Pride and Prejudice

Mr. Bennet had always intended to visit Mr. Bingley, though he had repeatedly assured his wife he would not do so. The visit remains unknown to Mrs. Bennet until the evening after it occurs, when he strategically reveals the information to his family in a characteristically teasing manner.

Elizabeth mentions that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce Mr. Bingley to them at the upcoming assemblies. Mrs. Bennet dismisses this promise outright, declaring that she does not believe Mrs. Long will fulfill her word, noting that the woman has two nieces of her own and is both selfish and hypocritical.

Unable to control her irritation, Mrs. Bennet scolds Kitty for her persistent coughing, begging her to have compassion for her nerves. When Kitty asks Elizabeth about the next ball, Mrs. Bennet laments that Mrs. Long will not return until the day before the event, making it impossible for her to introduce Mr. Bingley.

Mr. Bennet facetiously suggests that Mrs. Bennet should take advantage of her friendship with Mrs. Long and introduce Mr. Bingley to her instead. When his wife protests that this is impossible since she does not know him personally, he continues to tease her about the formality of introductions, eventually playfully offering to take the office upon himself.

Continuing his teasing, Mr. Bennet asks Mary for her opinion on the matter of introductions. He then announces to his increasingly curious family that he has already visited Mr. Bingley that morning, expressing mock regret that he had not known sooner about his wife's sudden dislike of their new neighbor. The ladies' astonishment brings Mrs. Bennet great joy as she declares the visit was what she had expected all along.

After the door closes behind Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet warmly declares him an excellent father and expresses gratitude for his efforts. She speaks affectionately to Lydia, predicting that Mr. Bingley will dance with her at the next ball despite her being the youngest daughter. Lydia confidently responds that she is not afraid, boasting that though youngest, she is also the tallest among the sisters.

The remainder of the evening is devoted to the family conjecturing about when Mr. Bingley will return Mr. Bennet's visit and planning when they should invite him to dinner. The chapter concludes with the family anticipating future interactions with their wealthy new neighbor.

After Mr. Bingley returns Mr. Bennet's visit, he spends only ten minutes in the library with Mr. Bennet, failing to meet the young ladies despite having heard of their beauty. The Bennet ladies observe him from an upstairs window, noting his blue coat and black horse. Mrs. Bennet sends a dinner invitation, but Mr. Bingley must decline due to business in London. Lady Lucas suggests he may be traveling to London to assemble guests for a ball, and rumors spread that he will bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen— news that initially disappointes the Bennet girls.

Mrs. Bennet sends a dinner invitation to Mr. Bingley, and she begins planning the menu. However, Mr. Bingley's reply arrives postponing the dinner, as he must travel to London on business. Mrs. Bennet worries he may never settle properly at Netherfield, but Lady Lucas eases her concerns by suggesting he is simply gathering guests for a ball. Reports indicate Mr. Bingley will bring a large party, though this number is later revised downward.

Lady Lucas calms Mrs. Bennet's anxieties by suggesting Mr. Bingley's London trip aims to recruit guests for a ball. Initial reports claim he will bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen, troubling the Bennet girls. They are later relieved to learn he brings only six companions from London— his five sisters and a cousin. The evening of the ball, the Netherfield party arrives at the assembly room, consisting of Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Bingley proves himself agreeable, dancing every dance and expressing desire to host his own ball at Netherfield. His companion Mr. Darcy, though handsome and wealthy with ten thousand a year, alienates the room with his proud demeanor and reluctance to dance or converse with strangers. He declines introductions to any ladies and spends most of the evening in silence, prompting universal disapproval from the assembly guests, particularly Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth Bennet, having sat out two dances due to a shortage of gentlemen, overhears Mr. Bingley urging the reluctant Mr. Darcy to dance. Darcy responds that he finds no woman in the room worth dancing with. When Bingley points out Elizabeth as pretty, Darcy turns to observe her, then coldly declares she is "tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me." Elizabeth retains bitter feelings toward him afterward, though she recounts the story entertainingly among friends.

The Bennet family returns to Longbourn in high spirits. Mrs. Bennet eagerly shares details with Mr. Bennet: Jane was highly admired, danced twice with Mr. Bingley, and distinguished herself among his sisters. Mr. Bennet impatiently interrupts her account of dancing partners. Mrs. Bennet then describes Mr. Darcy's rudeness with bitterness, declaring he is not worth pleasing and expressing relief that Elizabeth did not capture his interest.

After being alone together, Jane—who had previously been measured in her praise—now openly expresses her admiration for Mr. Bingley to Elizabeth. She describes him as "just what a young-man ought to be": sensible, good-humoured, lively, with happy manners and perfect good breeding. Elizabeth teasingly adds that he is also handsome, completing his character. Jane reveals her flattery at being asked to dance with him a second time, but Elizabeth points out that this should come as no surprise given Jane's beauty—"five times as pretty as every other woman in the room." Elizabeth gives her sister permission to like him while noting how different they are: Jane is perpetually surprised by compliments, while Elizabeth never is. Elizabeth gently chides her sister for being "a great deal too apt" to like people in general, observing that Jane never sees faults in anyone and speaks only well of every human being.

Jane states she likes Mr. Bingley's sisters as well, finding them pleasing women once one converses with them. She anticipates that Miss Bingley, who will live with her brother and keep house, will prove to be a charming neighbour. Elizabeth listens in skeptical silence, unconvinced by her sister's assessment. She observes that their behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please, and with her greater observational acuity and less yielding temperament—plus her unselfish judgment—Elizabeth is disinclined to approve of them. She describes them as "very fine ladies" who are not lacking in good humour when pleased or in the power of being agreeable when they choose, but fundamentally proud and conceited. They are rather handsome, educated at a first-rate private seminary in London, possess twenty thousand pounds each, and are accustomed to spending beyond their means while associating with people of rank. Consequently, they consider themselves entitled to think well of themselves and meanly of others. Elizabeth notes that while they remember being from a respectable northern English family, they seem to have forgotten that their brother's fortune and their own came from trade.

Mr. Bingley inherited property worth nearly a hundred thousand pounds from his father, who had intended to purchase an estate but died before accomplishing this. Mr. Bingley himself intended to buy property in the county and sometimes selected his preferred location, but since he now possessed a good house and the freedom of a manor as a tenant, those who best knew his easygoing nature doubted he would ever leave Netherfield. Many believed he might spend the rest of his days there and leave the next generation to make the purchase. His sisters desired him to have his own estate, yet Miss Bingley was quite willing to preside at his table despite his being merely a tenant, as was Mrs. Hurst, who had married a man of more fashion than fortune and treated Netherfield as her home when convenient. Mr. Bingley had been under two years of age when, on an accidental recommendation, he went to view Netherfield House. He examined it for half an hour, was pleased with the situation and principal rooms, found the owner's praise satisfactory, and took it immediately.

Despite their markedly opposite characters, a very steady friendship exists between Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy. Bingley is endeared to Darcy by his easiness, openness, and ductility of temperament, even though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and he never appears dissatisfied with Darcy's nature. Bingley places the firmest reliance on Darcy's regard and holds the highest opinion of his judgment. In understanding, Darcy is the superior—Bingley is far from deficient, but Darcy is clever. Darcy is simultaneously haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and while his manners are well bred, they are not inviting. In this respect, Bingley holds a great advantage: he is certain to be liked wherever he appears, whereas Darcy continually gives offence.

The manner in which the two friends spoke of the Meryton assembly perfectly illustrated their differing characters. Bingley reported meeting the most pleasant people and prettiest girls he had ever encountered; everyone had been kind and attentive, there was no formality or stiffness, and he soon felt acquainted with the entire room. Regarding Miss Bennet, he could not conceive of a more beautiful angel. Darcy, by contrast, had seen only a collection of people with little beauty and no fashion, none of whom interested him and from none of whom he received attention or pleasure. He acknowledged Miss Bennet as pretty but observed she smiled too much. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley agreed she was pretty but continued to admire and like her, declaring her a sweet girl they would not object to knowing better. This commendation from his sisters authorized Bingley to think of her as he wished.

Sir William Lucas, formerly a tradesman in Meryton, gained knighthood during his mayoralty by presenting an address to the king. The distinction made him dissatisfied with both business and small-town life, so he relocated his family to Lucas Lodge, a property about a mile from Meryton. Though elevated in rank, Sir William remains agreeable and civil to everyone, having been further polished by his presentation at court. Lady Lucas is described as a good-natured woman whose lack of intellectual brilliance makes her an ideal neighbour for Mrs. Bennet. The Lucas household includes several children, the eldest being Charlotte, a sensible and intelligent young woman of about twenty-seven who serves as Elizabeth's closest confidante.

The morning after the Netherfield ball, the Lucas sisters visit Longbourn to exchange observations about the previous evening. Charlotte Lucas reports overhearing Mr. Bingley publicly declare Miss Bennet the prettiest woman at the assembly, prompting Mrs. Bennet to optimistic speculation about a potential match. The conversation then turns to Mr. Darcy, whose pride and reserve at the ball have become a subject of speculation. Charlotte recounts Elizabeth's overheard remark about being "only just tolerable," though she attempts to rationalize Darcy's pride by noting his advantages of family, fortune, and personal attractiveness. Elizabeth responds that she could easily forgive his pride if it had not mortified her own. Jane attempts to defend Darcy by noting that Miss Bingley claims he is remarkably agreeable among intimate acquaintances, but her mother dismisses this as mere excuse-making. Mrs. Bennet attributes his coldness to the rumor that he looks down on those who lack carriages. The visit concludes with lighter banter about young Lucas boy's reckless promises regarding foxhunting and wine-drinking.

The visit exchange between Longbourn and Netherfield proceeds formally. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst grow fond of Jane Bennet's pleasing manners, while the younger sisters attract no attention and Mrs. Bennet is deemed intolerable. The brothers' admiration creates warmth toward the two eldest sisters in particular. Elizabeth detects superciliousness in how the Netherfield ladies treat everyone, though the kindness shown to Jane holds value as it likely stems from Bingley's regard for her sister. Elizabeth observes that Bingley clearly admires Jane, and that Jane appears to be yielding to a preference she has held since their first meeting—on her way to being very much in love—though Jane's composure and cheerfulness protect her from impertinent suspicion.

Elizabeth confides in Charlotte Lucas about Jane's carefully guarded affection. Charlotte argues that while concealing attachment may impose on the public, excessive guardedness risks losing the opportunity to secure the object's devotion. She contends that while a slight preference is natural to begin, few have sufficient courage to fall truly in love without encouragement. Charlotte advises that a woman should show more affection than she feels, for Bingley may only ever like Jane if she does not actively help him on. Elizabeth counters that Jane's nature allows her to help him on as much as possible, and that any perceptive man would recognize genuine regard. Charlotte insists Bingley lacks intimate knowledge of Jane's disposition, and their meetings in large parties offer limited opportunity for connection. Elizabeth defends Jane's more restrained approach, noting she cannot yet determine the full depth of her own feelings after only a fortnight of acquaintance. Charlotte ultimately wishes Jane well but suggests happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance, advise that Elizabeth finds unsound.

Mr. Darcy initially scarcely acknowledged Elizabeth as pretty, viewing her without admiration at the Meryton ball and subsequently seeking only to criticize. Yet once he determined she lacked a good feature in her face, he discovered her face rendered uncommonly intelligent by her dark eyes' beautiful expression. Additional mortifying discoveries followed: despite detecting imperfect symmetry in her form, he acknowledged her figure as light and pleasing. Despite her manners not conforming to fashionable standards, he found himself caught by their easy playfulness. To Elizabeth, he remained merely the disagreeable man who had not thought her handsome enough to dance with.

At Sir William Lucas's gathering, Elizabeth notices Darcy listening to her conversation with Colonel Forster. When he approaches without apparent intention to speak, Charlotte goads Elizabeth into addressing him directly. Elizabeth teasingly asks if he found her expression uncommonly energetic while conversing with the Colonel. He confirms her energy but notes the subject invariably makes ladies energetic. During the evening's musical entertainment, Elizabeth performs pleasantly though not excellently, then yields to Mary. Sir William Lucas, seeking to pair Elizabeth with Darcy, suddenly declares her desirable and attempts to present her as a dancing partner. Elizabeth draws back, insisting she has no intention of dancing and did not move toward them to beg for a partner. When Darcy formally requests the honor of her hand, Elizabeth remains determined, and neither his suit nor Sir William's persuasion shakes her purpose. Her resistance enhances his favorable impression of her.

Miss Bingley approaches Darcy, conjecturing his reverie concerns the evening's insipidity. He gently corrects her, revealing his thoughts turned to the pleasure fine eyes in a pretty woman's face can bestow. Bingley's astonishment at learning the lady in question is Elizabeth Bennet prompts her to jest about his imminent marriage and a mother-in-law at Pemberley. Darcy remains perfectly indifferent to her amusement while his composure assures her the situation requires no alarm.

Mr. Bennet's primary asset is an estate yielding two thousand pounds annually, which unfortunately descends through an entail to a distant male relative, leaving his daughters without inheritance. Mrs. Bennet's four thousand pounds inheritance, though substantial for her station, cannot fully compensate for this deficiency. Her father served as an attorney in Meryton, and she maintains connections to his former business through her sister, married to Mr. Philips, who succeeded him as clerk. A brother has established himself in London within a respectable trade. Longbourn's proximity to Meryton—just one mile away—proves convenient for the Bennet daughters, who typically visit their aunt and a nearby milliner's shop several times weekly.

The youngest Bennet sisters, Catherine and Lydia, demonstrate particular enthusiasm for these Meryton excursions, their minds apparently more vacant than their elder sisters' and requiring constant amusement. Their aunt's residence has become a gateway to the most fascinating intelligence regarding a militia regiment recently arrived in the neighborhood, to remain throughout the winter with headquarters at Meryton. The sisters have rapidly progressed from knowing the officers' names and connections to meeting the officers themselves, facilitated by Mr. Philips's introductions. Their conversation has narrowed exclusively to military matters. When Mr. Bennet declares his conviction that they represent "two of the silliest girls in the country," Mrs. Bennet defends them while revealing her own susceptibility to handsome uniforms, expressing hopes that a colonel with five or six thousand annually might eventually desire one of her daughters. Lydia openly admires Captain Carter, discussing his movements with her aunt.

A note arrives from Miss Bingley inviting Jane to dine at Netherfield, warning that she and Louisa risk mutual antagonism if forced to spend an entire day alone together, and noting that the gentlemen will dine with the officers. Mrs. Bennet's strategic maneuvering becomes evident as she insists Jane ride horseback despite promising weather, thereby ensuring she cannot return the same day. When Jane suggests preferring the coach, her mother manufactures a claim about farm requirements, which Mr. Bennet deflates by pointing out the horses are frequently needed there. Elizabeth's sardonic commentary on her mother's scheme goes unheeded; Jane departs on horseback while Mrs. Bennet offers cheerful prognostications of an unfavorable day. The rain Mrs. Bennet anticipated indeed falls, guaranteeing Jane's extended absence from Longbourn.

By morning, a servant delivers word that Jane has fallen ill, attributing her condition to getting wet during yesterday's journey. The Netherfield household insists she remain until recovered and has summoned Mr. Jones, the apothecary. Mr. Bennet's dark humor notes the irony of his daughter risking death in pursuit of Mr. Bingley under her mother's instructions, while Mrs. Bennet dismisses such concerns as unwarranted. Elizabeth, genuinely worried, resolves to visit despite the unavailable carriage and her lack of equestrian skill. Mrs. Bennet protests the indignity of arriving dirty, but Elizabeth insists fitness for seeing Jane matters more than appearance. When Mr. Bennet offers horses, Elizabeth declines, declaring three miles nothing with adequate motivation. Mary cites the importance of proportionate exertion, but Elizabeth accepts her youngest sisters' company as far as Meryton, where Lydia hopes to glimpse Captain Carter before his London departure. Alone, Elizabeth crosses fields and stiles rapidly, arriving muddy and windblown.

Elizabeth appears in the breakfast parlour in attire reflecting her three-mile walk through inclement weather—dirty stockings, weary ankles, and a complexion flushed from exertion. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley regard her arrival with something approaching disbelief and obvious disdain. Mr. Darcy's attention divides between appreciation of her glowing complexion and reservations about the propriety of her traveling alone. Mr. Hurst, characteristically indifferent, focuses entirely on his breakfast. Mr. Bingley alone demonstrates genuine warmth and kindness alongside conventional politeness. Elizabeth perceives their contempt but receives sufficiently courteous treatment from the ladies.

Jane, having slept poorly, remains feverish and confined to her room. Elizabeth immediately joins her, finding Jane withheld from expressing in her earlier note how desperately she had longed for such company. Jane struggles with conversation, repeatedly expressing gratitude for the exceptional kindness she receives. Miss Bingley grants them privacy, and Elizabeth quietly tends her sister. The apothecary's examination confirms a severe cold, requiring bed rest and medication. Elizabeth remains at Jane's side continuously while the ladies visit frequently, the gentlemen being occupied elsewhere. When three o'clock arrives, Elizabeth reluctantly announces her departure, prompting Miss Bingley to offer the carriage. Jane's evident distress at separation convinces Miss Bingley to transform the offer into an invitation for Elizabeth to remain at Netherfield. Elizabeth gratefully accepts, and a servant is dispatched to Longbourn to notify the family and retrieve necessary clothing.

At half-past six, Elizabeth joins the Netherfield party for dinner, and responds to polite inquiries by reporting Jane is no better. Bingley shows far more sincere solicitude for Jane’s condition than the other guests, making Elizabeth favorably disposed to him, while Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and Mr. Hurst give her almost no attention. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst repeatedly feign shock and grief over Jane’s cold before dismissing the matter entirely, restoring Elizabeth’s original dislike of them.

The Bingley sisters shift their mockery to the Bennet family’s low social standing, complaining Jane has no chance of a desirable marriage due to her parents’ vulgar, low-status relations: they note her uncle in Meryton is an attorney, and another uncle lives near Cheapside in London, and laugh heartily at the vulgarity of these connections. Bingley dismisses their snobbery, saying even a dozen Cheapside uncles would not make the Bennets less agreeable, while Darcy agrees their low connections will materially reduce their chances of marrying men of social standing.

Elizabeth spends most of the night in Jane’s room at Netherfield, and sends a satisfactory update to Mr. Bingley via housemaid the next morning, followed by a message from his two sisters. She then requests a note be sent to Longbourn asking her mother to visit Jane and form her own judgment of her illness. Mrs. Bennet immediately complies, arriving at Netherfield soon after the family breakfast accompanied by her two youngest daughters.

While Mrs. Bennet is relieved to see Jane is not in alarming danger, she opposes moving Jane home, as her recovery would separate her from Mr. Bingley at Netherfield. She dismisses both Jane’s request to be moved and the apothecary’s advice that relocation is inadvisable. After a brief visit with Jane, Mrs. Bennet and her three daughters join Miss Bingley and Mr. Bingley in the breakfast parlour. Bingley greets them with polite hopes that Jane is no worse than expected, to which Mrs. Bennet falsely claims she is far too ill to be moved.

Bingley and Miss Bingley assure Mrs. Bennet Jane will receive every possible attention while staying at Netherfield, and Mrs. Bennet heaps profuse thanks on them while praising Jane’s patience, sweet temper, and Netherfield’s beautiful grounds. Bingley jokes that if he ever decides to leave Netherfield, he will depart within five minutes, a comment Elizabeth says she understands perfectly. Bingley teases her for seeing through his character so easily, and Elizabeth replies that intricate, complex characters are not inherently more estimable than straightforward ones like his. The conversation shifts to the study of character, with Darcy claiming country neighbourhoods offer too little variety of people for such a pursuit. Elizabeth counters that people change so much there is always something new to observe, prompting Mrs. Bennet to take offense at Darcy’s slight on country life. She loudly insists there is as much social variety in the country as in town, and continues to praise the country’s pleasures over London, leaving Darcy silently stunned by her rudeness. Elizabeth attempts to smooth over the awkwardness by clarifying Darcy only meant there is less variety of people in the country than in town, but Mrs. Bennet refuses to concede, bragging that their neighbourhood is large enough that they dine with twenty-four families regularly.

To distract her mother from further social missteps, Elizabeth asks if Charlotte Lucas has visited Longbourn since she left. Mrs. Bennet launches into a glowing review of Sir William Lucas, calling him a well-mannered, fashionable man, then criticizes Charlotte for going home instead of staying for dinner, claiming the Bennet daughters are raised to higher domestic standards than the Lucases, though she insists the Lucas girls are good-natured. She goes on to boast that Jane is unmatched in beauty, recalling a gentleman who was so enamoured with Jane at age fifteen that he wrote pretty verses for her before leaving without making an offer. Elizabeth jokes that poetry often drives away love, and Darcy counters that he has always considered poetry the food of love. Elizabeth replies that poetry starves light, weak affection, leaving Darcy to smile silently as Elizabeth worries her mother will continue to embarrass herself.

Mrs. Bennet finishes by thanking the Bingleys again for their kindness to Jane, apologizing for the trouble of also hosting Elizabeth. Miss Bingley performs the required civilities without warmth, but Mrs. Bennet is satisfied and calls for her carriage. Lydia, who has been whispering to Kitty the entire visit, seizes the moment to remind Mr. Bingley of his promise to host a ball at Netherfield when he first arrived in the neighbourhood. Bingley happily agrees to keep his word once Jane has recovered, which satisfies Lydia, who adds that she will insist Colonel Forster’s regiment also host a ball once Bingley’s is held. The Bennet family then departs, and Elizabeth returns immediately to Jane’s side, leaving her own family’s awkward behaviour to the private remarks of Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy, who refuses to join in their criticism of Elizabeth despite Miss Bingley’s jabs at her "fine eyes".

The opening segment of the chapter centers on Miss Bingley’s unrelenting, unheeded flattery of Mr. Darcy as he writes a letter to his sister. She repeatedly praises his handwriting, the evenness of his lines, and the length of his letter, offers to mend his pen (which he declines, noting he always mends his own), and asks him to pass along her delight at his sister’s recent improvement on the harp and her new table design. He agrees to convey her compliments, but asks to defer sharing his own raptures until he has space to do them justice in his next letter. Bingley interjects to tease Darcy about his deliberate, effortful writing style, and Elizabeth observes that Bingley’s casual humility disarms reproof.

Darcy pushes back on the value of humility, arguing that the appearance of humility is often deceitful: it is either a carelessness of others’ opinions or an indirect boast, and uses Bingley’s earlier claim that he could leave Netherfield in five minutes as an example of the latter. Elizabeth objects that Darcy misrepresents Bingley’s good-natured temperament, and the pair debate whether yielding to a friend’s request without being argued into it is a merit or a slight to one’s own understanding. Bingley jokes that Darcy’s imposing height and serious demeanor make him an intimidating opponent in arguments, prompting Elizabeth to laugh until she worries Darcy has taken offense, at which point Miss Bingley scolds Bingley for his nonsense. Darcy finishes his letter only after Elizabeth suggests he do so to end the tedious back-and-forth.

Once Darcy finishes his letter, he asks the group for music. Miss Bingley eagerly takes her place at the pianoforte, and after a polite (but insincere) invitation for Elizabeth to lead, she begins playing. Elizabeth notices Darcy’s eyes are fixed on her repeatedly, and assumes he is silently criticizing her, though she is entirely indifferent to his approval. After Miss Bingley plays a lively Scotch air, Darcy approaches Elizabeth to invite her to dance a reel. Elizabeth teases him, saying she will refuse his invitation to deny him the pleasure of despising her poor taste, and Darcy responds that he does not dare despise her. Elizabeth is surprised by his unexpected gallantry, while Darcy is secretly captivated by her, worrying only that her inferior social connections make a match between them impossible. Miss Bingley grows visibly jealous, and begins trying to provoke Darcy against Elizabeth by mentioning their supposed upcoming marriage.

The next day, while walking in the shrubbery with Darcy, Miss Bingley launches into petty mockery of Elizabeth, listing the "improvements" Elizabeth will need to make after marrying Darcy: teaching her mother-in-law to hold her tongue, curing her younger sisters of chasing officers, and curbing Elizabeth’s own "conceit and impertinence". She also jokes about hanging Elizabeth’s uncle and aunt Philips’ portraits in Pemberley’s gallery next to Darcy’s judge great-uncle, and claims no painter could do justice to Elizabeth’s beautiful eyes. Darcy surprises her by responding that while capturing Elizabeth’s expressive gaze would be difficult, the color, shape, and remarkably fine eyelashes could easily be copied.

Mrs. Hurst and Elizabeth encounter Darcy and Miss Bingley on their walk, and Miss Bingley is flustered, worried the pair overheard her earlier mocking remarks. Mrs. Hurst complains that the pair left without telling the group they were going out, then takes Darcy’s arm, leaving Elizabeth to walk alone on the narrow path. Darcy notes the walk is too narrow for four people, and suggests they move to the wider avenue, but Elizabeth declines, laughing that the three of them are charmingly grouped and adding a fourth would ruin the picturesque. She says her goodbyes and runs off, rejoicing that Jane is well enough to leave her room that evening, meaning they can return to Longbourn in a day or two.

After dinner, Elizabeth checks on Jane to confirm she is kept warm, then accompanies her to the drawing room, where they are warmly greeted by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. The four women get along unusually well during the hour before the gentlemen join them, demonstrating strong conversational skills: they accurately recount events, share humorous anecdotes, and laugh spiritedly at the quirks of their shared acquaintances.

When the gentlemen enter the room, Miss Bingley immediately turns her full attention to Mr. Darcy, speaking to him before he has taken many steps into the space. Darcy, however, goes directly to Jane to offer a polite congratulation on her recent recovery, and Mr. Hurst also gives her a faint, lukewarm greeting. Bingley is effusive with warmth and attention for Jane: he tends the fire to protect her from the chill of the new room, asks her to move closer to the fireplace away from the drafty door, sits beside her, and barely speaks to anyone else for the first half hour. Elizabeth watches this interaction with clear delight from a corner across the room.

After tea, Mr. Hurst suggests a card game, but Miss Bingley rejects the proposal, having learned privately that Mr. Darcy has no interest in playing cards, and insists no one else in the party intends to play. Mr. Hurst gives up on the idea and stretches out on a sofa to sleep. Darcy picks up a book, and Miss Bingley selects the second volume of the exact same book to read alongside him. She constantly asks him questions or glances at his page to try to engage him in conversation, but he only gives short, minimal answers and continues reading without interruption.

Eventually exhausted by her failed attempt to amuse herself with her book, Miss Bingley yawns loudly and declares that reading is the most pleasant way to spend an evening, vowing that she will be miserable if she does not have an excellent library when she owns her own home. When she hears her brother mention a planned ball at Netherfield to Jane, she interjects to argue against the event, claiming a ball would be more of a punishment than a pleasure for some guests. Bingley insists the ball is already a settled plan, and will send out invitations as soon as the household staff has made enough white soup. Miss Bingley complains that balls would be far better if conversation, rather than dancing, was the main focus of the event, but Bingley points out that this would not feel like a real ball at all.

Frustrated that Darcy remains completely focused on his book despite her efforts to walk around the room to show off her elegant figure, Miss Bingley invites Elizabeth to take a walk around the room with her, framing it as a refreshing change from sitting still for so long. When Darcy is invited to join their walk, he declines with a witty remark: he says there are only two possible reasons they would choose to walk together, either they have private secrets to discuss (in which case he would be an unwelcome interruption) or they want to show off their figures to best effect while walking (in which case he can admire them far better from his seat by the fire).

Miss Bingley is appalled by Darcy's blunt remark and begs him to explain what he meant. Elizabeth says she cannot guess his meaning, but assumes he is being critical of the two of them, and the best way to disappoint him is to not ask for an explanation at all. Miss Bingley refuses to let the matter drop and insists Darcy explain his two stated reasons for declining. He lays them out clearly, and Elizabeth teases Miss Bingley, suggesting they can all tease and plague each other in return, noting that Darcy's calm temperament and sharp wit make him nearly impossible to mock effectively. Elizabeth declares she loves to laugh, but only at follies, nonsense, and inconsistencies, not at wise or good people. Darcy counters that he has spent his life working to avoid the kinds of weaknesses that make even the most intelligent people seem ridiculous. Elizabeth jokes that his only real flaw is a tendency to hate everyone, and Darcy retorts that her flaw is a habit of wilfully misunderstanding other people. Miss Bingley, who has had no part in the exchange, finally cuts the conversation off in frustration.

