<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter 56 </h2>
<p>One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been
formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the
dining-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the
sound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up the
lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the
equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses
were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who
preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that
somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid
the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the
shrubbery. They both set off, and the conjectures of the remaining three
continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown open
and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.</p>
<p>They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their astonishment
was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and Kitty,
though she was perfectly unknown to them, even inferior to what Elizabeth
felt.</p>
<p>She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no
other reply to Elizabeth's salutation than a slight inclination of the
head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her name
to her mother on her ladyship's entrance, though no request of
introduction had been made.</p>
<p>Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such
high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting
for a moment in silence, she said very stiffly to Elizabeth,</p>
<p>"I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your mother."</p>
<p>Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was.</p>
<p>"And <i>that</i> I suppose is one of your sisters."</p>
<p>"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to Lady Catherine. "She
is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, and my
eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man who, I
believe, will soon become a part of the family."</p>
<p>"You have a very small park here," returned Lady Catherine after a short
silence.</p>
<p>"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I assure
you it is much larger than Sir William Lucas's."</p>
<p>"This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in summer;
the windows are full west."</p>
<p>Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and then
added:</p>
<p>"May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and
Mrs. Collins well."</p>
<p>"Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last."</p>
<p>Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from
Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no
letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled.</p>
<p>Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some
refreshment; but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely,
declined eating anything; and then, rising up, said to Elizabeth,</p>
<p>"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness
on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you
will favour me with your company."</p>
<p>"Go, my dear," cried her mother, "and show her ladyship about the
different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage."</p>
<p>Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol, attended
her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the hall, Lady
Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and drawing-room, and
pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent looking rooms, walked
on.</p>
<p>Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her
waiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk
that led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for
conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and
disagreeable.</p>
<p>"How could I ever think her like her nephew?" said she, as she looked in
her face.</p>
<p>As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following
manner:—</p>
<p>"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my
journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I
come."</p>
<p>Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment.</p>
<p>"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account
for the honour of seeing you here."</p>
<p>"Miss Bennet," replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to know,
that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere <i>you</i> may
choose to be, you shall not find <i>me</i> so. My character has ever been
celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment
as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming
nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your sister was
on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you, that Miss
Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united to
my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I <i>know</i> it must be a
scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him so much as to suppose
the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off for this
place, that I might make my sentiments known to you."</p>
<p>"If you believed it impossible to be true," said Elizabeth, colouring with
astonishment and disdain, "I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far.
What could your ladyship propose by it?"</p>
<p>"At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted."</p>
<p>"Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family," said Elizabeth
coolly, "will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is
in existence."</p>
<p>"If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been
industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a report
is spread abroad?"</p>
<p>"I never heard that it was."</p>
<p>"And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?"</p>
<p>"I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may
ask questions which I shall not choose to answer."</p>
<p>"This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has
he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?"</p>
<p>"Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible."</p>
<p>"It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason.
But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made
him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You may have
drawn him in."</p>
<p>"If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it."</p>
<p>"Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such
language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world,
and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns."</p>
<p>"But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this,
ever induce me to be explicit."</p>
<p>"Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the
presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is
engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?"</p>
<p>"Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will
make an offer to me."</p>
<p>Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied:</p>
<p>"The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy,
they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of <i>his</i>
mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union:
and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be
accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of
inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the
family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his tacit
engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety
and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest hours he
was destined for his cousin?"</p>
<p>"Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no
other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept
from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de
Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its
completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor
inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice?
And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?"</p>
<p>"Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss
Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or
friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be
censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your
alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any
of us."</p>
<p>"These are heavy misfortunes," replied Elizabeth. "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."</p>
<p>"Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude
for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that score?
Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here with
the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded
from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. I have not
been in the habit of brooking disappointment."</p>
<p>"<i>That</i> will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable;
but it will have no effect on me."</p>
<p>"I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my nephew
are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from
the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable, honourable,
and ancient—though untitled—families. Their fortune on both
sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every
member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The upstart
pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. Is
this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you were sensible of
your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have
been brought up."</p>
<p>"In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that
sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are
equal."</p>
<p>"True. You <i>are</i> a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? Who
are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition."</p>
<p>"Whatever my connections may be," said Elizabeth, "if your nephew does not
object to them, they can be nothing to <i>you</i>."</p>
<p>"Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?"</p>
<p>Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady
Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a
moment's deliberation:</p>
<p>"I am not."</p>
<p>Lady Catherine seemed pleased.</p>
<p>"And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?"</p>
<p>"I will make no promise of the kind."</p>
<p>"Miss Bennet I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more
reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I
will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the assurance
I require."</p>
<p>"And I certainly <i>never</i> shall give it. I am not to be intimidated
into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to
marry your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make
their marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me,
would my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his
cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you
have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as
the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if
you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your
nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell;
but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg,
therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject."</p>
<p>"Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the
objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no
stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous elopement.
