“I never heard that it was.”
“And can you likewise declare that there is no foundation for it?”
“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall choose not to answer.”
Lady Catherine looked to be near the point of stamping her feet upon the ground like a petulant child. Her entire body stiffened with her irritation. “This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?”
“Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.” Elizabeth endeavored to keep an even tone, though she knew she was being somewhat insolent. How could she not? Such an unwelcome attack on a subject so freshly wounding to her heart!
“It ought to be so — 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.”
“If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.”
This was not the humble, apologetic answer the lady had been seeking. With each breath her anger became more apparent.
“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.”
“But you are not entitled to know mine, nor will such behavior as this, ever induce me to be explicit.”
“Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?”
“Only this. That, if he is so engaged, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.”
Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment. “The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favorite wish of his mother, as well as myself. While in their cradles, we planned the union. 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?”
“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 honor 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?” She did not mean to say so much, as the event of her marriage to Mr. Darcy may never, in fact, take place, but she had hope. It was a small hope that was sparked to life by the anger radiating from his aunt. Her outrage gave Elizabeth an optimism she had never allowed herself to feel. Not to mention her ladyship’s rudeness and presumption in arriving at all caused a defense to build behind each of Elizabeth’s words.
“Because honor, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, interest! Do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if you willfully 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.”
“These are heavy misfortunes,” replied Elizabeth with just a touch of sarcasm. “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! 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. I will not 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.”
“That will make your ladyship’s situation at present more pitiable, but it will have no effect on me.”
“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, honorable, 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? 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.”
“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.”
“True. You are a gentleman’s daughter. But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition.”
“Whatever my connections may be,” said Elizabeth, “if your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to you.”
“Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?”
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, “I am not.”
Lady Catherine seemed pleased. “And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?”
“I will make no promise of the kind.”
“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.”
“And I certainly never shall give it.” This was more than a person should have to bear. Elizabeth stood, intent on ending forever the distasteful and rude conversation. If her ladyship chose to stay on the bench to await an answer that was not forthcoming, so be it. She would make a miserable fixture to the family property and a curiosity for the neighbors to gawk at. “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.”
When Elizabeth would give a small bow of her head in preparation to leave, Lady Catherine ordered, “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 young man’s marrying her was a patched-up business, at the expense 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?”
“You can now have nothing further to say to me,” she resentfully answered. “You have insulted me by every possible means. I will now return to the house.”
Lady Catherine rose as Elizabeth turned to leave and followed her back. Her ladyship was highly incensed, and would not quit the conversation. “You have no regard, th
en, for the honor 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?”
“Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments.” Elizabeth quickened her pace and had some satisfaction in seeing her ladyship’s effort to keep up.
“You are then resolved to have him?”
“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 you or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”
“It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honor, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world.”
“Neither duty, nor honor, 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 were 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.”
“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.” 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.”
Elizabeth made no answer. Without attempting to persuade her ladyship to return into the house, she walked quietly into it herself. She heard the carriage drive away as she ran 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.
“She did not choose it,” said her daughter, “she would go.”
“She is a very fine-looking woman. 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 daresay, and so, passing through Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth was forced to give in to a little falsehood here for to acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible. Whatever she mumbled must have been sufficient, though she hardly knew what came out of her own mouth. She wanted nothing more than to escape to the privacy of her room. Once there, she threw her parasol and bit her lip in an effort to keep from crying out. Every muscle in her body was tense and she had never felt the urge to hit someone so much in her life.
“How dare she accost me thus!” She whispered to herself, pacing the length of the room. “To insult my family, myself and threaten me with every tool within her power!” Then, suddenly, she stopped as she thought of the subject of meeting. Mr. Darcy. How did the rumors come to be spread of them? Had someone observed a moment passing between them? For Elizabeth had told no one of her feelings. Only Jane knew of the proposal, and a more secure vault than Jane’s discretion did not exist. Had Mr. Darcy himself spoke of it? With his naturally secretive nature, it did not seem likely, and in knowing him she knew that she had no reason to hope that the rumors Lady Catherine had heard were circulated by a creditably informed source. Undoubtedly, it was Mr. Collins who heard such a thing, and had run to Rosings to instantly tell Lady Catherine the news, for he could hardly see a bird fly overhead without feeling the need to describe the event to her ladyship.
“Detestable cousin,” she muttered, thinking of Mr. Collins. “Poor Charlotte, I wonder if you now regret your hasty decision to marry so poor a choice.”
Then, remembering each word of Lady Catherine’s speech, she began to pace anew and did not think to stop for quite some time.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
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 had actually taken the trouble of journeying 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 his being the intimate friend of Bingley, and her being the sister of Jane, was enough to supply the idea at a time when the expectation of one wedding made everybody eager for another.
It had not escaped her hopeful mind that the marriage of her sister must bring them more frequently together. Furthermore, she concluded that her neighbors at Lucas Lodge, through their communication with the Collinses, had instigated the report that reached Lady Catherine, and had set down as almost certain and immediate, which she had looked forward to as possible at some future time.
In revolving Lady Catherine’s expressions, 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. How he 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 she could do; and it was certain that, in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with one, 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 those arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak and ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning.
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 unblemished dignity 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.
“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.”
The assertion was much easier said than felt. In truth, if all hope of Mr. Darcy was taken away from her, she feared her heart may never love again and she would be miserable in her old age, either a burden on her parents and sisters or the unlucky bride to an undesirable man. The thought instantly brought Charlotte to mind and Elizabeth felt she understood her friend’s motivations better than she ever had in the past. Oh, to have such a heartless fate! She never considered herself destined to a life of heartbreak and misery, yet that is what she felt must be her fate if Darcy did not come back to Netherfield and give her the smallest reason to hope.
The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had been, was very great, and they obligingly satisfied it with the same kind of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet’s curiosity. Elizabeth was spared from much teasing on the subject.
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. “Lizzy, I was going to look for you. Come into my room.”
She followed him back into the library. 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.
She followed her father
to the fire place, and they both sat down. He then said, “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.”
The color now rushed into Elizabeth’s cheeks in the instantaneous conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt. 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, “You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters as these, but I think I may defy even your sagacity, to discover the name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins.”
“From Mr. Collins! What can he have to say?”
“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.’ Can you possibly guess, Lizzy, who is meant by this?”
Her father looked at her expectantly. Elizabeth did not answer, merely stared with a feeling of wonder and apprehension at what might come.
At her silence, her father continued, “Listen, my dear and all will be revealed. ‘This young gentleman is blessed, in a peculiar way, with everything 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.’ Have you any idea, Lizzy, who this gentleman is?”
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