Tired of the conversation in which she has no stake, Miss Bingley asks her sister to play the pianoforte. After a brief moment of reflection, Darcy is glad for the distraction, as he begins to realize that he may be paying Elizabeth more attention than is appropriate, given her lower social status and his own personal reservations.

Agreement to Depart Netherfield and Mother's Refusal of Carriage Elizabeth and Jane agree to leave Netherfield, so Elizabeth writes to her mother that morning requesting the family carriage be sent to collect them that day. Mrs. Bennet had expected her daughters to stay until the end of Jane's week-long visit, so she refuses the request, stating the carriage will not be available until Tuesday, and adds in a postscript that if Mr. Bingley and his sister ask the sisters to stay longer, she would be happy for them to do so. Elizabeth is adamant she will not extend her stay, and does not expect the Bingleys to press them to remain, so she persuades Jane to borrow Mr. Bingley's carriage instead. The sisters decide to inform the Netherfield party that day of their original plan to leave immediately.

Reactions to the Bennet Sisters' Planned Departure When the Netherfield household learns the sisters intend to leave so soon, many express regret and urge them to stay at least until the following day to give Jane more time to recover. Miss Bingley immediately regrets having previously suggested the delay to the sisters' departure, as her jealousy and dislike of Elizabeth far outweighs any affection she holds for Jane.

Bingley's Attempts to Persuade Jane to Stay Longer Mr. Bingley is genuinely distressed to hear the sisters plan to depart so early, and repeatedly tries to convince Jane that she is not well enough recovered to travel safely. Jane remains firm in her decision to leave, as she is confident in her choice to return home.

Darcy's Satisfaction at Their Departure and Resolution to Conceal Admiration Mr. Darcy is pleased to learn the sisters will be leaving Netherfield soon: he finds Elizabeth more attractive than he is comfortable with, and is also frustrated by Miss Bingley's rudeness to Elizabeth and her increased teasing of himself. He resolves to be extremely cautious to avoid showing any sign of his admiration for Elizabeth, to prevent her from developing false hopes of a romantic match between them, knowing his recent behavior would carry significant weight in shaping her opinion of his feelings. He adheres strictly to this resolve, barely speaking to Elizabeth at all on Saturday, and even refuses to look at her when they are accidentally left alone together for half an hour, choosing instead to focus intently on his book.

Departure from Netherfield and Miss Bingley's Sudden Affection On Sunday, after morning church service, the sisters depart Netherfield, to the relief of almost everyone in the household. Miss Bingley's attitude toward the sisters shifts dramatically at the last minute: she becomes very civil to Elizabeth and effusively affectionate to Jane, promising she will always be happy to see either sister at Longbourn or Netherfield, and even shakes Elizabeth's hand when they part. Elizabeth leaves the entire Netherfield party in high spirits.

Mixed Reception Upon Returning to Longbourn The sisters receive an unwelcoming reception from their mother, who is annoyed they returned early, scolds them for causing unnecessary trouble, and insists Jane will catch a cold again from the journey. Their father, though reserved in his expression of pleasure, is genuinely glad to have them back, as the household felt incomplete without them. That evening's family conversation is far less lively and lacks much of its usual sense without Jane and Elizabeth present.

Family Updates from Mary, Catherine, and Lydia Mary is, as usual, absorbed in studying thorough bass and moral philosophy, and has new musical extracts and observations of moral theory to share with her sisters. Catherine and Lydia have very different news to report: a great deal has happened in the local militia regiment since the previous Wednesday, several officers have recently dined with their uncle, a private soldier has been flogged, and there are circulating rumors that Colonel Forster is going to be married.

At breakfast the morning after receiving Mr. Collins’s letter, Mr. Bennet teases his family by announcing he expects an addition to their household party, leading Mrs. Bennet to initially assume the visitor is Mr. Bingley. When he reveals the visitor is a previously unknown male cousin, the family is astonished, and Mr. Bennet explains that the man is Mr. Collins, the heir to the Longbourn estate who will inherit the property upon Mr. Bennet’s death, per the terms of the entail that prevents the Bennet daughters from inheriting. Mrs. Bennet complains bitterly about the unfairness of the entail arrangement, before Mr. Bennet shares that he received Collins’s letter a month prior, answered it two weeks earlier, and will read its full contents to the family.

The full text of Mr. Collins’s letter, dated 15 October from Hunsford, Kent, is shared in full. In the letter, Collins explains that the long-standing rift between his late father and Mr. Bennet has caused him great uneasiness, and now that he has been ordained as a clergyman and granted the valuable rectory of his parish through the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, he is resolved to heal the family breach. He frames his overture as a peacemaking effort consistent with his clerical duties, apologizes for being the unintended beneficiary of the entail that displaces the Bennet daughters, and announces he will visit Longbourn on Monday 18 November at four o’clock, staying until the following Saturday, noting that Lady Catherine approves his temporary absence from his parish duties as long as another clergyman covers his Sunday responsibilities.

After reading the letter, the Bennet family discusses Mr. Collins’s character. Mr. Bennet jokes he has high hopes Collins will prove a valuable acquaintance, particularly if Lady Catherine permits future visits to Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet’s prior ill will toward Collins is largely dispelled by his letter, and she prepares to receive him with a degree of composure that surprises her husband and daughters. Jane is charmed by Collins’s kind intention to make amends to the Bennet daughters, while Elizabeth is struck by his excessive, fawning deference to Lady Catherine and his pompous, self-important tone, leading her to doubt his good sense. Mary notes the letter is well-composed, with the "olive branch" metaphor used effectively. Catherine and Lydia are entirely uninterested in the letter or its author, only hoping their cousin will be fashionable enough to provide entertainment.

Mr. Collins arrives at Longbourn exactly at the four o’clock time he specified, and is received politely by the entire Bennet family. He is described as a tall, heavy-set 25-year-old man with a grave, formal demeanor and stiff manners. Immediately upon being seated, he compliments Mrs. Bennet on her five beautiful daughters, claims he has long heard of their reputed beauty, and says he comes prepared to admire them, hinting he may help them secure suitable marriages in the future, a comment that amuses the younger Bennet sisters. He then proceeds to lavish praise on the Longbourn hall, dining room, and all its furnishings, which alarms Mrs. Bennet as she realizes he is already viewing the property as his own future inheritance. He also asks which of his cousins is responsible for the household’s excellent cooking, offending Mrs. Bennet who insists her daughters have no involvement in kitchen work, leading to a lengthy, awkward apology from Collins.

Mr. Bennet intentionally brings up Lady Catherine de Bourgh to draw out Mr. Collins, who launches into an effusive, solemn praise of his patroness. He details her kindness: approving the two sermons he has preached before her, inviting him to dine at Rosings Park twice, asking him to join her evening quadrille games, treating him with the same respect as other gentlemen of his rank, encouraging him to marry discreetly as soon as possible, and even visiting his humble parsonage to approve his home alterations and suggest adding shelves to the upstairs closets.

Mrs. Bennet responds positively to Mr. Collins' description of Lady Catherine, then asks if she lives nearby. Upon learning Lady Catherine is a widow, she inquires if the woman has any family.

Mr. Collins explains Lady Catherine has one only daughter, Miss de Bourgh, who is the heiress to Rosings Park and a large estate. He claims Lady Catherine has stated Miss de Bourgh is more beautiful than any other woman, as her features clearly mark her as a woman of distinguished birth. He notes Miss de Bourgh has a sickly constitution that has prevented her from mastering many expected accomplishments, though she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends to drive past his parsonage in a small phaeton pulled by ponies.

Mr. Collins recalls the flattering remarks he has made to Lady Catherine about her daughter: he told her Miss de Bourgh's poor health had deprived the British Court of its most brilliant ornament, and he has repeatedly told Lady Catherine her daughter was born to be a duchess, with the highest ranks being adorned by Miss de Bourgh rather than the other way around. He frames these comments as small, appropriate compliments that he is bound to offer to please his patroness.

Mr. Bennet teases Mr. Collins, asking if his flattering remarks are spontaneous or the result of prior planning. Mr. Collins replies they are mostly spontaneous, though he sometimes prepares small elegant compliments for ordinary occasions, always delivering them with an unstudied air. Mr. Bennet is highly amused by his cousin's absurdity, maintaining a composed expression while enjoying the exchange, only occasionally glancing at Elizabeth to share in his pleasure.

After tea, Mr. Bennet invites Mr. Collins to read aloud to the ladies, and a book from a circulating library is produced. Mr. Collins immediately recoils, protests that he never reads novels, to the surprise of Kitty and the open exclamation of Lydia.

Other books are produced, and after some deliberation Mr. Collins selects *Fordyce's Sermons*. He opens the volume and begins reading aloud in a very monotonous, solemn tone, and only makes it through three pages before being interrupted.

Lydia cuts off Mr. Collins' reading to share local gossip with her mother: her aunt Philips told her that her uncle Philips is considering dismissing their servant Richard, and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. She says she plans to walk to Meryton the next day to learn more about the situation and find out when Mr. Denny returns from town.

Lydia's two eldest sisters scold her for her rude interruption. Mr. Collins is offended, sets aside his book, and remarks that he has often noticed young ladies have little interest in serious, instructional books written for their benefit, which he finds amazing. He then says he will no longer impose reading on his young cousin. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologize most civilly for Lydia's behavior and ask Mr. Collins to resume his reading, but he assures them he bears no ill will toward Lydia.

Mr. Collins turns to Mr. Bennet and challenges him to a game of backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepts the challenge, observing that Mr. Collins is acting very wisely by leaving the girls to their own trivial amusements. The two men seat themselves at a separate table to play.

Mr. Collins lacks sensible judgment, a deficiency not helped by his limited education or social experience. He spent most of his life under the guidance of an illiterate and miserly father. Though he attended university, he merely fulfilled the required terms without forming useful connections. His father's subjugation gave him originally great humility, but this has been counteracted by the self-conceit of a weak mind living in retirement, combined with the consequential feelings of unexpected prosperity. A fortunate chance recommended him to Lady Catherine de Bourgh when the Hunsford living became vacant. His respect for her high rank and veneration as his patroness, mingled with a very good opinion of himself and his authority as a clergyman, makes him a mixture of pride and obsequiousness, self-importance and humility.

With a good house and sufficient income, Mr. Collins intends to marry. Seeking reconciliation with the Longbourn family, he plans to choose one of the Bennet daughters, believing them to be handsome and amiable based on common report. He sees this as his plan of amends for inheriting their father's estate, considering it excellent, eligible, suitable, generous, and disinterested on his part. Upon meeting them, Miss Bennet's lovely face confirms his views and establishes his notions of seniority, making her his settled choice for the first evening.

The next morning, Mrs. Bennet has a quarter-hour conversation with Mr. Collins before breakfast. Beginning with his parsonage-house, the conversation naturally leads to his hopes of finding a mistress for it at Longbourn. Amid complaisant smiles and general encouragement, Mrs. Bennet cautions him against Jane, hinting that her eldest daughter is likely to be very soon engaged. Mr. Collins immediately changes his choice from Jane to Elizabeth, who is equally next to Jane in birth and beauty. Mrs. Bennet treasures this hint, hoping soon to have two daughters married, and the man she could not bear the day before is now high in her good graces.

Lydia's intention to walk to Meryton is not forgotten. Every sister except Mary agrees to go with her, and Mr. Collins accompanies them at Mr. Bennen's request, who is most anxious to get rid of him and have his library to himself. Mr. Collins had followed Mr. Bennet to the library after breakfast and continued talking about his house and garden at Hunsford, discomposing Mr. Bennet exceedingly. His civility is most prompt in inviting Mr. Collins to join the walk, and Mr. Collins, much better fitted for walking than reading, is extremely pleased to close his large book. The time passes in his pompous nothings and the cousins' civil assents until they enter Meryton, where the attention of the younger ones is immediately captured by officers on the street.

A young man of most gentlemanlike appearance catches the attention of every lady. Mr. Denny, returning from London, introduces his friend Mr. Wickham, who has accepted a commission in their corps. The young man has all the best parts of beauty—a fine countenance, a good figure, and very pleasing address. His introduction is followed by a happy readiness of conversation that is perfectly correct and unassuming. Kitty and Lydia, determined to find out who he is, lead the way across the street and fortunately meet the gentlemen, allowing Mr. Denny to make the formal introduction. Kitty and Lydia would have continued watching him had he not disappeared, but now only a few officers pass who are become "stupid, disagreeable fellows" by comparison.

As the party stands talking agreeably, Darcy and Bingley are seen riding down the street. They come directly towards the ladies and begin the usual civilities. Bingley is the principal spokesman and Miss Bennet the principal object, as he is on his way to Longbourn to inquire after her. Mr. Darcy corroborates with a bow and begins to determine not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth when they are suddenly arrested by the sight of the stranger. Elizabeth happens to see both men's countenances as they look at each other, and is all astonishment at the effect of the meeting. Both change color—one looks white, the other red. Mr. Wickham touches his hat, a salutation which Mr. Darcy only just deigns to return. Without seeming to notice what passed, Bingley takes leave and rides on with his friend.

Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham walk with the young ladies to the door of Mr. Philips's house before making their bows, despite Lydia's pressing entreaties and Mrs. Philips's loudly seconding the invitation from the parlor window. Mrs. Philips is always glad to see her nieces, and the two eldest are particularly welcome after their recent absence. She expresses surprise at their sudden return home, which she learned about from Mr. Jones's shopboy, who told her they were not to send any more draughts to Netherfield. When Jane introduces Mr. Collins, she receives him with her very best politeness, which he returns with even more, apologizing for his intrusion. Mrs. Philips is quite awed by such good breeding, but her contemplation is interrupted by exclamations about the other stranger. She has been watching Mr. Wickham for the last hour and promises that Mr. Philips will call on him with an invitation to dine the next evening, when the family from Longbourn will come for a game of lottery tickets and hot supper.

As they walk home, Elizabeth relates to Jane what she witnessed between the two gentlemen—the changed countenances and the barely acknowledged salutation. Though Jane would have defended either or both had they appeared wrong, she can no more explain such behavior than her sister. The mysterious interaction between Darcy and Wickham remains unexplained, creating intrigue and curiosity about what could be the meaning of it.

On his return, Mr. Collins highly gratifies Mrs. Bennet by admiring Mrs. Philips's manners and politeness. He protests that, except for Lady Catherine and her daughter, he has never seen a more elegant woman, for she not only received him with the utmost civility but even pointedly included him in her invitation for the next evening, although utterly unknown to her before. He supposes something might be attributed to his connection with them, yet he has never met with so much attention in the whole course of his life.

Mr. Collins and his five cousins travel by coach to Meryton to visit their aunt, Mrs. Philips. The girls welcome the evening's entertainment after days of their cousin's company.

Upon entering the drawing-room, the party learns that Mr. Wickham has arrived and is already in the house, much to their pleasure.

Mr. Collins examines the room's size and furniture, comparing it favorably to the summer breakfast parlour at Rosings. Mrs. Philips becomes impressed only when she learns who Lady Catherine de Bourgh is and hears of the eight-hundred-pound chimney-piece. Collins continues describing Rosings while Mrs. Philips eagerly gathers material to share with her neighbors.

The officers from the militia enter the room. Mr. Wickham's appearance surpasses all others in person, countenance, and bearing, drawing every female eye toward him as he enters.

Wickham selects Elizabeth as his companion and immediately engages her in pleasant conversation. Mr. Collins fades into insignificance beside the officers' charm, though Mrs. Philips remains his attentive audience.

Card tables are arranged for whist. Mr. Collins eagerly joins, declaring his willingness to improve despite knowing little of the game. Wickham sits with Elizabeth and Lydia, though Lydia soon becomes absorbed in lottery tickets and betting.

Wickham initiates discussion of Mr. Darcy, revealing his childhood connection to the Darcy family through his godfather, the late Mr. Darcy. He mentions his original intention to enter the church and describes their shared upbringing in Pemberley's neighborhood. Elizabeth learns of Wickham's disappointment and asks about Miss Darcy, who he describes as proud but handsome and accomplished.

Wickham explains how Mr. Darcy denied him a valuable church living bequeathed by his godfather. Despite a verbal promise, Darcy found technical grounds to withhold the position, giving it to another man. Wickham attributes this treatment to Darcy's jealousy of their father's preference for him and describes the younger Darcy's character as driven by pride.

Wickham reveals his intended profession was the church and he was educated for it. The late Mr. Darcy promised to provide for him, but the present Mr. Darcy interpreted the bequest loosely and gave the living elsewhere. Elizabeth expresses shock at such dishonesty and declares it worthy of public disgrace, though Wickham refuses to expose his former friend's family.

Wickham describes Miss Darcy as resembling her brother in pride, though she was once affectionate and fond of him as a child. Now fifteen or sixteen, she is handsome and accomplished, living in London under a guardian's care. Elizabeth learns of the connection between Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the Darcy family, discovering that Miss de Bourgh is likely destined to marry her cousin.

After cards conclude, the party enjoys supper and Wickham's graceful manners win everyone's approval. On the journey home, Elizabeth contemplates Wickham's revelations while Lydia chatters about lottery winnings and losses. Mr. Collins fills the silence with accounts of the evening's civility and supper dishes, never pausing as the carriage arrives at Longbourn.

Elizabeth shares with Jane the details of her conversation with Mr. Wickham regarding his grievances against Mr. Darcy. Jane receives this information with astonishment and concern, uncertain how to reconcile Wickham's account with her conception of Darcy's character. The sisters are interrupted in the shrubbery by the arrival of the very people they have been discussing.

Jane struggles to believe that Mr. Darcy could behave so unjustly toward his father's favorite, while also finding it difficult to doubt the veracity of Wickham's "amiable appearance." She suggests that both men may have been deceived by "interested people" who have misrepresented each to the other, urging Elizabeth to think well of both and attribute any wrongdoing to accident or mistake. Elizabeth challenges her sister's defense, but Jane maintains that Darcy's treatment of Wickham would place him in a "disgraceful light" that seems impossible for any man of common humanity to deserve.

Mr. Bingley arrives with his sisters to deliver a personal invitation to the ball at Netherfield, scheduled for the following Tuesday. Caroline and Louisa delight in seeing Jane again, calling it an age since their separation, but they deliberately avoid Mrs. Bennet and pay little attention to the rest of the family. Elizabeth receives minimal attention from them, and the other Bennet sisters are ignored entirely. The visit is brief, as the party departs with unusual haste, seemingly eager to escape Mrs. Bennet's civilities.

The entire female household looks forward to the ball with great pleasure. Mrs. Bennet interprets the invitation as a personal compliment to Jane, especially pleased that Bingley delivered it himself rather than sending a formal card. Jane anticipates enjoying the company of her friends and her brother's attentions. Elizabeth looks forward to dancing extensively with Mr. Wickham and observing Darcy's behavior. The younger sisters, Kitty and Lydia, simply relish the prospect of any ball and any dancing partner. Even Mary declares she has no aversion to the occasion, framing her attendance as a reasonable claim of society.

When Elizabeth asks Mr. Collins whether he intends to accept Bingley's invitation and participate in the evening's festivities, she is surprised to find he has no objections. Collins declares that a ball given by a respectable young man to worthy people cannot have any evil tendency, and he expresses his intention to dance with all his fair cousins throughout the evening.

Mr. Collins takes the opportunity to solicit Elizabeth specifically for the first two dances, expressing hope that his cousin Jane will attribute this preference to the right cause rather than any disrespect toward her. Elizabeth feels completely "taken in," as she had fully intended to reserve those dances for Mr. Wickham. She must accept Collins's request despite her disappointment, handling the situation with as much grace as possible.

The proposal makes Elizabeth first realize that Collins may be considering her as a suitable wife for the Hunsford Parsonage, potentially to assist with forming quadrille tables at Rosings in Lady Catherine's absence. She observes his increasing civilities and frequent compliments on her wit and vivacity, though she is more astonished than flattered. Mrs. Bennet soon makes clear that she finds the match highly desirable, but Elizabeth chooses to ignore this hint, knowing any response would spark a serious dispute with her mother.

From the day of the invitation until the ball, continuous rain prevents the younger Miss Bennets from walking to Meryton to seek news, visit their aunt, or see the officers. Even Elizabeth finds the weather a trial, as it suspends her opportunity to improve her acquaintance with Wickham. Only the promise of dancing on Tuesday makes the rainy days bearable for Kitty and Lydia, highlighting their restless anticipation.

Mr. Collins resolves to propose to Elizabeth without delay, as his leave from Hunsford extends only to the following Saturday. Unlike a nervous suitor, he approaches the matter "in a very orderly manner, with all the observances which he supposed a regular part of the business." His confidence stems from having "no feelings of diffidence"—a revealing phrase that exposes his self-satisfaction and complete lack of self-awareness regarding his own ridiculousness.

Soon after breakfast, Mr. Collins finds Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and Kitty together. He addresses Mrs. Bennet with formal ceremony, asking "for the honour of a private audience" with Elizabeth. The stilted language and elaborate courtesy anticipate his subsequent pomposity, establishing immediately that this will be no ordinary proposal but rather a performance complete with stage directions and expected protocols.

Mrs. Bennet instantly grants permission, declaring that "Lizzy will be very happy" without consulting her daughter. She begins leaving with Kitty until Elizabeth pleads with her to stay and hear what Mr. Collins has to say. When Elizabeth attempts to escape, Mrs. Bennet "insists" on her staying—an "injunction" Elizabeth must obey. Elizabeth resigns herself to getting "it over as soon and as quietly as possible," recognizing the wisdom of ending the matter quickly despite her distress and the diverting absurdity of the situation.

With the room cleared, Mr. Collins begins his proposal with characteristic self-congratulation. He informs Elizabeth that her "modesty" adds to her "perfections" and assures her that he has her mother's permission for the address. He notes that his "attentions have been marked" and claims to have "singled her out" as his future companion almost immediately upon entering the house. The speech sets up his subsequent detailed explanation of his "reasons for marrying," treating the proposal as a logical argument to be completed rather than an emotional declaration.

Mr. Collins presents three reasons for seeking marriage. First, as a clergyman "in easy circumstances," he considers it his duty to "set the example of matrimony in his parish." Second, marriage will "add very greatly to my happiness." Third—and presented as though it should carry the most weight—he has the "particular advice and recommendation of the very noble lady" Lady Catherine de Bourgh, his patroness. This last motive reveals how completely Mr. Collins bases his decisions on social authority and aristocratic approval rather than personal feeling or genuine connection.

Mr. Collins quotes Lady Catherine's exact words from the previous Saturday evening at Hunsford, when she told him at a card party: "Mr. Collins, you must marry. A clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake, and for your own; let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a small income go a good way." He adds that Lady Catherine promised to "visit" whoever he chooses, presenting this potential future relationship with Elizabeth as an advantage to be valued.

Mr. Collins explains why he has "directed" his views toward Longbourn rather than "his own neighbourhood," where he assures Elizabeth "there are many amiable young women." The actual explanation—that he is to inherit the estate after Mr. Bennet's death—reveals his mercenary calculations disguised as altruism. He presents choosing a wife from among the Bennet daughters as a selfless act designed to minimize their loss when he takes their home from them.

Mr. Collins clarifies that he will inherit the Longbourn estate "after the death of your honoured father," though he magnanimously adds that "Mr. Bennet may live many years longer." The phrasing reveals his self-satisfaction at having found what he considers a solution that benefits everyone: he gets a wife, and the Bennet daughters supposedly suffer less loss. He flatters himself that this motive "will not sink me in your esteem," entirely missing the offensive nature of his explanation.

Mr. Collins declares himself "perfectly indifferent" to fortune, announcing he "shall make no demand of that nature" on Mr. Bennet. He acknowledges Elizabeth's small portion (one thousand pounds in the Four Percent stock, which won't be hers until after her mother's death) but insists this limitation will not prevent him from accepting her hand. He promises "no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips" after marriage—another statement revealing his assumption that such reproaches would otherwise be justified.

Mr. Collins announces he is about to express "the violence of my affection" in the "most animated language." Before he can continue, Elizabeth feels compelled to interrupt—"it was absolutely necessary"—to prevent his further effusion. The contrast between Mr. Collins's theatrical declaration and Elizabeth's practical interruption establishes the fundamental mismatch between them.

Elizabeth stops Mr. Collins, telling him he is "too hasty" and has "forgotten" she has made no answer. She thanks him for the "compliment" of his proposals but declares it "impossible" for her to accept. Her refusal is clear and direct, though she remains courteous. She recognizes the absurdity of his self-congratulatory monologue and determines to end it efficiently.

Mr. Collins responds with surprising confidence, declaring that it is "usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept." He has apparently decided that Elizabeth's refusal follows the expected pattern and will be followed by acceptance. He states he is "by no means discouraged" and "shall hope to lead you to the altar ere long." His misinterpretation of her clear rejection as conventional coyness reveals his complete inability to read social situations accurately.

Elizabeth responds with "some warmth," calling his hope "extraordinary" after her declaration. She insists she is "not one of those young ladies" who risk their happiness on a second proposal. She states plainly that he "could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so." When Mr. Collins mentions Lady Catherine again, Elizabeth suggests Lady Catherine would find her "ill qualified" for the situation. Mr. Collins, still oblivious, claims Lady Catherine would approve of her.

Mr. Collins declares his intention to speak to Elizabeth again on the subject and hopes for a more favorable answer. He claims he "cannot imagine" Lady Catherine disapproving and promises to speak of her "modesty, economy, and other amiable qualifications." He then pivots to suggesting Elizabeth's refusal may be motivated by a desire to "increase my love by suspense, according to the usual practice of elegant females"—a complete misreading of Elizabeth's character and intentions.

Elizabeth attempts to leave, stating she has "no pretensions" to the kind of "elegance" that consists in "tormenting a respectable man." She begs "the compliment of being believed sincere" and declares her feelings "forbid" acceptance in every respect. Mr. Collins, impossibly, calls her "uniformly charming" and predicts her parents' "express authority" will make his proposals acceptable. Elizabeth makes no reply but withdraws in silence, resolving to apply to her father if Mr. Collins persists. His negative, she knows, will be "decisive" and cannot be "mistaken for the affectation and coquetry of an elegant female"—a final rebuke to his misinterpretations.

Mr. Collins was not left long to the silent contemplation of his successful love; for Mrs. Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule to watch for the end of the conference, no sooner saw Elizabeth open the door and with quick step pass her towards the staircase, than she entered the breakfast-room, and congratulated both him and herself in warm terms on the happy prospect of their nearer connection. Mr. Collins received and returned these felicitations with equal pleasure, and then proceeded to relate the particulars of their interview, with the result of which he trusted he had every reason to be satisfied, since the refusal which his cousin had steadfastly given him would naturally flow from her bashful modesty and the genuine delicacy of her character. This information, however, startled Mrs. Bennet: she would have been glad to be equally satisfied that her daughter had meant to encourage him by protesting against his proposals, but she dared not believe it, and could not help saying so.

"But depend upon it, Mr. Collins," she added, "that Lizzy shall be brought to reason. I will speak to her about it myself directly. She is a very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest; but I will make her know it." "Pardon me for interrupting you, madam," cried Mr. Collins; "but if she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If, therefore, she actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accepting me, because, if liable to such defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity." "Sir, you quite misunderstand me," said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. "Lizzy is only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure." She would not give him time to reply, but hurrying instantly to her husband.

