Chapter 56

ONE morning, about a week after Bingley’s engagement with Jane had been formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the dining-room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window by the sound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up the lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors; and besides, the equipage did not answer to that of any of their neighbours. The horses were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of the servant who preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the shrubbery. They both set off; and the conjectures of the remaining three continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown open, and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

One morning, about a week after Bingley’s engagement to Jane, he sat with the women of the family in the dining room. Suddenly, the sound of a carriage drew their attention to the window. They saw a carriage drawn by four horses coming up the lawn. It was too early for visitors, and neither the carriage nor its attendants matched those of any neighbour. The horses were hired, and neither the carriage nor the uniform of the servant ahead of it was familiar. But someone was clearly coming, so Bingley immediately persuaded Miss Bennet to escape being trapped by the visit. He suggested a walk with him among the shrubs. They both left, while the remaining three continued guessing who the visitor might be, though with little success. At last, the door was thrown open, and their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

They were of course all intending to be surprised: but their astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even inferior to what Elizabeth felt.

Of course, they all intended to be surprised. But their astonishment was greater than they had expected. And Mrs. Bennet and Kitty were even less astonished than Elizabeth, though she was a complete stranger to them.

She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no other reply to Elizabeth’s salutation than a slight inclination of the head, and sat down without saying a word. Elizabeth had mentioned her name to her mother on her Ladyship’s entrance, though no request of introduction had been made.

She entered the room looking even more unfriendly than usual. Her only response to Elizabeth’s greeting was a slight nod, and she sat down without a word. Elizabeth had told her mother the lady’s name when she entered, though no one had asked for an introduction.

Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such high importance, received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting for a moment in silence, she said, very stiffly, to Elizabeth,—

Mrs. Bennet was utterly astonished. Though flattered to have such an important guest, she welcomed her with the greatest politeness. After sitting in silence for a moment, she said to Elizabeth in a very stiff tone:

“I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your mother?”

“I hope you're well, Miss Bennet. I suppose that lady is your mother?”

Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was.

Elizabeth answered very briefly that she was.

“And that, I suppose, is one of your sisters?”

“And that, I suppose, is one of your sisters?”

“Yes, madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a Lady Catherine. “She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, and my eldest is somewhere about the ground, walking with a young man, who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family.”

“Yes, madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to someone with Lady Catherine’s title. “She is my second-youngest daughter. My youngest has recently married, and my eldest is somewhere on the grounds, walking with a young man. I believe he will soon become part of the family.”

“You have a very small park here,” returned Lady Catherine, after a short silence.

“You have a very small park here,” Lady Catherine replied after a brief silence.

“It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my Lady, I dare say; but, I assure you, it is much larger than Sir William Lucas’s.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to Rosings, my Lady. But I assure you, it’s much larger than Sir William Lucas’s.”

“This must be a most inconvenient sitting-room for the evening in summer: the windows are full west.”

“This sitting room must be very uncomfortable on summer evenings, because the windows face directly west.”

Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner; and then added,—

Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner. Then she added:

“May I take the liberty of asking your Ladyship whether you left Mr. and Mrs. Collins well?”

“May I ask your Ladyship whether Mr. and Mrs. Collins were well when you left them?”

“Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last.”

“Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last.”

Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from Charlotte, as it seemed the only probable motive for her calling. But no letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled.

Elizabeth now expected her visitor to give her a letter from Charlotte. That seemed the only likely reason for the visit. But no letter appeared, and Elizabeth was completely puzzled.

Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her Ladyship to take some refreshment: but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, declined eating anything; and then, rising up, said to Elizabeth,—

Mrs. Bennet very politely urged her Ladyship to have something to eat. But Lady Catherine firmly, and not very politely, refused to eat anything. Then she stood up and said to Elizabeth:

“Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn. I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company.”

“Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a rather pretty little patch of woodland on one side of your lawn. I would be glad to walk there if you would join me.”

“Go, my dear,” cried her mother, “and show her Ladyship about the different walks. I think she will be pleased with the hermitage.”

“Go, my dear,” her mother exclaimed, “and show her Ladyship around the different walking paths. I think she will like the hermitage.”

Elizabeth obeyed; and, running into her own room for her parasol, attended her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent-looking rooms, walked on.

