew you would come to admire him in time.
All that remains are your other daughters.
This time I hope you will be advised by me.
As soon as ever Mr. Bingley comes to Netherfield,
which I hear from Mr. Nichols is Wednesday,
you will wait upon him, of course.
- No. - It is insupportable.
You forced me into visiting him last year,
and promised me that he would marry one of my daughters.
It ended in nothing. And I will not be sent on a fool's errand again.
Very well. I shall invite Mr. Bingley.
I'm sure Kitty will be pleased enough to see him!
Lydia gone.
I often think there's nothing so bad as parting with one's friends,
one seems so forlorn without them.
That is the consequence you see, mother,
of having a daughter married.
It must make you better satisfied
that the other four are still single.
It does no such thing.
Mr. Bingham must come at once.
Hill must go to the butcher, there are three couple of ducks
just fit to be killed.
Come now, Mary. Come along, Kitty. Will you stop coughing?
I saw you look at me, Lizzy,
and I know I appear distressed,
but don't imagine it from any silly cause.
I was only confused because I knew I should be looked at.
I do assure you that Mr. Bingley's coming
does not affect me with either pleasure or pain.
I wonder if he comes this time
with Mr. Darcy's permission
or without.
Jane, you must not go walking in the sun.
Lizzy is brown enough, I have no hope for her,
but I will not have your complexion spoiled.
Had your father called upon Mr. Bingley before the hot weather began,
we would not have freckles now upon your nose.
Oh, I am mortified.
Well, all our neighbours have seen Mr. Bingley,
we have not yet had a glimpse of him.
Mr. Bingley is coming! I can see clearer from my window.
- And there is someone with him. - Who?
An acquaintance, I suppose.
I did not wait to see, Bingley is enough.
But it looked just like that man who used to be with him.
Oh, Mr. what's-his-name? That tall proud man.
But why is he coming here?
Hill came running with the news, I'm sure.
If it startled her, it startled me.
Any friend of Mr. Bingley is welcome here,
but I hate the very sight of Mr. Darcy.
Make haste. What are we thinking on?
Make haste, make haste.
Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy.
- Mr. Bingley. - Mrs. Bennet.
Welcome, welcome indeed.
It is a long time since you went away.
I began to be afraid that you would never come back.
Oh, and you've brought Mr. Darcy with you?
Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy.
Do sit down.
Well, Mr. Bingley, there have been some changes made here.
One of my daughters is married.
Oh, you must have seen it in "The Times".
It was not put as it ought to be,
not a syllable said of her father or the place she lived or anything.
It was my brother Gardiner's drawing up, too.
I wonder how he came to make such an awkward business of it.
Did you see it, Mr. Bingley?
Indeed I did, and would have written you my congratulations,
but knew I would be here soon myself to offer them
and have the very great pleasure of seeing the Bennet family.
Well, it is a delightful thing, to be sure,
to have a daughter well married.
But at the same time, Mr. Bingley, it is very hard
to have her taken so far from me.
They're gone to Newcastle,
a place quite north woods, it seems.
Mr. Wickham is gone into the regulars.
Thank heaven he has some friends,
though not perhaps as many as he deserves.
Do you mean to make any stay in the country, Mr. Bingley?
A few weeks, miss Eliza, until the shooting is finished.
Oh, well, when you have killed all your own birds,
I beg of you to come here and shoot as many as you please.
I'm sure Mr. Bennet will be vastly happy to oblige you.
He'll save all the best coveys for you.
Shall I sing?
No thank you, dear, not today.
You are a visiting debt, Mr. Bingley.
You promised to take family dinner with us and you never did.
You see, I have not forgotten.
And I was very much disappointed you did not keep your engagement.
I had pressing business, I was prevented.
Well, you must come on Tuesday.
And bring Mr. Darcy with you,
if he's still about.
Thank you, ma'am, I'm sure we shall both enjoy that.
Goodbye, Mr. Bingley. Goodbye, Mr. Darcy.
If Mr. Darcy came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent,
I wonder why he came at all.
You were very quiet, Jane.
I think I talked as much as ever, didn't I?
No.
Now this first meeting is over
I feel perfectly easy.
I know my own strength and shall never be embarrassed again by his coming.
I'm glad he's coming on Tuesday.
For it will then again be publicly seen
that on both sides,
we meet only as common and indifferent acquaintances.
Yes, very indifferent.
Oh, Jane, take care.
