All language subtitles for Pride and prejudice (1980) - 3

- Lizzy?
- You startled me.

You have had a letter from London
from Jane. Why was I not told?

Because it was for me.

Why does she not write to me?

Am I not her mother?

Well, what does she say?
What has happened?

Has she seen Mr. Bingley yet and
how does he explain himself? Well?

He says nothing, mother,
because they have not met.

But to be sure if
they're both in London,

they must run into one another,
they must talk.

Mother, London is very large.

It is not near as large as they say.

And two young people
of style and fashion

must surely run into one another
within the week

and Jane has been gone three.

Aunt Gardiner lives in
so different a part of town

as to make it improbable
that they should meet at all.

Well, her connections
are very different.

Mr. Bingley is in the custody
of Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy is so very careful
where he goes.

How you love to vex
and contradict me, Lizzy.

Jane must just stay with aunt Gardiner
until she does run into Mr. Bingley

and you must write and tell her
that is her mother's wish.

And tell her she must call
upon miss Bingley at once.

Yes, that is it.
They're in correspondence, are they not?

It would be ill-mannered of Jane

should she not call,
everyone would say so.

Jane has called upon miss Bingley,
but miss Bingley was out,

and has not yet returned the call.

- How long ago was this, pray?
- A full two weeks.

Two weeks!?

Jane did not stay in, I know it.

She was out when miss Bingley called,
and the maid forgot to give the message.

Jane waits in every morning
and does not go out,

and still miss Bingley does not call.

Oh, I do not understand any of it.

Mr. Bingley will be back
at Netherfield in the summer

and explain it all.

The sun's getting warmer already,
I can feel it.

Don't sit there, your nose will peel
and your cheeks will burn.

And Mr. Wickham will not like that.

You have been jilted, I know it.

You would hardly bear to be outdone
by your sister Jane.

And it is Mr. Wickham, mmm?

He's not been to dine for at least a week.

Or breakfast, or tea.

He has been absent from our table

for two days, father.
He is away.

Mm-hmm. Seems like a lifetime.

I must say, he's an excellent
fellow for dispersing the gloom

and complaints we hear so much of,

for all his misfortunes
at Mr. Darcy's hands.

Mr. Darcy, I hear from all sides,

is the very worst of all men.

- Yes.
- Yes.

Worse even than
Bonaparte himself? Hmm?

Oh, pay attention, Lizzy.
Pay attention.

If you've not been jilted
you have no excuse.

Jane has written again.

Miss Bingley did call
but was very cold,

and said that Mr. Bingley would
not be returning to Netherfield.

And spoke much of his partiality
for miss Darcy.

Poor Jane.

Poor, poor Jane.

Still, at least she is
no longer duped by the sister

as she was by the brother.

I hope Mr. Bingley
does marry miss Darcy,

both for Jane's sake and as
punishment for Mr. Bingley.

It would be penance enough
from what Mr. Wickham says.

Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Wickham...

It is another letter
for you, Lizzy.

What a lot of letters you receive.
I don't understand it.

She receives letters, Mrs. Bennet,
because she writes letters.

- Well?
- It is from Charlotte.

You receive letters
from Charlotte?

She sends letters to pave her way,
I daresay,

now she's married to Mr. Collins.

She'll be here in person soon enough

to drive us out of our home.

Well, how does she get on?

How does she get on
with lady Catherine? Tell me.

She finds lady Catherine
most friendly and obliging.

She writes cheerfully

and mentions nothing
that she cannot praise.

House, furniture, neighbourhood...

Roads, all to her liking.

It could all have been yours.

But she does not mention Mr. Collins.

I shall have to wait till my visit

- to see how that goes.
- Visit?

Yes mother, she asks me to visit.

But you will not go.
I will not have you go.

I will not be left all alone.

All alone, Mrs. Bennet?

The younger girls do not count
as company, Mr. Bennet,

except for Lydia.
I'm sure you do not.

You'll never guess.

We ran all the way from Meryton.
Lizzy, it is too bad.

Well, I'm not surprised.
You were too serious.

No, I cannot have that.

It is not that Lizzy is too solemn,

but that Mr. Wickham has
too light a nature.

It is the talk of the town,
aunt Philips says so.

It is humiliating.

What is? Tell me.
Mr. Wickham? What about Mr. Wickham?

It is over.

Yes, all over.

And father was partial to him.

Father, who is partial
to no one, save Lizzy.

What is all over?

Mr. Wickham is engaged, Lizzy.