She called out, as she entered the library, "Oh, Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar. You must come and make Lizzy marry Mr. Collins, for she vows she will not have him; and if you do not make haste he will change his mind and not have her." Mr. Bennet raised his eyes from his book as she entered, and fixed them on her face with a calm unconcern, which was not in the least altered by her communication. "I have not the pleasure of understanding you," said he, when she had finished her speech. "Of what are you talking?" "Of Mr. Collins and Lizzy. Lizzy declares she will not have Mr. Collins, and Mr. Collins begins to say that he will not have Lizzy." "And what am I to do on the occasion? It seems a hopeless business." "Speak to Lizzy about it yourself. Tell her that you insist upon her marrying him." "Let her be called down. She shall hear my opinion." Elizabeth was summoned to the library. "Come here, child," cried her father. "I understand that Mr. Collins has made you an offer of marriage. Is it true?" Elizabeth replied that it was. "Very well—and this offer of marriage you have refused?" "I have, sir." "Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?" "Yes, or I will never see her again." "An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do." Elizabeth could not but smile at such a conclusion of such a beginning.

Not yet, however, in spite of her disappointment in her husband, did Mrs. Bennet give up the point. She talked to Elizabeth again and again; coaxed and threatened her by turns. She endeavouroured to secure Jane in her interest, but Jane, with all possible mildness, declined interfering; and Elizabeth, sometimes with real earnestness, and sometimes with playful gaiety, replied to her attacks. Though her manner varied, however, her determination never did. Mr. Collins, meanwhile, was meditating in solitude on what had passed. He thought too well of himself to comprehend on what motive his cousin could refuse him; and though his pride was hurt, he suffered in no other way. His regard for her was quite imaginary; and the possibility of her deserving her mother's reproach prevented his feeling any regret.

While the family were in this confusion, Charlotte Lucas came to spend the day with them. She was met in the vestibule by Lydia, who, flying to her, cried in a half whisper, "I am glad you are come, for there is such fun here! What do you think has happened this morning? Mr. Collins has made an offer to Lizzy, and she will not have him." Charlotte had hardly time to answer before they were joined by Kitty, who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of her family.

"Pray do, my dear Miss Lucas," she added, in a melancholy tone; "for nobody is on my side, nobody takes part with me; I am cruelly used, nobody feels for my poor nerves." "Aunt, there she comes," continued Mrs. Bennet, "looking as unconcerned as may be, and caring no more for us than if we were at York, provided she can have her own way. But I tell you what, Miss Lizzy, if you take it into your head to go on refusing every offer of marriage in this way, you will never get a husband at all—and I am sure I do not know who is to maintain you when your father is dead. I shall not be able to keep you—and so I warn you. I have done with you from this very day. I told you in the library, you know, that I should never speak to you again, and you will find me as good as my word. I have no pleasure in talking to undutiful children. Not that I have much pleasure, indeed, in talking to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied." Her daughters listened in silence to this effusion, sensible that any attempt to reason with or soothe her would only increase the irritation.

She talked on without interruption till they were joined by Mr. Collins, who entered with an air more stately than usual. "Now, I do insist upon it, that you, all of you, hold your tongues, and let Mr. Collins and me have a little conversation together." Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte, detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending not to hear. In a doleful voice Mrs. Bennet thus began the projected conversation: "Oh, Mr. Collins!" "My dear madam," replied he, "let us be for ever silent on this point. Far be it from me," he presently continued, in a voice that marked his displeasure, "to resent the behaviour of your daughter. Resignation to inevitable evils is the duty of us all: the peculiar duty of a young man who has been so fortunate as I have been, in early preferment; and, I trust, I am resigned. Perhaps not the less so from feeling a doubt of my positive happiness had my fair cousin honoured me with her hand; for I have often observed, that resignation is never so perfect as when the blessing denied begins to lose somewhat of its value in our estimation. You will not, I hope, consider me as showing any disrespect to your family, my dear madam, by thus withdrawing my pretensions to your daughter's favour, without having paid yourself and Mr. Bennet the compliment of requesting you to interpose your authority in my behalf. My conduct may, I fear, be objectionable in having accepted my dismissal from your daughter's lips instead of your own; but we are all liable to error. I have certainly meant well through the whole affair. My object has been to secure an amiable companion for myself, with due consideration for the advantage of all your family; and if my manner has been at all reprehensible, I here beg leave to apologize."

Collins's Stiffness After Rejection** Mr. Collins's feelings following Elizabeth's rejection are expressed not through embarrassment or dejection, nor by avoiding her, but through stiffness of manner and resentful silence. He scarcely speaks to her at all. His attentions, which he had previously directed toward Elizabeth, shift for the remainder of the day to Miss Lucas, whose willingness to listen provides relief to everyone, particularly to her friend Elizabeth.

Mrs. Bennet's Continued Displeasure** The morning after Elizabeth's refusal brings no improvement in Mrs. Bennet's ill humour or her health. Mr. Collins remains in the same state of angry pride. Elizabeth had hoped his resentment might cause him to shorten his visit, but his plans appear entirely unaffected; he had always intended to leave on Saturday, and Saturday remains his departure date.

Meeting Mr. Wickham in Meryton** After breakfast, Elizabeth and Jane walk to Meryton to inquire about Mr. Wickham and lament his absence from the Netherfield ball. He joins them upon their arrival and accompanies them to their aunt's house, where expressions of regret and concern are freely exchanged. Wickham voluntarily reveals to Elizabeth that his absence was self-imposed, having determined it best not to meet Mr. Darcy, as being in the same room for extended periods might prove unbearable and lead to unpleasant scenes. He walks back with them to Longbourn, where his visit provides the opportunity to introduce him to Elizabeth's parents.

Jane Receives Bingley's Letter** Shortly after their return, Jane receives a letter from Netherfield addressed to Miss Bennet. The envelope contains elegant, hot-pressed paper covered in a lady's flowing hand. Elizabeth observes her sister's countenance change as she reads, with Jane dwelling intently on particular passages. Recovering herself, Jane puts the letter away and attempts to join the general conversation with her usual cheerfulness, though Elizabeth's attention is drawn away from even Wickham by her anxiety regarding her sister.

The Netherfield Party Departs** Jane reveals to Elizabeth that the letter is from Caroline Bingley and that the entire party has already left Netherfield for London with no intention of returning. Caroline's letter informs Jane that they have resolved to follow Charles to town directly and will dine that day in Grosvenor Street, where Mr. Hurst has a house. Caroline writes that she pretends to regret only leaving Jane's society, expressing hope for future correspondence and delightful intercourse between them. Elizabeth, however, listens to these protestations with distrust and sees nothing in their departure to lament, for she does not believe Bingley's absence from Netherfield will prevent his returning there.

Caroline Bingley's Designs** Caroline's letter reveals that she considers the engagement between Mr. Bingley and Georgiana Darcy as virtually settled. She writes that Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister, that Georgiana's beauty and accomplishments have no equal, and that the sisters have heightened affection for her due to the hope of her becoming their sister-in-law. She mentions that her brother already admires Georgiana greatly, has frequent opportunity to see her intimately, and that all of Georgiana's relations wish for the connection as much as Charles does. Jane interprets this as evidence that her brother will not return to Hertfordshire this winter, though Elizabeth maintains it only shows what Miss Bingley wishes to happen, not what will actually occur.

Elizabeth Counsels Jane** Elizabeth immediately offers her interpretation: Miss Bingley sees her brother is in love with Jane and wants him to marry Miss Darcy instead. She follows him to town hoping to keep him there and attempts to persuade Jane of his indifference. Elizabeth argues that no one who has observed them together can doubt his affection, and that Caroline herself surely knows it, for she would have ordered her wedding clothes had she ever received such attention from Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth explains that the Binglees do not consider the Bennets grand enough, and Caroline is especially anxious to secure Miss Darcy because once one intermarriage has occurred, a second becomes easier to achieve. Jane shakes her head, insisting Caroline is incapable of wilfully deceiving anyone and may herself be deceived. Elizabeth accepts this viewpoint as the kindest interpretation. When Jane questions whether she could be happy marrying a man whose sisters wish him elsewhere, Elizabeth responds that Jane must decide for herself, though she clearly believes Jane's choice is already made. Elizabeth treats with contempt the idea that Bingley might not return, maintaining that no words from Caroline, however openly or artfully spoken, could influence a young man so independent. Elizabeth represents the situation as forcibly as possible, and gradually leads Jane to hope—though diffidence sometimes overcomes it—that Bingley will return to Netherfield and answer every wish of her heart.

Mrs. Bennet's Consolation** The sisters agree to tell Mrs. Bennet only that the Netherfield party has departed, without alarming her about the gentleman's conduct. This partial communication nonetheless causes her great concern, and she lamentations that the ladies are leaving just as they were all becoming so intimate together. After considerable bewailing of this unlucky circumstance, she finds consolation in the belief that Mr. Bingley will soon return and dine at Longbourn. Her response to this setback is to declare that although he was invited only to a family dinner, she will ensure there are two full courses.

Charlotte Lucas deliberately sets out to capture Mr. Collins's attention during the Bennets' dinner with the Lucases, allowing Elizabeth to thank her for keeping him occupied. However, Charlotte's kindness extends far beyond what Elizabeth imagines. Her actual scheme is to secure Mr. Collins for herself, thereby protecting Elizabeth from his renewed addresses. Charlotte's plan appears successful, and she would feel almost certain of success were it not for Mr. Collins's imminent departure from Hertfordshire.

The next morning, Mr. Collins escapes from Longbourn House with "admirable slyness" and hastens to Lucas Lodge to propose. He is anxious to avoid his cousins noticing his departure, unwilling for the attempt to be known until success is confirmed. Although diffident after the Wednesday adventure, he receives a flattering reception. Charlotte meets him "accidentally" in the lane after spotting him from an upper window. In remarkably short order—despite Mr. Collins's characteristic long speeches—everything is settled between them. Charlotte accepts him solely from "the pure and disinterested desire of an establishment," caring nothing for how soon it is gained.

Sir William and Lady Lucas grant their consent with "most joyful alacrity." Mr. Collins's current circumstances make him an exceptionally eligible match for their daughter who has little fortune, and his prospects of future wealth are exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas begins calculating how many years longer Mr. Bennet might live, while Sir William opines that when Mr. Collins inherits Longbourn, both he and his wife should appear at St. James's. The younger Lucas girls hope to come out sooner, and the boys are relieved Charlotte will not die an old maid. Charlotte herself feels all the good luck of securing a husband at twenty-seven without ever being handsome.

At the leave-taking ceremony, Mrs. Bennet cordially invites Mr. Collins to return whenever his engagements allow. He replies that this invitation is "particularly gratifying" and that he will avail himself of it as soon as possible, much to everyone's astonishment. Mr. Bennet immediately cautions him about Lady Catherine's potential disapproval and suggests he stay home rather than risk offending his patroness. Mr. Collins assures his uncle that he will not take "so material a step" without her Ladyship's concurrence. The family is equally surprised to learn he meditates such a quick return, with Mrs. Bennet hoping he might pay addresses to one of her younger daughters.

The following morning, Charlotte calls on Elizabeth and privately relates the events of the previous day. Charlotte has commanded a steady countenance, though she shows momentary confusion when Elizabeth cries out in disbelief, "Engaged to Mr. Collins! my dear Charlotte, impossible!" Charlotte calmly asks why Elizabeth should be so surprised, pointing out that Mr. Collins is capable of procuring a woman's good opinion despite failing with Elizabeth. Elizabeth assures Charlotte that the prospect of their relationship is "highly grateful" and wishes her happiness, though the conversation becomes awkward before they rejoin the family.

Elizabeth struggles to reconcile herself to the unsuitable match. While she once considered the possibility that Mr. Collins might fancy himself in love with her friend, she never imagined Charlotte could encourage him. The strangeness of Mr. Collins making two marriage proposals within three days pales in comparison to his being accepted. Elizabeth understands Charlotte's opinion of matrimony differs from her own, but she cannot suppose Charlotte would sacrifice every better feeling to worldly advantage. To Elizabeth, "Charlotte, the wife of Mr. Collins, was a most humiliating picture." Beyond the pain of a friend's "disgracing herself," Elizabeth is convinced it is impossible for Charlotte to be tolerably happy in the lot she has chosen.

Sir William Lucas arrives at Longbourn personally to announce Charlotte's engagement to Mr. Collins, delivering his news with elaborate compliments and self-congratulation on the advantageous connection between the families. His audience receives the announcement with incredulity rather than mere surprise. Lydia openly declares him mistaken, insisting Mr. Collins intends to marry Elizabeth instead. Despite their rudeness, Sir William demonstrates excellent breeding by tolerating their impertinence with forbearing courtesy, merely insisting on the truth of his information.

Mrs. Bennet protests with more perseverance than politeness that Sir William must be entirely mistaken about the engagement. After his departure, her feelings erupt in rapid succession: she persists in disbelieving the entire matter, insists Mr. Collins has been taken in, declares they will never be happy together, and hopes the match will be broken off. She concludes that Elizabeth is the real cause of all the mischief and that she herself has been barbarously used by everyone. Her resentment lasts far beyond that day—a week passes before she can see Elizabeth without scolding, a month before she can speak to Sir William or Lady Lucas without rudeness, and many months before she can forgive their daughter.

Elizabeth feels it incumbent upon her to relieve Sir William from the unpleasant situation by confirming his account. She mentions her prior knowledge of the engagement from Charlotte herself and endeavors to quiet her mother and sisters' exclamations. She joins Sir William in offering earnest congratulations, noting the happiness to be expected from the match, Mr. Collins's excellent character, and the convenient proximity of Hunsford to London. Her efforts to manage the situation demonstrate both her social grace and her resignation to Charlotte's choice.

Mr. Bennet's emotions prove much more tranquil than his wife's, and those he does experience he pronounces most agreeable. He finds satisfaction in discovering that Charlotte Lucas, whom he had considered tolerably sensible, is as foolish as his wife and even more foolish than his daughter. His dry wit transforms what disturbs others into material for his characteristic ironic amusement.

Jane confesses herself a little surprised at the match but expresses less astonishment than earnest desire for Charlotte and Mr. Collins's happiness. Unlike her mother, she cannot be persuaded to consider the engagement improbable, maintaining her characteristic belief in the best of people. Her equanimity stands in marked contrast to the rest of the family's reactions.

Kitty and Lydia feel far from envying Miss Lucas, since Mr. Collins is only a clergyman with no particular attractions or status to recommend him. The engagement affects them in no meaningful way beyond providing fresh news to spread through Meryton, demonstrating their superficial engagement with family matters of genuine importance.

Lady Lucas proves not insensible of her triumph in being able to retort Mrs. Bennet's comfort at having a daughter well married. She visits Longbourn rather oftener than usual to express her happiness, though Mrs. Bennet's sour looks and ill-natured remarks might have been enough to drive happiness away. Her visits represent a victory lap that deepens Mrs. Bennet's resentment.

A restraint develops between Elizabeth and Charlotte that keeps them mutually silent on the subject of the engagement. Elizabeth becomes persuaded that no real confidence can ever subsist between them again. Her disappointment in Charlotte's choice makes her turn with fonder regard toward Jane, whose rectitude and delicacy she trusts absolutely. This moment marks a significant shift in Elizabeth's closest relationship.

Elizabeth's confidence in Jane's goodness makes her increasingly anxious for her sister's happiness, especially as Bingley has now been gone a week with no word of his return. Rumors circulate in Meryton that Bingley will not return to Netherfield at all that winter—news that highly incenses Mrs. Bennet, who never fails to contradict it as scandalous falsehood. Elizabeth begins to fear not that Bingley is indifferent, but that his sisters will succeed in keeping him away, noting that their united efforts, combined with Miss Darcy's attractions and London's amusements, might prove too much for his attachment.

The promised letter of thanks from Mr. Collins arrives on Tuesday, addressed to Mr. Bennet and written with all the solemnity gratitude from his year-long residence might prompt. He announces his happiness at obtaining Miss Lucas's affection and explains his eagerness to return to Longbourn on Monday fortnight. He adds that Lady Catherine heartily approves the marriage and wishes it to take place as soon as possible, trusting this will convince Charlotte to name an early wedding date. The letter reveals his characteristically fawning deference to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

Mr. Collins returns most punctually on the Monday fortnight, but his reception at Longbourn proves notably less gracious than his first visit. He is too happy to require much attention, and fortunately for the family, his love-making relieves them from much of his company. He spends most of each day at Lucas Lodge and sometimes returns to Longbourn only to apologize for his absence before the family retires for bed.

Mrs. Bennet exists in a most pitiable state throughout this period. The mere mention of the engagement throws her into agony, and wherever she goes she hears it discussed. The sight of Miss Lucas becomes odious to her—she regards Charlotte with jealous abhorrence as her successor in the house. She concludes that whenever Charlotte speaks softly to Mr. Collins, they are plotting to take possession of the Longbourn estate and turn herself and her daughters out upon Mr. Bennet's death.

Mrs. Bennet's complaints to her husband reveal her obsessive focus on the entail. She declares it very hard that Charlotte Lucas should ever be mistress of the house, that she should be forced to make way for Charlotte, and that Collins should inherit the estate rather than anyone else. Mr. Bennet responds with characteristic dry wit, suggesting she flatter herself that he may be the survivor, then declining to engage with her complaints about the entail beyond suggesting she determine the matter herself.

Hope was over, entirely over; and when Jane could attend to the rest of the letter, she found little, except the professed affection of the writer, that could give her any comfort. Miss Darcy's praise occupied the chief of it. Her many attractions were again dwelt on; and Caroline boasted joyfully of their increasing intimacy, and ventured to predict the accomplishment of the wishes which had been unfolded in her former letter. She wrote also with great pleasure of her brother's being an inmate of Mr. Darcy's house, and mentioned with raptures some plans of the latter with regard to new furniture.

A day or two passed before Jane had courage to speak of her feelings to Elizabeth; but at last, on Mrs. Bennet's leaving them together, after a longer irritation than usual about Netherfield and its master, she could not help saying,-- "O that my dear mother had more command over herself! she can have no idea of the pain she gives me by her continual reflections on him. But I will not repine. It cannot last long. He will be forgot, and we shall all be as we were before." Jane colouring declared that Bingley may live in her memory as the most amiable man of her acquaintance but that is all. She had nothing either to hope or fear, and nothing to reproach him with. She declared the comfort that it has not been more than an error of fancy on her side, and that it has done no harm to anyone but herself.

Elizabeth heard the news in silent indignation. Her heart was divided between concern for her sister and resentment against all others. She paid no credit to Caroline's assertion of her brother's being partial to Miss Darcy. That he was really fond of Jane, she doubted no more than she had ever done; and much as she had always been disposed to like him, she could not think without anger, hardly without contempt, on that easiness of temper, that want of proper resolution, which now made him the slave of his designing friends, and led him to sacrifice his own happiness to the caprice of their inclinations. Elizabeth exclaimed to Jane, "You are too good. Your sweetness and disinterestedness are really angelic."

Jane and Elizabeth discussed Bingley's conduct. Elizabeth far from attributing any part of Mr. Bingley's conduct to design maintained that without scheming to do wrong, there may be error and there may be misery. Thoughtlessness, want of attention to other people's feelings, and want of resolution, will do the business. Elizabeth persisted in supposing his sisters influenced him, in conjunction with his friend. Jane could not believe it, maintaining that if he is attached to her no other woman can secure his happiness. Jane believed the sisters wished him to choose Miss Darcy from better feelings, having known her much longer. However, Elizabeth argued they may wish his increase of wealth and consequence. Jane begged Elizabeth not to pain her by thinking that person to blame.

Elizabeth declared her belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense. She cited two instances, one she would not mention, but the other is Charlotte's marriage. She found it unaccountable in every view. Jane entreated Elizabeth not to give way to such feelings, reminding her to make allowance for difference of situation and temper. Elizabeth refused to defend Charlotte Lucas, declaring Mr. Collins a conceited, pompous, narrow-minded, silly man, and that the woman who marries him cannot have a proper way of thinking. She would not change the meaning of principle and integrity, nor persuade herself that selfishness is prudence.

The sisters discussed whether Caroline and Mrs. Hurst influenced Bingley. Elizabeth believed his sisters and Mr. Darcy worked together to separate him from Jane. Jane argued that no sister would think herself at liberty to oppose her brother's attachment unless there were something very objectionable. Elizabeth could not oppose Jane's wish to take it in the best light, and from this time Mr. Bingley's name was scarcely ever mentioned between them.

Mrs. Bennet still continued to wonder and repine at Bingley returning no more. Though Elizabeth often accounted for it clearly, there seemed little chance of her ever considering it with less perplexity. Jane endeavored to convince her mother that his attentions had been merely the effect of a common and transient liking, which ceased when he saw her no more; but though the probability was admitted at the time, Mrs. Bennet had the same story to repeat every day. Her best comfort was that Mr. Bingley must be down again in the summer.

Mr. Bennet treated the matter differently, teasingly congratulating Elizabeth on Jane being crossed in love. He suggested that next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then, and offered Wickham as a suitable officer for Elizabeth. Elizabeth politely declined, saying a less agreeable man would satisfy her. Mr. Bennet noted that whatever may befall her, she has an affectionate mother who will always make the most of it.

Mr. Wickham's society was of material service in dispelling the gloom which the late perverse occurrences had thrown on many of the Longbourn family. They saw him often, and his other recommendations were now added to that of general unreserve. The whole of what Elizabeth had already heard, his claims on Mr. Darcy, and all that he had suffered from him, was now openly acknowledged and publicly canvassed. Everybody was pleased to think how much they had always disliked Mr. Darcy before they had known anything of the matter.

Miss Bennet was the only creature who could suppose there might be any extenuating circumstances in the case unknown to the society of Hertfordshire. Her mild and steady candour always pleaded for allowances, and urged the possibility of mistakes; but by everybody else Mr. Darcy was condemned as the worst of men.

After a week of professions of love and schemes of felicity, Mr. Collins is called away by the arrival of Saturday. He takes his leave of the Bennet family at Longbourn with solemnity, wishing his fair cousins health and happiness, and promising Mr. Bennet another letter of thanks. He hopes that upon his next return to Hertfordshire, the wedding day will be fixed.

On the following Monday, Mrs. Bennet's brother Mr. Gardiner and his wife arrive to spend Christmas at Longbourn as usual. Mr. Gardiner is described as a sensible, gentlemanlike man, greatly superior to his sister by nature and education. Mrs. Gardiner, several years younger than Mrs. Bennet, is an amiable, intelligent, elegant woman and a great favorite with her nieces, especially Jane and Elizabeth.

Mrs. Gardiner's first task upon arrival is distributing presents and describing the newest fashions. She then listens as Mrs. Bennet vents her many grievances, complaining that her two daughters nearly married but nothing came of it. She blames Elizabeth for refusing Mr. Collins, noting that Lady Lucas will have a married daughter before her, and that Longbourn remains as entailed as ever.

Alone with Elizabeth, Mrs. Gardiner discusses the missed match with Bingley. Elizabeth describes his evident attentions to Jane—how he was inattentive to others, wholly engrossed by her, and offended young ladies at his ball by not asking them to dance. Mrs. Gardiner suggests Jane might benefit from a change of scene in London.

Mrs. Gardiner proposes taking Jane to London, and Elizabeth is pleased by the suggestion. They discuss how unlikely it is for Jane and Bingley to meet, given that Bingley is under Mr. Darcy's influence and would not visit in such a part of town.

Despite Elizabeth's certainty that Bingley and Jane will not meet, she secretly feels some hope that his affection might be rekindled. Jane accepts her aunt's invitation with pleasure, only hoping she might occasionally visit Caroline Bingley without danger of seeing Mr. Bingley.

The Gardiners stay a week at Longbourn, with engagements every day involving the Philipses, Lucases, and officers. Mrs. Bennet arranges so much entertainment that they never once sit down to a family dinner at home. Mr. Wickham is always present at these gatherings.

Mrs. Gardiner, suspicious of Elizabeth's warm commendation of Wickham, closely observes their interactions. She notes that while they do not appear seriously in love, their preference for each other is evident enough to make her uneasy. She resolves to speak with Elizabeth about the imprudence of encouraging such an attachment.

Mrs. Gardiner and Wickham share many acquaintances in Derbyshire, as she spent considerable time there before her marriage. Wickham provides fresher intelligence about Pemberley and the Darcy family. Comparing her recollection of Pemberley with Wickham's detailed description, Mrs. Gardiner delights in their shared subject of discourse.

Mrs. Gardiner knew the late Mr. Darcy by character and had seen Pemberley. Upon learning of the present Mr. Darcy's poor treatment of Wickham, she tries to recall the current Mr. Darcy's disposition as a youth and confidently remembers hearing Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy spoken of as a very proud, ill-natured boy.

Mrs. Gardiner takes Elizabeth aside to give her honest advice about Mr. Wickham. She acknowledges Wickham as an interesting young man but cautions that his lack of fortune makes any romantic attachment imprudent. She reminds Elizabeth of her sensible nature and appeals to her father's trust in her judgment, warning her not to let her fancy run away with her.

Elizabeth listens to her aunt's concerns and promises to be careful, though she admits she cannot fully promise to resist temptation if Wickham becomes truly attached to her. She acknowledges the imprudence of such a match but questions how she could know whether resistance would be wiser. Elizabeth finally agrees not to be in a hurry and to use her best judgment, reassuring her aunt that she will try to discourage Wickham's frequent visits.

Mr. Collins returns to Hertfordshire shortly after the Gardiners and Jane depart for London. Since he takes up residence with the Lucases rather than at the Bennets', his arrival causes little inconvenience to Mrs. Bennet. The wedding is approaching, and Mrs. Bennet has become resigned to the match, though she speaks of it in an ill-natured tone.

On the day before the wedding, Miss Lucas pays her farewell visit to Elizabeth. Overcome with shame at her mother's ungracious behavior, Elizabeth accompanies Charlotte downstairs. Charlotte asks Elizabeth to write often and to visit her at Hunsford in Kent, where she hopes Elizabeth will join her father and Maria in March.

The wedding takes place as planned, with the bride and groom departing immediately for Kent. Society has as much to say about the match as usual, and the event passes without remarkable incident.

Elizabeth and Charlotte exchange letters regularly after the wedding, though the correspondence lacks the former unreserved intimacy. Elizabeth feels the comfort of their closeness has ended. Charlotte's letters describe her new home cheerfully, praising the house, furniture, neighborhood, and Lady Catherine's friendly behavior—essentially presenting Mr. Collins's idealized picture of Hunsford and Rosings.

Jane writes from London to announce her safe arrival and later to describe her attempts to contact Caroline Bingley. After a week without hearing from Caroline, Jane accounts for the silence by assuming her last letter was lost. She plans to visit Grosvenor Street but finds Caroline Bingley in low spirits and receives only a formal apology for the lack of notice. Jane learns that Mr. Bingley is rarely home, constantly occupied with Mr. Darcy, and that Miss Darcy is expected for dinner.

When Miss Bingley finally returns Jane's visit, her demeanor has changed dramatically. She shows no pleasure in seeing Jane, offers only a slight apology for her delay, says nothing about wanting to meet again, and departs quickly to go out with Mrs. Hurst. Jane realizes she can no longer deceive herself about Miss Bingley's true feelings.

In a heartfelt letter to Elizabeth, Jane admits she was entirely deceived in Miss Bingley's regard for her. While acknowledging Elizabeth's correct judgment, Jane maintains that her initial trust was natural given Miss Bingley's former behavior. She recognizes that Miss Bingley was wrong to cultivate the friendship so deliberately and that her current coldness stems from anxiety about her brother. Jane decides to end the acquaintance but pities Caroline, understanding that the Bingleys must know of Jane's presence in town yet have deliberately avoided contact.

Mrs. Gardiner asks Elizabeth about her promise regarding Wickham, and Elizabeth reports that his apparent partiality has subsided entirely. He is now rendering himself agreeable to Miss King, a young lady whose inheritance of ten thousand pounds makes her an attractive match. Elizabeth notes that Kitty and Lydia are more upset by this development than she is.

Elizabeth reflects on her own feelings and concludes she has never been truly in love. If she had experienced that pure and elevating passion, she would now detest Wickham's very name. Instead, she feels cordial and even impartial toward both Wickham and Miss King, acknowledging that her heart was only slightly touched. She finds comfort in knowing she would have been his choice if fortune had permitted, though she recognizes that his pursuit of Miss King's money is natural and perhaps wise for both parties.