You cannot think me so weak as to be in danger now.
I think you are in a very great danger
of making him as much in love with you as ever.
The first wish of my heart
is never to be in the company of either Bingley or Darcy again.
I listen to my mother,
and I see everything happening the same way this year as last,
hastening to the same vexatious conclusion.
Their society can afford no pleasure
as will atone for such wretchedness.
Lizzy, you do not mean it.
No, I do not mean it.
The summer is very late.
I declare it might almost be the spring.
The spring was very late as well
and could have been taken for winter until the very last moment.
Not a single melon could we grow.
The beds were hot enough, but the air was exceptionally cold.
The ducks did not fatten well, of that we can be sure.
What is it that the gentleman can talk about when we retire?
Whatever it is, it's not half so wearisome and dull
as what ladies talk about.
Well, I would not want to join it,
it is all cigar smoke and old ideas.
Mr. Darcy, coffee?
The men Shan't come and part us, I am determined.
We want none of them, do we?
No, we want none of them.
When I was only 15,
I received a proposal from a gentleman,
which I refused.
I meant to accept the second time he asked,
but alas, he did not ask again.
Was not that inconstancy?
You do not find that same weak nature in a woman.
A man would find a second proposal a weakness.
There could be no indignity so abhorrent to his feelings.
- I think that you are wrong. - I know I am right.
Tell me...
Is your sister still at Pemberley?
Yes, she will remain there till Christmas.
And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?
They have gone to Scarborough these three weeks.
There are better conversations to be had with women than with men.
Men are a different species altogether, I declare.
There, he is gone.
You are saved the trouble of talking to him.
Your mother will make him play whist
and he will not be able to bother us again.
What a cold, proud man he seemed.
Who is he?
That was Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy?
Oh!
- Good night. - Good night.
Good night.
- Good night, mama. - Good night, girls.
Well, girls, what say you to that?
I think it all passed off remarkably well.
And a lean duck is better than a fat one,
for all they say.
And the venison was roasted to a turn
and the soup was 50 times better
than what they had at the Lucases last week.
Even Mr. Darcy acknowledged that the partridges were well done,
and he must have two or three French cooks at least.
Oh, Jane, I never saw you in greater beauty.
Even Mrs. Long agreed with me and said,
"Mrs. Bennet, we shall see her at Netherfield at last."
Thank you, miss.
Oh, Hill! Hill?
Set the birds to boil before you go to bed.
Well?
It has been a very agreeable evening.
The party seemed so well selected.
I hope we may often meet again.
Oh, pray, do not smile.
You must not suspect me, it mortifies me.
I am perfectly satisfied from Mr. Bingley's present manners
that he never had any design of engaging my affection.
It is only that he is blessed with greater sweetness of address,
and a stronger desire of generally pleasing than any other man.
You are too cruel.
You will not let me smile,
yet are provoking me to do it every minute.
Oh, how hard it is in some cases to be believed.
Why do you wish to persuade me
that I feel more than I acknowledge?
We all love to instruct,
though we teach only what is not worth knowing.
Forgive me.
Oh.
Jane! Make haste! Hurry down!
He's come!
Mr. Bingley is come. Make haste! Surely you are ready?
Jenkins, where are you?
Never mind about miss Lizzy's hair,
there's nothing to be done about it anyway.
- Go into miss Jane, and help her with her gown. - Yes, ma'am.
Hill?! Mr. Bennet, where are you going?
To the library.
But Mr. Bingley is coming to tea. Mr. Bingley is here.
Well, he may make an appointment to see me if he wishes.
He is a pleasant enough young man.
Hill?
Mary, my love,
should you not go upstairs and practice your instrument?
- Oh, but, mama. - Go on upstairs, dear.
What is the matter, mama?
Why do you keep winking at me?
Winking? I did not wink at you.
- What am I to do? - Nothing, nothing, my child.
Good heavens.
You've come downstairs without your lace.
Oh pray, go and look for it.
I have my lace, mama. Can you not see it?
Oh, I declare it was there all the time.
Honest mistake.
Mrs. Bennet.
My love? Kitty, I want to speak to you.
What good fortune that I had no engagements at all for this afternoon
and could accept your mother's invitation.
Ah, yes, what good fortune.
Lizzy, I want to speak to you.
Miss Eliza.
Mother, we should not. What will Mr. Bingley think of us?
Mr. Bingley thinks well enough of us, for all you say.
Oh, Lizzy.
