All language subtitles for P&P.1980.E05

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 ј50.

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 ј1,000,

and allow her
during her life
ј100 per annum-"

I could hardly
believe it!

What man in his senses
would marry Lydia

on so slight
a temptation as ј100
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 ј10,000.

Ј10,000?

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 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 favor,

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 theater,
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 honorable 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 klympton?

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 sermonmaking

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 neighbors
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 northwoods,
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
covies 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.

I'm 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!

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,
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
favorite 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 honor 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, honor,
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.

Ј10,000 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 neighbors,

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.