Poor Lizzy.

Of course he had no fortune.

But what is fortune, compared to love?

Engaged? To who?

To miss King.
Odious miss King.

She has inherited 10,000 a year,

- but she has freckles.
- She is not intelligent.

Well, neither is Mr. Wickham.

Poor, poor Lizzy.

Miss King...

- Odious miss King.
- Miss King...

Well she's a very...

Good sort of girl.

In exoneration, let it not be forgotten

that young men must have
something to live on

as well as young women.

By and large, it was to be expected.

I'm sure I did not expect it.

Oh poor, poor Lizzy.

"Oh, Charlotte,

aunt Gardiner was afraid
of Mr. Wickham's marrying me

because that would be imprudent.

But now he is to marry
a girl with £10,000,

the world would have it
that he was mercenary.

But miss King is a very good kind of girl

and Mr. Wickham remains
perfectly friendly.

And I feel a solicitude in him
towards me, whether married or single,

he must always be my model
of the amiable and pleasing.

I will not have him called mercenary,

merely prudent.
I did not love him,

it was not sensible to love him."

But oh, Charlotte -

Lizzy, if you are defying me
and writing to Charlotte,

accept her invitation at once.

You must go and stay at Hunsford.

Well, Mr. Collins doesn't have brothers,
but he may have friends.

Lady Catherine is sure to have
male company at her table.

Odious miss King to be Mrs. Wickham -

you seem to take his defection
harder than I do.

Poor Lizzy.

First miss King gets Mr. Wickham,

then she is to stay with a clergyman,

for that is all Mr. Collins is,

then when that is over,
she is to go to the lakes

with the Gardiners,
who never go out,

and stare at trees
and mountains and rivers.

There will not be
a single redcoat anywhere.

What are young men,

even in red coats,
to rocks and mountains?

You are all young
in the ways of the world.

Poor, poor Lizzy.

- Dear Elizabeth.
- Dear Charlotte, you haven't changed.

You look well.
You seem happy.

I am. Everything is to my liking.

Even lady Catherine?

She is most friendly and obliging.

But Elizabeth,

Mr. Wickham is
to marry miss King.

You need not worry
on my account, Charlotte.

My feelings are not only cordial
towards Mr. Wickham,

but impartial
towards miss King.

So I could never have been very
much in love, if I was at all.

But he was mercenary.

Oh, Charlotte, where does discretion end

and avarice begin?

I'm sure I do not know.

All that I do know is
that I am heartily sick of young men

and glad to be with you.

Welcome to our humble abode,
cousin Eliza.

And you have not changed, Mr. Collins.

What benefit would there be
in alteration, cousin Eliza?

In that distant clump
of trees, do you see?

There are numbered
five chestnuts and two elms.

No, I mistake, three elms.

Yes, three elms.

And over there, miss Eliza -
no further over,

there are five beeches,
and beyond that, three elms,

and three oaks of the red variety.

See how well he looks?

Mr. Collins tends the garden
himself, it is his pleasure.

It is a most healthful exercise.
He recommends it to our parishioners.

And I'm glad to say they follow his example
in this, as in so much else.

But of all the splendid
views the garden boasts,

none can compare
with the prospect of Rosings,

the residence of lady Catherine de Bourgh,

our eminent patroness,

and of miss de Bourgh,
her daughter, her only daughter.

It is well situated, and on rising ground.

It is more than well situated,

it is excellently situated.

And what you refer to as rising ground

is a hill, miss Eliza.

You will have the honour of seeing
lady Catherine at church on Sunday,

and I do not doubt
you will find her delightful.

She might even ask you
to take tea with her.

She is all affability and condescension,

- is she not, Charlotte?
- Indeed.

Thank you.

Who could have foreseen
such an attention as this?

I rather expected tea,

but who could have imagined
we should receive an invitation

to dine so immediately
after your arrival?

Instance of elegant
breeding, indeed, cousin.

Do not let the sight of such rooms
as there are at Rosings

or so many servants, overpower you.

And when you come face to face
with lady Catherine,

do not let your courage fail you.

I think I shall be able
to witness lady Catherine

- without trepidation, Mr. Collins.
- I hear the carriage.

Yes.

Dinner will be entirely splendid.

Charlotte has become accustomed to it.
It is her chosen lot in life.

Do not make yourself uneasy,
my dear cousin, about your apparel.

My apparel?
Have I forgotten something?

Lady Catherine is far from requiring in us

that elegance of dress which so
becomes herself and miss de Bourgh.