Oh, how shall I bear such happiness,
to give such pleasure to all my dear family?
Mr. Bingley has gone to speak to father.
We are to be married.
In spite of Mr. Darcy, in spite of miss Bingley.
Oh, the happiest, wisest, most reasonable end.
Oh!
I congratulate you, Jane.
I have not a doubt of you and your...
Bingley doing well together.
You are each so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved upon;
so easy, that every servant will cheat you;
and so generous, that you will always exceed your income.
Exceed their income?
My dear Mr. Bennet, what are you talking of?
Why he has 5 or 6,000 a year, very likely more.
Oh, Jane, I'm so happy. I'm sure I shan't get a wink of sleep all night.
I knew how it would be.
I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing.
Oh, Lizzy, if I could but see you as happy.
If there were but such another man for you.
If you were to give me 40 such men,
I never could be as happy as you.
Till I have your disposition, your goodness,
I can never have your happiness.
No, let me shift for myself
and perhaps in time, if I have very good luck,
I may meet with another Mr. Collins.
Lizzy, lady Catherine de Bourgh.
I hope you are well, miss Bennet.
That lady, I suppose, was your mother.
You have a very small park here,
and your windows face full west.
Most inconvenient in a sitting room in the summer.
You know, of course, why I am here?
Your own heart, your own conscience must tell you so.
Indeed, madam. Perhaps you have a letter from Charlotte.
Do not trifle with me, miss Bennet.
However insincere you may be, you will not find me so.
My character was ever celebrated
for its sincerity and frankness,
and at such a moment as this,
I shall certainly not depart from it.
I have received a report of a most alarming nature.
That not only was your sister
to be most advantageously married,
but that you - that miss Eliza Bennet,
was shortly to be united with my nephew -
my own nephew, Mr. Darcy.
It is, of course, a scandalous falsehood,
and one impossible to be true.
If you believed it to be impossible to be true,
I wonder why you took the trouble of coming so far.
What could your ladyship propose by it?
At once to insist that such a report is universally contradicted.
Your coming to see me
would be rather a confirmation of such a report,
if indeed it exists.
If?
Do you pretend to be ignorant of it?
Has it not been industriously circulated by yourself?
Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?
I never heard it was.
And can you likewise declare that there is no foundation in it?
I do not pretend to possess equal frankness
with your ladyship,
you may ask me questions which I shall not choose to answer.
This is not to be borne, miss Bennet.
I insist on being satisfied.
Has he? Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?
Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.
It ought to be so. It must be so.
While he retains the use of his reason,
but with arts and allurements you may have drawn him into it.
And he is intended for my daughter; now what have you to say?
If that is so...
Then you can have no reason to suppose he'll make an offer to me.
From their infancy they have been intended for each other.
It was his mother's favourite wish, and my own.
Is their union, so long planned,
so soon to be accomplished,
to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth
and of no position in the world?
Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends?
Are you lost to all feelings of propriety and delicacy?
If there are no other objections
to my marrying your nephew,
than that his mother and his aunt planned otherwise,
I shall certainly not be kept from it.
If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour or inclination
confined to his cousin,
why may he not make another choice?
And if I am that choice,
why may I not accept him?
Because decorum, prudence, and interest all forbid it.
Yes, miss Bennet, interest. You will be censured,
slighted, and despised by everyone connected with him.
These are heavy misfortunes,
but the wife of Mr. Darcy
must have such extraordinary sources of happiness
necessarily attached to her situation
that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.
Obstinate, headstrong girl.
Are you to pollute the shades of Pemberley?
Who are your uncles and aunts? Who?
Your sister's marriage, a patched-up business.
Your sister's husband - son of a steward, an infamous eloper.
Now to be Mr. Darcy's brother?
You have insulted me in every method possible,
I must beg you to leave.
Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to Mr. Darcy?
I am not.
Will you promise me never to enter such an engagement?
I will make no promise of the kind.
I shall not go away until you have given me the assurance I require.
And I shall certainly never give it.
Good day.
Unfeeling, selfish girl -
lost to duty, honour, and gratitude.
I take no leave of you, miss Bennet.
I send no compliments to your mother,
you deserve no such attention.
I am most seriously displeased.
She is a very fine-looking woman.
And her calling here was prodigiously civil,
for I suppose she only came to tell us
the Collinses were well.
She's on her road somewhere, I dare say.
Finding herself in Meryton, thought she might as well call upon you.
