Chapter 14
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.
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.
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.
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,—
“I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I
suppose, is your mother?”
Elizabeth replied very concisely that she
was.
“And that, I suppose, is one of your
sisters?”
“Yes, madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak
to a Lady Catherine. “She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest
of all is lately married, and my eldest is somewhere about the
ground, walking with a young man, who, I believe, will soon become
a part of the family.”
“You have a very small park here,” returned Lady
Catherine, after a short silence.
“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.”
“This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for
the evening in summer: the windows are full west.”
Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there
after dinner; and then added,—
“May I take the liberty of asking your Ladyship
whether you left Mr. and Mrs. Collins well?”
“Yes, very well. I saw them the night before
last.”
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.
Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her
Ladyship to take some refreshment: but Lady Catherine very
resolutely, and not very politely, declined eating any thing; and
then, rising up, said to Elizabeth,—
“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.”
“Go, my dear,” cried her mother, “and show her
Ladyship about the different walks. I think she will be pleased
with the hermitage.”
Elizabeth obeyed; and, running into her own room
for her parasol, attended her noble guest down stairs. 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.
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.
“How could I ever think her like her nephew?” said
she, as she looked in her face.
As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine
began in the following manner:—
“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.”
Elizabeth looked with unaffected
astonishment.
“Indeed, you are mistaken, madam; I have not been
at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here.”
“Miss Bennet,” replied her Ladyship, in an angry
tone, “you ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. But,
however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find
me 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 know 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.”
“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?”
“At once to insist upon having such a report
universally contradicted.”
“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.”
“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?”
“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
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 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.”
“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 behaviour 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. No,
never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now, what have
you to say?”
“Only this,—that if he is so, you can have no
reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.”
Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then
replied, —
“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 his 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?”
“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?”
“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 every one 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.
“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; 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.”
“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, 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.”
“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. I am
not to be intimidated into any thing 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.”
“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 expense of
your father and uncle. And is such a girl to be my nephew’s
sister? Is her husband, who 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,”
she resentfully answered. “You have insulted me, in every possible
method. I must beg to return to the house.”
And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose
also, and they turned back. Her Ladyship was highly incensed.
“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 every
body?”
“Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You
know my sentiments.”
“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, honour, 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 honour, nor gratitude,” replied
Elizabeth, “has 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; 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.
“She did not choose it,” said her daughter; “she
would go.”
“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?”
Elizabeth was forced to give into a little
falsehood here; for to acknowledge the substance of their
conversation was impossible.