She will not think the worse of us
for your being simply dressed.

She likes to see the distinction
of rank observed.

Speak gently to miss de Bourgh,
cousin Eliza.

Might I frighten her?

She is perfectly charming,
but a little thin and small.

She is agreeably fragile,

and she is to marry Mr. Darcy.

That might well frighten her.

Mrs. Collins, you will often have noted

the perfection of the beef
served at my table.

Never accept from the butcher
anything but young flesh,

with a fine, smooth grain,
and the fat white.

If yellow, the beast
has been fed on corn cake.

Now look to it, and do not leave
the servants to deal with the butcher.

They are a cunning race.

I hear from the launderers
that you are troubled with red ants.

Green sage in every closet
will make them disappear.

And your hens are off lay.

You must give them half an ounce
of fresh meat each,

finely chopped, once a day
as the weather grows cold.

And allow no cocks to run with them

and they will lay perpetually.

You will see to it, Charlotte.
So infinitely kind and knowledgeable.

Darcy?

You seem pale.

You left too much food upon your plate.

So much may be considered sensibility,
the rest must be considered waste.

I myself have a remarkable appetite.

Why only yesterday

lady Metcalfe complimented me upon it.

I follow Dr. Boerhave's rules
for preserving health

and so does my daughter Anne,

whose constitution is naturally delicate.

A pleasant thing in a girl.

Do you not agree, Darcy?

I rise early, and never sit up late.

Wash the whole body
every morning in cold water

by means of a large sponge.

Drink water generally,
keep the body open,

keep the head cool at all times,

and never eat a hearty supper,

especially of animal food.

So much perspicacity.

Mr. Collins, I hear you
are growing a new variety

of large cantaloupe melon in your hotbed.

It will not do.

The ordinary, small, oblong
kind is good enough for me,

and of excellent flavour.

Why, only last year I was able
to gather melons in may

and cucumbers in February.

Do you have brothers, miss Bennet?

- No.
- What a misfortune.

- You cannot all be girls.
- Yes.

- But not many.
- There are five of us.

What can your mother
have been thinking of?

Had I had more than one child
they would have been boys

and remarkably well favoured,

as is my daughter miss de Bourgh.

Is she not, Darcy?

Mr. Darcy certainly believes so.

Miss de Bourgh draws remarkably well.

Do you draw, miss Bennet?

No. Not at all.

- Do you play and sing?
- A little.

Sometime or other we shall
be happy to hear you.

Our instrument is a capital one.

Do your sisters play and sing?

- Three of them do.
- You ought to all to have learned.

My sister Jane plays tolerably well.

Do you not think so, Mr. Darcy?

Mr. Darcy knows Jane well
through his friend Mr. Bingley

and her friend miss Bingley.

Jane has been in London
these three months.

Have you never happened to see her there?

Why no, I have not been so fortunate.

Stains on velvet may be removed

by the application of butter,

then rubbing with warm water.

Green sage, Elizabeth - for the red ants.

You need not look like that, lady
Catherine's advice is always excellent.

And I'm surprised her daughter
Anne is so pale and quiet.

She did not speak a word
through dinner and hardly ate a thing.

She is refined and quiet.

She is sickly and cross

and will do Mr. Darcy very well.

Mr. Darcy wishes to please you, Elizabeth.

At least I think he does.

He seldom speaks,
but he's always watching you.

It is an earnest steadfast gaze.

I think there is some admiration in it.

Or perhaps absence of mind.

Yes, indeed, perhaps.

I have thought that, too.

Quick, lady Catherine's carriage!

She how she honours us, cousin Eliza.

Of course she may not stop,
she may not get out.

But she may.

Oh, she has stopped!
She is descending.

She is coming - quick!
Tidy the sewing, plump the cushions!

Mrs. Collins.
Good morning, miss Bennet.

It is too bad!

The butcher tells me you've
ordered a whole leg of lamb.

A half would surely do
at this season of the year.

Well, there are three of you
at table, no more.

Oh, I suppose you mean
the servants to have the rest.

They take advantage of you.

I will take the leg back myself
and choose something more suitable.

You will be dining with us
tomorrow, in any case.

Mr. Darcy is bringing his cousin
colonel Fitzwilliam,

the son of lord Denny.

A person most truly a gentleman,

and would be most fond of miss de Bourgh

were it not for his cousin Mr. Darcy.

I thought miss Bennet would do for him...

For an evening.

He likes to talk of books and such.

Oh.

