Pride and Prejudice (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Jane Austen

  “Was there no good in your affectionate behaviour to Jane, while she was ill at Netherfield?”

  “Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may be; and I shall begin directly, by asking you what made you so unwilling to come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you first called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called did you look as if you did not care about me?”

  “Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement.”

  “But I was embarrassed.”

  “And so was I.”

  “You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner.”

  “A man who had felt less might.”

  “How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you would have gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when you would have spoken, if I had not asked you! My resolution of thanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect. Too much I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort springs from a breach of promise, for I ought not to have mentioned the subject? This will never do.”

  “You need not distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady Catherine’s unjustifiable endeavours to separate us were the means of removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present happiness to your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour to wait for an opening of yours. My aunt’s intelligence had given me hope, and I was determined at once to know every thing.”

  “Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, for she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed? or had you intended any more serious consequences?”

  “My real purpose was to see you, and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to myself, was to see whether your sister was still partial to Bingley, and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made.”

  “Shall you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to befall her?”

  “I am more likely to want time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought to be done; and if you will give me a sheet of paper it shall be done directly.”

  “And if I had not a letter to write myself, I might sit by you, and admire the evenness of your writing, as another young lady once did. But I have an aunt, too, who must not be longer neglected.”

  From an unwillingness to confess how much her intimacy with Mr. Darcy had been over-rated, Elizabeth had never yet answered Mrs. Gardiner’s long letter; but now, having that to communicate which she knew would be most welcome, she was almost ashamed to find that her uncle and aunt had already lost three days of happiness, and immediately wrote as follows:—

  “I would have thanked you before, my dear aunt, as I ought to have done, for your long, kind, satisfactory detail of particulars; but, to say the truth, I was too cross to write. You supposed more than really existed. But now suppose as much as you choose; give a loose to your fancy, indulge your imagination in every possible flight which the subject will afford, and unless you believe me actually married, you cannot greatly err. You must write again very soon, and praise him a great deal more than you did in your last. I thank you again and again, for not going to the Lakes. How could I be so silly as to wish it? Your idea of the ponies is delightful. We will go round the park every day. I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but no one with such justice. I am happier even than Jane; she only smiles, I laugh. Mr. Darcy sends you all the love in the world that can be spared from me. You are all to come to Pemberley at Christmas. Yours,” &c.

  Mr. Darcy’s letter to Lady Catherine was in a different style; and still different from either was what Mr. Bennet sent to Mr. Collins, in return for his last.

  “DEAR SIR,

  I must trouble you once more for congratulations. Elizabeth will soon be the wife of Mr. Darcy. Console Lady Catherine as well as you can. But, if I were you, I would stand by the nephew. He has more to give.

  YOURS SINCERELY,” &C.

  Miss Bingley’s congratulations to her brother on his approaching marriage were all that was affectionate and insincere. She wrote even to Jane on the occasion, to express her delight, and repeat all her former professions of regard. Jane was not deceived, but she was affected; and though feeling no reliance on her, could not help writing her a much kinder answer than she knew was deserved.

  The joy which Miss Darcy expressed on receiving similar information was as sincere as her brother’s in sending it. Four sides of paper were insufficient to contain all her delight, and all her earnest desire of being loved by her sister.

  Before any answer could arrive from Mr. Collins, or any congratulations to Elizabeth from his wife, the Longbourn family heard that the Collinses were come themselves to Lucas Lodge. The reason of this sudden removal was soon evident. Lady Catherine had been rendered so exceedingly angry by the contents of her nephew’s letter, that Charlotte, really rejoicing in the match, was anxious to get away till the storm was blown over. At such a moment, the arrival of her friend was a sincere pleasure to Elizabeth, though in the course of their meetings she must sometimes think the pleasure dearly bought, when she saw Mr. Darcy exposed to all the parading and obsequious civility of her husband. He bore it, however, with admirable calmness. He could even listen to Sir William Lucas, when he complimented him on carrying away the brightest jewel of the country, and expressed his hopes of their all meeting frequently at St. James’s, with very decent composure. If he did shrug his shoulders, it was not till Sir William was out of sight.