The winter months bring little variation to Longbourn life. Daily walks to Meryton provide the only change in routine, sometimes muddy, sometimes cold. Elizabeth passes the time in familiar domestic quiet before her upcoming journey.

Charlotte Lucas depends on Elizabeth's visit to Hunsford, and Elizabeth gradually comes to anticipate it with genuine pleasure. Her earlier reluctance toward Mr. Collins has diminished, and she welcomes novelty away from her uncompanionable sisters and demanding mother. The journey details are finalized: she will travel with Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria, with an improvement added—a night in London along the way.

The visit brings genuine pain in separating from her father, who would miss her and initially resisted her going. At the final moment, he asks her to write to him and nearly promises to reply.

Elizabeth parts from Wickham on perfectly friendly terms. He remembers her as the first to show him attention and compassion, and his farewell carries sincere regard. She remains convinced he will always remain her model of amiability, regardless of his matrimonial choices.

Sir William Lucas and his daughter Maria prove uncompanionable traveling partners—well-meaning but empty-headed, with nothing worthwhile to say. Elizabeth has long known Sir William's absurdities and finds no novelty in his repeated stories of his knighthood presentation.

The journey covers twenty-four miles to London. Upon arrival at Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth finds Jane watching from a window. A warm welcome awaits, with the Gardiner children eager but shy after a year's separation. The day passes pleasantly in shopping and an evening at the theatre.

Elizabeth learns from Mrs. Gardiner that Jane, though maintaining a brave face, has experienced periods of dejection since Bingley's departure. Mrs. Gardiner also reports Miss Bingley's visit and conversations proving Jane has wholeheartedly given up the acquaintance with the Bingleys.

Mrs. Gardiner teases Elizabeth about Wickham's abandonment and his new pursuit of Miss King, who has inherited ten thousand pounds. Elizabeth defends Wickham, pointing out the inconsistency in condemning him for pursuing a fortune when his previous caution about her own lack of funds was called imprudent. The debate about mercenary motives versus prudent choices concludes with Elizabeth's weary dismissal of young men from Derbyshire and Hertfordshire, expressing relief at escaping to Hunsford.

The chapter ends with a delightful surprise: Mrs. Gardiner offers Elizabeth an invitation to join them on a summer tour, potentially to the Lakes. Elizabeth receives this news with rapturous joy, seeing it as escape from disappointment and spleen, and declares her intention to return with accurate, detailed knowledge of everything she sees.

Every object in the next day's journey was new and interesting to Elizabeth; and her spirits were in a state of enjoyment; for she had seen her sister looking so well as to banish all fear for her health, and the prospect of her northern tour was a constant source of delight.

When they left the high road for the lane to Hunsford, every eye was in search of the Parsonage, and every turning expected to bring it in view. The paling of Rosings park was their boundary on one side. Elizabeth smiled at the recollection of all that she had heard of its inhabitants.

At length the Parsonage was discernible. The garden sloping to the road, the house standing in it, the green pales and the laurel hedge, everything declared they were arriving. Mr. Collins and Charlotte appeared at the door, and the carriage stopped at the small gate, which led by a short gravel walk to the house, amidst the nods and smiles of the whole party. In a moment they were all out of the chaise, rejoicing at the sight of each other. Mrs. Collins welcomed her friend with the liveliest pleasure, and Elizabeth was more and more satisfied with coming, when she found herself so affectionately received. She saw instantly that her cousin's manners were not altered by his marriage: his formal civility was just what it had been; and he detained her some minutes at the gate to hear and satisfy his inquiries after all her family. They were then, with no other delay than his pointing out the neatness of the entrance, taken into the house; and as soon as they were in the parlour, he welcomed them a second time, with ostentatious formality, to his humble abode, and punctually repeated all his wife's offers of refreshment.

Elizabeth was prepared to see him in his glory; and she could not help fancying that in displaying the good proportion of the room, its aspect, and its furniture, he addressed himself particularly to her, as if wishing to make her feel what she had lost in refusing him. But though everything seemed neat and comfortable, she was not able to gratify him by any sigh of repentance; and rather looked with wonder at her friend, that she could have so cheerful an air with such a companion. When Mr. Collins said anything of which his wife might reasonably be ashamed, which certainly was not seldom, she involuntarily turned her eye on Charlotte. Once or twice she could discern a faint blush; but in general Charlotte wisely did not hear. After sitting long enough to admire every article of furniture in the room, from the sideboard to the fender, to give an account of their journey, and of all that had happened in London, Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself. To work in his garden was one of his most respectable pleasures; and Elizabeth admired the command of countenance with which Charlotte talked of the healthfulness of the exercise, and owned she encouraged it as much as possible. Here, leading the way through every walk and cross walk, and scarcely allowing them an interval to utter the praises he asked for, every view was pointed out with a minuteness which left beauty entirely behind. He could number the fields in every direction, and could tell how many trees there were in the most distant clump. But of all the views which his garden, or which the country or the kingdom could boast, none were to be compared with the prospect of Rosings, afforded by an opening in the trees that bordered the park nearly opposite the front of his house. It was a handsome modern building, well situated on rising ground. From his garden, Mr. Collins would have led them round his two meadows; but the ladies, not having shoes to encounter the remains of a white frost, turned back; and while Sir William accompanied him, Charlotte took her sister and friend over the house, extremely well pleased, probably, to have the opportunity of showing it without her husband's help. It was rather small, but well built and convenient; and everything was fitted up and arranged with a neatness and consistency, of which Elizabeth gave Charlotte all the credit. When Mr. Collins could be forgotten, there was really a great air of comfort throughout, and by Charlotte's evident enjoyment of it, Elizabeth supposed he must be often forgotten.

She had already learnt that Lady Catherine was still in the country. It was spoken of again while they were at dinner, when Mr. Collins joining in, observed, "Yes, Miss Elizabeth, you will have the honour of seeing Lady Catherine de Bourgh on the ensuing Sunday at church, and I need not say you will be delighted with her. She is all affability and condescension, and I doubt not but you will be honoured with some portion of her notice when service is over. I have scarcely any hesitation in saying that she will include you and my sister Maria in every invitation with which she honours us during your stay here. Her behaviour to my dear Charlotte is charming. We dine at Rosings twice every week, and are never allowed to walk home. Her Ladyship's carriage is regularly ordered for us. I should say, one of her Ladyship's carriages, for she has several." "Lady Catherine is a very respectable, sensible woman, indeed," added Charlotte, "and a most attentive neighbour." "Very true, my dear, that is exactly what I say. She is the sort of woman whom one cannot regard with too much deference."

The evening was spent chiefly in talking over Hertfordshire news, and telling again what had been already written; and when it closed, Elizabeth, in the solitude of her chamber, had to meditate upon Charlotte's degree of contentment, to understand her address in guiding, and composure in bearing with, her husband, and to acknowledge that it was all done very well. She had also to anticipate how her visit would pass, the quiet tenour of their usual employments, the vexatious interruptions of Mr. Collins, and the gaieties of their intercourse with Rosings. A lively imagination soon settled it all.

About the middle of the next day, as she was in her room getting ready for a walk, a sudden noise below seemed to speak the whole house in confusion; and, after listening a moment, she heard somebody running upstairs in a violent hurry, and calling loudly after her. She opened the door, and met Maria in the landing-place, who, breathless with agitation, cried out, "Oh, my dear Eliza! pray make haste and come into the dining-room, for there is such a sight to be seen! I will not tell you what it is. Make haste, and come down this moment." Elizabeth asked questions in vain; Maria would tell her nothing more; and down they ran into the dining-room which fronted the lane, in quest of this wonder; it was two ladies, stopping in a low phaeton at the garden gate. "And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter!" "La! my dear," said Maria, quite shocked at the mistake, "it is not Lady Catherine. The old lady is Mrs. Jenkinson, who lives with them. The other is Miss De Bourgh. Only look at her. She is quite a little creature. Who would have thought she could be so thin and small!" "She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind. Why does she not come in?" "Oh, Charlotte says she hardly ever does. It is the greatest of favours when Miss De Bourgh comes in." "I like her appearance," said Elizabeth, struck with other ideas. "She looks sickly and cross. Yes, she will do for him very well. She will make him a very proper wife." Mr. Collins and Charlotte were both standing at the gate in conversation with the ladies; and Sir William, to Elizabeth's high diversion, was stationed in the doorway, in earnest contemplation of the greatness before him, and constantly bowing whenever Miss De Bourgh looked that way.

At length there was nothing more to be said; the ladies drove on, and the others returned into the house. Mr. Collins no sooner saw the two girls than he began to congratulate them on their good fortune, which Charlotte explained by letting them know that the whole party was asked to dine at Rosings the next day.

Mr. Collins's triumph at receiving the invitation is complete and unqualified. He revels in the opportunity to display his patroness's grandeur to his guests and to demonstrate her civility toward himself and his wife. He expresses wonder that Lady Catherine would extend such an immediate invitation, including the entire Lucas party, so soon after their arrival at Hunsford. Sir William Lucas, drawing upon his experience at court, offers a more measured perspective, suggesting that such elegant gestures are not uncommon among the nobility. The invitation becomes the sole topic of conversation for the entire day and the following morning.

Before the visit, Mr. Collins carefully prepares his guests for what they are about to encounter, warning them about the magnificent rooms, the numerous servants, and the splendid dinner they should expect at Rosings. His instructions aim to prevent them from being wholly overpowered by the display of wealth and status they will witness. The preparations involve both practical advice and warnings about the grandeur they will encounter.

As the ladies prepare for the visit, Mr. Collins offers sartorial guidance to Elizabeth, advising her not to worry excessively about her attire. He explains that Lady Catherine does not require the elegance of dress that befits herself and her daughter, and he suggests she simply wear something superior to her everyday clothes. He reassures her that Lady Catherine will not think less of her for being simply dressed, as the great lady prefers to preserve distinctions of rank. Mr. Collins repeatedly visits the doors of the ladies as they dress, urging them to hurry, noting that Lady Catherine objects strongly to being kept waiting.

Mr. Collins's advice regarding dress reflects his understanding of Lady Catherine's priorities and his desire to present his family in an appropriate manner. The preparations are marked by anxiety, particularly from Maria Lucas, who has had little experience with high society and feels considerable apprehension about her introduction to such elevated company. Her fears are comparable to those her father experienced when being presented at St. James's court.

The party enjoys a pleasant half-mile walk across the park as the weather is fine. Elizabeth admires the beauty and prospects of the park, though she remains unmoved by the enthusiastic reactions Mr. Collins expects from her. He points out the numerous windows in the house's front and shares details about the original cost of all the glazing, information that fails to impress Elizabeth as he had anticipated.

Upon ascending the steps to the hall, where Mr. Collins rapturously points out its fine proportions and finished ornaments, Maria's alarm increases, and even Sir William appears less than calm. Elizabeth alone maintains her composure, having concluded from all she had heard that Lady Catherine's awfulness derived not from extraordinary talents or miraculous virtue but merely from wealth and rank. After passing through an antechamber, they are received by Lady Catherine, her daughter Miss de Bourgh, and Mrs. Jenkinson. Lady Catherine rises with great condescension, and Mrs. Collins performs the introduction properly, without the apologies and expressions of gratitude Mr. Collins would have deemed necessary.

Sir William is so awed by the surrounding grandeur that he barely manages a low bow before taking his seat in silence, while Maria sits terrified on the edge of her chair. Elizabeth observes Lady Catherine with composure and finds her to be a tall, large woman with strongly-marked features that may once have been handsome. Her manner is not conciliating, and her tone when speaking is authoritative, reminding Elizabeth of Mr. Wickham. Turning her attention to Miss de Bourgh, Elizabeth is struck by how thin and small the young lady appears, with no resemblance to her mother in figure or face. Miss de Bourgh is pale and sickly, her features insignificant, and she speaks very little except in a low voice to Mrs. Jenkinson, who devotes herself entirely to attending on her young charge.

The dinner proves to be exceedingly handsome, with all the servants and silverware Mr. Collins had promised. By Lady Catherine's desire, Mr. Collins takes his seat at the bottom of the table, appearing to feel that life could offer nothing greater. He carves, eats, and praises each dish with delighted alacrity, while Sir William, having recovered somewhat, echoes his son-in-law's admiration in a manner Elizabeth wonders Lady Catherine can bear. Lady Catherine appears gratified by their excessive admiration, especially when any novelty appears on the table. Conversation remains sparse, as Charlotte is occupied listening to Lady Catherine, Miss de Bourgh speaks not a word to Elizabeth throughout the meal, and Mrs. Jenkinson busies herself watching how little Miss de Bourgh eats.

After dinner, the ladies retire to the drawing-room, where Lady Catherine talks almost without interruption until coffee arrives. She delivers her opinion on every subject with decided authority, inquiries minutely into Charlotte's domestic affairs, and offers extensive advice on managing her household, including instructions about her cows and poultry. She addresses numerous questions to Elizabeth, whom she describes as a very genteel, pretty kind of girl, asking about her family, education, and circumstances. Elizabeth answers composedly despite the impertinence of the questions, even engaging in a brief but notable exchange about the ages of her younger sisters and their introduction to society. When the gentlemen join them and tea concludes, card tables are arranged, with Lady Catherine, Sir William, and the Collinses playing quadrille while Elizabeth and Maria assist Mrs. Jenkinson with Miss de Bourgh's game of cassino at a table where conversation relates solely to the game.

When Lady Catherine and her daughter choose to end their game, the tables are cleared, and Mrs. Collins gratefully accepts the offered carriage. The party gathers by the fire as Lady Catherine delivers her pronouncements on what weather they should expect the following day, before the coach's arrival summons them to depart. Mr. Collins makes many speeches of thankfulness while Sir William offers numerous bows. Once they have driven away, Elizabeth is called upon to give her opinion of what she witnessed at Rosings, which she makes more favorable than her true assessment for Charlotte's sake. However, her commendation cannot satisfy Mr. Collins, who obligingly takes Lady Catherine's praise into his own hands.

Sir William stayed only a week at Hunsford—long enough to be satisfied his daughter was comfortably settled with an excellent husband and neighbor. During his visit, Mr. Collins devoted his mornings to driving his father-in-law around the country in his gig. Upon Sir William's departure, the family returned to their usual routines, and Elizabeth felt relieved that their exposure to Mr. Collins diminished, as his mornings were now occupied with gardening, reading, writing, and gazing out from his book room, which faced the road.

The Collins ladies occupied the back drawing room while Mr. Collins remained in his front apartment. Elizabeth initially wondered why Charlotte preferred the smaller, less pleasant dining parlour for daily use, but she soon recognized Charlotte's wisdom: by keeping the ladies' room at the rear, Mr. Collins remained in his own quarters rather than intruding upon their space. The arrangement allowed the women greater privacy and peace.

From their drawing room, the ladies could see nothing of the lane passing by, so they depended on Mr. Collins for news of carriages. He faithfully reported whenever Miss De Bourgh drove by in her phaeton—often daily—never failing to bring this intelligence despite its frequency. Miss De Bourgh occasionally stopped at the Parsonage for brief conversations with Charlotte, though she rarely could be persuaded to leave her carriage.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh frequently called on the Collinses and missed nothing occurring in their home. She scrutinized their work, correcting their techniques, examined furniture arrangement, exposed the housemaid's negligence, and even criticized the size of Mrs. Collins's meat joints as too generous for the household. Her inspections were thorough and her corrections plentiful.

While Lady Catherine held no formal position in county governance, she proved an extremely active magistrate within her own parish. Mr. Collins brought her every minor matter from the village, and she personally intervened whenever cottagers grew quarrelsome, discontented, or impoverished—sallying forth to settle disputes, silence complaints, and essentially scold the poor into harmony and plenty.

Dining at Rosings occurred about twice weekly, with each entertainment closely resembling the others, particularly after Sir William's departure reduced the party and left only one card table for evening diversions. Other social engagements remained few, as the neighborhood's style of living generally exceeded the Collinses' means. Elizabeth found this no hardship, enjoying pleasant conversations with Charlotte and fine spring weather for outdoor pursuits.

Elizabeth's favorite walk took her along the sheltered path bordering the open grove at the park's edge—a route no one else seemed to value. This quiet retreat allowed her to escape Lady Catherine's ever-present observation and curiosity, and she found considerable pleasure in these solitary constitutionals during the pleasant weather.

The first fortnight of Elizabeth's visit passed quickly as Easter approached. Word had reached her that Mr. Darcy was expected at Rosings within weeks. Lady Catherine spoke of his coming with complete satisfaction, praising him extravagantly, though she seemed almost irritated that he had already been frequently observed by Miss Lucas and Elizabeth. His arrival would introduce a relatively new face to their gatherings and offer entertainment in observing Miss Bingley's evidently hopeless designs upon him.

Mr. Collins spent the morning watching the lodges opening into Hunsford Lane, eager to be the first to confirm Darcy's arrival. Upon sighting the carriage turning into the park, he made his bow and hurried home with the momentous news. The following morning he called at Rosings to pay respects. To general surprise, he returned accompanied by two of Lady Catherine's nephews—Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, younger son of Lord ----.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, approximately thirty, was not handsome but carried himself as a perfect gentleman. Mr. Darcy appeared unchanged from their previous encounters, addressing Mrs. Collins with his customary reserve and meeting Elizabeth with composed indifference. Elizabeth merely courtesied without speaking. Colonel Fitzwilliam conversed easily and pleasantly, while Darcy sat silently before eventually inquiring after Elizabeth's family. She asked casually about her eldest sister in town, watching for signs of consciousness regarding Jane and Bingley—Darcy appeared slightly confused as he replied he had never been so fortunate as to meet Miss Bennet. The conversation ended there, and the gentlemen soon departed.

Colonel Fitzwilliam's agreeable manners made him a welcome guest at the Parsonage. His company was considered a significant addition to any engagement at Rosings, and his genuine warmth toward Elizabeth and the Collinses made him particularly pleasant to be around.

The invitation to Rosings did not arrive until Easter-day, nearly a week after the gentlemen came to Kent. The ladies were simply asked after church to come in the evening, as the family had been occupied with other visitors until then.

Lady Catherine received her guests civilly but made it clear that their company was far less welcome than when she could command other visitors. She devoted almost all her attention to her nephews, particularly Mr. Darcy, speaking to them far more than to anyone else in the drawing-room.

Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed genuinely delighted to see them and seated himself beside Elizabeth, engaging her in lively conversation about Kent, Hertfordshire, travel, books, and music. Their exchange was so spirited and entertaining that Elizabeth had never enjoyed herself more in that room. Their conversation drew the attention of both Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy.

When Lady Catherine demanded to know what they were discussing, she was delighted to learn it was music—her declared favorite subject. She boastfully proclaimed her superior natural taste and declared that had she ever learned, she would have been a great proficient. She expressed similar confidence that her daughter Anne would have performed delightfully had her health permitted.

Upon being asked about Georgiana's musical progress, Mr. Darcy spoke with warm affection and praise for his sister's accomplishment and dedication to practice.

Lady Catherine pronounced Georgiana fortunate and declared she would write to charge the young lady not to neglect her practice. She offered her usual wisdom that no excellence in music could be acquired without constant practice, and extended an invitation to Mrs. Collins to use the pianoforte at Rosings daily.

After coffee, Colonel Fitzwilliam reminded Elizabeth of her promise to play, and she sat down to the instrument. He drew his chair close to listen. Lady Catherine interrupted after half a song to resume talking with her other nephew, leaving Elizabeth to continue playing at the gentlemen's request.

Mr. Darcy walked away from Lady Catherine and positioned himself near the pianoforte where he could observe Elizabeth's face clearly as she played. Elizabeth noticed and, with an arch smile, teased him about coming to intimidate her with such deliberation.

Elizabeth laughingly told Colonel Fitzwilliam of Darcy's behavior at a Hertfordshire ball, where he had danced only four dances despite a shortage of gentlemen and young ladies sitting down for want of partners. She declared it very ungenerous of Darcy to mention what he knew to her disadvantage in the country where she had hoped to maintain some reputation.

Darcy responded that he had not known any lady in that assembly beyond his own party, and that nobody could properly be introduced in a ballroom. When pressed, he explained that he was ill-qualified to recommend himself to strangers, lacking the talent some people possess for easy conversation and appearing interested in the concerns of people one has never met.

After Lady Catherine pronounced Elizabeth's playing quite good with more practice and a London master, Elizabeth glanced at Darcy to see if he warmly assented to his cousin's praise. She could discern no symptom of love in his behavior. From his entire manner toward Miss De Bourgh, she derived only cold comfort for Miss Bingley—that he might have been equally likely to marry her had she been his relation.

Elizabeth finds herself alone at the Parsonage while Mrs. Collins and Maria are away in the village. She is absorbed in writing a letter to Jane when a ring at the door announces an unexpected visitor.

To Elizabeth's great surprise, Mr. Darcy enters alone rather than with Lady Catherine, as she had expected. He appears equally startled to find her by herself and apologizes for his intrusion, explaining he had believed all the ladies were at home.

Elizabeth attempts to engage Darcy in conversation about their hasty departure from Netherfield the previous November and inquires after Mr. Bingley and his sisters. Darcy responds briefly and coldly, offering no warmth in discussing his friend's plans to potentially give up the estate entirely.

Elizabeth and Darcy discuss Charlotte's advantageous match with Mr. Collins. While Elizabeth acknowledges her friend's good fortune and apparent happiness, she privately reflects that marrying Mr. Collins was perhaps not the wisest decision Charlotte ever made. Darcy defends the proximity to family as an advantage, but Elizabeth disputes his characterization of fifty miles as "an easy distance."

During their conversation, Darcy draws his chair slightly toward Elizabeth in what she interprets as a meaningful gesture. However, he quickly retreats, apparently recognizing the impropriety of such attention. When Elizabeth mentions her attachment to Hertfordshire, his expression suggests he believes she is thinking of Jane and Netherfield.

The conversation ends abruptly when Charlotte and her sister return from their walk. Darcy explains his mistaken visit and shortly thereafter departs, saying little to anyone present.

Upon Darcy's departure, Charlotte immediately conjectures that he must be in love with Elizabeth to call on them in such an informal manner. Yet when Elizabeth describes his uncommunicative behavior, even Charlotte's romantic hopes seem diminished.

From this point onward, both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy begin visiting the Parsonage nearly every day. The visits occur at various times, sometimes separately and sometimes together, occasionally accompanied by Lady Catherine herself. Colonel Fitzwilliam clearly enjoys their company, reminding Elizabeth of her former favorite, George Wickham.

Charlotte struggles to understand Mr. Darcy's frequent visits, as he often sits silently for ten minutes without speaking. She observes that he certainly looks at Elizabeth intently, but whether this gaze contains genuine admiration remains unclear. Elizabeth dismisses Charlotte's suggestions of Darcy's partiality, laughing at the notion.

In her hopes for Elizabeth's happiness, Charlotte contemplates the possibility of her friend marrying Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is undeniably pleasant and clearly admires Elizabeth. However, she recognizes that Mr. Darcy wields considerable patronage in the church, a significant advantage over his cousin.

Elizabeth encounters Mr. Darcy multiple times during her walks in the park, an occurrence she finds perplexing and unwelcome. After she informs Darcy that the park is her favorite walking spot, she expects the encounters to cease, yet they continue to happen. On their third meeting, Darcy asks her unusual questions about her enjoyment of Hunsford, her solitary walking habits, and whether she and the Collinses are happy together. Elizabeth interprets his subtle comments about her returning to Kent as possibly hinting at Colonel Fitzwilliam's romantic interest in her, which unsettles her. She is relieved when these encounters end and she reaches the gate opposite the Parsonage.

While rereading Jane's latest letter expressing low spirits, Elizabeth is approached by Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is completing his annual tour of the park. They walk together toward the Parsonage, and their conversation begins with casual remarks about Elizabeth's departure from Kent on Saturday, which Fitzwilliam notes depends on Darcy's plans. When Elizabeth comments on Darcy's apparent enjoyment of power and choice, Fitzwilliam defends him by noting that while everyone prefers to have their own way, Darcy simply has better means to achieve it due to his wealth. Elizabeth challenges this, arguing that an earl's younger son knows little of self-denial or dependence, prompting Fitzwilliam to acknowledge that younger sons must consider financial circumstances when marrying.

Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam discuss the constraints placed on younger sons in society, particularly regarding marriage. Fitzwilliam admits that younger sons cannot marry where they like and must pay attention to money due to expensive habits, while Elizabeth jokes about the "price" of an earl's younger son. The conversation becomes more pointed when Elizabeth suggests that Darcy brought Fitzwilliam along merely as a companion and wonders why he doesn't marry to secure lasting convenience. Fitzwilliam reveals that he and Darcy share guardianship of Miss Darcy, which Elizabeth finds noteworthy. When she speculates about Miss Darcy potentially being difficult to manage, Fitzwilliam's earnest response confirms that there have been concerns, though Elizabeth quickly reassures him she has heard only positive things about the young lady.

Fitzwilliam inadvertently discloses that Darcy recently saved a friend from an imprudent marriage, mentioning that the friend was very much indebted to him. Although he lacks explicit details, Fitzwilliam suspects the friend is Bingley, whom Darcy has guided in matters requiring careful judgment. Elizabeth presses him for more information, and Fitzwilliam explains that Darcy congratulated himself on separating his friend from a lady with "strong objections" against her. When Elizabeth asks what methods Darcy employed, Fitzwilliam admits Darcy did not share his specific tactics. Elizabeth falls silent, her heart swelling with indignation at Darcy's interference.

After Fitzwilliam departs, Elizabeth reflects intensely on Darcy's role in separating Bingley from Jane. She realizes that while she always suspected Miss Bingley of orchestrating the separation, Darcy himself was the primary cause, motivated by pride and caprice. She recognizes that Jane's only faults in Darcy's eyes were her connections—an uncle in business in London and another as a country attorney. Elizabeth acknowledges that Jane herself possesses every excellence in person, understanding, and manner, and that her father has abilities even Darcy need not disdain, though she admits her mother's family concerns her somewhat. She concludes that Darcy was governed by his pride in avoiding connections of little importance and perhaps by a wish to secure Bingley for his sister, thus ruining Jane's happiness for the foreseeable future.

Elizabeth's agitation and tears bring on a severe headache that worsens throughout the evening. Combined with her reluctance to see Mr. Darcy, she decides not to accompany her cousins to Rosings for tea. Mrs. Collins, recognizing Elizabeth is genuinely unwell, does not press her to attend, though Mr. Collins worries that Lady Catherine may be displeased by her absence.

After Lady Catherine and her daughter depart, Elizabeth examines all of Jane's letters written since arriving in Kent. She finds a troubling absence of Jane's characteristic cheerfulness and notices every hint of uneasiness she had previously overlooked. This heightened awareness intensifies her anger toward Mr. Darcy, whose "shameful boast" of causing Jane misery now haunts her thoughts. Elizabeth finds some consolation in knowing she will soon rejoin her sister.

Elizabeth takes comfort in the knowledge that Darcy's visit to Rosings ends the day after next, and that within a fortnight she will be reunited with Jane, able to help restore her sister's spirits through the power of familial affection.

As Elizabeth contemplates Colonel Fitzwilliam—who has made clear he has no serious intentions regarding her—she is startled by the doorbell, hoping it might be the colonel. Instead, to her utter amazement, Mr. Darcy enters the room. He inquires after her health in a hurried manner, attributing his visit to a desire to learn she has recovered. Elizabeth responds with cold civility.

Darcy paces the room in evident agitation before approaching Elizabeth and confessing that his struggle against his feelings has proven futile. He declares he can no longer repress his emotions and must tell her how ardently he admires and loves her.

Darcy proceeds to avow all that he has long felt for Elizabeth, speaking articulately but dwelling not only on tenderness but also on his pride. He emphasizes her inferiority, the degradation their union would represent, and the family obstacles his judgment has always opposed to his inclination—language that fails to recommend his suit.

Elizabeth's astonishment is beyond expression. She stares, flushes, doubts, and falls silent—a response Darcy interprets as sufficient encouragement to continue.

Elizabeth thanks him for his sentiments if obligation is the expected response, but firmly states she cannot feel gratitude for good opinion she never desired and he bestowed most unwillingly. She hopes any pain caused will be of short duration.