You must read "the Edinburgh review,"
miss Bennet.

Its editor lives far from the
usual scenes of literary strife.

His co-editor's a young man,

unaccustomed to the hackneyed
routine of reviews.

I have observed how it too often is,

the words of Godwin are recommended
by the reviews of Wollstonecraft.

A friendly critique
in the monthly review

is repaid by a sonnet
to the author of sympathy.

When you are next in London,
miss Bennet,

you must visit the opera.
- I heard it was in an uproar

because they had raised
subscriptions so high

that violence broke out.
- Oh, that.

That's all over.

Now we have signora Radicati.

She's the only singer on the Italian
stage who appears to be conscious

that the first excellence
of vocal music is to delight.

What is it you are saying, Fitzwilliam?

What is it you are talking of?
What is it you are telling?

Miss Bennet, let me hear what it is.

- We're speaking of music, madam.
- Music!

Then pray speak aloud.

It is of all subjects my delight.

I must have my share in the conversation

if you are speaking of music.

There are few people
in England, I suppose,

who have a more true enjoyment
of music than myself,

or a better natural taste.

If I had ever learned, I should
have been a great proficient.

And so would Anne, if her health
had allowed her to so apply.

How does your sister
Georgiana get on, Darcy?

She is wonderfully proficient, madam.

Pray tell her for me
that she cannot expect to excel

if she does not
practice a great deal.

I have told miss Bennet several times

that she will never play really well

unless she practices more -
and on a good instrument.

She may come to Rosings

and practice on the pianoforte
in the housekeeper's room.

She will be in nobody's way
in that part of the house.

Will you play for us now,
miss Bennet, and sing?

Please do, miss Bennet.

- Well -
- we're waiting.

¶ Farewell to the woodlands ¶

¶ farewell to the boughs ¶

- ¶ farewell... ¶
- Miss Bennet's father's estate

is entailed on Mr. Collins, I believe.

I am glad of it for you, Mrs. Collins,

but otherwise see no occasion for entailing
estates away from the female line.

Mrs. Bennet had five daughters

and as if that were not bad enough,

has altogether left them
to run wild with no governance.

Miss Bennet expresses herself

very decidedly for one so young.

She cannot be more than one and twenty.

Her sisters are all out, all five of them.

The young are out
before the elder are married,

they will have too much time
to get into trouble.

It is not wise, mark my words.

Her mother sounds to me
a very foolish person.

You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy,

by coming in
all this state to hear me?

But I will not be alarmed,
though your sister does play so well.

And miss de Bourgh would
if only she could.

There is a stubbornness about me

that can never bear to be frightened
at the will of others.

My courage always rises at every
attempt to intimidate me.

I shall not say you're mistaken,
because you could not

really believe me to entertain
any design of alarming you.

I've had the pleasure
of your acquaintance long enough

to know you find gross enjoyment

in professing opinions
which are not your own.

Oh, your cousin will give you
a very pretty notion of me,

and teach you not to believe
a word I say.

I am unlucky in meeting
with a man so well able

to expose my character

in part of the world
where I had hoped

to pass myself off
with some degree of credit.

You are impolitic, Mr. Darcy,

in provoking me to retaliate.
- I am not afraid of you.

Pray, let me hear more
about my cousin, miss Bennet.

I should like to know how he behaves
amongst strangers.

Well, prepare yourself
for something dreadful.

I first met Mr. Darcy at a ball

where he danced only four dances,

though gentlemen were scarce,

and to my knowledge,
more than one lady was sitting down

in want of a partner.
- I knew only my own party.

Oh, and nobody can ever be expected
to be introduced in a ballroom.

What shall I play next, colonel?

My fingers await your orders.

Perhaps I should have
sought introductions

but I'm ill-qualified to recommend myself
to strangers.

A man of sense and education
who's lived in the world,

ill-qualified?

How can that be, colonel?

He will not give himself
the trouble, I suppose.

I cannot converse easily
with those I have not seen before.

I cannot catch the love
of conversation or appear

interested in their concerns
as others seem to do.

My fingers are not so masterly
on this instrument as many others,

but then I've always supposed it
to be my fault,

because I would not
give myself the trouble.

What is it you are saying,
miss Bennet?

What is it you are
talking of, Darcy?

Anne, come here and have your share
of the conversation.

Miss Bennet may have a very
fine notion of fingering

but her taste is not equal to Anne's.

How could it be?

Her sisters all out and not
even the eldest married?

It is an aquatic life hat, Elizabeth.

