Chapter 32

ELIZABETH was sitting by herself the next morning, and writing to Jane, while Mrs. Collins and Maria were gone on business into the village, when she was startled by a ring at the door, the certain signal of a visitor. As she had heard no carriage, she thought it not unlikely to be Lady Catherine; and under that apprehension was putting away her half-finished letter, that she might escape all impertinent questions, when the door opened, and to her very great surprise Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy only, entered the room.

Elizabeth was sitting alone the next morning, writing to Jane. Mrs. Collins and Maria had gone into the village on business. A ring at the door startled her, a sure sign of a visitor. Since she had heard no carriage, she thought the visitor might well be Lady Catherine. Worried by that possibility, she began putting away her half-finished letter to avoid all intrusive questions. Just then, the door opened, and to her great surprise, Mr. Darcy entered the room, entirely alone.

He seemed astonished too on finding her alone, and apologized for his intrusion, by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to be within.

He too seemed astonished to find her alone. He apologized for intruding, explaining that he had thought all the ladies were inside.

They then sat down, and when her inquiries after Rosings were made, seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. It was absolutely necessary, therefore, to think of something; and in this emergency recollecting when she had seen him last in Hertfordshire, and feeling curious to know what he would say on the subject of their hasty departure, she observed,—

They then sat down. Once she had asked about Rosings, they seemed in danger of falling completely silent. So she absolutely had to think of something to say. In this awkward moment, she remembered when she had last seen him in Hertfordshire. She was curious to hear what he would say about their sudden departure, so she remarked:

“How very suddenly you all quitted Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! It must have been a most agreeable surprise to Mr. Bingley to see you all after him so soon; for, if I recollect right, he went but the day before. He and his sisters were well, I hope, when you left London?”

“How suddenly you all left Netherfield last November, Mr. Darcy! Mr. Bingley must have been very pleasantly surprised to see you all follow him so soon. After all, if I remember correctly, he had left only the day before. Were he and his sisters well when you left London? I hope so.”

“Perfectly so, I thank you.”

“Completely, thank you.”

She found that she was to receive no other answer; and, after a short pause, added,—

She realized she would get no other answer. After a short pause, she added:

“I think I have understood that Mr. Bingley has not much idea of ever returning to Netherfield again?”

“I think I understand that Mr. Bingley has little intention of ever returning to Netherfield?”

“I have never heard him say so; but it is probable that he may spend very little of his time there in future. He has many friends, and he is at a time of life when friends and engagements are continually increasing.”

“I have never heard him say so. But he will probably spend very little time there in the future. He has many friends, and he is at an age when friendships and social commitments keep increasing.”

“If he means to be but little at Netherfield, it would be better for the neighbourhood that he should give up the place entirely, for then we might possibly get a settled family there. But, perhaps, Mr. Bingley did not take the house so much for the convenience of the neighbourhood as for his own, and we must expect him to keep or quit it on the same principle.”

“If he plans to spend little time at Netherfield, the neighbourhood would be better off if he gave it up entirely. Then we might possibly get a family who would stay there. But perhaps Mr. Bingley rented the house for his own convenience rather than the neighbourhood’s. And we must expect him to keep or leave the house on the same basis.”

“I should not be surprised,” said Darcy, “if he were to give it up as soon as any eligible purchase offers.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Darcy, “if he gave it up as soon as a suitable property came up for sale.”

Elizabeth made no answer. She was afraid of talking longer of his friend; and, having nothing else to say, was now determined to leave the trouble of finding a subject to him.

Elizabeth said nothing. She was afraid to talk any longer about his friend. Having nothing else to say, she now decided to leave him the trouble of finding a topic.

He took the hint and soon began with, “This seems a very comfortable house. Lady Catherine, I believe, did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.”

He took the hint and soon said, “This seems like a very comfortable house. I believe Lady Catherine did a great deal of work on the house when Mr. Collins first came to Hunsford.”

“I believe she did—and I am sure she could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful object.”

“I believe she did. And I’m sure she couldn’t have shown kindness to anyone more grateful.”

“Mr. Collins appears very fortunate in his choice of a wife.”

“Mr. Collins seems very lucky in his choice of a wife.”

“Yes, indeed; his friends may well rejoice in his having met with one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him, or have made him happy if they had. My friend has an excellent understanding—though I am not certain that I consider her marrying Mr. Collins as the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however; and, in a prudential light, it is certainly a very good match for her.”

“Yes, indeed. His friends have good reason to be glad he met one of the very few sensible women who would have accepted him. Even fewer would have made him happy if they had married him. My friend has excellent judgment. Though I’m not sure I consider marrying Mr. Collins the wisest thing she ever did. She seems perfectly happy, however. And from a practical point of view, the marriage is certainly a very good match for her.”

“It must be very agreeable to her to be settled within so easy a distance of her own family and friends.”

“She must be very pleased to be living so close to her own family and friends.”

“An easy distance do you call it? It is nearly fifty miles.”

“You call that an easy distance? It’s nearly fifty miles.”

“And what is fifty miles of good road? Little more than half a day’s journey. Yes, I call it a very easy distance.”

“And what’s fifty miles on a good road? Just over half a day’s travel. Yes, I call that a very easy distance.”

“I should never have considered the distance as one of the advantages of the match,” cried Elizabeth. “I should never have said Mrs. Collins was settled near her family.”

“I would never have counted the distance as one of the advantages of the marriage,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I would never have said Mrs. Collins lived near her family.”

“It is a proof of your own attachment to Hertfordshire. Anything beyond the very neighbourhood of Longbourn, I suppose, would appear far.”

“That proves how attached you are to Hertfordshire. I suppose anywhere outside Longbourn’s immediate neighborhood would seem far away to you.”

