All language subtitles for P&P.1980.E03

- 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,
neighborhood...

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 ј10,000,

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 honor
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. beerhave'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 flavor.

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 favored,

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 honors 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 neighborhood

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 neighborhood
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 favorite
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 endeavors
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 honor
of expecting?

I might perhaps wish
to be informed why

with so little
endeavor 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
favorable,

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 honor
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 honor
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 behavior
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 neighborhood,

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.