The other part is made
airtight and waterproof

so that in the event
of falling into the water

it will save him by the buoyancy
from being drowned.

Is Mr. Collins liable to fall
into deep water, Charlotte?

Lady Catherine de Bourgh believes he may.

He must plant bulrushes by the lake,

and the lake is very deep
so she recommends the hat.

And Mr. Collins, of course, ordered it.

Charlotte, he will look very strange.

I know.

Mr. Darcy.

Miss Bennet, I apologize
for the intrusion.

I understood Mrs. Collins
would be with you.

Well, she had to go out.

But please, do sit down.

How suddenly you all quitted
Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Bingley and his sisters
were well, I hope,

when you left London?

Perfectly so, I thank you.

I believe Mr. Bingley

has little hope of returning
to Netherfield again?

I imagine he will spend very little
of his time there in future.

He has many friends
and is at a time of life

when friends and engagements
are continually increasing.

If he means to be
but little at Netherfield,

it would be better for the neighbourhood

if he were to give up the place entirely,

for then we might have
some settled family there.

But perhaps Mr. Bingley
did not take on the place

so much as for the convenience
of the neighbourhood as for himself,

and we must expect him to keep
or quit it on the same principle.

I would not be surprised
if he were to give it up.

This seems a very comfortable house.

Yes.

I believe lady Catherine
did a great deal to it

when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.

I'm sure she did.

And I'm sure she could not have bestowed
her kindness on a more grateful object.

Mr. Collins is very fortunate
in his choice of wife.

Yes, indeed.

His friends may well rejoice in him having
met one of the very few sensible women

who would have accepted him
or made him happy if they had.

Charlotte has an excellent
understanding,

although I'm not sure whether I
consider her marrying Mr. Collins

as one of the wisest things
she ever did.

It must be very agreeable
for her to be settled

within so easy a distance
of her own family and friends.

I would not have considered distance

as one of the advantages of a match.

I do not understand Mr. Darcy.

He's constantly meeting me in the
park and constantly calling here.

But when he does he has nothing to say.

My dear Eliza, he must be
in love with you.

In love with me?
That does not seem very likely.

He has difficulty in finding
anything to do,

that's all it amounts to.
- Perhaps.

Colonel Fitzwilliam certainly admires you.

He reminds me of George Wickham.

Except that he is better informed -

and is eligible,
where Mr. Wickham was not.

I like his company.
I feel easy in it, that is all.

- I do not feel easy with Mr. Darcy.

'Tis a plaintive melody,

perhaps you're missing home.
- No.

Not at all.

"So, I am safely home again
and much improved in spirits.

You must not concern yourself
about me anymore.

I can scarcely remember
Mr. Bingley's face,

and I'm sure he has
forgotten mine long ago."

How long are you staying,
colonel Fitzwilliam?

We leave here on Saturday,

that is if Mr. Darcy
does not put it off again.

I am at his disposal.

I do not know anyone
who seems more to enjoy

the power of doing what he likes
than Mr. Darcy.

He likes to have his own way very well.

But then so do we all.

And he's rich, which makes it
easier while others are poor.

- I speak feelingly, I'm a youngest son.
- Youngest son of an Earl?

Now seriously, what have you ever
known of self-denial and dependence?

When has lack of money
ever prevented you

from going where you choose
or procuring what you wish?

Youngest sons cannot
marry where they choose.

Unless they fancy women of fortune,

which I think they very often do.

Our habits of expense make us dependent.

Not many in my rank of life

can afford to marry
without some attention to money.

I wonder Mr. Darcy
does not marry,

for then he would always have
someone at his disposal

and not have to depend on you.

But, perhaps his sister will do
as well for the present.

I suppose he may do
what he likes with her.

No.

That's an advantage
he must share with me.

I'm joined with him
in the guardianship of miss Darcy.

Are you indeed?
Does your charge give you trouble?

If she has the true Darcy spirit,

she may like to give you trouble.

Oh, but you needn't be frightened.

I've never really heard harm of her.

They say she is a great favourite
with the Bingley family.

There's another one Mr. Darcy
likes to have at his disposal -

Mr. Bingley.

You're too censorious, miss Bennet.

Mr. Darcy takes care of Mr. Bingley
in those points where he most wants care.

Mr. Bingley has reason
to be indebted to him.

Only recently Mr. Darcy saved him

from the inconvenience
of a most imprudent marriage.

And did Mr. Darcy give
reasons for his interference?

And what arts did he use to separate them?

