The Annotated Pride and Prejudice

by Austen, Jane

  “I did not know before that you ever walked this way.”

  “I have been making the tour of the Park,”5 he replied, “as I generally do every year, and intend to close it with a call at the Parsonage. Are you going much farther?”

  “No, I should have turned in a moment.”

  And accordingly she did turn, and they walked towards the Parsonage together.

  “Do you certainly leave Kent on Saturday?”6 said she.

  “Yes —if Darcy does not put it off again.7 But I am at his disposal. He arranges the business just as he pleases.”

  “And if notable to please himself in the arrangement, he has at least great pleasure in the power of choice. I do not know any body who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr. Darcy.”

  “He likes to have his own way very well,” replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. “But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich,8 and many others are poor.9 I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.”10

  “In my opinion, the younger son of an Earl can know very little of either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring any thing you had a fancy for?”

  “These are home11 questions —and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships ofthat nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.”12

  “Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do.”

  “Our habits of expence make us too dependant,13 and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.”

  “Is this,” thought Elizabeth, “meant for me?” and she coloured14 at the idea;15 but, recovering herself, said in a lively16 tone, “And pray, what is the usual price of an Earl's younger son? Unless the elder brother is very sickly, I suppose you would not ask above fifty thousand pounds.”17

  He answered her in the same style,18 and the subject dropped. To interrupt a silence which might make him fancy her affected with what had passed19 she soon afterwards said,

  “I imagine your cousin brought you down with him chiefly for the sake of having somebody at his disposal. I wonder he does not marry, to secure a lasting convenience ofthat kind. But, perhaps his sister does as well for the present, and, as she is under his sole care, he may do what he likes with her.”

  “No,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “that is an advantage which he must divide with me. I am joined with him in the guardianship of Miss Darcy.”20

  “Are you, indeed? And pray what sort of guardians do you make? Does your charge21 give you much trouble? Young ladies of her age, are sometimes a little difficult to manage, and if she has the true Darcy spirit, she may like to have her own way.”

  As she spoke, she observed him looking at her earnestly, and the manner in which he immediately asked her why she supposed Miss Darcy likely to give them any uneasiness, convinced her that she had somehow or other got pretty near the truth.22 She directly replied,

  “You need not be frightened. I never heard any harm of her; and I dare say she is one of the most tractable creatures in the world. She is a very great favourite with some ladies of my acquaintance, Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley. I think I have heard you say that you know them.”

  “I know them a little. Their brother is a pleasant gentlemanlike man —he is a great friend of Darcy's.”

  “Oh! yes,” said Elizabeth drily —”Mr. Darcy is uncommonly kind to Mr. Bingley, and takes a prodigious23 deal of care of him.”

  “Care of him!—Yes, I really believe Darcy does take care of him in those points where he most wants care. From something that he told me in our journey hither, I have reason to think Bingley very much indebted to him. But I ought to beg his pardon, for I have no right to suppose that Bingley was the person meant. It was all conjecture.”

  “What is it you mean?”

  “It is a circumstance which Darcy of course would not wish to be generally known, because if it were to get round to the lady's family, it would be an unpleasant thing.”

  “You may depend upon my not mentioning it.”24

  “And remember that I have not much reason for supposing it to be Bingley. What he told me was merely this; that he congratulated himself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, but without mentioning names or any other particulars, and I only suspected it to be Bingley from believing him the kind of young man to get into a scrape of that sort,25 and from knowing them to have been together the whole of last summer.”

  “Did Mr. Darcy give you his reasons for this interference?”

  “I understood that there were some very strong objections against the lady.”

  “And what arts26 did he use to separate them?”

  “He did not talk to me of his own arts,” said Fitzwilliam smiling. “He only told me, what I have now told you.”

  Elizabeth made no answer, and walked on, her heart swelling with indignation. After watching her a little, Fitzwilliam asked her why she was so thoughtful.

  “I am thinking of what you have been telling me,” said she. “Your cousin's conduct does not suit my feelings. Why was he to be the judge?”