  Mrs. Philips’s vulgarity was another, and, perhaps, a greater tax on his forbearance; and though Mrs. Philips, as well as her sister, stood in too much awe of him to speak with the familiarity which Bingley’s good humour encouraged, yet, whenever she did speak, she must be vulgar. Nor was her respect for him, though it made her more quiet, at all likely to make her more elegant. Elizabeth did all she could to shield him from the frequent notice of either, and was ever anxious to keep him to herself, and to those of her family with whom he might converse without mortification; and though the uncomfortable feelings arising from all this took from the season of courtship much of its pleasure, it added to the hope of the future; and she looked forward with delight to the time when they should be removed from society so little pleasing to either, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at Pemberley.

  Chapter 19

  Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may be guessed. I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though, perhaps, it was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and invariably silly.

  Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly; his affection for her drew him oftener from home than any thing else could do. He delighted in going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected.

  Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to his easy temper, or her affectionate heart. The darling wish of his sisters was then gratified: he bought an estate in a neighbouring county to Derbyshire; and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other.


  Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a temper as Lydia; and, removed from the influence of Lydia’s example, she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid. From the further disadvantage of Lydia’s society she was of course carefully kept; and though Mrs. Wickham frequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise of balls and young men, her father would never consent to her going.

  Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet’s being quite unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but she could still moralise over every morning visit; and as she was no longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters’ beauty and her own, it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without much reluctance.

  As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters suffered no revolution from the marriage of her sisters. He bore with philosophy the conviction that Elizabeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude and falsehood had before been unknown to her; and, in spite of every thing, was not wholly without hope that Darcy might yet be prevailed on to make his fortune. The congratulatory letter which Elizabeth received from Lydia on her marriage explained to her that, by his wife at least, if not by himself, such a hope was cherished. The letter was to this effect:—

  “MY DEAR LIZZY,

  I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half so well as I do my dear Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so rich; and when you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us. I am sure Wickham would like a place at court very much; and I do not think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without some help. Any place would do of about three or four hundred a year; but, however, do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, if you had rather not.

  YOURS,” &C.

  As it happened that Elizabeth had much rather not, she endeavoured in her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind. Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice of what might be called economy in her own private expenses, she frequently sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to their support; and whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or herself were sure of being applied to for some little assistance towards discharging their bills. Their manner of living, even when the restoration of peace16 dismissed them to a home, was unsettled in the extreme. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap situation, and always spending more than they ought. His affection for her soon sunk into indifference: hers lasted a little longer; and, in spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims to reputation which her marriage had given her.

  Though Darcy could never receive him at Pemberley, yet, for Elizabeth’s sake, he assisted him further in his profession. Lydia was occasionally a visitor there, when her husband was gone to enjoy himself in London or Bath; and with the Bingleys they both of them frequently staid so long, that even Bingley’s good humour was overcome, and he proceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hint to be gone.

  Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy’s marriage; but as she thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she dropt all her resentment; was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility to Elizabeth.

  Pemberley was now Georgiana’s home; and the attachment of the sisters was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each other, even as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion in the world of Elizabeth; though at first she often listened with an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive manner of talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen in her way. By Elizabeth’s instructions she began to comprehend that a woman may take liberties with her husband, which a brother will not always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself.

  Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew; and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character, in her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth’s persuasion, he was prevailed on to overlook the offence, and seek a reconciliation; and, after a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, her resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity to see how his wife conducted herself; and she condescended to wait on them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the visits of her uncle and aunt from the city.

  With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

  THE END.

  Endnotes

  1 (p. 6) four or five thousand a year: See the Introduction on Austen’s attention to money and class.