I suppose she did not have anything
particular to say to you, did she?
Now Lizzy, I have received a letter this morning
which has astonished me exceedingly.
I did not know before that I had two daughters on the brink of matrimony.
Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest.
A letter, sir, from whom?
Well, the letter is from Mr. Collins,
but I think I may defy even your sagacity,
to discover the name of your admirer.
What does Mr. Collins say, sir?
Why... eventually, the "chosen partner of your fate
may reasonably be looked up to
as one of the most illustrious personages in the land".
He fears that you may be inclined on this account
to take immediate advantage
of this mysterious gentleman's proposals,
and warns of the evils you may incur by so doing.
Now, Lizzy, guess who the gentleman is.
Indeed, sir, I cannot.
Mr. Darcy is Mr. Collins' man!
Now, Lizzy, I think I have surprised you.
Mr. Darcy, who never looked on any woman but to find blemish,
and probably never looked on you in his life -
put forward by Mr. Collins as your suitor.
It is admirable. What an excellent source of diversion
Mr. Collins has become to us all.
Oh, yes. Pray, read on.
Well, he rebukes me for having received
Lydia and Wickham into my house.
I should, it seems, I have forgiven them as a Christian,
but never have admitted them into my house
nor allowed their names to be mentioned within my hearing.
You know, whenever I receive a letter from Mr. Collins,
I cannot help but give him precedence over Wickham,
much as I value the impudence
and hypocrisy of my son-in-law.
Oh... Mr. Darcy!
His perfect indifference and your pointed dislike -
it is delightfully absurd.
Lizzy, you look as if you did not enjoy it.
Don't tell me you're going to be missish
and pretend to be affronted by an idle report?
Oh, no, sir.
I am excessively diverted.
And there is expectation of a happy event,
a young Collins olive branch.
- Bingley is here. - Mr. Bingley is always here.
He comes before breakfast and never goes before supper.
Quick, Mr. Bennet, to the door!
I am a very selfish creature.
And for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings
care not how much I may be wounding yours.
Ever since I have known
of your unexampled kindness to my poor sister,
I have wished to thank you,
but had no opportunity.
I thought only of you.
You are too generous to trifle with me.
If your feelings are what they were last April,
tell me so at once.
My affections and wishes are unchanged.
But one word from you will silence me on the subject forever.
Mr. Darcy, since last April
my sentiments have undergone so material a change
as to make me receive your present assurances
with gratitude... And pleasure.
It is lady Catherine's doing.
Her indignation at your perverseness
imparted at length to me, taught me to hope.
Had you been absolutely irrevocably decided against me,
you would have acknowledged it to her frankly and openly.
You know enough of my frankness
to believe me capable of that.
After abusing you so abominably to your face,
I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations.
What did you say of me that I did not deserve?
Your reproof so well applied I shall never forget.
But had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner -
- Oh, do not repeat it. - You have destroyed the letter?
It might justly make you hate me.
It shall be burned... At once.
Dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth,
by you I was properly humbled.
No, I did not blame you for coming to Pemberley,
I felt nothing but surprise.
My object then was to show you I was not so mean as to resent the past.
As to my gravity and thoughtfulness on hearing the news of Lydia,
I had already resolved to leave in search of her.
So you gave your permission for Bingley to marry Jane?
I guessed as much.
Confessed interference in his affairs -
it was absurd, and impertinent of me.
But he never had the slightest suspicion.
The more I saw of them together
the more I was convinced of her real affection. I never doubted his.
And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to him?
It did.
What set you off in the first place?
I cannot fix the hour or the spot or the look or the words
which laid the foundation,
I was in the middle of it before I knew it had begun.
My beauty, you had earlier withstood.
As for my manners, did you admire my impertinence?
You were sick of civility, I dare say,
of deference, of officious attention.
I aroused and interested you
because I was so unlike the rest.
I did not want your approbation.
There, I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it.
And all things considered,
I begin to think it perfectly reasonable,
to be sure, you know no actual good of me.
But nobody thinks of that
when they fall in love.
£10,000 a year?
How rich and great my Lizzy will be.
What pin money!
What jewels, what carriages she will have.
I hope Mr. Darcy will overlook my having disliked him so much.
Three daughters married? I shall grow distracted.
Mr. Darcy - what an uproar there will be.
But for what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours,
and laugh at them in our turn?
Mrs. Bennet?
If any young men come for Kitty or Mary,
send them in, for I am quite at leisure.