  “You are rather disposed to call his interference officious?”

  “I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgment alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner that friend was to be happy.” “But,” she continued, recollecting herself,27 “as we know none of the particulars,28 it is not fair to condemn him. It is not to be supposed that there was much affection in the case.”

  “That is not an unnatural surmise,” said Fitzwilliam, “but it is lessening the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly.”29

  This was spoken jestingly, but it appeared to her so just a picture of Mr. Darcy, that she would not trust herself with an answer;30 and, therefore, abruptly changing the conversation, talked on indifferent matters till they reached the parsonage. There, shut into her own room, as soon as their visitor left them, she could think without interruption of all that she had heard. It was not to be supposed that any other people could be meant than those with whom she was connected. There could not exist in the world two men, over whom Mr. Darcy could have such boundless influence. That he had been concerned in the measures taken to separate Mr. Bingley and Jane, she had never doubted; but she had always attributed to Miss Bingley the principal design and arrangement of them. If his own vanity, however, did not mislead him, he was the cause, his pride and caprice were the cause of all that Jane had suffered, and still continued to suffer. He had ruined for a while every hope of happiness for the most affectionate, generous heart in the world; and no one could say how lasting an evil he might have inflicted.

  “There were some very strong objections against the lady,” were Colonel Fitzwilliam's words, and these strong objections probably were, her having one uncle who was a country attorney, and another who was in business in London.

  “To Jane herself,” she exclaimed, “there could be no possibility of objection. All loveliness and goodness as she is! Her understanding31 excellent, her mind32 improved,33 and her manners captivating. Neither could any thing be urged against my father, who, though with some peculiarities, has abilities which Mr. Darcy himself need not disdain, and respectability which he will probably never reach.”34 When she thought of her mother indeed, her confidence gave way a little, but she would not allow that any objections there had material weight with Mr. Darcy, whose pride, she was convinced, would receive a deeper wound from the want of importance35 in his friend's connections,36 than from their want of sense;37 and she was quite decided at last, that he had been partly governed by this worst kind of pride, and partly by the wish of retaining Mr. Bingl
ey for his sister.38

  The agitation and tears which the subject occasioned, brought on a headach; and it grew so much worse towards the evening that, added to her unwillingness to see Mr. Darcy, it determined her not to attend39 her cousins40 to Rosings, where they were engaged to drink tea. Mrs. Collins, seeing that she was really unwell, did not press her to go, and as much as possible prevented her husband from pressing her, but Mr. Collins could not conceal his apprehension of Lady Catherine's being rather displeased by her staying at home.

  1. rencontre: an accidental or unexpected encounter.

  2. Elizabeth perceives that he must be alluding to a possible marriage, for she would only be able to stay at Rosings if married to someone close to Lady Catherine. What is remarkable is that Elizabeth fails to perceive that Darcy might have himself in mind rather than Colonel Fitzwilliam. By now his frequent visits to the parsonage and his repeated accompaniment of her on her walks, supplemented by Charlotte's speculations about Darcy's love, should have combined to suggest at least the possibility of that love. But just as Darcy misreads Elizabeth, her prejudice against him blinds her about his intentions as well as about his character.

  3. pales: stakes forming a fence.

  4. in spirits: in a happy or cheerful mood. Elizabeth's perception at this point of Jane's lack of cheerfulness increases the strength of her reaction to what she is about to be told.

  5. making the tour of the Park: going around the entire Park.

  6. This day, which is when they do go, is just under three weeks after they arrived.

  7. Darcy has presumably been delaying because of his interest in Elizabeth.

  8. A more perceptive analysis of Darcy's character than either of them may realize. His wealth has kept him from having to accommodate others, and this has spoiled him and kept him from learning social virtues.

  9. poor: poor in a relative sense, for Colonel Fitzwilliam seems to be counting himself as poor. There are other cases in Jane Austen's novels where characters are described as poor because they lack what is considered fundamental for a person of the genteel classes (e.g., a number of servants, a personal carriage, a spacious home), not because they truly lack material necessities.