Darcy, visibly pale with anger, demands to know why with so little civility he is being rejected. Elizabeth counters that his manner of declaration—revealing he liked her against his will, against his reason, and against his character—provides excuse enough for any rudeness on her part.

Elizabeth confronts Darcy about her sister Jane, declaring he has been the means of ruining perhaps forever the happiness of her most beloved sister. She accuses him of dividing Jane and Bingley, exposing Jane to the world's censure and Bingley to derision, and involving them both in acute misery.

When Elizabeth mentions Wickham and his misfortunes, Darcy responds with contemptuous repetition of "his misfortunes." Elizabeth then accuses Darcy of reducing Wickham to comparative poverty, withholding advantages rightfully meant for him, and depriving him of independence—demanding how he can treat such suffering with contempt.

Darcy does not deny separating his friend from Elizabeth's sister, declaring he rejoices in his success and has been kinder toward Wickham than himself. He explains his scruples about Elizabeth's connections and the inferiority of her relatives, acknowledging he cannot be ashamed of these natural and just feelings.

Elizabeth states that only his insulting manner of proposal prevented her from feeling additional concern in refusing him. She declares he could never have made an offer tempting enough to accept, having felt within their first month of acquaintance that he was the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

Darcy curtly declares she has said enough, that he comprehends her feelings and should be ashamed of his own. After requesting forgiveness for taking her time, he hastily leaves the room, and Elizabeth hears him quit the house entirely.

Alone, Elizabeth sits down from weakness and cries for half an hour. As she reflects on the proposal—that Darcy loved her for months, wished to marry her despite objections equal to those he raised against Bingley—she finds it almost incredible yet gratifying to have inspired such affection. However, his pride, his confession regarding Jane, and his unfeeling treatment of Wickham soon overcome any momentary pity she might have felt.

Before Elizabeth can compose herself, the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage announces the lady's arrival at the parsonage, leaving Elizabeth feeling too unsteady to face observation and hurrying to her room.

Elizabeth awakens the morning after the events at Rosings still preoccupied with the same troubling thoughts. Unable to recover from the surprise of what transpired, she finds herself incapable of focusing on any employment and resolves shortly after breakfast to take air and exercise as a remedy for her distress.

She initially intends to proceed to her customary walking path, but is stopped by the recollection that Mr. Darcy sometimes frequents that same route. Rather than risk encountering him within the park, she turns instead up a lane that leads farther away from the main turnpike road, though the park's fence railings continue to mark the boundary on one side.

After walking the length of the lane several times, Elizabeth is enticed by the pleasantness of the morning to pause at the gates and survey the park. She observes that the five weeks spent in Kent have brought noticeable changes to the landscape, with each day adding to the verdant fullness of early spring foliage. As she prepares to continue her walk, she catches sight of a gentleman moving through the grove bordering the park.

Fearing the approaching figure may be Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth begins retreating. However, the gentleman calls out her name with evident eagerness, and recognizing his voice as Darcy's, she turns back toward the gate. He has by now reached the entrance as well.

Darcy extends a letter that Elizabeth instinctively accepts. With a haughty expression of composure, he explains he has been walking in the grove specifically hoping to meet her, and requests she do him the honour of reading his communication. Having delivered these words, he offers a slight bow and withdraws back into the plantation, disappearing from view.

Elizabeth opens the envelope with intense curiosity rather than any expectation of pleasure, discovering two complete sheets of closely-written pages within. The letter is dated from Rosings at eight o'clock that morning, and Darcy begins by cautioning her not to be alarmed, as it contains no repetition of the proposals or sentiments that had so disgusted her the previous evening.

Darcy addresses the first accusation concerning Bingley, explaining that he observed his friend's serious attachment to Jane at the Netherfield ball. He contends that while Bingley's attentions were received with pleasure, Jane displayed no reciprocating sentiment, no "participation of sentiment." Darcy further explains his objections stemmed partly from the family's lack of propriety—particularly the conduct of Mrs. Bennet, the three younger sisters, and occasionally Mr. Bennet himself—and he details how he convinced Bingley to leave Netherfield and eventually convinced him of Jane's supposed indifference.

Darcy turns to the second, weightier accusation regarding his alleged ruining of Mr. Wickham's prospects. He announces his intention to lay before Elizabeth the complete account of Wickham's connection with his family, declaring his ability to produce multiple witnesses of undoubted veracity to support his narrative.

The letter reveals that Wickham's father served as estate manager at Pemberley for many years, earning the respect and patronage of the elder Darcy. Young George Wickham was his father's godson and received extensive support—schooling, Cambridge education, and promises of a church living. However, despite his father's intended provision, Wickham refused to take orders when the elder Darcy died five years ago. Instead, he demanded three thousand pounds in lieu of the ecclesiastical preferment, subsequently living an idle and dissipated life in London. When the intended living later became vacant, Wickham applied again, but Darcy refused, leading to Wickham's estrangement from the family and subsequent attempts to vilify Darcy to others.

Darcy discloses a deeply painful matter: his young sister Georgiana, over ten years his junior and placed under the guardianship of himself and Colonel Fitzwilliam, was nearly persuaded by Wickham to elope the previous summer at Ramsgate. Wickham had engineered a meeting with Mrs. Younge, the companion overseeing Georgiana's establishment, and exploited Georgiana's childhood memories of his kindness to convince the fifteen-year-old that she was in love and should flee with him—evidently coveting her thirty thousand pound fortune. Darcy discovered the scheme a day or two before the intended elopement and intervened, preventing public scandal while driving Wickham from Ramsgate and dismissing Mrs. Younge from her position.

Darcy concludes by acknowledging this painful disclosure and expressing confidence in Elizabeth's secrecy. He invites her to verify his account by consulting Colonel Fitzwilliam, who as both family relation and co-executor of his father's will has full knowledge of these transactions. He adds a final benediction, signed with his full name.

Elizabeth did not expect the letter to contain a renewal of his offers and had formed no expectation of its contents. She read eagerly and experienced a strong contrariety of emotion. With amazement, she first understood that Darcy believed any apology was in his power, and she was persuaded that he could have no explanation that a just sense of shame would not conceal. With a strong prejudice against everything he might say, she began reading.

She read with eagerness that barely left her power of comprehension, impatient to know what each sentence might bring. She instantly resolved that his belief of her sister's insensibility was false, and his account of the real objections to the match made her too angry to wish him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done, and his style was haughty rather than penitent. It appeared to be all pride and insolence.

When the subject turned to Mr. Wickham, her feelings became yet more acutely painful and difficult to define. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror oppressed her. She wished to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming "This must be false! This cannot be! This must be the grossest falsehood!" When she finished reading, though scarcely knowing anything of the last pages, she put the letter hastily away, protesting she would never look at it again.

In her perturbed state, she walked on, but within half a minute the letter was unfolded again. She collected herself and began examining the meaning of every sentence. The account of Wickham's connection with the Pemberley family matched what he had related himself, and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy agreed equally well with his own words. However, when she came to the will, the difference was great. She recalled Wickham's very words and felt there was gross duplicity on one side or the other. Upon reading and re-reading the particulars of his resigning the living and receiving three thousand pounds, she was forced to hesitate. She weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality, but with little success—on both sides it was only assertion. Yet every line proved more clearly that Darcy's conduct must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole.

The account of extravagance and general profligacy charged to Mr. Wickham exceedingly shocked her. She realized she had never wished to inquire into his real character despite never having heard of him before he entered the militia. His countenance and manner had established him in her possession of every virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of goodness or integrity that might rescue him from Darcy's attacks, but no such recollection befriended her. She could see him in every charm of air and address, but could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighbourhood and the regard his social powers had gained him in the mess. The story of his designs on Miss Darcy received confirmation from what had passed between Colonel Fitzwilliam and herself the morning before, and she was referred to Colonel Fitzwilliam for the truth—whose character she had no reason to question. She realized Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal if he had not been well assured of his cousin's corroboration.

She remembered everything that had passed between Wickham and herself at Mr. Philips's. She was now struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger. She saw the indelicacy of his putting himself forward and the inconsistency of his professions with his conduct. She recalled that he had boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy, yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball the very next week. She remembered that till the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but herself, but after their removal, it had been everywhere discussed. How differently did everything now appear! His attentions to Miss King were now the consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary, and the mediocrity of her fortune proved his eagerness to grasp at anything. His behaviour to herself could now have had no tolerable motive—he had either been deceived with regard to her fortune or had been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference she believed she had most incautiously shown.

Every lingering struggle in Wickham's favour grew fainter and fainter. She acknowledged that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted his blamelessness. Proud and repulsive as were his manners, she had never seen anything that betrayed Darcy to be unprincipled or unjust. Among his own connections he was esteemed and valued. Even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother, and she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of amiable feeling. From herself to Jane, from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts brought her to realize that Darcy's explanation had appeared very insufficient—but how different was the effect of a second perusal! She could not deny credit to his assertions in one instance when she had been obliged to give it in the other. He declared himself to have been totally unsuspicious of her sister's attachment, and she remembered Charlotte's opinion had always been such. She could not deny the justice of his description of Jane—that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility.

When she came to that part of the letter where her family was mentioned in tones of mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial. The circumstances to which he particularly alluded, as having passed at the Netherfield ball, could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers. The compliment to herself and her sister soothed her, but it could not console her for the contempt self-attracted by the rest of her family. She reflected that Jane's disappointment had been the work of her nearest relations, and how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct. She felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before. She grew absolutely ashamed of herself, feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, and absurd. "How despicably have I acted!" she cried. "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on my abilities!" She recognized that vanity, not love, had been her folly, and that she had courted prepossession and ignorance while driving reason away. "Till this moment, I never knew myself."

After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought, reconsidering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue and a recollection of her long absence made her at length return home. She entered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual and the resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit for conversation.

She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each called during her absence. Mr. Darcy had stayed only for a few minutes to take leave, but Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them for at least an hour, hoping for her return, and almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found. Elizabeth could but just affect concern in missing him—she really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer an object. She could think only of her letter.

The two gentlemen leave Rosings the next morning. Mr. Collins waits near the lodges to pay his respects and brings back encouraging reports of their health and spirits following the recent trying events at Rosings.

Mr. Collins hurries to Rosings to console Lady Catherine and her daughter, returning with satisfaction from Lady Catherine, who declares herself dull without company and desires all her guests to dine with her.

Elizabeth cannot see Lady Catherine without recalling that she might have been presented as her future niece, and she amuses herself wondering what Lady Catherine's indignation would have been at such a prospect.

Lady Catherine observes that Miss Bennet seems out of spirits and comments on the diminished party, expressing that nobody feels the loss of friends as acutely as she does, particularly her attachment to the young men who were excessively sorry to leave, with Colonel Fitzwilliam rallying his spirits until the end while Darcy appeared to feel it most acutely.

Lady Catherine suggests Elizabeth write to her mother to stay longer, proposing she could take one or both young women to London in June, offering the barouche-box with Dawson driving. Elizabeth declines, explaining she must be in town next Saturday and her father has already written urging her return. Lady Catherine attempts to argue that fathers cannot miss daughters as much as mothers do.

Lady Catherine insists Mrs. Collins send a servant with them, recalling how she ensured her niece Georgiana had two men-servants when she went to Ramsgate. Elizabeth mentions her uncle will send a servant. Lady Catherine provides detailed directions about where to change horses and advises mentioning her name at the Bell in Bromley.

Elizabeth reserves reflection for solitary hours, taking daily walks in which she gives way to unpleasant recollections, studying Mr. Darcy's letter until she knows it nearly by heart, her feelings swinging between indignation at his style of address and compassion when she considers how unjustly she condemned him.

Elizabeth experiences constant vexation regarding her family's defects—her father's contentment with laughing at his youngest daughters' wildness while his wife remains insensible to the evil. She and Jane have tried unsuccessfully to check Catherine and Lydia's imprudence, but with their mother's indulgence, improvement seems hopeless. The girls are ignorant, idle, and vain, perpetually seeking officers in Meryton. Elizabeth also mourns Jane's lost opportunity with Bingley, whose sincere affection and blameless conduct have been proven, yet who was driven away by their family's folly and indecorum.

Their final evening is spent at Rosings, where Lady Catherine minutely inquires about journey particulars and is so urgent about packing gowns correctly that Maria feels compelled to undo her morning's work. When they depart, Lady Catherine condescendingly wishes them well and invites them to return next year, while Miss de Bourgh courtesies and extends her hand to both young women.

On Saturday morning before the others appear, Mr. Collins takes the opportunity to pay his parting respects to Elizabeth at breakfast. He expresses his gratitude for her visit, acknowledging how little their humble parsonage has to offer someone like her, yet hoping she will believe them grateful for her condescension. Elizabeth assures him she has spent six weeks with great enjoyment, appreciating the companionship of Charlotte and the kindness she received. Collins is gratified by her response and prepares to elaborate further on their circumstances.

Mr. Collins launches into elaborate praise of their connection to Rosings, boasting about the superior society they have been able to introduce Elizabeth to and the frequent opportunities to vary their humble home scene. He speaks with elevated feelings about Lady Catherine's family as an extraordinary advantage and blessing few can boast of. Collins emphasizes how continually they are engaged with the Collins family at Rosings, insisting that despite the parsonage's disadvantages, anyone sharing in their intimacy with Lady Catherine's family would not be an object of compassion.

Collins confidently declares that Elizabeth may carry a favourable report of them to Hertfordshire. He references Lady Catherine's great attentions to Mrs. Collins, which Elizabeth has witnessed daily. After expressing hope that his friend has not drawn an unfortunate lot, Collins goes on to state that he can most cordially wish Elizabeth equal felicity in marriage. He then reveals his conviction that he and Charlotte have but one mind and one way of thinking, with a most remarkable resemblance of character and ideas between them, seeming designed for each other. Elizabeth acknowledges such happiness while sincerely rejoicing in his domestic comforts.

Charlotte enters, interrupting Collins's recital of domestic bliss. Elizabeth reflects on the melancholy of leaving Charlotte to such society, noting that Charlotte chose this life with her eyes open. Though Charlotte evidently regrets the departure of her visitors, she does not seem to ask for compassion. Her home, housekeeping, parish duties, poultry, and all dependent concerns have not yet lost their charms for her.

The chaise arrives and the departure preparations begin. Trunks are fastened on, parcels placed within, and everything is pronounced ready. After an affectionate parting between Elizabeth and Charlotte, Mr. Collins attends Elizabeth to the carriage. As they walk through the garden, Collins commissions her with his best respects to all her family, including thanks for the kindness received at Longbourn during the winter and compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, whom he has never met.

Just as the carriage door is about to be closed, Mr. Collins suddenly remembers with some consternation that they have forgotten to leave any message for the ladies of Rosings. He quickly proposes that Elizabeth convey her humble respects and grateful thanks for their kindness during her visit. Elizabeth makes no objection, allowing the door to be shut, and the carriage departs from Hunsford.

After a few minutes of silence in the carriage, Maria exclaims in amazement that it seems only a day or two since they first arrived, yet how many things have happened. Elizabeth agrees with a sigh. Maria then calculates that they have dined nine times at Rosings and drunk tea there twice, expressing how much she will have to tell upon returning home. The journey passes without much conversation or alarm.

While Maria looks forward to sharing all her experiences, Elizabeth privately reflects on how much she will have to conceal instead. This thought underscores the contrast between Maria's innocent enthusiasm and Elizabeth's secret knowledge of Mr. Darcy's proposal and other complicated revelations from her visit.

Within four hours of leaving Hunsford, Elizabeth and Maria arrive at Mr. Gardiner's house, where they are to remain for several days. Jane looks well, and Elizabeth has little opportunity to study her sister's spirits amid the various engagements her aunt has arranged for them. Jane will be returning home with Elizabeth, and Elizabeth knows there will be sufficient time for observation at Longbourn.

Elizabeth finds it difficult to wait until they return to Longbourn before telling Jane about Mr. Darcy's proposals. The knowledge that she possesses the power to reveal something so astonishing to Jane, while simultaneously satisfying her own remaining vanity, presents a strong temptation toward openness. However, Elizabeth remains undecided about the extent of what she should communicate, and she fears that once she begins discussing the subject, she might be hurried into mentioning Bingley in ways that would only further grieve her sister.

Three young ladies depart Gracechurch Street for Hertfordshire, anticipating Mr. Bennet's carriage at the appointed inn. Their journey marks a return to the familiar territory of Longbourn and the social circle of Meryton.

Kitty and Lydia have been waiting at the inn for over an hour, having occupied themselves with visiting a milliner and preparing a simple meal. They triumphantly welcome their sisters with cold meat and news of their shopping expedition, immediately requesting money to cover their purchases.

Lydia displays her new bonnet, acknowledging its plainness but planning to alter it with prettier satin. She mentions that the militia will leave Meryton within a fortnight, heading to encamp near Brighton, and expresses her desire for the family to follow them there for the summer.

Lydia shares "excellent news" about Wickham—Mary King has departed for Liverpool, effectively ending any potential match between them. Elizabeth notes the coarse sentiments expressed, recognizing them as uncomfortably similar to opinions she herself once harbored regarding Wickham's character.

The sisters pack into the carriage with their belongings and Lydia's purchases. Lydia fills the journey with chatter about officers, balls, and her hopes that one of her sisters might secure a husband during their travels, jesting that Jane approaches the age of an old maid at nearly twenty-three.

Lydia recounts elaborate tales of social engagements at Colonel Forster's, including a prank where Chamberlayne was disguised in women's clothing. She describes the men's confusion upon his arrival and her own excessive laughter at the deception, demonstrating her carefree and reckless approach to social propriety.

The party is warmly received at Longbourn, where Mrs. Bennet rejoices in seeing Jane's undiminished beauty. Mr. Bennet voluntarily expresses his gladness at Elizabeth's return, suggesting a softening of their typically sardonic relationship.

A large dinner gathering includes most of the Lucas family, who have come to see Maria and hear news. The meal involves separate conversations: Lady Lucas inquires after Maria's family, Mrs. Bennet discusses fashions with Jane and the younger Lucases, and Lydia loudly recounts the day's entertainments for anyone who will listen.

Lydia urgently proposes walking to Meryton to visit and observe the neighborhood's goings-on, but Elizabeth firmly opposes the scheme. She reasons that the Bennet sisters should not immediately pursue officers upon arriving home, and privately dreads any encounter with Wickham, whom she hopes to avoid entirely.

Lydia first hints at the Brighton scheme during their inn meeting—taking the family to the seaside where the regiment will be encamped. This plan becomes a topic of frequent discussion between Mr. and Mrs. Bennet in the days following the sisters' return.

Elizabeth recognizes both the impropriety and the danger of following the regiment to Brighton. She has been "overset" already by the militia's presence and dreads seeing Wickham again. The regiment's impending departure offers her genuine comfort, and she hopes their going will end her difficulties regarding him.

Mrs. Bennet remains optimistic that Mr. Bennet might eventually consent to the Brighton trip, though Elizabeth observes that her father has no real intention of agreeing. His answers to her mother's entreaties remain deliberately vague and equivocal, maintaining a distance from direct refusal while preserving his autonomy.

Elizabeth overcomes her impatience and relates to Jane the substance of Mr. Darcy's proposal and her refusal of it. Jane's natural partiality toward her sister tempers her astonishment, but she feels genuine sorrow for Darcy's unhappiness. Jane expresses that his confidence in success was unwise and that his disappointment must be considerable. Elizabeth is relieved when Jane does not blame her for refusing him, though she acknowledges the painful irony of her harsh earlier words about Wickham, now revealed as wholly undeserved given Darcy's truthful account of his character.

When Elizabeth shares the contents of Darcy's letter regarding Wickham's deceptions, Jane is profoundly shaken. The revelation that such wickedness could reside in one individual is almost beyond belief for her gentle nature. She mourns both Wickham's fall from grace and Darcy's suffering, including the painful necessity of revealing his sister's shame. Elizabeth observes that the two men's merits seem to have been unevenly distributed, with Darcy possessing the genuine goodness and Wickham merely its appearance. Jane initially struggles to accept that the man with such an expression of goodness could be so corrupt, but Elizabeth clarifies that the two cannot both be vindicated—one must accept that all the merit lies with Darcy.

Elizabeth consults Jane on whether she ought to reveal Wickham's true character to the neighborhood. After careful consideration, both sisters agree that such exposure would be unnecessary and potentially ruinous to Wickham. Since Darcy has not authorized her to make his communications public, and since the prejudice against Darcy is so strong that no one would believe her version of events, Elizabeth decides to remain silent. She reasons that Wickham will soon leave the area, and the truth will eventually emerge on its own. The sisters agree that making his errors public might drive him to desperation, and they choose to let time reveal what words could not.

While Elizabeth shares the portions concerning Wickham, she keeps secret the other half of Darcy's letter—his confession of love and his account of supporting Bingley's return to Netherfield. She recognizes this knowledge must remain solely hers until circumstances change, reasoning that if an unlikely reconciliation ever occurs between Darcy and herself, he will be able to convey his friend's sentiments far more effectively than she could. The mystery remains between herself and her own heart, a burden she chooses not to share even with her beloved sister.

Elizabeth, now settled at home, carefully observes Jane's true emotional state and perceives that her sister is not happy. Jane still harbors a tender, deeply rooted affection for Bingley, her first genuine attachment. Despite Jane's good sense and consideration for others' feelings, Elizabeth notices how her sister's steadiness and devotion make it difficult to check the indulgence of regrets that could prove harmful to both their health and family tranquility.

One afternoon, Mrs. Bennet brings up the topic of Jane's disappointment with Bingley, whom she believes will never return to Netherfield. She expresses her determination never to speak of it again while simultaneously discussing it at length. She voices her opinion that Jane may die of a broken heart and hopes he will eventually regret his behavior. Turning to safer ground, she asks Elizabeth about the Collinses' domestic arrangements, wondering about their household management and table, and speculating that they discuss inheriting Longbourn when Mr. Bennet dies. Elizabeth answers briefly, noting that the Collinses wisely avoid mentioning the sensitive subject in her presence.

The regiment's imminent departure casts a pall over Meryton's young ladies, who succumb to collective mourning. Only Elizabeth and Jane maintain composure, drawing reproaches from Lydia and Kitty, whose despair knows no bounds. Mrs. Bennet, drawing on experience from Colonel Miller's regiment twenty-five years prior, shares her daughters' grief, recalling how she wept for two days. The Bennet household resounds with lamentations about the regiment's leaving, punctuated by wishes for a seaside escape to Brighton.

Mrs. Forster, the colonel's young bride, invites Lydia to Brighton, transforming the girl's prospects overnight. Their two-month acquaintance has blossomed into intimacy, united by shared spirits. Lydia erupts in ecstatic raptures, while Kitty deplores her fate of exclusion. Elizabeth, however, views this invitation with alarm rather than joy, recognizing it as potentially fatal to any hope of propriety for her sister.

Elizabeth brings her concerns to Mr. Bennet, warning against Lydia's improprieties and the dangers of Mrs. Forster's influence. She argues that Brighton will present greater temptations and exacerbate Lydia's current conduct. Elizabeth paints a grim picture: Lydia will become a determined flirt by sixteen, marked by volatility and disdain for restraint, exposing both herself and her family to contempt.

Mr. Bennet dismisses Elizabeth's warnings, declaring that Lydia will expose herself regardless and that preventing her trip would only disrupt household peace. He trusts Colonel Forster to prevent serious mischief and reasons that Lydia's poverty protects her from exploitation. He concludes that Brighton might teach Lydia her own insignificance, and quips that she cannot become much worse without warranting confinement.

Lydia's imagination conjures Brighton as a paradise of earthly happiness. She envisions streets crowded with officers, herself the object of universal attention. The military camp appears in all its glory—tents in ordered lines, filled with young, gay soldiers in dazzling scarlet. She imagines herself seated beneath a tent, tenderly flirting with numerous officers simultaneously.

At the final officers' dinner at Longbourn, Elizabeth meets Wickham with composure. She detects in his former gentleness both affectation and tiresome sameness. When Wickham inquires about her time at Rosings, Elizabeth mentions both Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy, asking if he knows the former. His expression betrays alarm, though he recovers with a smile. Elizabeth's warm praise of Fitzwilliam unsettles him further, and when she suggests Mr. Darcy has improved through better understanding, Wickham grows visibly anxious. He attempts to engage her on familiar grievances about Darcy, but Elizabeth declines to indulge him, and they part with mutual civility and mutual relief at never meeting again.

Lydia departs with Mrs. Forster for Meryton, preparing for an early morning departure. The separation proves more clamorous than emotional—only Kitty sheds tears, and those from vexation and envy. Mrs. Bennet offers elaborate well-wishes and injunctions to enjoy herself, while Lydia's boisterous happiness drowns out her sisters' gentler farewells.

Elizabeth had never been blind to the impropriety of her father's behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but respecting his abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavour to forget what she could not overlook. But she had never felt so strongly as now the disadvantages which must attend the children of so unsuitable a marriage.

Mr. Bennet was not of a disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate. He was fond of the country and of books; and from these tastes had arisen his principal enjoyments. To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted than as her ignorance and folly had contributed to his amusement.

When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham's departure, she found little other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties abroad were less varied than before; and at home she had a mother and sister, whose constant repinings threw a real gloom over their domestic circle. Upon the whole, she found that an event to which she had looked forward with impatient desire did not, in taking place, bring all the satisfaction she had promised herself.

When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and always very short. Those to her mother contained little else than that they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers had attended them. Her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were much too full of lines under the words to be made public.

After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good-humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything wore a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter came back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and by the middle of June Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without tears.

The time fixed for the beginning of their northern tour was now fast approaching; and a fortnight only was wanting of it, when a letter arrived from Mrs. Gardiner, which at once delayed its commencement and curtailed its extent. Mr. Gardiner would be prevented by business from setting out till a fortnight later in July, and must be in London again within a month. They were obliged to give up the Lakes, and substitute a more contracted tour to Derbyshire.

Elizabeth was excessively disappointed: she had set her heart on seeing the Lakes. But it was her business to be satisfied—and certainly her temper to be happy—and all was soon right again. With the mention of Derbyshire, there were many ideas connected. It was impossible for her to see the word without thinking of Pemberley and its owner.

Mrs. Gardiner expressed an inclination to see Pemberley again. Mr. Gardiner declared his willingness, and Elizabeth was applied to for her approbation. Elizabeth was distressed. She felt that she had no business at Pemberley, and was obliged to assume a disinclination for seeing it. Mrs. Gardiner abused her stupidity and extolled the delightful grounds.

The possibility of meeting Mr. Darcy, while viewing the place, instantly occurred to Elizabeth. It would be dreadful! She blushed at the very idea; and thought it would be better to speak openly to her aunt, than to run such a risk. When she retired at night, she asked the chambermaid whether the family were down for the summer. A most welcome negative followed the last question.

Her alarms being now removed, she was at leisure to feel a great deal of curiosity to see the house herself; and when the subject was revived the next morning, and she was again applied to, could readily answer, and with a proper air of indifference, that she had not really any dislike to the scheme. To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.

Elizabeth watches anxiously for Pemberley Woods as they drive, her spirits highly fluttered with perturbation. The park proves large with great variety of ground, and they enter at one of its lowest points, driving through a beautiful wood stretching over a wide extent. Their spirits are further engaged by the prospect of what awaits them.

After ascending for half a mile, they reach a considerable eminience where the wood ceases, and the eye is caught by Pemberley House situated on the opposite side of the valley. The large, handsome stone building stands well on rising ground, backed by high woody hills, with a natural stream flowing before it. Elizabeth is delighted, feeling that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something. She observes that she has never seen a place where nature has done more or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted by awkward taste.

Entering the hall, they await the housekeeper—a respectable, elderly woman who is much less fine and more civil than Elizabeth anticipated. They are shown the dining-parlour, a large, well-proportioned room with handsome furniture suitable to the proprietor's fortune but neither gaudy nor uselessly fine, displaying more real elegance than Rosings. Every window reveals beauties: the hill crowned with wood, the river, trees scattered on its banks, and the winding valley. Elizabeth reflects with sorrow that she might have been mistress of this place, welcoming her uncle and aunt as visitors to her own home, until she recollects that such happiness could never have included the loss of those very relatives.