I know it all; that the young man's marrying her was a patched-up
business, at the expence of your father and uncles. And is such a girl to
be my nephew's sister? Is her husband, is the son of his late father's
steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!—of what are you
thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?"</p>
<p>"You can now have nothing further to say," she resentfully answered. "You
have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to the
house."</p>
<p>And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned back.
Her ladyship was highly incensed.</p>
<p>"You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew!
Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you
must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?"</p>
<p>"Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments."</p>
<p>"You are then resolved to have him?"</p>
<p>"I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner,
which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference
to <i>you</i>, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me."</p>
<p>"It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the claims
of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in the
opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world."</p>
<p>"Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude," replied Elizabeth, "have any
possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either
would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the
resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former
<i>were</i> excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's
concern—and the world in general would have too much sense to join
in the scorn."</p>
<p>"And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. I
shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition
will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable;
but, depend upon it, I will carry my point."</p>
<p>In this manner Lady Catherine talked on, till they were at the door of the
carriage, when, turning hastily round, she added, "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."</p>
<p>Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her ladyship
to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. She heard the
carriage drive away as she proceeded up stairs. Her mother impatiently met
her at the door of the dressing-room, to ask why Lady Catherine would not
come in again and rest herself.</p>
<p>"She did not choose it," said her daughter, "she would go."</p>
<p>"She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously
civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were well.
She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so, passing through Meryton,
thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had nothing
particular to say to you, Lizzy?"</p>
<p>Elizabeth was forced to give into a little falsehood here; for to
acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter 57 </h2>
<p>The discomposure of spirits which this extraordinary visit threw Elizabeth
into, could not be easily overcome; nor could she, for many hours, learn
to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine, it appeared, had
actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings, for the sole
purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr. Darcy. It was a
rational scheme, to be sure! but from what the report of their engagement
could originate, Elizabeth was at a loss to imagine; till she recollected
that <i>his</i> being the intimate friend of Bingley, and <i>her</i> being
the sister of Jane, was enough, at a time when the expectation of one
wedding made everybody eager for another, to supply the idea. She had not
herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of her sister must bring them
more frequently together. And her neighbours at Lucas Lodge, therefore
(for through their communication with the Collinses, the report, she
concluded, had reached Lady Catherine), had only set that down as almost
certain and immediate, which she had looked forward to as possible at some
future time.</p>
<p>In revolving Lady Catherine's expressions, however, she could not help
feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting
in this interference. From what she had said of her resolution to prevent
their marriage, it occurred to Elizabeth that she must meditate an
application to her nephew; and how <i>he</i> might take a similar
representation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she dared
not pronounce. She knew not the exact degree of his affection for his
aunt, or his dependence on her judgment, but it was natural to suppose
that he thought much higher of her ladyship than <i>she</i> could do; and
it was certain that, in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with <i>one</i>,
whose immediate connections were so unequal to his own, his aunt would
address him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would
probably feel that the arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak and
ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning.</p>
<p>If he had been wavering before as to what he should do, which had often
seemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation might settle
every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignity
unblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Lady
Catherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement to
Bingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way.</p>
<p>"If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his
friend within a few days," she added, "I shall know how to understand it.
I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his constancy. If
he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might have obtained my
affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him at all."</p>
<hr />
<p>The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had
been, was very great; but they obligingly satisfied it, with the same kind
of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and Elizabeth
was spared from much teasing on the subject.</p>
<p>The next morning, as she was going downstairs, she was met by her father,
who came out of his library with a letter in his hand.</p>
<p>"Lizzy," said he, "I was going to look for you; come into my room."</p>
<p>She followed him thither; and her curiosity to know what he had to tell
her was heightened by the supposition of its being in some manner
connected with the letter he held. It suddenly struck her that it might be
from Lady Catherine; and she anticipated with dismay all the consequent
explanations.</p>
<p>She followed her father to the fire place, and they both sat down. He then
said,</p>
<p>"I have received a letter this morning that has astonished me exceedingly.