As he spoke there was a sort of smile, which Elizabeth fancied she understood; he must be supposing her to be thinking of Jane and Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered,—

As he spoke, he gave a slight smile that Elizabeth thought she understood. He must think she was thinking of Jane and Netherfield, and she blushed as she answered:

“I do not mean to say that a woman may not be settled too near her family. The far and the near must be relative, and depend on many varying circumstances. Where there is fortune to make the expense of travelling unimportant, distance becomes no evil. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not such a one as will allow of frequent journeys—and I am persuaded my friend would not call herself near her family under less than half the present distance.”

“I don’t mean that a woman can’t live too close to her family. What counts as far or near is relative and depends on many different circumstances. When someone is wealthy enough that travel costs don’t matter, distance is no problem. But that is not the case here. Mr. and Mrs. Collins have a comfortable income, but not enough to afford frequent trips. And I’m sure my friend wouldn’t consider herself near her family unless the distance were less than half what it is now.”

Mr. Darcy drew his chair a little towards her, and said, “You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.”

Mr. Darcy moved his chair a little closer to her and said, “You can’t have any reason to feel so strongly attached to this place. You can’t have always lived at Longbourn.”

Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman experienced some change of feeling; he drew back his chair, took a newspaper from the table, and, glancing over it, said, in a colder voice,—

Elizabeth looked surprised. The gentleman’s feelings changed somewhat. He pulled back his chair and picked up a newspaper from the table. Glancing over it, he said in a colder voice:

“Are you pleased with Kent?”

“Do you like Kent?”

A short dialogue on the subject of the country ensued, on either side calm and concise—and soon put an end to by the entrance of Charlotte and her sister, just returned from their walk. The tête-à-tête surprised them. Mr. Darcy related the mistake which had occasioned his intruding on Miss Bennet, and, after sitting a few minutes longer, without saying much to anybody, went away.

A brief conversation about the countryside followed, with both speaking calmly and saying little. It soon ended when Charlotte and her sister came in, just back from their walk. The private conversation surprised them. Mr. Darcy explained the mistake that had led him to intrude on Miss Bennet. He stayed a few minutes longer, saying little to anyone, and then left.

“What can be the meaning of this?” said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. “My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never have called on us in this familiar way.”

“What could this mean?” said Charlotte, as soon as he had left. “My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you. Otherwise, he would never have visited us in such a casual way.”

But when Elizabeth told of his silence, it did not seem very likely, even to Charlotte’s wishes, to be the case; and, after various conjectures, they could at last only suppose his visit to proceed from the difficulty of finding anything to do, which was the more probable from the time of year. All field sports were over. Within doors there was Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot be always within doors; and in the nearness of the Parsonage, or the pleasantness of the walk to it, or of the people who lived in it, the two cousins found a temptation from this period of walking thither almost every day. They called at various times of the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and now and then accompanied by their aunt. It was plain to them all that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he had pleasure in their society, a persuasion which of course recommended him still more; and Elizabeth was reminded by her own satisfaction in being with him, as well as by his evident admiration, of her former favourite, George Wickham; and though, in comparing them, she saw there was less captivating softness in Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manners, she believed he might have the best informed mind.

But when Elizabeth described his silence, even Charlotte’s hopes could not make the idea seem very likely. After considering several explanations, they could only suppose he had visited because he could find nothing else to do. The time of year made this explanation more likely. All outdoor sports were over. Indoors, there were Lady Catherine, books, and a billiard table, but gentlemen cannot stay indoors all the time. The Parsonage was nearby, the walk was pleasant, and so were the people who lived there. These attractions tempted the two cousins to walk there almost every day from then on. They visited at different times during the morning, sometimes separately, sometimes together, and occasionally with their aunt. Everyone could see that Colonel Fitzwilliam came because he enjoyed their company. Naturally, this belief made them like him even more. Elizabeth enjoyed being with him, and his admiration for her was obvious. Both reminded her of her former favourite, George Wickham. Yet when she compared the two, she found Colonel Fitzwilliam’s manner less gentle and charming. Still, she believed he might be the better informed of the two.

But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice—a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s occasionally laughing at his stupidity proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her; and as she would have liked to believe this change the effect of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself seriously to work to find it out: she watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind.

But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage was harder to understand. He could not be coming for company, since he often sat for ten minutes without saying a word. And when he did speak, he seemed to do so out of necessity rather than choice. He was making an effort to be polite, not enjoying himself. He rarely seemed truly lively. Mrs. Collins did not know what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam sometimes laughed at his dullness, showing that he usually behaved differently. She could never have learned that from her own experience of him. She would have liked to believe that love had caused this change, and that he loved her friend Eliza. So she made a serious effort to find out. She watched him whenever they were at Rosings and whenever he came to Hunsford, but with little success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but what his expression meant was open to question. His gaze was intent and steady, but she often doubted whether there was much admiration in it. Sometimes he seemed merely lost in thought.

She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend’s dislike would vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power.

Once or twice, she had suggested to Elizabeth that he might be fond of her. But Elizabeth always laughed at the idea. Mrs. Collins thought she should not press the subject, for fear of raising hopes that might only end in disappointment. For she had no doubt that all Elizabeth’s dislike would vanish if Elizabeth thought she had him in her power.

In her kind schemes for Elizabeth, she sometimes planned her marrying Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was, beyond comparison, the pleasantest man: he certainly admired her, and his situation in life was most eligible; but, to counterbalance these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable patronage in the church, and his cousin could have none at all.

In her well-meaning plans for Elizabeth, she sometimes imagined her marrying Colonel Fitzwilliam. He was by far the most pleasant man. He certainly admired Elizabeth, and his position in life made him a very desirable match. But against these advantages, Mr. Darcy had considerable power to appoint men to church positions. His cousin had none at all.