Mrs. Reynolds speaks with evident pride and attachment of her master, revealing that he is much at Pemberley and that Miss Darcy always visits for the summer months. When Mr. Gardiner suggests that if Darcy married, the housekeeper might see more of him, she responds that she knows no one good enough for him. Elizabeth cannot help observing this to his credit, and Mrs. Reynolds declares she has never had a cross word from him in her life, having known him since he was four years old. She describes him as the sweetest tempered, most generous-hearted boy, comparing him favourably to wild young men who think only of themselves. His father was an excellent man, and she believes his son will be just as affable to the poor. Elizabeth listens with increasing astonishment, exclaiming internally, "Can this be Mr. Darcy?"—for she had held the firmest opinion that he was not a good-tempered man.

In the gallery, Elizabeth walks in search of the only face whose features would be known to her. She finds a striking resemblance of Mr. Darcy with such a smile as she remembers seeing when he looked at her. She stands in earnest contemplation, returning to the picture before leaving. Mrs. Reynolds informs them it was taken during his father's lifetime. At this moment, Elizabeth feels a more gentle sensation towards the original than she ever experienced in the height of their acquaintance. The commendation of an intelligent servant proves of no trifling nature, and as she stands before the canvas with his eyes fixed upon herself, she thinks of his regard with deeper gratitude than ever before, remembering its warmth and softening its impropriety of expression.

After taking leave of the housekeeper, they are consigned to the gardener and walk across the lawn towards the river. Elizabeth turns back to look again at the house, and while her uncle and aunt pause, Mr. Darcy suddenly appears from the road leading behind it to the stables. They are within twenty yards of each other, and his appearance is so abrupt that avoiding his sight proves impossible.

Their eyes instantly meet and the cheeks of each spread with the deepest blush. Darcy absolutely starts and seems immovable from surprise for a moment. He advances and speaks to Elizabeth with perfect civility, though not in terms of perfect composure. She receives his compliments with embarrassment impossible to overcome. They stand a little aloof while he talks to their niece, who scarcely dares lift her eyes to his face. He repeats his inquiries about when she left Longbourn and her stay in Derbyshire so often and in such a hurried way that it plainly speaks the distraction of his thoughts. After standing a few moments without speaking, he suddenly recollects himself and takes leave. Elizabeth is overpowered by shame and vexation, wondering how strange it must appear to him and in what disgraceful light it might strike him.

They enter a beautiful walk by the water, but Elizabeth is not sensible of any of it for some time. Her thoughts are all fixed on Mr. Darcy and what is passing in his mind. When they are surprised by his approach again, Elizabeth is more prepared and resolves to appear with calmness. She begins to admire the beauty of the place but stops when unlucky recollections obtrude. Darcy asks Elizabeth to introduce him to her friends, which surprises her greatly, and she steals a look to see how he bears learning their relationship to her. He sustains the surprise with fortitude and turns back with them, entering into conversation with Mr. Gardiner and inviting him to fish there as often as he chooses. Walking together, Elizabeth explains that his housekeeper assured them of his absence and that they understood he was not immediately expected. He acknowledges business with his steward occasioned his early arrival and mentions that Mr. Bingley and his sisters will join him early tomorrow.

Darcy pauses and tells Elizabeth there is also one other person in the party who more particularly wishes to be known to her—he asks permission to introduce his sister to her acquaintance during their stay at Lambton. The surprise of this application is too great for her to know in what manner she accedes to it. She immediately feels that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have must be the work of her brother, and this is satisfactory, for it indicates his resentment has not made him think really ill of her. They walk on in silence, each deep in thought—Elizabeth flattered and pleased but not comfortable. His wish of introducing his sister is a compliment of the highest kind.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are pressed to enter the house for refreshment but decline, and they part on each side with the utmost politeness. Darcy hands the ladies into the carriage. Their observations begin immediately: he is perfectly well-behaved, polite, and unassuming, with nothing of pride except a little stateliness in his air. They are far more surprised by his behaviour than by any previous meeting. Elizabeth excuses herself for having described him as disagreeable, saying she had liked him better in Kent and never saw him so pleasant as this morning. When they mention his apparent kindness compared to his cruelty to poor Wickham, Elizabeth feels called on to vindicate his behaviour and relates the particulars of the pecuniary transactions, stating her authority is such as might be relied upon. The day proves too full of interest for Elizabeth to attend to new friends, and she can do nothing but think with wonder of Mr. Darcy's civility, and above all, of his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.

Elizabeth had expected Mr. Darcy to visit her the day after her arrival at Pemberley, but the morning after reaching Lambton, Darcy and his sister arrive at the inn while Elizabeth's party is preparing to dine with local friends. Elizabeth immediately recognizes Darcy's livery and must inform her surprised uncle and aunt of the honour she expects to receive. The Gardiners are all amazement at this development.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are astonished by the unexpected visit from such a distinguished quarter. The embarrassment in Elizabeth's manner as she speaks, combined with the circumstances of the preceding day, opens to them a new idea about the nature of Darcy's attentions to their niece. They begin to suspect that Darcy harbours a partiality for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's perturbation of feelings increases moment by moment. She retreats from the window, fearful of being seen, and walks up and down endeavouring to compose herself. She dreads that Darcy's partiality may have said too much in her favour, and anxiously suspects that every power of pleasing will fail her.

The introduction to Miss Darcy proves less formidable than expected. Though Elizabeth had heard Miss Darcy was exceedingly proud, she discovers her to be only exceedingly shy. Miss Darcy is tall, on a larger scale than Elizabeth, and though little more than sixteen, appears womanly and graceful. She proves difficult to draw into conversation, offering only monosyllables, but Elizabeth finds sense and good-humour in her face and unassuming, gentle manners.

Before long, Bingley arrives to call on Elizabeth as well. All Elizabeth's former anger against him has long dissipated. His unaffected cordiality on seeing her again could hardly have withstood any lingering resentment. He inquires after her family with friendly, good-humoured ease, and the Gardiners find him scarcely less interesting than Darcy.

The Gardiners direct their observation toward Elizabeth and Darcy with earnest inquiry. They soon become convinced that Darcy at least knows what it is to love. They note the lady's sensations remain in some doubt, but the gentleman's overflowing admiration is evident enough. They see much to interest but nothing to justify direct inquiry.

When Elizabeth sees Bingley, her thoughts fly to her sister Jane. She observes that Bingley's behaviour to Miss Darcy shows no particular regard, satisfying her that he has not formed an attachment to Georgiana. Bingley mentions it has been eight months since they met at the Netherfield ball, displaying an exact memory, and asks whether all her sisters are at Longbourn. These questions, with their look and manner, suggest his recollection of Jane.

Elizabeth observes that whenever she catches a glimpse of Darcy, she sees an expression of general complaisance. His accent is far removed from hauteur or disdain. She sees him seeking acquaintance and courting the good opinion of people with whom associating would have been a disgrace months ago—civil not only to her but to the relations he had openly disdained. The change is so great it strikes her mind forcibly.

Before departing after more than half an hour, Mr. Darcy calls on his sister to join in expressing their wish to see Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet at Pemberley for dinner. Miss Darcy reads the invitation with diffidence, readily agreeing. Mrs. Gardiner ventures to engage for Elizabeth's attendance, and the day after the next is fixed upon.

Alone in her room, Elizabeth's thoughts turn to Pemberley and to Darcy. She lies awake for two hours endeavouring to make out her feelings. She no longer hates him; indeed, hatred had vanished long ago. Respect for his valuable qualities has become something friendlier, heightened by yesterday's testimony in his favour. Above all, gratitude moves her—for his having loved her and for loving her still well enough to forgive her past acrimony. She wonders how far she wishes his welfare to depend upon herself and how far it would bring happiness to both.

That evening, Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner arrange to return Miss Darcy's visit at Pemberley the following morning. Elizabeth is pleased with this plan, though when she questions herself further, she has little to say in reply. Mr. Gardiner departs soon after breakfast, having renewed his fishing engagement and arranged to meet gentlemen at Pemberley by noon.

Elizabeth is now convinced that Miss Bingley's animosity toward her originates entirely from jealousy, particularly regarding Mr. Darcy. She anticipates with curiosity how much civility Miss Bingley will extend when their acquaintance resumes at Pemberley, knowing full well how unwelcome her presence must be to the lady.

Upon arriving at the estate, Elizabeth and the Gardiners are led through the hall into the summer saloon. The room's northern exposure makes it perfect for warm weather, with its ground-level windows offering a refreshing vista of wooded hills behind the house and beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts scattered across the lawn.

In the saloon, they are received by Georgiana Darcy, who is seated with Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, and the woman who manages her London household. Georgiana's welcome is polite but accompanied by profound embarrassment stemming from shyness and fear of giving offense—a demeanor that observers might easily misinterpret as pride and reserve. Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth, however, recognize her true character and feel sympathy for her.

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley acknowledge the visitors with only cursory courtesy. After they are seated, an awkward silence descends for several moments until Mrs. Annesley, a genteel and agreeable woman whose efforts to introduce conversation reveal her superior breeding, successfully engages Mrs. Gardiner and occasionally Elizabeth. Georgiana appears to long for the courage to join the discussion and occasionally ventures brief comments when they are least likely to be overheard. Elizabeth observes that Miss Bingley watches her intently, particularly whenever she speaks to Georgiana.

The visit's next development comes when servants enter with cold meats, cakes, and an array of excellent seasonal fruits. Before this occurs, numerous meaningful glances pass between Mrs. Annesley and Georgiana, reminding the young hostess of her duties. The beautiful pyramids of grapes, nectarines, and peaches draw the entire party to the table, providing occupation for everyone since while not all could converse, all could partake.

While eating, Elizabeth has opportunity to examine her feelings about Mr. Darcy's potential arrival. Upon seeing him enter, she attempts to compose herself and appear at ease—a resolution made more necessary but not more easily kept—particularly as the entire party watches his behavior closely. Miss Bingley displays the most intense curiosity despite her smiling facade. Georgiana, emboldened by her brother's presence, engages more in conversation, and Elizabeth perceives Mr. Darcy's wish to foster familiarity between them. Elizabeth had been uncertain whether she feared or anticipated his arrival, and upon seeing him, she begins to regret his appearance.

Miss Bingley seizes an opportunity to address Elizabeth with sneering civility, asking whether the militia has left Meryton, implying it must be a great loss to her family. Though she dares not mention Wickham directly before Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth instantly grasps his significance in Miss Bingley's intentions. The reference causes momentary distress, connected to various painful memories, but Elizabeth rallies to answer with adequate composure. Mr. Darcy, appearing flushed, gazes intently at Elizabeth while Georgiana becomes overcome with confusion. Miss Bingley had intended to provoke Elizabeth into revealing inappropriate partiality toward Wickham and to remind Darcy of the absurdities connected to some of her family, not knowing she was actually causing pain to Georgiana by referencing the man connected to her own near-elopement scandal, which only Elizabeth among those present was aware of.

After the visit concludes and Mr. Darcy escorts the ladies to their carriage, Miss Bingley vents her frustration to Georgiana by criticizing Elizabeth's appearance, manner, and dress—comments Georgiana refuses to join in, having been won over by her brother's recommendation. Upon Darcy's return, Miss Bingley repeats her observations directly to him, commenting that Elizabeth looks ill, is brown and coarse, and has a face too thin with features not at all handsome. She quotes Darcy's earlier dismissive remark about Elizabeth being no beauty and recalls that he once said calling her mother a wit would be preferable to calling Elizabeth a beauty. To her satisfaction, Darcy finally responds defensively, but only to state that he now considers her one of the handsomest women of his acquaintance. This forces Miss Bingley to endure the pain of having provoked such an admission without anyone else being hurt by it.

During the return journey, Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth discuss everything that occurred during their visit except what most engaged their interest. They analyze the looks and behavior of everyone they encountered, except for the one person who commanded their primary attention. They converse about his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit—everything but him—yet Elizabeth secretly wishes to learn Mrs. Gardiner's opinion of Mr. Darcy, and Mrs. Gardiner would have been delighted had her niece initiated that particular subject.

The chapter opens with Elizabeth and the Gardiners settled in Lambton, where Elizabeth has spent three mornings disappointed to find no letter from Jane awaiting her. On the third morning, her disappointment is resolved when she receives two letters from Jane at once, one marked as having been mis-sent elsewhere—an error Elizabeth does not find surprising, given how poorly Jane usually writes addresses.

After reading the first of Jane's letters, which reports Lydia's elopement with Wickham and their presumed departure for Scotland, Elizabeth immediately opens the second, more urgent letter, which reveals the pair were never confirmed to have travelled to Scotland, were only traced to Clapham before disappearing towards London, and that Mr. Bennet is travelling to London with Colonel Forster to search for Lydia, with Jane begging the Gardiners to return to Longbourn at once. Overcome with distress and guilt for failing to expose Wickham's true character to her family earlier, Elizabeth abandons her plans to walk with the Gardiners and rushes from the room to find her uncle. At the door, she encounters Mr. Darcy, and in her flustered, distressed state exclaims, "I have not an instant to lose," before explaining the full news of Lydia's elopement, expressing her regret at not having acted on her knowledge of Wickham's character sooner, and fearing the shame of the situation will permanently ruin her family's standing. Darcy listens in stunned silence, offers his quiet sympathy, and departs after Elizabeth asks him to cancel their planned visit to Pemberley and conceal the distressing news from his sister Miss Darcy for as long as possible. After he leaves, Elizabeth reflects on her feelings for Darcy, realizing her regard for him has grown even as she assumes their acquaintance can never continue on cordial terms due to the disgrace brought on her family by Lydia's actions.

After Darcy's departure, Elizabeth is lost in anguished reflection on her family's disgrace and her own regret over not acting on her knowledge of Wickham's character, until the Gardiners return, having been alarmed by the servant's report that Elizabeth was taken suddenly ill. She immediately shares the full contents of Jane's letters with them, and the Gardiners, though shocked and distressed by the news, immediately promise every possible assistance. Elizabeth eagerly accepts their help, and the three quickly settle all travel arrangements to return to Longbourn without delay. Within the hour, they have completed preparations: Mr. Gardiner has settled his inn account, Elizabeth has written vague false excuses for their sudden departure to their Lambton friends, and they are seated in their carriage and on the road to Longbourn.

The Gardiners and Elizabeth discuss the likelihood of Wickham marrying Lydia. Mr. Gardiner concludes that the risk outweighs the temptation for Wickham to harm a girl protected by a Colonel's family. Elizabeth admits her complicated feelings about Wickham—while she doesn't believe him capable of neglecting his own interests, she does believe him capable of other neglects. They debate why the couple would secrecy their marriage and travel through London instead of continuing to Scotland. Mr. Gardiner observes that Lydia lacks brothers to protect her, and Wickham might assume Mr. Bennet would do little about the situation. Elizabeth reflects sadly on her sister's lack of virtue education and how Lydia has been "given up to nothing but amusement and vanity," unable to recognize Wickham's true character despite being exposed to him for months. Elizabeth reveals she told Jane about Wickham's infamous behavior toward Mr. Darcy, but they did not inform Lydia, whose innocence about his character made her vulnerable to his deceptions.

The party travels expeditiously with an overnight stop on the road, arriving at Longbourn by dinnertime the next day. Elizabeth finds comfort in knowing Jane could not have been wearied by long expectations. The journey does not bring novelty to their fears, hopes, and conjectures about Lydia, and the subject remains ever-present in Elizabeth's thoughts, fixed there by the keenest anguish—self-reproach—for she had known Wickham's true character and failed to warn her sister.

The little Gardiners, attracted by the sight of a chaise, are standing on the steps of the house as the party enters the paddock. The children's joyful surprise and capers display their genuine welcome. Elizabeth jumps out, gives each a hasty kiss, and hurries into the vestibule where Jane comes running downstairs from their mother's apartment, immediately meeting her.

The sisters embrace with tears in both their eyes. Elizabeth immediately asks whether anything has been heard of the fugitives. Jane replies not yet, expressing hope that with her uncle's arrival, everything will be well. When Elizabeth asks about their mother, Jane reports that Mrs. Bennet is tolerably well in health but her spirits are greatly shaken. Mary and Kitty are quite well. Elizabeth notices how pale Jane looks and expresses concern for all she has endured alone. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner then arrive with their children, and Jane welcomes and thanks them both.

In the drawing-room, the questions about Lydia are repeated, but Jane has no intelligence to give. The sanguine hope of good that benevolence suggests has not yet deserted her—she still expects each morning would bring a letter explaining their proceedings and perhaps announcing the marriage. Jane explains that Mr. Bennet went to town on Tuesday and wrote only once, merely saying he had arrived safely and giving directions. Mrs. Gardiner had been called away from Gracechurch Street by urgent business and came directly to Elizabeth at Pemberley.

Mrs. Bennet receives them with tears, lamentations, invectives against Wickham, and complaints of her own suffering—blaming everybody except herself, to whose ill-judging indulgence she attributes her daughter's errors. She declares that if she had been allowed to go to Brighton with her family, this would not have happened, and blames the Forsters for letting Lydia out of their sight. She fears Mr. Bennet will fight Wickham and be killed, leaving the family vulnerable to being turned out by the Collinses. Mrs. Bennet weeps that she does not know what they shall do without assistance.

Mr. Gardiner offers assurances of his affection and declares his intention to be in London the very next day to assist Mr. Bennet in every endeavor for recovering Lydia. He recommends moderation in her hopes as well as her fears, advising her not to give way to useless alarm, though it is right to be prepared for the worst. He assures her that it is not quite a week since they left Brighton and they may gain news soon. His plan is to bring Mr. Bennet home to Gracechurch Street to consult together about what is to be done.

Mrs. Bennet expresses gratitude and immediately makes requests: that Mr. Gardiner find the couple wherever they may be, and if they are not married already, make them marry. She insists he not let them wait for wedding clothes—Lydia shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them. She pleads with him to keep Mr. Bennet from fighting and deliver the message that she is "frightened out of her wits" with tremblings, flutterings, spasms, pains, and heart palpitations. She adds requests about Lydia's clothes and warehouses. Though Mr. Gardiner assures her of his earnest endeavors, he cannot avoid recommending moderation. They leave her to vent her feelings on the housekeeper rather than risk her imprudence before the servants.

Mary and Kitty join the party in the dining-room. Mary, having come from her books, whispers to Elizabeth with grave reflection that they must stem the tide of malice and pour "the balm of sisterly consolation" into each other. When Elizabeth shows no inclination to reply, Mary adds her moral observations: that loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable, that one false step involves her in endless ruin, that her reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful, and that she cannot be too much guarded in her behavior toward the undeserving of the other sex. Elizabeth lifts up her eyes in amazement but is too much oppressed to make any reply, while Mary continues to console herself with such moral extractions.

The two elder Miss Bennets have half an hour alone, and Elizabeth makes inquiries Jane is equally eager to satisfy. After joining in general lamentations, Elizabeth asks about Colonel Forster's knowledge. Jane relates that Colonel Forster owned he had often suspected partiality between Wickham and Lydia, especially on Lydia's side, but nothing to give alarm. When the news broke, it hastened his journey to assure them of his concern. Denny denied knowing anything of their plan and would not give his real opinion. Kitty had owned, with "a very natural triumph" on knowing more than the rest, that Lydia's last letter had prepared her for such a step—she had known of their being in love for many weeks, though not before they went to Brighton. Colonel Forster brought Lydia's note for them to see.

Jane produces Lydia's note to Harriet Forster from her pocket-book, revealing Lydia's frivolous and thoughtless nature in its contents, as she jokes about going to Gretna Green with Wickham and signing her name Lydia Wickham, while also requesting mending of her muslin gown and making excuses to Pratt. Elizabeth cries out "Oh, thoughtless, thoughtless Lydia!" upon reading it, noting that at least the letter shows Lydia was serious about marriage rather than contemplating any scheme of infamy, though she fears what Wickham might have persuaded her to afterward. Jane reports that their father could not speak a word for a full ten minutes upon learning of the elopement, and their mother was immediately taken ill.

Elizabeth inquires into the measures her father intended to pursue. Jane believes he meant to go to Epsom, where they last changed horses, to see the postilions and try to make out something from them. His principal object would be to discover the number of the hackney coach which took them from Clapham. Mr. Bennet planned to make inquiries at Clapham about where the coachman had before set down his fare, hoping it might not be impossible to find out the stand and number of the coach. Jane had difficulty extracting even this much, as her father was in a hurry to be gone and his spirits were greatly discomposed.

The family waits expectantly for correspondence from Mr. Bennet the morning after his departure, but the post arrives empty-handed. While they know him to be an inconsistent writer under normal circumstances, they had hoped for greater effort during such a crisis. The silence leads them to conclude he has no favorable news to share, though any information would be welcome at this point.

Mr. Gardiner leaves immediately after receiving his letters in London, committing to provide the family with regular updates about the search efforts. Before departing, he reassures his sister-in-law that he will convince Mr. Bennet to return to Longbourn as soon as possible. Mrs. Bennet takes particular comfort in this promise, viewing it as essential protection against the possibility of her husband being killed in a duel.

Mrs. Gardiner remains in Hertfordshire with her children for several days, providing comfort and support to her nieces during this difficult time. Their other aunt also visits frequently with the stated intention of cheering them up, but each visit seems to have the opposite effect, as she consistently shares new details about Wickham's reckless behavior and irregularities, leaving the sisters more discouraged than before.

The entire town of Meryton turns against Wickham, who just months earlier had been regarded almost as an angel. Residents declare he owes money to every tradesman in the area and accuse him of seducing daughters throughout the community. Elizabeth recognizes that much of what is said is exaggerated, yet believes enough to confirm her sister's ruin. Even Jane, who maintains greater faith in humanity, begins to despair, particularly as the time frame for a possible Scottish elopement has passed without confirmation.

Mr. Gardiner's first letter from London describes finding Mr. Bennet and bringing him to Gracechurch Street. Mr. Bennet has already searched Epsom and Clapham without success and now plans to inquiry at London's principal hotels. Mr. Gardiner expresses skepticism about this approach but agrees to assist his brother-in-law. The letter also mentions plans to contact Colonel Forster to gather information about Wickham's connections from his regiment.

When Mr. Gardiner's postscript suggests Elizabeth might know about Wickham's living relations, she realizes the compliment refers to her previous conversations with him but cannot provide useful information. She has only heard him mention deceased parents, and while some of his former companions might have relevant knowledge, she does not hold out much hope for this avenue of investigation.

Each day at Longbourn becomes marked by anticipation, with the arrival of the post representing the primary focus of every morning. The family understands that any news of importance regarding their search would come through correspondence, and they expect each successive day to bring significant developments.

A letter from Mr. Collins arrives, offering the family his condolences with a tone that mingles sympathy with barely concealed judgment. He informs them that Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter have been told of the situation and share his view that this scandal will damage the marriage prospects of all the Bennet daughters. The letter also contains an implied self-congratulation that his own engagement to Charlotte was not jeopardized by association with such a disgraced family, and he advises Mr. Bennet to disown Lydia entirely.

Colonel Forster's response to Mr. Gardiner's inquiries reveals that Wickham has no living relatives with whom he maintains contact, and no former acquaintances can be identified as likely sources of information about his whereabouts. The investigation also uncovers the true extent of his financial troubles, including gambling debts exceeding a thousand pounds at Brighton and additional obligations that remain unpaid.

Mr. Gardiner's subsequent letter announces that Mr. Bennet will arrive home on Saturday. His spirits have been depleted by the unsuccessful search, and he has agreed to his brother-in-law's request to return to his family, leaving further pursuit in Mr. Gardiner's hands. The Gardiners also make arrangements to depart for London at the same time Mr. Bennet returns home.

When informed of her husband's imminent return, Mrs. Bennet reacts with distress rather than relief. She cannot understand why he would abandon London before finding Lydia and securing Wickham's marriage to her. Her primary concern centers on who will now force Wickham to marry the girl if her husband has abandoned the mission.

Mrs. Gardiner departs with lingering questions about Elizabeth's connection to the gentleman from Derbyshire she noticed during their visit there. Elizabeth has never voluntarily mentioned his name since their return, and any hope Mrs. Gardiner harbored of a letter from him has come to nothing. Elizabeth is aware that her low spirits stem partly from the family crisis but recognizes that the knowledge of Darcy's involvement has contributed significantly to her sleepless nights.

Elizabeth acknowledges to herself that the unhappy state of her family provides sufficient explanation for her melancholy without needing to invoke other causes. However, she recognizes that her awareness of Darcy's role in discovering Lydia's whereabouts has added another layer of distress to her situation, making the crisis more difficult to bear than it might otherwise have been.

Mr. Bennet returns to Longbourn maintaining his characteristic philosophical composure. He speaks minimally and makes no reference to the business that took him to London, leaving his daughters uncertain when they might safely address the subject. It requires an afternoon tea gathering before Elizabeth finally introduces the painful topic, only to have her father respond that the suffering belongs to him alone as the responsible party.

When Elizabeth gently suggests he should not be too hard on himself, Mr. Bennet acknowledges the warning but insists on facing his guilt fully. He wants to experience the weight of his responsibility without fear of being overwhelmed by it, trusting that the feeling will eventually fade. He confirms that he believes the couple is concealed in London and dryly notes that Lydia, who always wanted to visit the city, now has her wish fulfilled. He also acknowledges Elizabeth's wisdom in the advice she gave him the previous May, recognizing it showed strength of character.

The conversation takes a lighter turn when Mr. Bennet jokes about maintaining appearances during future crises. He then turns his attention to Kitty, announcing that no officers will be permitted to enter the house or pass through the village, balls will be canceled unless Kitty dances with one of her sisters, and she will not be allowed to leave the house until she demonstrates improved judgment. Kitty's tears prompt her father to soften slightly, offering a conditional promise to take her to a military review in ten years if she behaves well in the interim.

Two days after Mr. Bennet's return from London, Jane and Elizabeth receive word from Mrs. Hill that an express has arrived from Mr. Gardiner. Eager to learn what news it brings, the sisters rush to find their father, whom they eventually locate walking toward a small copse on the estate.

The sisters race across the lawn to catch up with their father, with Elizabeth outpacing Jane. They find Mr. Bennet methodically making his way toward the small wood, and Elizabeth urgently inquires about news from their uncle, learning that he has received a letter by express.

Elizabeth takes the letter from her father's pocket and reads it aloud at his request. Mr. Gardiner's letter reveals that Lydia and Wickham have been found in London. They are not yet married, and there was no intention of marriage, but Mr. Gardiner has negotiated terms that will lead to a wedding. He has already agreed to conditions on Mr. Bennet's behalf.

Mr. Gardiner reports that after Mr. Bennet left London on Saturday, he successfully located where Lydia and Wickham were staying. He has seen them both and discovered them together, though they have not yet formalized their relationship through marriage.

Mr. Gardiner reveals the terms he has agreed to: Lydia is to receive her equal share of the five thousand pounds secured among the children, to be paid upon the decease of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. Additionally, Mr. Bennet must commit to allowing her one hundred pounds per annum during his lifetime. These conditions, Mr. Gardiner notes, are less demanding than Wickham's actual circumstances would suggest.

Mr. Gardiner explains that Wickham's financial situation is not as desperate as commonly believed. After settling his debts, there will be some money remaining to settle on Lydia in addition to her own fortune. Mr. Gardiner requests full authority to act in Mr. Bennet's name and has already engaged a solicitor named Haggerston to prepare the settlement documents.

Jane and Elizabeth discuss the news after their father agrees to write immediately. Elizabeth is ashamed that Wickham asked for so little, which surprises her father. The family debates how much money Mr. Gardiner must have advanced, with Mr. Bennet estimating that Wickham would be foolish to accept anything less than ten thousand pounds given his debts. Elizabeth worries that her uncle has distressed himself with generosity.

The sisters realize their mother likely knows nothing of the developments. They ask Mr. Bennet's permission to inform her, and he indifferently grants it, telling them to take whatever they like. Elizabeth retrieves the letter and goes upstairs with Jane, where they find Mary and Kitty with Mrs. Bennet as well.