There were some very strong
objections against the lady.

As to arts, I only know what he told me.

You are disposed to find
his interference officious?

I do not see what right Mr. Darcy has

to decide on the propriety
of Mr. Bingley's inclination,

or why his judgment should
direct and determine

in what manner Mr. Bingley
was to be happy!

There were some very strong objections
against the lady.

Oh, yes!

One Uncle a country attorney,

and the other in business in London.

That is certainly enough
to condemn my sister Jane,

all loveliness and goodness that she is,

her understanding excellent,
and her manners captivating.

So it was not miss Bingley.

She had not the principle design
and arrangement in their separation.

But Mr. Darcy - his pride, his caprice,

the cause of all that Jane has had
to suffer and will always suffer.

He has ruined every chance of affection

for the most affectionate heart
in the world.

And for what?

Two uncles not sufficiently
grand enough for Mr. Darcy.

Well it cannot be my father,

for he has abilities which even
Mr. Darcy must acknowledge.

Your mother, Elizabeth?

No!

Well, I cannot believe want of senses

is as wounding
to Mr. Darcy's sensibilities

as want of proper connections.

Oh, I have a headache.

Of course you have a headache.

I am not going to Rosings
this afternoon to drink tea -

I am not!

They will all be disappointed.

Charlotte, what are you doing?

I am cleaning the chair leg
with pumice and wax, Elizabeth.

Why can the servants not do it?

Lady Catherine says
I must see to it myself

and then it will be done properly.

And Mr. Collins agrees with her.

I hope Mr. Darcy does
marry Anne de Bourgh,

and has lady Catherine
for a mother-in-law.

Halt!

- You are well?
- Tolerably so.

You did not come to tea,
they said you were indisposed.

In vain have I struggled.
It will not do.

My feelings will not be repressed.

You must allow me to tell you
how ardently I admire and love you.

In spite of all my endeavours
I have found it impossible

to conquer the strength
of my feelings.

The inferiority of your family,

the miserable connection,

the degradation,
the lack of judgment I display,

the harshness of which
I shall rightly be judged

by my own family and connections -

all these count as nothing.

Even the damage, for damage
it must be, to my sister,

the insult to Anne de Bourgh
and her mother

mean nothing to me in the face
of my attachment to you.

I have struggled greatly
and endured great pain,

I hope I will now be rewarded.

Miss Bennet, will you accept
my hand in marriage?

I believe it is
the established custom

for a lady to thank a gentleman for the
sentiments he avows at such a moment,

however little she returns them.

If I could feel gratitude
I would thank you,

but I cannot.

I have never desired your good opinion.

You have certainly bestowed it
most unwillingly.

I am sorry I have
occasioned pain in anyone.

It has been unconsciously done, however,

and I hope will be
of short duration.

I am sure that the feelings
which have prevented

the acknowledgment of your regard for me

will very soon triumph altogether.

And this is the reply which I'm
to have the honour of expecting?

I might perhaps wish
to be informed why

with so little endeavour at civility,
I am thus rejected.

- But it is of small importance.
- I might as well inquire why,

with so evident a design
of offending and insulting me,

you chose to tell me that you
like me against your will,

against your reason,
and even against your character.

Is this not some excuse for incivility,
if I was uncivil?

Could you expect me to rejoice
in the inferiority of relations

whose condition in life is so
decidedly beneath my own?

But I have other provocations.
You know I have.

Had not my own feelings
decided against you -

had they been indifferent,
or had they even been favourable,

do you think that any
consideration would tempt me

to accept the man who has been
the means of ruining, perhaps forever,

the happiness of my most beloved sister?

I have every reason in the world
to think ill of you.

Can you deny the ungenerous part
you acted there?

That you divided them
from each other,

exposing one to the censure of the
world for caprice and instability,

and the other to its derision
for disappointed hopes,

involving them both
in misery of the acutest kind?

- Can you deny you have done it?
- I have no wish of denying

that I did everything in my power
to separate my friend from your sister,

or that I rejoice in my success.

Towards him I have been kinder
than towards myself.

It is not merely on this affair

that my dislike is founded.

Your character was unfolded
months before by Mr. Wickham.

- You take an eager interest in that
gentleman's concerns. - Who could not,

knowing what his misfortunes have been?

You have reduced him to his
present state of poverty.

You have withheld his advantages,

you have deprived him of the best years
of his life, you have done all this!

And this is your opinion of me?

This is the estimation
in which you hold me?