  2 (p. 8) “When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?”: In the standard edition, R. W. Chapman gives this sentence to Mr. Bennet, arguing that Kitty would already know the date of her sister’s next ball and citing typographical evidence from the first edition of 1813 to support his point (The Novels of Jane Austen; see “For Further Reading”). A reader might, however, expect that Kitty would be more interested in opening a discussion of the ball than would Mr. Bennet. This minor question of attribution points to a characteristic problem that Austen noted in a letter to her sister, Cassandra, when the first edition of Pride and Prejudice was published. Even though Austen assumed that her clever readers would be undaunted by a few obscure lines, she admitted that “a ‘said he,’ or a ‘said she,’ would sometimes make the dialogue more immediately clear” (Jane Austen: Selected Letters 1796-1817, edited by R. W. Chapman, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985, p. 132).

  3 (p. 19) knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty: Mr. William Lucas’s civic office of mayor has allowed him to express his constituents’ appreciation and concerns in a formal address to King George III. In honor of this occasion and of Mr. Lucas’s civic and economic services to his country, the king has bestowed upon Mr. Lucas a knighthood, which allows him to adopt the title “Sir” during his lifetime. He receives this honor during a ceremony at St. James’s Palace in London, one of the King’s formal residences. Mrs. Lucas now becomes Lady Lucas, but the Lucas children will not inherit the title. A member of Austen’s society would recognize that Lady Lucas does not hold the more prestigious inherited rank of Mr. Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine, because the latter may be called by her first name.

  4 (p. 29) entailed . . . on a distant relation: The inheritance of the Bennet property is limited to male heirs. Later in the novel, we learn that Mr. Bennet regrets not having saved part of his disposable income for his wife and daughters. We also learn that the limited resources the Bennet girls will inherit will come from Mrs. Bennet’s marriage portion, which has been invested at a low, but stable, rate of interest. In order to live comfortably, the girls will need to marry well. Among the gentry and aristocracy, the inheritance of an estate (which, in the case of the Bennets, includes the house, grounds, and income-generating farm) was typically governed by the rule of primogenitur entail, through which the eldest son becomes the sole heir to the land and primary heir to most of the financial resources. The intention was to preserve the prestige of the family by having the wealth conc
entrated in the hands of one man. A smaller financial settlement was typically made for younger sons, who would need to be educated to a profession, and for daughters, who would require a dowry for marriage.It was sometimes the case, however, that the “entail” of an estate would be legally restricted in some way. A grandfather might entail his estate to his grandson if he feared his son would squander the wealth at the gambling table. In the case of the Bennets, the entail is in keeping with patriarchal tradition: A male heir should inherit the estate. Women could, however, be primary heirs; the wealthy widow Lady Catherine remarks later in the novel, “I see no occasion for entailing estates from the female line.” Mrs. Bennet will repeatedly decry the unfairness of the entail that will disinherit her daughters, and she refuses to credit its legality.

  5 (p. 45) the food of love: An allusion to the opening line of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night: “If music be the food of love, play on.” Although Austen only occasionally makes direct references to works of literature, and although she once pointed to her ignorance in a diplomatic effort to decline a suggestion that she write a novel about a learned clergyman, her novels show a solid familiarity with the tradition of English letters and the Bible. In several of her works, she indirectly alludes to Shakespeare’s plays, which, as the character Henry Crawford observes in Mansfield Park, are “part of an Englishman’s constitution.”

  6 (p. 65) make us the atonement he thinks our due: To a modern reader, the implication that this “cousin,” earlier described as a “distant relation,” would wish to marry one of the Bennet sisters might seem incestuous. Certainly Lady Catherine’s claim later in the novel that she intends for Mr. Darcy to marry her daughter, who is his first cousin, would seem odd today. In Austen’s time, however, it was not unusual for cousins to marry in order to consolidate the family’s wealth and estate. In Austen’s Mansfield Park, the heroine, Fanny Price, weds her cousin, Edmund Bertram.