Upon hearing that Lydia will be married, Mrs. Bennet erupts in joy comparable to her previous agitation from distress. She shows no concern for her daughter's happiness or humility regarding her own role in the scandal. She declares her intention to see Lydia married at sixteen, praises her brother, and immediately begins making plans for wedding clothes and celebration.

Mrs. Bennet excitedly discusses wedding preparations, mentioning calico, muslin, and cambric. She intends to write to her sister Gardiner about clothes and asks Jane to help her dictate letters since she is too fluttered to write coherently. Jane persuades her to wait one day to consult Mr. Bennet about finances before ordering anything.

Mrs. Bennet declares she will go to Meryton immediately to tell her sister Philips, then call on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long on her return. She orders the carriage for an airing and promises a bowl of punch for the servants to celebrate. She receives congratulations from Mrs. Hill and others, seemingly delighted that her daughter will soon be Mrs. Wickham.

Elizabeth, sick of the folly around her, retreats to her own room to think freely. She acknowledges that Lydia's situation cannot be good, but recognizes they have avoided a far worse fate. She feels the need to be thankful that things are no worse than they are, despite the lack of rational happiness or worldly prosperity that can be expected for her sister.

Elizabeth reflects that the conduct of both Lydia and Wickham has been such that neither she, Jane, nor anyone else can ever forget it. Though she cannot forget the past, she takes comfort in knowing they have gained something by this resolution, even if her sister's chance of happiness remains small and Wickham's character remains wretched.

Mr. Bennet reflects on the wisdom of saving income for his family's future. He deeply regrets not having set aside annual sums for the better provision of his children and wife. His failure to do so now means that Lydia must rely on her uncle's generosity to salvage her honour, whereas a proper inheritance could have prevented this necessity entirely.

Mr. Bennet feels acutely the burden of accepting his brother-in-law's assistance for such an unfortunate cause. He resolves to discover the full extent of Mr. Gardiner's financial outlay and determines to repay the obligation as soon as he is able, viewing this as a matter of personal honour.

When Mr. Bennet first married, economy seemed pointless because they expected a son who would eventually cut off the entail and secure the family's future. Yet five daughters arrived instead of the anticipated heir, and by the time they despaired of a son ever coming, it was too late to begin saving. Mrs. Bennet had no talent for economy, and Mr. Bennet's love of independence prevented them from living within their means.

Five thousand pounds had been settled upon Mrs. Bennet and the children through marriage articles, though the division depended on the parents' discretion. Mr. Bennet readily agreed to the proposal regarding Lydia. He was astonished to discover that his financial loss would be minimal—scarcely ten pounds annually—since Lydia's expenses had already far exceeded the hundred pounds being paid to her, what with her board, allowance, and continual gifts through her mother.

Mr. Bennet's letter was quickly written, for though he procrastinated in beginning tasks, he executed them promptly once started. He expressed his grateful approval of the arrangements and willingness to fulfil the engagements made on his behalf. He requested further particulars of what he owed his brother, though he remained too angry with Lydia to send any message directly to her.

The news of Lydia's marriage quickly spread through Meryton. The neighbourhood received it with philosophical resignation, secretly preferring more scandalous outcomes for better gossip. Yet the well-meaning wishes of spiteful old ladies for Lydia's wellbeing persisted, as her certain misery with such a husband was considered thoroughly predictable.

After a fortnight confined to her room, Mrs. Bennet emerged triumphant on this happy day, taking her place at the head of the table in spirits oppressively high. She felt no shame about her daughter's conduct, for marrying off a daughter had been her chief desire since Jane turned sixteen. She busily searched the neighbourhood for appropriate homes for Lydia - grand estates like Haye Park, the great house at Stoke, or Ashworth - while rejecting countless options for being too small or too distant, without regard to what their income might support.

Once the servants withdrew, Mr. Bennet declared that neither Lydia nor Wickham would ever be received at Longbourn, refusing to encourage their imprudence by such hospitality. A long dispute followed this declaration, and another when he absolutely refused to advance a single guinea for wedding clothes, declaring Lydia should receive no mark of affection from him. Mrs. Bennet could scarcely comprehend such resentful anger, more concerned with the disgrace of inadequate attire for her daughter's nuptials than with any shame at the elopement itself.

Elizabeth deeply regretted having informed Mr. Darcy of her family's fears for Lydia. Since the marriage would soon terminate the scandal's unfavourable beginnings, they might have concealed everything from those not immediately present. Yet she had no fear of his spreading the story, for his discretion was absolute. However, she was mortified that he possessed knowledge of her sister's disgrace, and she could no longer hope for any connection between them, given his just contempt for Wickham and his new relationship to their family.

Elizabeth now recognized Darcy as the man who would most perfectly suit her in disposition and talents. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. Such a union would have benefited them both—her liveliness would have softened his mind, while his knowledge of the world would have elevated her own understanding. But no such happy marriage could now teach anyone what connubial felicity truly was, for an opposite union—precluding all possibility of the other—was soon to be formed in her family.

Mr. Gardiner's letter informed them that Wickham intended to quit the militia entirely and join the Regulars, with an ensigncy promised in a regiment quartered in the north. Mr. Gardiner considered this removal highly advisable for both Wickham and Lydia's welfare, hoping that among new people with reputations to preserve, they might become more prudent. The letter also requested that Mr. Bennet satisfy Wickham's creditors in Meryton, whose list would follow, as Mr. Gardiner had already pledged himself for payments due in Brighton.

Lydia expressed a strong desire to visit her family before departing for the north. Mr. Bennet initially refused this request entirely, but Jane and Elizabeth earnestly urged him to receive his daughter and son-in-law at Longbourn immediately after the wedding, for the sake of Lydia's feelings and respectability. Their rational and mild persuasion eventually prevailed upon him. Mrs. Bennet was delighted to have her married daughter displayed in the neighbourhood before Lydia's banishment to the north. Elizabeth, however, was surprised that Wickham had consented to this arrangement, for any meeting with him would have been the last object of her own wishes.

Lydia and Wickham arrive at Longbourn on their wedding day. Mrs. Bennet welcomes them with joy, while Mr. Bennet appears grave and barely speaks. Jane and Elizabeth feel more distress for Lydia than she feels for herself. Lydia remains characteristically bold and unrestrained, demanding congratulations and marveling at being married. Elizabeth is disgusted by the couple's easy assurance, particularly Wickham's pleasant manners despite his questionable character.

Lydia openly boasts about her marriage, excitedly recounting how she showed her wedding ring to William Goulding by lowering the carriage window. She declares her sisters must envy her and advises them all to go to Brighton to find husbands. When Elizabeth protests the suggestion of how to acquire husbands, Lydia continues her triumphant behavior, showing her ring to the servants and declaring she has taken Jane's place as the eldest since she is now a married woman.

The newlyweds will remain at Longbourn for only ten days before Wickham joins his regiment at Newcastle, having received his military commission. Mrs. Bennet is the only one who regrets their brief stay, and she maximizes the time by visiting with Lydia and hosting frequent parties at home. Lydia announces they will spend the winter at Newcastle and hopes there will be balls where she can secure partners for her sisters.

Elizabeth observes that Wickham's affection for Lydia is not equal to Lydia's devotion to him. She reflects that the elopement was driven more by Lydia's strong love than by Wickham's genuine feelings, and that his decision to marry her was likely made necessary by financial distress rather than romantic inclination. Lydia, meanwhile, remains devoted to her "dear Wickham" and declares he can do everything better than anyone else.

Lydia eagerly shares the details of her wedding at St. Clement's Church, describing her anxiety that morning about something going wrong and her aunt's lengthy lectures during the preparations. She mentions that her uncle was called away just as the carriage arrived but returned in time. Then, almost carelessly, Lydia reveals that Mr. Darcy was supposed to attend the wedding with Wickham before quickly claiming it was meant to be a secret.

Elizabeth is astonished by the revelation that Mr. Darcy attended her sister's wedding, a scene where he had least reason to be present and least temptation to appear. Though Jane advises silence on the matter, Elizabeth cannot bear the suspense and writes immediately to Mrs. Gardiner requesting an explanation of why Darcy was involved in such a secret. She acknowledges she may need to resort to "tricks and stratagems" to discover the truth if her aunt does not tell her directly.

The letter, dated September 6 from Gracechurch Street, began with Mrs. Gardiner's confession of surprise at Elizabeth's inquiry, saying she had not expected such questions from her niece. She explained that Mr. Darcy had called on Mr. Gardiner unexpectedly on the very day she returned from Longbourn, staying shut up with him for several hours. This visit occurred before she arrived home, leaving her curiosity unfulfilled at the time.

Mr. Darcy came to inform Mr. Gardiner that he had discovered where Lydia and Wickham were located, having both seen and spoken with them—Wickham repeatedly and Lydia once. Mrs. Gardiner reported that Darcy had left Derbyshire only one day after the Gardiners themselves and had come to town with the explicit resolution of hunting for them. His stated motive was his conviction that it was owing to his own conduct that Wickham's worthlessness had not been better known, thus making it possible for Lydia to fall victim to him. He generously attributed the situation to his mistaken pride and confessed that he had previously thought it beneath him to expose his private actions to the world, believing his character should speak for itself. He therefore considered it his duty to step forward and remedy an evil his own reserve had helped cause.

Darcy had an advantage the Gardiners lacked: knowledge that a Mrs. Younge, formerly governess to Miss Darcy and dismissed for some unspecified cause of disapprobation, had taken a large house in Edward Street and now maintained herself by letting lodgings. This woman was intimately acquainted with Wickham, and Darcy went to her for intelligence as soon as he arrived in town. It took two or three days before she would provide the information he sought, presumably requiring bribery to overcome her reluctance to betray her friend. When Wickham first arrived in London, he had actually gone to her seeking lodging, but she was unable to receive them. Eventually, through this connection, Darcy obtained the wished-for direction: they were staying in a certain street in London.

Upon locating them, Darcy saw Wickham and insisted on also seeing Lydia. His initial objective was to persuade Lydia to quit her disgraceful situation and return to her friends, offering his assistance in facilitating this. However, he found Lydia absolutely resolved to remain where she was. She cared nothing for her friends, wanted no help from him, and refused to consider leaving Wickham. She was confident they would be married eventually, so the timing mattered little to her. Since such were her feelings, Darcy concluded that the only remaining course was to secure and expedite the marriage itself. In his very first conversation with Wickham, Darcy easily learned that marriage had never been Wickham's design, as Wickham cherished hopes of making his fortune more effectively through marriage in some other country.

Wickham confessed to Darcy that he had been obliged to leave the regiment on account of some very pressing debts of honour, and he blamed all the ill consequences of Lydia's flight on her own folly alone. He intended to resign his commission immediately and had no clear notion of where he would go or what he would live on. When Darcy asked why Wickham did not simply marry Lydia at once—pointing out that though Mr. Bennet was not very rich, he would have been able to help and the marriage would improve Wickham's situation—Wickham still cherished hopes of a more lucrative match elsewhere. However, under such circumstances, he was not likely to resist the temptation of immediate relief. The two met several times, as much needed discussion was required. Wickham naturally wanted more than he could obtain, but eventually was reduced to reasonableness. The settlement included payment of his debts (amounting to considerably more than a thousand pounds), an additional thousand pounds settled upon Lydia, and the purchase of his commission.

After settling matters with Wickham, Darcy's next step was to make Mr. Gardiner acquainted with the arrangement. He first called at Gracechurch Street the evening before Mrs. Gardiner came home, but Mr. Gardiner could not be seen. Further inquiry revealed that Mr. Bennet was still there but would leave town the next morning. Darcy did not consider Mr. Bennet the proper person to consult, so he postponed seeing him until after his departure, leaving no name so that only a gentleman calling on business was known. He returned on Saturday, when Mr. Gardiner was home, and they had a great deal of talk together. They met again on Sunday, when Mrs. Gardiner also saw him. Not everything was settled before Monday, and as soon as it was, an express was sent to Longbourn. Darcy was very obstinate about handling everything himself, despite Mr. Gardiner's willingness to settle the whole matter. They "battled it together for a long time," until Mr. Gardiner was forced to yield and accept only the probable credit of the matter, which went sore against his grain. After the arrangement was finalized, Darcy returned to his friends at Pemberley, though it was agreed he would be in London again for the wedding when all financial matters would receive their final completion.

Mrs. Gardiner confessed to Lizzy that she had never before been bold enough to say how much she liked Mr. Darcy, and entreated her not to be angry with her for taking this opportunity. She affirmed that his behavior to them had been as pleasing in every respect as when they were in Derbyshire. His understanding and opinions all pleased her; he only wanted a little more liveliness, which, if he married prudently, his wife might teach him. She noted that he seemed very sly, hardly ever mentioning Elizabeth's name, but supposed slyness was simply the fashion. She implored forgiveness if she had been presuming and asked not to be excluded from visiting Pemberley, expressing her desire to "be all round the park" in a low phaeton with a nice little pair of ponies.

The letter's contents threw Elizabeth into a flutter of spirits in which pleasure and pain were difficult to distinguish. The vague suspicions she had been afraid to encourage—fearing such goodness improbable and dreading it might be true from the pain of obligation—were proved beyond their greatest extent to be correct. Darcy had followed them purposely to town, taken on himself all the trouble and mortification of such a search, including necessary supplication to a woman he must abominate and despise, and frequent dealings with the man whose very name was punishment to pronounce. He had done all this for a girl he could neither regard nor esteem. Her heart whispered that he had done it for her, but this hope was shortly checked. She realized that even her vanity was insufficient to expect his affection, for a woman who had refused him, to overcome his natural abhorrence of becoming brother-in-law to Wickham—something every kind of pride must revolt from. Though he had done much and she was ashamed to think how much, she could believe his stated reason was reasonable: he felt he had been wrong, had liberality, and had the means to exercise it. Remaining partiality for her might assist his endeavors where her peace was concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a return. She grieved over every ungracious sensation and saucy speech she had ever directed toward him. She was humbled but proud of him—proud that in a cause of compassion and honor he had been able to get the better of himself. She read her aunt's commendation again and again; it was hardly enough but it pleased her. She found mixed pleasure and regret in discovering how steadfastly both she and her uncle had believed affection and confidence subsisted between Darcy and herself.

Elizabeth was roused from her reflections by someone's approach, and before she could strike into another path, she was overtaken by Wickham. He addressed her as "my dear sister" and expressed concern for interrupting her solitary ramble. She replied that though he did interrupt her, the interruption need not be unwelcome. He stated he would be sorry if it were, saying they had always been good friends and now were better. When she asked if the others were coming out, he replied that Mrs. Bennet and Lydia were going in the carriage to Meryton. He then revealed he had learned from their uncle and aunt that she had actually seen Pemberley. She confirmed that she had, and he said he almost envied her the pleasure, though he believed it would be too much for him—though he could take it in his way to Newcastle. He asked if she had seen the old housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, noting she had always been very fond of him. Elizabeth confirmed that Mrs. Reynolds had mentioned him, telling her that Wickham was gone into the army and she feared he had not turned out well. Wickham replied that at such a distance, things were strangely misrepresented, and bit his lip in evident discomfort.

Wickham expressed surprise at seeing Darcy in town the previous month, noting they had passed each other several times. Elizabeth coolly suggested he might be preparing for his marriage with Miss de Bourgh, noting it must be something particular to take him there at that time of year. He agreed, then asked if she had seen Darcy while at Lambton, understanding from the Gardiners that she had. She confirmed that he had introduced them to his sister, and when he asked if she liked Miss Darcy, she replied that she liked her very much. Wickham claimed to have heard that Miss Darcy was uncommonly improved within the past year or two, noting she was not very promising when he last saw her. He declared himself glad she liked Miss Darcy and hoped she would turn out well. Elizabeth expressed confidence that she would, observing that she had "got over the most trying age," to which Wickham agreed.

Wickham inquired whether Elizabeth had gone by the village of Kympton, and when she said she did not recollect doing so, he mentioned it because it was the living which he ought to have had. He described it as a most delightful place with an excellent parsonage-house that would have suited him in every respect. When she asked how he would have liked making sermons, he replied that he would have considered it exceedingly well, viewing it as part of his duty and expecting the exertion would soon become nothing. He stated that one ought not to repine, but acknowledged it would have been such a thing for him—the quiet, the retirement of such a life would have answered all his ideas of happiness. He noted it was not to be, then asked if she had ever heard Darcy mention the circumstance when they were in Kent. Elizabeth replied that she had heard from authority she considered as good that the living had been left to him conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron. Wickham confirmed "You have! Yes, there was something in that; I told you so from the first, you may remember." Elizabeth then reminded him that she had also heard that there was a time when sermon-making was not so palatable to him as it seemed now—that he had actually declared his resolution of never taking orders, and that the business had been compromised accordingly. He acknowledged this, stating it was not wholly without foundation, and pointed out that she might remember what he had told her on that point when they first discussed it.

As they approached the house, with Elizabeth walking fast to get rid of him, she chose not to provoke him for her sister's sake. She replied with a good-humoured smile that they were brother and sister, and entreated him not to let them quarrel about the past, expressing hope that in future they would always be of one mind. She held out her hand; he kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though he hardly knew how to look, and together they entered the house.

Lydia departs with Wickham for Newcastle, where his regiment is stationed. Their farewell exchanges highlight Lydia's callousness toward her family, while Wickham's charm deceives Mr. Bennet. Mrs. Bennet is left dull and forlorn until the news of Bingley's return lifts her spirits.

Mrs. Philips brings word that Mr. Bingley is coming to Netherfield within days to go shooting. Mrs. Bennet feigns indifference despite her evident excitement. The neighbourhood buzzes with speculation about his return, and Mrs. Nichols at Netherfield begins preparations for her master's arrival.

Jane insists to Elizabeth that the news of Bingley's return affects her with neither pleasure nor pain. However, Elizabeth perceives that her sister's spirits are more disturbed than usual. Elizabeth privately wonders whether Bingley returns with Darcy's permission or has come boldly without it. Jane expresses anxiety about enduring the constant talk of his arrival.

When Mrs. Bennet insists that Mr. Bennet call on Bingley upon his arrival, he firmly refuses, declaring he will not be sent on "a fool's errand again." He despises the etiquette of neighbours rushing to visit each other and maintains that if Bingley wants their society, he must seek it himself. Mrs. Bennet consolingly resolves instead to invite Bingley to dinner.

Mr. Bingley arrives in Hertfordshire, and Mrs. Bennet spots him from her dressing-room window riding toward the house—with Mr. Darcy accompanying him. The family gathers in excitement, though Jane remains composed at the table while Elizabeth observes the unexpected arrival with surprise, knowing she must soon face Darcy after receiving his explanatory letter.

Bingley and Darcy call at Longbourn. Elizabeth struggles to maintain composure, stealing only one glance at Darcy, who appears serious and looks between Jane and herself. Bingley is both pleased and embarrassed. Mrs. Bennet receives them with excessive civility toward Bingley but cold politeness toward Darcy, much to Elizabeth's distress given that Darcy saved Lydia from disgrace.

Mrs. Bennet greets Bingley with eager small talk, mentioning Lydia's marriage and how Wickham left the militia for the Regulars—a remark clearly aimed at Darcy. Elizabeth endures excruciating embarrassment at her mother's tactlessness regarding Wickham's scandal and Darcy's role in suppressing it. She wishes never to be in company with either gentleman again.

Despite her efforts to appear composed, Jane's beauty rekindles Bingley's admiration. He speaks to her more frequently as the visit progresses, finding her as handsome and good-natured as before. Jane anxiously tries to conceal any change in her behaviour, though her mind is so engaged that she does not always notice when she falls silent.

As the gentlemen rise to leave, Mrs. Bennet secures a promise from Bingley to dine at Longbourn in a few days. She reminds him he owes them a family dinner from his previous stay. Bingley accepts with some embarrassment, explaining his previous absence was due to business. Mrs. Bennet had wished to ask them to stay that very day but felt her table, though always good, was insufficient for a man of Bingley's ten thousand a year.

After Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley depart, Elizabeth walks out to collect herself, only to find herself dwelling on Darcy's behavior. She is astonished and vexed by his conduct, questioning why he came at all if only to be silent, grave, and indifferent. She cannot understand how he could be agreeable to her uncle and aunt in London yet so distant with her. Frustrated, she resolves to think no more about him, dismissing him as a "teasing man."

Jane joins Elizabeth with a cheerful disposition, expressing relief that the first meeting with the gentlemen has passed. She declares that she now feels "perfectly easy" and knows her own strength well enough never to be embarrassed by Bingley's return. Jane insists they will meet only as indifferent acquaintances and is glad he will dine with them on Tuesday so it can be publicly seen that both sides regard each other merely as common acquaintances. Elizabeth, however, playfully warns Jane to be careful, suggesting she is in great danger of making Bingley fall in love with her as deeply as before.

In the days before Tuesday, Mrs. Bennet gives way to all the happy schemes revived by Bingley's good-humored half-hour visit. Her expectations of advantageous matches for her daughters fill her with anticipation for the dinner party, and she makes elaborate preparations for the occasion.

A large party assembles at Longbourn on Tuesday, and the Netherfield gentlemen arrive punctually as expected. The scene shifts to the dining-room arrangements, where Elizabeth eagerly watches to see whether Bingley will resume his former place beside her sister. Mrs. Bennet, occupied by the same ideas, prudently refrains from inviting him to sit with her, leaving the matter to chance.

As Bingley enters the dining-room, he hesitates momentarily, but when Jane happens to look around and smile at him, the decision is made—he places himself beside her. Elizabeth observes this with triumphant satisfaction, noting that Bingley's behavior during dinner demonstrates an admiration for Jane that, though more guarded than formerly, persuades Elizabeth that if left to himself, both Jane's happiness and his own would be secured.

Elizabeth looks toward Mr. Darcy expecting to read his reaction to Bingley's choice. She imagines he bears it with "noble indifference" and might even have given his sanction for Bingley to find happiness with her sister. However, she notices Darcy's eyes also turn toward Bingley with an expression of half-laughing alarm, suggesting his feelings may be more complex than simple approval. Elizabeth finds herself unable to depend upon any favorable consequence for her sister despite the pleasure she takes in observing Bingley's renewed attentions.

Throughout dinner, Bingley's behavior toward Jane clearly demonstrates his renewed admiration for her. Elizabeth observes that his attentions, though more guarded than before, nonetheless reveal his continued affection. She is convinced that if Bingley were left entirely to his own inclinations, he would quickly secure both her sister's happiness and his own. The dinner party thus provides Elizabeth with evidence that her hopes for Jane's future may yet be realized.

Mr. Darcy sits at the far end of the table, separated from Elizabeth by the entire distance between her and her mother. Elizabeth knows how little pleasure such a position offers either party. She cannot hear their conversation, but she observes how seldom they speak and how formal and cold their manner is whenever they do interact. Most troubling to Elizabeth is her mother's ungraciousness toward Darcy, which makes her acutely aware of how much the family owes him—an obligation that Darcy's kindness in return makes the more painful to bear.

Before the gentlemen join the ladies in the drawing-room, the waiting period becomes wearisome and dull for Elizabeth. She is anxious and uneasy, hoping the evening will provide an opportunity for more meaningful conversation with Darcy than mere ceremonial greetings. She looks forward to the gentlemen's entrance as the single point upon which all her chance of evening pleasure depends, internally resolving that if Darcy does not come to her, she will give him up forever.

When the gentlemen enter, Elizabeth thinks Darcy looks as though he might fulfill her hopes. However, the ladies have crowded around the table where Jane makes tea and Elizabeth pours coffee in such a close confederacy that no vacancy exists near her for a chair. One of the young ladies deliberately moves closer and whispers that they will not allow the men to separate them, declaring they want none of the gentlemen nearby.

Elizabeth watches Darcy walk away to another part of the room, envying everyone to whom he speaks. She can scarcely maintain patience enough to help anyone with coffee, then becomes enraged at herself for such silliness. She rebukes herself for ever expecting a renewal of his love after being refused once, reflecting that no man would willingly subject himself to such weakness as proposing a second time to the same woman. Yet despite these harsh self-admonishments, she is somewhat revived when Darcy brings back his coffee cup himself.

Elizabeth seizes the opportunity of Darcy's momentary presence to ask about his sister at Pemberley. He confirms that Georgiana will remain there until Christmas, and when Elizabeth inquires if she is quite alone, he explains that Mrs. Annesley keeps her company while the others have been gone to Scarborough for three weeks. Elizabeth can think of nothing more to say, though she believes he might have better success at conversation if he wished to pursue it. He stands beside her silently for several minutes until, disturbed by another young lady's whisper to Elizabeth, he walks away again.

After the tea things are removed and the card tables are set up, Elizabeth hopes to be joined by Darcy—only to see her hopes overturned as he falls victim to her mother's rapacity for whist players. Within moments, Darcy is seated with the rest of the party at the card table. Elizabeth now abandons all expectation of pleasure for the evening, as she and Darcy are confined at different tables for the rest of the night. She can only hope his eyes turn toward her side of the room often enough to distract him from playing well.

Mrs. Bennet had intended to keep the Netherfield gentlemen for supper, but their carriage is unfortunately ordered before any of the other guests'. This leaves her without opportunity to detain them or further her matchmaking designs. The gentlemen depart earlier than she had hoped, cutting short the evening's social possibilities.

After the gentlemen leave, Mrs. Bennet exuberantly asks her daughters what they think of the day, declaring that everything has passed off uncommonly well. She catalogs the dinner's successes—the well-dressed dinner, perfectly roasted venison, excellent soup that surpassed even the Lucases' offerings, and Mr. Darcy's acknowledgment that the partridges were remarkably well done. She proudly notes that Jane looked more beautiful than ever and recounts Mrs. Long's pronouncement that they shall have Jane at Netherfield at last. Mrs. Bennet feels certain she will secure Bingley at last and is merely disappointed he did not return the next day to make his proposals.

Elizabeth gently challenges Jane's claims of indifference, reminding her that she warned her about the danger of making Bingley fall in love with her. Miss Bennet insists she has learned to enjoy Bingley's conversation as an agreeable and sensible young man without having any wish beyond this. She maintains that his manners clearly indicate he never had any design of engaging her affection—she merely finds him blessed with sweetness of address and a general desire to please. When Elizabeth persists in trying to make her sister smile, Jane protests that Elizabeth is being cruel and that it mortifies her to be disbelieved. She questions why Elizabeth would want to persuade her that she feels more than she acknowledges, and though she cannot quite explain her own reluctance to admit her feelings, she asks not to be made Elizabeth's confidante in the matter.

Bingley returns to Longbourn alone, his companion Mr. Darcy having departed for London. In remarkably good spirits, Bingley accepts Mrs. Bennet's dinner invitation and agrees to visit again the following day. His punctual arrival and cheerful demeanor suggest a significant development in his feelings toward Jane, though Mrs. Bennet's matchmaking schemes begin immediately.

Mrs. Bennet repeatedly attempts to separate Jane and Bingley from the other family members throughout the day. She winks pointedly at Elizabeth and Kitty, then removes Kitty from the room under a flimsy pretext, hoping to leave Jane alone with her visitor. Elizabeth refuses to cooperate with these maneuvers, remaining in the drawing-room when summoned. Despite her elaborate scheming, Mrs. Bennet's efforts prove largely ineffectual at achieving her objective.

Upon returning to the drawing-room after writing a letter, Elizabeth discovers Jane and Bingley standing together by the hearth in what appears to be earnest conversation. Both quickly separate when they notice her, their expressions confirming what has transpired. Bingley whispers to Jane and hastily departs. Elizabeth then receives her sister's joyful acknowledgment that she is now engaged to Mr. Bingley, the happiest creature in the world.

Elizabeth reflects with satisfaction on the resolution of her sister's romantic fortunes. She recognizes this outcome as the end of Mr. Darcy's anxious interference and Miss Bingley's falsehoods and contrivances. In her private thoughts, she considers this the happiest, wisest, and most reasonable end possible to a situation that had caused them months of suspense and vexation.