My faults, according to these
calculations, are heavy indeed.

But perhaps these offenses
might have been overlooked

had not your pride been hurt by
honest confession of my scruples.

These bitter accusations
might have been suppressed,

had I, with greater policy,
concealed my struggles.

But disguise of every sort
is my abhorrence.

Nor am I ashamed of the feelings
I related.

They were natural and just.

You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy,

if you suppose the mode of your declaration
affected me in any other way

than that it has spared me the concern
I might have felt in refusing you

had you behaved in a more
gentlemanlike manner.

From the very beginning
of my acquaintance with you,

I was impressed by your arrogance,

your conceit, and your selfish disdain
of the feelings of others.

In fact, I had not known you a month

before I felt you were
the very last man in the world

who I could ever be
prevailed upon to marry.

You have said quite enough, madam.

I perfectly comprehend your feelings,

and have now only to be ashamed
of what my own have been.

Forgive me for having
taken up so much of your time,

and accept my best wishes
for your health and happiness.

He is in love with Elizabeth.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh
will not have that.

His pride,

his abominable pride -

his shameless avowal
of what he has done to Jane -

his unfeeling response
to Mr. Wickham -

he did not even attempt
to deny his cruelty.

But in love with me for so many months?

So much in love as to wish to marry me?

In spite of all those objections

which made him prevent
Mr. Bingley from marrying Jane?

It is incredible!

And quite gratifying.

Miss Bennet.

Mr. Darcy.

Would you do me the honour
of reading this letter?

"Be not alarmed, madam,
lest this letter contain

any repetition of those sentiments

or renewal of those offers

which were last night
so disgusting to you.

It does not.

But those wishes cannot be
too soon forgotten,

and the efforts of writing this letter

and your perusal of it
should have been spared

had not my character
required it to be written and read.

Pardon the freedom with which
I demand your attention.

I demand it of your justice.

Firstly,

my detaching Mr. Bingley from your sister:

I had not been long
in Hertfordshire before I saw,

in common with others,

that Bingley preferred your eldest sister

to any other young woman in the country.

I had no apprehension
of a serious attachment,

I had often seen him in love before.

At the ball of Netherfield,

while I had the honour
of dancing with you,

I was first made acquainted,

by sir William Lucas'
accidental information,

that Bingley's attentions to your sister

had given rise to a general
expectation of their marriage.

I then observed my friend's
behaviour attentively,

and I could then perceive
that his partiality for miss Bennet

was beyond what I had
ever witnessed in him.

Your sister I also watched.

Her look and manners were open,
cheerful, and engaging as ever,

but without any symptom
of particular regard.

Perhaps I was in error.

Your superior knowledge of your
sister must make it probable.

But I shall not scruple to assert

that the serenity of your sister's
countenance and air

was such as might have given
the most acute observer

that however amiable her temper,

her heart was not likely
to be easily touched.

But I did not believe her
indifference because I wished to,

and my objections to the marriage
were not merely those.

And the want of connections
I could have put aside in his case,

as I did in my own only yesterday.

But the situation of your mother's family,

though objectionable,

was nothing in comparison
to the total want of propriety.

I readily pointed out
the certain evils of such a choice,

and I hesitated not in giving him the
assurance of your sister's indifference.

But Bingley has a great
natural modesty

with a stronger dependence
on my judgment than on his own.

To convince him that he deceived himself

as to the depth of your sister's regard
was no very difficult point.

I cannot blame myself
for having done this much."

But he expresses no regret
for what he has done,

none at least that satisfies me.

His style is not penitent but haughty,

it is all pride and insolence.

As to Jane's insensibility to Mr. Bingley,

I know that to be false.

"With respect to that other
more weighty accusation

of having injured Mr. Wickham,

I can only refute it by laying before you

the whole of his connection
with my family.

My father supported George Wickham,
the son of his steward,

at school and at Cambridge.

And intended him for the church.

His vicious propensities -
his want of principle,

were not apparent to my father
as they were to me.

I knew he should not be a clergyman

and after my father's death,
when he expressed a desire to study law,

I assisted him in this matter.

But he presently found law
an unprofitable study,

and entreated me to secure him the living

which by now had gone to another.

His resentment was in proportion
to the distress of his circumstances -

and he was doubtless as violent
in his abuse of me to others

as in his reproaches to myself.

How he lived after this I know not.

Until last summer

he most painfully obtruded
again on my notice.

And I must now mention a circumstance

which I would wish to forget myself.

Having said thus much,
I feel no doubt on your secrecy.