  10. This is because, under the prevailing system of inheritance, most of the family wealth, and usually all the property, went to the eldest son. Younger sons thus had to enter professions such as the Church or the military, as Colonel Fitzwilliam has done, in order to support themselves. They did generally inherit some money (as did the daughters, for whom the money served as a dowry): this money, along with family patronage and connections, helped younger sons advance in their professions, but they still were generally in a worse position than eldest sons.

  11. home: pertinent, appropriate (i.e., ones that strike home).

  12. Because they need brides with money.

  13. dependant: dependent on money.

  14. coloured: changed color, blushed.

  15. The idea is that he is warning her that, due to her lack of fortune, he cannot consider marrying her.

  16. lively: playful, lighthearted.

  17. If the eldest son dies, the next eldest becomes the heir; thus a sickly eldest son would raise the value and marital eligibility of his younger brother.

  18. same style: in the same ironic and joking style Elizabeth has just used.

  19. Meaning that her silence might make him think that his warning about marriage affected her emotionally, something she does not wish.

  20. guardianship of Miss Darcy: having lost her parents, she has been placed under the guardianship of her brother and Colonel Fitzwilliam until she is twenty-one (the normal age of maturity). Her finances and education, as well as any decision to marry, would be under their legal control.

  21. charge: the person under your care or charge.

  22. As we soon find out, Colonel Fitzwilliam has a more serious reason than Elizabeth imagines for his concerned reaction, due to a recent traumatic episode involving Miss Darcy.

  23. prodigious: Elizabeth is being ironic in using such a hyperbolic term, one that was considered colloquial at the time, and that Jane Austen usually puts in the mouth of foolish characters prone to exaggeration.

  24. An ironic promise, since she is a member of the family he wishes to shield from the information.

  25. Bingley has already shown, through his impulsiveness and his susceptibility to others' influence, that he is in fact the sort to get in such scrapes. Colonel Fitzwilliam's words suggest that Bingley has done so before. This characteristic of Bingley's makes Darcy's interference in his affairs more understandable, even if it was mistaken in this instance.

  26. arts: devices, pieces of cunning.

  27. She naturally does not want, through her strong reaction, to reveal to him that she is sister to the lady in question.

  28. particulars: particular facts of the case.

  29. In other words, if little affection existed, separating the two lovers would have been easy, and less honor would go to Darcy for saving his friend.

  30. She would not trust herself to answer calmly, and thereby keep Colonel Fitzwilliam from guessing how much she was concerned in the matter.

  31. understanding: intellect.

  32. mind: inner character.

  33. improved: well cultivated.

  34. Respectability particularly refers to his moral character, which she believes that Darcy, thanks to his supposed misdeeds and maliciousness, will never equal.

  35. importance: social standing or consequence.

  36. connections: relations (referring to the relations he would have if he married Jane, i.e., the Bennets)

  37. Elizabeth turns out to be wrong on this point.

  38. Elizabeth's final point is correct, though Darcy himself will never admit it, even after he reforms.

  39. attend: accompany.

  40. cousins: both the Collinses, since Mrs. Collins is now Elizabeth's cousin by marriage.

  Chapter Eleven1

  When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any revival2 of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering.3 But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that cheerfulness which had been used to characterize her style, and which, proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself, and kindly disposed towards every one, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy's shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict,4 gave her a keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation to think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next, and a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should herself be with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her spirits, by all that affection could do.

  She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent, without remembering that his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear that he had no intentions5 at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.

  While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to enquire particularly after her. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better.6 She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes he came towards her in an agitated manner, and th
us began,

  “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.”7

  Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured,8 doubted, and was silent.9 This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her, immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride.10 His sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation —of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination,11 were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding,12 but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.13

  In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible14 to the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security.15 Such a circumstance could only exasperate farther, and when he ceased, the colour rose into her cheeks, and she said,

  “In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot—I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.”16