Bingley seeks out Elizabeth to obtain her good wishes and affection as his future sister. Elizabeth sincerely expresses her delight at the prospect of their relationship, and they shake hands with great cordiality. He then shares with her his happiness and Jane's perfections, which Elizabeth finds rationally founded given Jane's excellent understanding and disposition, and the general similarity between the couple.

The family reacts with varying degrees of delight to the engagement news. Mr. Bennet offers his characteristic dry approval, teasing Jane about their similar tempers and predicting they will be so easy-going that servants will cheat them and they will always exceed their income. Mrs. Bennet is overcome with joy, declaring Jane the handsomest woman alive and forgetting all about Lydia and Wickham. Kitty and Mary begin making requests for future privileges, hoping to benefit from their sister's elevated circumstances.

Jane reveals to Elizabeth that Bingley was completely ignorant of her presence in London during the previous spring. He had truly loved her when he left for town in November, but was persuaded by his sisters that Jane was indifferent to him. Elizabeth notes that Bingley has commendably not betrayed Mr. Darcy's interference in keeping him away from Jane, a circumstance she knows would prejudice Jane against him.

Following the engagement, Bingley becomes a daily visitor at Longbourn, frequently arriving before breakfast and remaining until after supper. His constancy demonstrates his devotion to Jane, though Elizabeth finds herself considerably useful to both of them during those hours when separation occasionally occurs, as Bingley seeks her company to discuss Jane, and Jane in turn confides in Elizabeth.

Mrs. Bennet loses no time spreading the news throughout Meryton, first to Mrs. Philips and then to all her neighbors. The Bennets are quickly pronounced the luckiest family in the world, despite having been generally regarded as marked for misfortune just weeks earlier when Lydia eloped with Wickham. Their fortunes and reputation have been dramatically restored through Jane's advantageous match.

About a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane was formed, a chaise and four arrives at Longbourn unexpectedly. The equipage does not match any neighbor's, and the horses are post horses. Bingley quickly escapes with Miss Bennet into the shrubbery to avoid the intrusion. The remaining family members speculate about the visitor until Lady Catherine de Bourgh enters the room. The astonishment of Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and even Elizabeth exceeds their expectations at seeing this aristocratic guest.

Lady Catherine enters with an unusually ungracious manner, offering Elizabeth only a slight inclination of the head in response to her salutation. She sits down without speaking and declines all refreshment offered by Mrs. Bennet, despite the latter's flattered politeness. Lady Catherine makes curt observations about the smallness of the park and the inconvenience of the sitting-room, while Mrs. Bennet proudly compares it to Sir William Lucas's estate. Elizabeth expects Lady Catherine to produce a letter from Charlotte Collins, but none appears.

In the copse, Lady Catherine reveals her purpose: she has come because of a alarming report that not only is Jane about to marry Bingley, but that Elizabeth will soon be united to Mr. Darcy, her own nephew. She demands the report be universally contradicted and presses Elizabeth to admit whether Darcy has made her an offer of marriage. When Elizabeth coolly points out that her coming will only confirm such a report, Lady Catherine grows angrier and demands to know if the report has been industriously circulated by the Bennet family itself.

Elizabeth refuses to confirm or deny any foundation for the report, declaring she does not pretend to possess Lady Catherine's frankness. Lady Catherine then announces that her nephew is engaged to her daughter, having been destined for each other since infancy according to the wishes of both their mothers. Elizabeth counters that if Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, he is free to make another choice—and if she is that choice, she may accept him. When Lady Catherine demands to know if Elizabeth is engaged, she admits she is not. Lady Catherine then demands a promise never to enter such an engagement, which Elizabeth firmly refuses to give.

Lady Catherine adds yet another objection: she knows all about Lydia's infamous elopement with Wickham, describing it as a patched-up business at the expense of Elizabeth's father and uncle. She demands to know how Elizabeth can bear to be a sister to such a girl or to have Wickham, the son of her father's steward, as a brother to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth, deeply resentful of this insult to her family, declares Lady Catherine has nothing further to say and that she has been insulted in every possible method. She insists on returning to the house.

Lady Catherine, highly incensed, accuses Elizabeth of having no regard for Darcy's honour and credit, calling her unfeeling and selfish. Elizabeth remains unmoved, stating she has nothing further to say and that Lady Catherine knows her sentiments. Lady Catherine declares Elizabeth is determined to ruin Darcy in the opinion of his friends and make him the contempt of the world, but Elizabeth responds that neither duty, honour, nor gratitude has any claim on her in this instance. At the carriage door, Lady Catherine refuses to take leave or send compliments to Mrs. Bennet, declaring herself most seriously displeased. Elizabeth walks back into the house without attempting to persuade her to stay.

Mrs. Bennet meets Elizabeth impatiently at her dressing-room door, wondering why Lady Catherine would not stay and rest. When Elizabeth explains Lady Catherine did not choose to stay, her mothercomments that Lady Catherine is a fine-looking woman whose call was prodigiously civil, merely to inquire about the Collinses. Elizabeth, unable to acknowledge the true substance of the conversation, is forced to give a little falsehood in explanation.

Elizabeth cannot easily overcome the disturbance caused by Lady Catherine's extraordinary visit. For many hours, she cannot stop thinking about it. Lady Catherine has traveled from Rosings specifically to break off what she believes to be Elizabeth's engagement with Mr. Darcy. The visit throws Elizabeth into a state of great agitation that takes considerable time to subside.

Elizabeth puzzles over how the report of her engagement to Darcy could have originated. She eventually realizes that Darcy being Bingley's intimate friend and her being Jane's sister was enough, at a time when everyone's expectation of one wedding made them eager for another, to create the idea. She recalls that the marriage of her sister would bring them more frequently together. She concludes that their neighbours at Lucas Lodge, through their connection with the Collinses, had reported this to Lady Catherine, setting down as almost certain what Elizabeth herself had only viewed as possible at some future time.

In reviewing Lady Catherine's statements, Elizabeth grows uneasy about the possible consequences of her interference. She realizes that Lady Catherine must intend to petition her nephew, and Elizabeth cannot be certain how he might respond to such representation of the evils of marrying someone whose immediate connections are so unequal to his own. She acknowledges that with his notions of dignity, arguments that seemed weak and ridiculous to her might appear to contain good sense and solid reasoning to him.

Elizabeth reflects that if Darcy had been wavering before, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation might settle every doubt and determine him to seek happiness through unblemished dignity. In that case, he would return no more, and his engagement to Bingley to return to Netherfield must be abandoned. She resolves that if an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his friend within a few days, she will understand it and give up every expectation and wish for his constancy. If he chooses to regret her when he might have obtained her affections and hand, she will soon cease to regret him at all.

The rest of the Bennet family is greatly surprised to learn who the visitor had been. They satisfy their curiosity with the same kind of supposition that had already appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity, and Elizabeth is spared much teasing on the subject. This provides a momentary relief from the scrutiny she fears.

The next morning, Mr. Bennet intercepts Elizabeth on the stairs holding a letter and summons her to his library. Her curiosity is heightened by the possibility that it might concern Lady Catherine's visit, and she anticipates with dread all the consequent explanations. Mr. Bennet announces that he has received a letter that has astonished him exceedingly, and since it principally concerns Elizabeth, she ought to know its contents. He remarks that he did not know before that he had two daughters on the brink of matrimony, and congratulates her on a very important conquest.

Mr. Bennet's letter turns out to be from Mr. Collins, who writes that the Lucases have informed him that Elizabeth will soon bear the name of Bennet no longer, and that her chosen partner may be regarded as one of the most illustrious personages in the land. Mr. Collins identifies Mr. Darcy as this gentleman and warns them against precipitate closure with his proposals, noting that Lady Catherine does not look on the match with a friendly eye. Mr. Bennet finds the report hilarious, considering that Darcy never looks at any woman but to see a blemish, and probably never looked at Elizabeth in his life. He declares he would not give up Mr. Collins's correspondence for any consideration, and asks what Lady Catherine said about the report.

Elizabeth tries to join in her father's pleasantry but can only force a most reluctant smile. Never before has his wit been directed in a manner so little agreeable to her. When asked if she is not diverted, she claims to be exceedingly diverted but admits it is strange. Her father cruelly mortifies her by speaking of Darcy's indifference, and she can do nothing but wonder at his want of penetration, or fear that perhaps instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much. Elizabeth must laugh when she would rather cry, and she has never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they are not. It is necessary to maintain the pretence that the report amuses her, when in truth she finds the situation painfully humiliating.

Bingley arrives at Longbourn with Darcy much sooner than Elizabeth expected, bringing him before many days had passed since Lady Catherine's visit. The gentlemen arrive early, and Bingley immediately proposes they all go walking out, wanting to be alone with Jane. Mrs. Bennet had been preparing to inform Darcy about having seen his aunt, but Bingley's proposal preempts this awkward conversation before it can occur.

The party sets off together, with Mrs. Bennet declining to walk as she typically does, and Mary being unable to spare the time. The remaining five—Bingley, Jane, Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy—begin their walk together. However, Bingley and Jane soon allow the others to outstrip them, lagging behind to have privacy together. Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy are left to entertain each other, with little conversation occurring. Kitty is too intimidated by Darcy to speak, while Elizabeth secretly forms a desperate resolution and perhaps he is doing the same. They walk toward the Lucases' house because Kitty wishes to call upon Maria.

When Kitty leaves them to visit Maria, Elizabeth goes boldly on with Darcy alone, viewing no need to make it a general concern. This is the moment for her resolution to be executed, and while her courage is high, she immediately speaks, beginning to express her gratitude for his kindness to Lydia.

Elizabeth begins by acknowledging her selfishness in caring for her own feelings over wounding his. She explains she can no longer help thanking him for his unexampled kindness to her poor sister, noting she has been most anxious to acknowledge how gratefully she feels it since learning of his involvement. Darcy responds with surprise and emotion, expressing sorrow that she has been informed of what may have given her uneasiness, assuming Mrs. Gardiner was trustworthy. Elizabeth reveals that Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed his involvement, and she could not rest until she knew the particulars. Darcy instructs her to thank him for herself alone, acknowledging that the wish of giving happiness to her added force to his other inducements, though her family owes him nothing.

Darcy tells Elizabeth she is too generous to trifle with him, asking her directly if her feelings are still what they were last April during his first proposal. He declares that his affections and wishes are unchanged, but promises that one word from her will silence him on this subject forever. Elizabeth feels the awkwardness and anxiety of his situation but forces herself to speak, giving him to understand that her sentiments have undergone a material change since that period, allowing her to receive his present assurances with gratitude and pleasure.

The happiness his reply produces is such as Darcy has probably never felt before, and he expresses himself sensibly and warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Elizabeth might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight became him if she could have encountered his eyes, but though she cannot look, she can listen. He tells her of feelings which make his affection every moment more valuable, as they walk on together in mutual understanding and joy.

They walk without knowing in what direction, too absorbed in thought and feeling to attend to their surroundings. Elizabeth soon learns that Lady Catherine did indeed call on Darcy in her return through London, where she related her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the substance of her conversation with Elizabeth. The lady emphasized every expression that denoted Elizabeth's perverseness, believing such a report would help her obtain the promise she had refused to give. However, unluckily for her Ladyship, the effect was exactly contrariwise. Darcy explains it taught him to hope, as he had scarcely ever allowed himself to hope before, knowing that had Elizabeth been absolutely decided against him, she would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine frankly and openly. Elizabeth colours and laughs, acknowledging that he knows enough of her frankness to believe her capable of that.

Elizabeth assures him that she had long been heartily ashamed of her own conduct that evening. Darcy admits his behaviour at the time had merited the severest reproof and was unpardonable. He cannot easily be reconciled to himself, as the recollection of what he said, his conduct, manners, and expressions during that first proposal has been inexpressibly painful for many months. He confesses he was taught good principles but not taught to correct his temper, and as an only son, he was spoiled by his parents who allowed and almost taught him to be selfish and overbearing, to care for none beyond his own family circle. Such he was from eight to eight-and-twenty, and such he might still have been but for Elizabeth, who properly humbled him and showed him how insufficient were all his pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.

Darcy asks Elizabeth about his letter, wondering if it soon made her think better of him. She explains how gradually all her former prejudices had been removed by it. Darcy acknowledges he believed himself perfectly calm and cool when writing it but is since convinced it was written in dreadful bitterness of spirit. He asks if she will burn the letter, remembering expressions that might justly make her hate him. Elizabeth offers to burn it if he believes it essential, but assures him her opinions are not so easily changed. She suggests they think only of the past as its remembrance gives pleasure, invoking her philosophy that all unpleasant circumstances attending it ought to be forgotten. Darcy cannot give her credit for such philosophy, knowing his own retrospection must contain painful recollections that ought not to be repelled.

Upon checking their watches, they realize they have walked several miles and must be home. Elizabeth wonders about Bingley and Jane, leading to discussion of their engagement. Darcy is delighted and had received the earliest information from his friend, feeling it would soon happen when he went away. Elizabeth deduces he had given his permission, which he essentially confirms. Darcy explains he confessed to Bingley that his former interference in the matter had been absurd and impertinent, that he had been mistaken in supposing Jane was indifferent to Bingley, and that since Bingley's attachment was unabated, he felt no doubt of their happiness together. He admits he spoke from his own observation during recent visits, having narrowly observed Jane and become convinced of her affection. His assurance carried immediate conviction to Bingley, though he also had to confess he had known Jane was in London three months last winter and had purposely kept it from Bingley, which for a time offended his friend until doubts about Jane's sentiments were resolved.

They continue the conversation as they walk, anticipating Bingley's happiness, which Elizabeth notes must be considerable. When they finally reach the house, they part in the hall, having reconciled all past misunderstandings and confirmed their mutual love.

Upon returning home, Elizabeth is asked by Jane and others where she has been walking. She simply replies that they wandered until she was beyond her own knowledge, colouring as she speaks, though no one suspects the truth of what transpired.

The evening passes quietly at Longbourn. Bingley and Jane, the acknowledged couple, talk and laugh together, while Darcy and Elizabeth, not yet publicly engaged, remain silent. Darcy is not of a disposition whose happiness overflows in mirth, and Elizabeth, agitated and confused, knows she is happy but does not fully feel it, anticipating the difficult reaction her news will provoke in the family.

That night, Elizabeth opens her heart to Jane, disclosing her engagement to Mr. Darcy. She tells Jane that Darcy still loves her and they are engaged, hoping her sister will be the first to believe her.

Jane is absolutely incredulous, refusing to believe Elizabeth at first. She protests that Elizabeth must be joking, that it cannot be, and reminds her sister how much she previously disliked Darcy. Jane demands to know if Elizabeth is quite certain she can be happy with him.

Jane finally accepts the news and offers her heartfelt congratulations, expressing that nothing could give her and Bingley more delight. The sisters discuss the engagement extensively, with Elizabeth confessing that her love for Darcy grew gradually, perhaps dating from her first seeing Pemberley's beautiful grounds. They speak of their secrecy and spend half the night in conversation.

Elizabeth anticipates the challenges ahead, particularly how her mother will receive the news, fearing that even Darcy's fortune and consequence might not overcome her family's dislike of him. She resolves to ask her father's consent first, leaving her mother's reaction for later.

The next morning, Mrs. Bennet spots Mr. Darcy arriving with Bingley and exclaims in annoyance about his constant presence, calling him disagreeable. She suggests Elizabeth should walk with him again so he will not be in Bingley's way, unaware of the engagement.

Mrs. Bennet proposes that Elizabeth, Darcy, and Kitty walk to Oakham Mount, claiming it is a nice long walk and that Mr. Darcy has never seen the view. Kitty prefers to stay home, but Darcy expresses great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consents. Mrs. Bennet follows Elizabeth upstairs, apologizing that she must have that disagreeable man all to herself, advising her to walk only for Jane's sake and not to put herself to inconvenience talking to him.

During their walk to Oakham Mount, Elizabeth and Darcy resolve that Mr. Bennet's consent should be asked that evening. Elizabeth reserves to herself the task of informing her mother, uncertain how she will receive the news but certain her manner would be ill-suited to do credit to her sense, whether violently opposed or delighted.

During their walk, Elizabeth and Darcy make plans to seek Mr. Bennet's approval that evening. Elizabeth worries about her mother's reaction and decides to approach her father first, feeling she cannot bear for Darcy to hear her mother's first raptures of joy or first vehemence of disapprobation.

Elizabeth anticipates both possible reactions from her mother—violent opposition or violent delight—and dreads either outcome. She knows her mother's manner will be ill-adapted to do credit to her sense, and she cannot bear for Darcy to hear the first raptures of her joy or the first vehemence of her disapprobation.

That evening, Elizabeth watches Darcy rise and follow Mr. Bennet to the library, experiencing extreme agitation. She fears not her father's opposition, but dreads causing him unhappiness through her choice, the reflection that she, his favourite child, should be distressing him by her selection.

In the library, Mr. Bennet asks Elizabeth if she is out of her senses to accept Darcy, reminding her that she always seemed to hate him. Elizabeth wishes her former opinions had been more reasonable and her expressions more moderate, as explanations become necessary. She assures him of her attachment to Darcy with some confusion.

To complete the favorable impression, Elizabeth tells her father of all Darcy voluntarily did for Lydia—making up the match, giving the money, paying the fellow's debts, and getting him his commission. Mr. Bennet receives this news with astonishment, calling it an evening of wonders and expressing relief that it will save him trouble and economy.

Mr. Bennet gives his consent, acknowledging Darcy as the kind of man to whom he should never dare refuse anything. He advises Elizabeth to think carefully but ultimately reconciles himself to the match, saying that if it be the case, Darcy deserves her, and he could not have parted with his favorite daughter to anyone less worthy.

Elizabeth follows her mother to the dressing-room and makes the important communication. Mrs. Bennet sits quite still, unable to utter a syllable, taking many minutes to comprehend what she has heard, though she is not generally backward to credit what is advantageous to her family.

Mrs. Bennet begins to recover, fidgeting and wondering, then blesses herself with exclamations of "Good gracious! Lord bless me! only think! dear me! Mr. Darcy!" She expresses overwhelming pleasure at her daughter's future wealth, pin-money, jewels, carriages, and the ten thousand a year, declaring Jane's match nothing in comparison.

Mrs. Bennet continues to obsess over the material benefits, mentioning a house in town, three daughters married, and ten thousand a year. She declares herself so pleased and happy, calling Darcy a charming, handsome, tall man, and requesting Elizabeth apologize to him for her previous dislike, hoping he will overlook it.

Before leaving, Mrs. Bennet follows Elizabeth to her room and can think of nothing but the ten thousand a year, suggesting a special licence for the wedding and asking what dish Mr. Darcy is particularly fond of so she may serve it tomorrow. Elizabeth sees this as a sad omen of her mother's behavior toward Darcy, though the next day passes better than expected because Mrs. Bennet stands in such awe of her intended son-in-law that she ventures not to speak to him unless offering attention or marking deference for his opinion.

Elizabeth has the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to become acquainted with Darcy. Mr. Bennet soon assures her that he is rising every hour in his esteem, declaring that he admires all three of his sons-in-law, that Wickham is perhaps his favorite, but that he thinks he shall like Elizabeth's husband quite as well as Jane's.

In a playful exchange, Elizabeth questions Darcy about how he first fell in love with her. Darcy explains that he cannot identify the exact moment the foundation was laid, as he only realized he had begun when he was already in the middle of loving her. Elizabeth challenges him to account for his attraction, noting that she was often impertinent and even uncivil in her dealings with him. Darcy admits he admired her for the liveliness of her mind, which contrasted sharply with the deference and officious attention he received from other women. He acknowledges that her genuine nature, unlike the affected women who courted him, stirred something in him. Elizabeth recalls his earlier coldness during his first call and subsequent dinner at Longbourn, and Darcy explains he was responding to her grave and silent demeanor. The conversation also touches upon the moral complications of their engagement, as Elizabeth questions whether their happiness springs from a breach of promise. Darcy reassures her that Lady Catherine's attempts to separate them actually removed his doubts, and he had determined to speak regardless of her gratitude for his kindness to Lydia. When Elizabeth suggests he inform Lady Catherine of their engagement, Darcy requests paper to write immediately.

Elizabeth composes a letter to Mrs. Gardiner, whom she had been reluctant to answer previously due to her unwillingness to reveal how intimate her relationship with Mr. Darcy had become. Now eager to share her joyful news, she writes with exuberant happiness, acknowledging that her aunt had supposed more than actually existed before the engagement. She expresses immense joy, declaring herself the happiest creature in the world and perhaps the happiest who has ever lived, noting that Jane only smiles while she laughs. She thanks her aunt repeatedly for not going to the Lakes as she once suggested, calling her idea of the ponies delightful and promising they will go round the park every day. She conveys Mr. Darcy's love to her uncle and aunt and invites them all to Pemberley at Christmas, requesting that her aunt write again soon and praise Darcy even more than before.

Mr. Darcy writes to Lady Catherine with a different tone than Elizabeth's letter to her aunt. Mr. Bennet also sends a brief message to Mr. Collins in response to his last letter, congratulating him on the upcoming marriage of Elizabeth to Mr. Darcy and advising him to console Lady Catherine while suggesting he stand by the nephew, who has more to offer. These letters mark the formal announcement of the engagement to those who have been most affected by the family's dynamics and conflicts.

Miss Bingley writes to her brother Bingley to express delight at his approaching marriage and repeats all her former professions of regard. Jane receives a similar letter and is not deceived by Miss Bingley's false sentiments, recognizing them as affectionate in form but hollow in substance. Nevertheless, Jane is affected by the correspondence and, though she knows Miss Bingley deserves little, responds with a much kinder answer than the situation warrants, demonstrating her characteristic gentleness even toward those who do not merit it.

In stark contrast to Miss Bingley's hollow congratulations, Miss Darcy expresses genuine joy upon receiving news of her brother's engagement to Elizabeth. Her delight proves so overwhelming that four sides of paper cannot contain all her happiness. More importantly, her letter conveys her earnest desire to be loved by her new sister, revealing the sincerity of her affection and her hope for a genuine relationship with Elizabeth. Her response demonstrates the authentic happiness that the union has brought to those closest to both parties.

Before any answer arrives from Mr. Collins or congratulations from his wife, the Collinses arrive at Lucas Lodge, having left their home suddenly. The reason becomes clear: Lady Catherine has been rendered exceedingly angry by her nephew's letter informing her of the engagement. Charlotte, who genuinely rejoices in the match, is anxious to remove herself from the storm until it passes. At this moment, Elizabeth finds sincere pleasure in the arrival of her friend, though the meetings prove somewhat costly when she witnesses Mr. Darcy subjected to her husband's parading and obsequious civility. Mr. Darcy bears this with admirable calmness, even listening with composure when Sir William Lucas compliments him on carrying away the brightest jewel of the country and expresses hopes of their meeting at St. James's. Only when Sir William is out of sight does Darcy allow himself a slight shrug.

Mrs. Philips's vulgarity presents another, perhaps greater, test of Darcy's forbearance. While both Mrs. Philips and her sister Mrs. Gardiner stand in too much awe of Darcy to speak with the familiarity that Bingley's good-humour had encouraged, Mrs. Philips cannot speak without being vulgar. Her respect for him, though it makes her quieter, does not make her more elegant. Elizabeth does all she can to shield Darcy from their frequent notice and is ever anxious to keep him to herself and to those family members with whom he might converse without mortification. Although these uncomfortable feelings diminish some of the pleasure of the courtship season, they add to the hope of the future. Elizabeth looks forward with delight to the time when she and Darcy shall be removed from society so little pleasing to either of them, to all the comfort and elegance of their family party at Pemberley.

Mrs. Bennet achieves her long-held ambition as her two most deserving daughters—Elizabeth and Jane—secure excellent marriages to Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley respectively. She delights in visiting both daughters and proudly discusses her elevated family connections. However, the narrator notes that this happiness does not transform her into a sensible, well-informed woman; she remains occasionally nervous and invariably silly. The text suggests this is perhaps fortunate for Mr. Bennet, who might not have appreciated domestic felicity in so unusual a form.

Mr. Bennet feels the loss of his second daughter Elizabeth most keenly after her marriage. His affection for her draws him away from home more frequently than anything else, and he delights in visiting Pemberley, especially when least expected. His visits to Elizabeth and Darcy represent a significant change in his relationship with his daughter, showing how the marriage has deepened rather than diminished their bond.

Mr. Bingley and Jane remain at Netherfield for only twelve months, as their proximity to Mrs. Bennet and the Meryton relations proves undesirable even to Bingley's easy temperament and Jane's affectionate heart. The wish of Bingley's sisters to have him closer is gratified when he purchases an estate in a county neighbouring to Derbyshire. This arrangement proves beneficial for all concerned, as Elizabeth and Jane are now within thirty miles of each other, allowing them to maintain their close sisterly relationship.

Kitty benefits substantially from spending most of her time with her two elder sisters at their respective homes. In a society far superior to what she had previously known, her improvement is considerable. Unlike Lydia, she is not of ungovernable temper, and removed from Lydia's negative influence, she becomes less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid through proper attention and management. Her father carefully protects her from further contact with Lydia's detrimental example, refusing to allow her to visit despite Mrs. Wickham's invitations of balls and young men.

Mary remains the only daughter continuing to live at home, drawn from her pursuit of accomplishments by her mother's inability to sit alone. She is obliged to mix more with the world but continues to moralize over every morning visit. Without the mortification of unfavourable comparisons between her own appearance and her sisters' beauty, her father suspects she submits to this change without much reluctance. Her situation represents a quieter, more modest contentment than her sisters' happiness.

The characters of Wickham and Lydia undergo no improvement following the marriages of Elizabeth and Jane. Wickham bears with philosophical resignation the knowledge that Elizabeth now knows of his ingratitude and falsehood, yet maintains hope that Darcy might be persuaded to advance his fortune. Their manner of living remains extremely unsettled; they constantly move in search of cheaper situations while spending beyond their means. Their income proves wholly insufficient for their extravagant wants and heedless approach to the future.

Lydia's congratulatory letter to Elizabeth reveals both her inappropriate expectations and her husband's mercenary hopes. The letter requests that Elizabeth use her influence with Darcy to secure Wickham a position at court worth three or four hundred pounds annually. Elizabeth, who would much rather not make such requests, uses her answer to end all such entreaties. Nevertheless, she and Jane occasionally help the couple financially through economy in their own private expenses, particularly when Wickham and Lydia face bills upon changing residences.

Miss Bingley experiences deep mortification at Darcy's marriage to Elizabeth. However, recognizing the advantage of maintaining access to Pemberley, she suppresses her resentment entirely. She becomes more fond of Georgiana than ever, almost as attentive to Darcy as before, and pays off every remaining debt of civility to Elizabeth. Her pragmatism overcomes her pride as she secures her position in the Darcy household despite her earlier opposition to the marriage.

Georgiana makes Pemberley her home, and the attachment between herself and Elizabeth develops exactly as Darcy had hoped. The sisters learn to love each other as well as they intend. Georgiana initially views Elizabeth's lively, sportive manner with Darcy with astonishment bordering on alarm, having always respected her brother to the point of being almost overcome by her affection. Through Elizabeth's example, she learns that a woman may take liberties with her husband that a brother will not always permit a sister barely ten years his junior to take.

Lady Catherine experiences extreme indignation at Darcy's marriage to Elizabeth. Her reply to the announcement contains abusive language, particularly directed at Elizabeth, causing a temporary end to all intercourse between aunt and nephew. Eventually, Elizabeth persuades Darcy to overlook the offence and pursue reconciliation. After some resistance, Lady Catherine's resentment yields either to her affection for Darcy or to her curiosity about his wife's conduct. She eventually condescends to visit them at Pemberley, accepting the presence of both the unsuitable mistress and her inferior uncle and aunt from the city.

The relationship between the Darcys and the Gardiners remains on the most intimate terms. Both Darcy and Elizabeth genuinely love Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, and both feel the warmest gratitude toward the relatives who, by bringing Elizabeth into Derbyshire, provided the means for their union. The Gardiners' role in the original meeting at Pemberley thus proves to be the crucial intervention that shaped the entire future happiness of Elizabeth and Darcy.