As it principally concerns yourself, you ought to know its contents. I did
not know before, that I had two daughters on the brink of matrimony. Let
me congratulate you on a very important conquest."</p>
<p>The colour now rushed into Elizabeth's cheeks in the instantaneous
conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt; and
she was undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained himself
at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to herself;
when her father continued:</p>
<p>"You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters
as these; but I think I may defy even <i>your</i> sagacity, to discover
the name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins."</p>
<p>"From Mr. Collins! and what can <i>he</i> have to say?"</p>
<p>"Something very much to the purpose of course. He begins with
congratulations on the approaching nuptials of my eldest daughter, of
which, it seems, he has been told by some of the good-natured, gossiping
Lucases. I shall not sport with your impatience, by reading what he says
on that point. What relates to yourself, is as follows: 'Having thus
offered you the sincere congratulations of Mrs. Collins and myself on this
happy event, let me now add a short hint on the subject of another; of
which we have been advertised by the same authority. Your daughter
Elizabeth, it is presumed, will not long bear the name of Bennet, after
her elder sister has resigned it, and the chosen partner of her fate may
be reasonably looked up to as one of the most illustrious personages in
this land.'</p>
<p>"Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?" 'This young
gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with every thing the heart of
mortal can most desire,—splendid property, noble kindred, and
extensive patronage. Yet in spite of all these temptations, let me warn my
cousin Elizabeth, and yourself, of what evils you may incur by a
precipitate closure with this gentleman's proposals, which, of course, you
will be inclined to take immediate advantage of.'</p>
<p>"Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is? But now it comes out:</p>
<p>"'My motive for cautioning you is as follows. We have reason to imagine
that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, does not look on the match with a
friendly eye.'</p>
<p>"<i>Mr. Darcy</i>, you see, is the man! Now, Lizzy, I think I <i>have</i>
surprised you. Could he, or the Lucases, have pitched on any man within
the circle of our acquaintance, whose name would have given the lie more
effectually to what they related? Mr. Darcy, who never looks at any woman
but to see a blemish, and who probably never looked at you in his life! It
is admirable!"</p>
<p>Elizabeth tried to join in her father's pleasantry, but could only force
one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so
little agreeable to her.</p>
<p>"Are you not diverted?"</p>
<p>"Oh! yes. Pray read on."</p>
<p>"'After mentioning the likelihood of this marriage to her ladyship last
night, she immediately, with her usual condescension, expressed what she
felt on the occasion; when it became apparent, that on the score of some
family objections on the part of my cousin, she would never give her
consent to what she termed so disgraceful a match. I thought it my duty to
give the speediest intelligence of this to my cousin, that she and her
noble admirer may be aware of what they are about, and not run hastily
into a marriage which has not been properly sanctioned.' Mr. Collins
moreover adds, 'I am truly rejoiced that my cousin Lydia's sad business
has been so well hushed up, and am only concerned that their living
together before the marriage took place should be so generally known. I
must not, however, neglect the duties of my station, or refrain from
declaring my amazement at hearing that you received the young couple into
your house as soon as they were married. It was an encouragement of vice;
and had I been the rector of Longbourn, I should very strenuously have
opposed it. You ought certainly to forgive them, as a Christian, but never
to admit them in your sight, or allow their names to be mentioned in your
hearing.' That is his notion of Christian forgiveness! The rest of his
letter is only about his dear Charlotte's situation, and his expectation
of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you look as if you did not enjoy it.
You are not going to be <i>missish</i>, I hope, and pretend to be
affronted at an idle report. For what do we live, but to make sport for
our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?"</p>
<p>"Oh!" cried Elizabeth, "I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange!"</p>
<p>"Yes—<i>that</i> is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any
other man it would have been nothing; but <i>his</i> perfect indifference,
and <i>your</i> pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd! Much as I
abominate writing, I would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for
any consideration. Nay, when I read a letter of his, I cannot help giving
him the preference even over Wickham, much as I value the impudence and
hypocrisy of my son-in-law. And pray, Lizzy, what said Lady Catherine
about this report? Did she call to refuse her consent?"</p>
<p>To this question his daughter replied only with a laugh; and as it had
been asked without the least suspicion, she was not distressed by his
repeating it. Elizabeth had never been more at a loss to make her feelings
appear what they were not. It was necessary to laugh, when she would
rather have cried. Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by what he
said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at
such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing
too little, she might have fancied too much.</p>
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