My sister, being then but fifteen,

was pursued to Ramsgate by Mr. Wickham,

and he so far recommended himself
to Georgiana's affectionate heart

that she was persuaded
to believe herself in love,

and to consent to an elopement,

a plan I was fortunate enough
to come upon and prevent.

His object was unquestionably
my sister's fortune -

that, and revenge upon me.

I know not in what manner
Mr. Wickham has imposed upon you,

but ignorant as you previously were,

detection could not be in your power

and suspicion certainly not
in your inclination.

For the truth of everything here related,

I refer you to the testimony
of colonel Fitzwilliam,

who is acquainted with every particular
of these transactions.

I will only add, God bless you.

Fitzwilliam Darcy."

This is villainy indeed

compared to which Mr. Darcy's
is very little.

Is it to be believed?

It is quite true that Mr. Wickham,

though charm itself when I first met him,

was improper in communicating
so much to a stranger

and indelicate in putting himself forward.

And there was an inconsistency
between his professions and his conduct.

And until Mr. Darcy was safely
gone from the neighbourhood,

told no one his story but myself.

And I was blind to it all.

And I excuse Mr. Wickham's
attentions to miss King.

"Where does discretion end
and avarice begin?"

And in truth, they were solely
and hatefully mercenary.

Had I been in love I could have
not been more wretchedly blind.

But vanity, not love, has been my folly.

Until this moment I never knew myself.

I am mortified
by his appraisal of my family.

I am ashamed.

The justice of his charges
cannot be denied.

I remember the ball at Netherfield,

how my mother behaved,
and Kitty, and Lydia, and Mary.

They are hopeless of remedy.

They are ignorant, idle and vain,

and will flirt with any officer
in a red coat.

What would lady Catherine have thought,

if I had been presented,
as I might have been by now,

as her future niece.

What would she have said?

Miss Bennet, you seem out of spirits.

I, too, am out of spirits.

No one feels the loss
of friends so much as I do.

I am particularly attached
to Darcy and Fitzwilliam,

and know them to be attached to me.

They were excessively sorry to go.

I suppose you do not like
to go home again so soon.

You must write to your mother

to beg you may stay a little
longer with the Collinses.

I am obliged to you
for your kind invitation,

but I believe I must be home by Saturday.

That means you will have
been here only six weeks.

I expected you
to stay two months,

I told Mrs. Collins so before you came.

But my father writes to hurry my return.

Daughters are never of so much
consequence to a father.

You will stay another month complete

and I shall take you with me
as far as London,

if the weather should happen to be cool.

You are all kindness, madam.

But I believe we must abide
by our original plan.

You must change horses at Bromley.

If you mention my name at the bell,
you will be well attended to.

Cousin Eliza, it gives me
the greatest pleasure

to hear that you have passed
your time not disagreeably with us.

Of course, from our connection
with Rosings,

we have the frequent means
of varying the humble home scene.

Our situation with regard
to lady Catherine's family

is indeed the sort of
extraordinary advantage

and blessing which few can boast.

You see how continually
we are engaged there.

In truth, I must acknowledge

that with all the disadvantages
of this humble parsonage,

I should not have thought anyone
abiding herein an object of compassion

while they are sharers
of our intimacy at Rosings.

Mr. Collins, I have spent six weeks here

with great enjoyment.

And the kind attention I have received,

must make me feel the obliged.

Jane.

- Well, how was it?
- I will tell you.

Words were insufficient
for a full four weeks

for the elevation
of Mr. Collins' feelings.

Poor Charlotte.

I was daily witness to lady Catherine's
great affection for her.

Daily!

Mr. Darcy proposed marriage to me.

Mr. Darcy?

Jane, I have greatly wronged him.

Mr. Darcy?

Of course I have refused him.

Please, do not mention
the matter to mother.

Lydia, Kitty, Mary,
your sister has arrived!

Well, how do the Collinses live?

Very comfortably, mother.

- Well, I only hope it lasts.
- Lizzy!

Oh! Hello.

Oh, dear, how can you
be smiling so, Lizzy?

Have you not heard?
The regiment has gone to Brighton.

And father is too disagreeable
to take us there.

Perhaps she has heard
the good news.

That Mr. Wickham
is not to marry Mary King.

Jane and Elizabeth have both been away,

- and neither come back married.
- Mary!

Mary.

I'm glad to have you back, Lizzy.

You are not in love
with some pitiful fellow?

No, father.

Then you are welcome home.