Elizabeth obeyed. She ran to her room for her parasol, then accompanied her noble guest downstairs. As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors to the dining room and sitting room. After a quick look, she declared the rooms decent-looking and walked on.

Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her waiting-woman was in it. They proceeded in silence along the gravel walk that led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to make no effort for conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and disagreeable.

Her carriage was still at the door, and Elizabeth saw her lady’s maid sitting inside. They walked in silence along the gravel path leading to the small wood. Elizabeth was determined to make no effort to talk to the woman, who was now even ruder and more unpleasant than usual.

“How could I ever think her like her nephew?” said she, as she looked in her face.

“How could I ever have thought she was like her nephew?” she said, looking at the woman’s face.

As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following manner:—

As soon as they entered the small grove of trees, Lady Catherine began:

“You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come.”

“You must know, Miss Bennet, why I have come here. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I have come.”

Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment.

Elizabeth looked genuinely astonished.

“Indeed, you are mistaken, madam; I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here.”

“You really are mistaken, ma’am. I haven’t been able to explain at all why you’ve honored me with this visit.”

“Miss Bennet,” replied her Ladyship, in an angry tone, “you ought to know that I am not to be trifled with. But however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness; and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told, that not only your sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you—that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united to my nephew—my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you.”

“Miss Bennet,” her Ladyship replied angrily, “you ought to know that I will not be played with. But however insincere you choose to be, you will not find me insincere. I have always been known for my honesty and directness. And in a matter this important, I certainly will not act differently. Two days ago, I heard a most alarming report. I was told that your sister was about to make a very advantageous marriage. But I was also told that you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would most likely marry my nephew soon afterward. My own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I know this must be a scandalous lie, I immediately decided to come here. I would not insult him by even considering that the report could be true. But I came so that I could make my feelings known to you.”

“If you believed it impossible to be true,” said Elizabeth, colouring with astonishment and disdain, “I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your Ladyship propose by it?”

“If you thought it couldn't possibly be true,” Elizabeth said, blushing with astonishment and disdain, “why bother coming so far? What did your Ladyship hope to achieve by coming?”

“At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.”

“To insist immediately that everyone deny such a rumor.”

“Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family,” said Elizabeth coolly, “will be rather a confirmation of it—if, indeed, such a report is in existence.”

“Your visit to Longbourn to see me and my family,” Elizabeth said coolly, “will rather confirm the rumor. If, indeed, such a rumor exists.”

“If! do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?”

“If! Are you pretending not to know about it? Haven’t you yourselves worked hard to spread the rumor? Don’t you know that such a rumor is going around?”

“I never heard that it was.”

“I’ve never heard that it was.”

“And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?”

“And can you also say that there is no basis for it?”

“I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your Ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.”

“I don’t claim to be as frank as your Ladyship. You may ask questions that I will choose not to answer.”

“This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?”

“This is unbearable. Miss Bennet, I insist on an answer. Has he, has my nephew, asked you to marry him?”

“Your Ladyship has declared it to be impossible.”

“Your Ladyship has said it is impossible.”

“It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You may have drawn him in.”

“It should be so. It must be so, as long as he can still think rationally. But your tricks and charms may have made him forget his duties to himself and all his family in a moment of infatuation. You may have lured him in.”

“If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.”

“If I have, I’ll be the last person to admit it.”

“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.”

“Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I am not used to being spoken to like this. I am nearly his closest relative in the world. And I have a right to know about all the matters closest to his heart.”

“But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this ever induce me to be explicit.”

“But you have no right to know mine. And behaving like this will never make me explain myself clearly.”

“Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now, what have you to say?”

“Let me make myself clear. You have the nerve to hope for this marriage, but it can never happen. No, never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now, what do you have to say?”

“Only this,—that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.”

“Just this: if he is, you have no reason to think he’ll propose to me.”

Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied,—

Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, then replied:

“The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles we planned the union; and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be accomplished, is their marriage to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family? Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends—to his tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say, that from his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?”

“The understanding that they will marry is unusual. Since infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the dearest wish of his mother as well as hers. We planned their marriage while they were still in their cradles. And now, just when both sisters’ wishes are about to come true, is a young woman to prevent their marriage? A young woman of lower birth, of no importance in the world, and with no ties to the family? Do you have no respect for his friends’ wishes, or for his unspoken commitment to marry Miss de Bourgh? Have you lost all sense of proper and considerate behavior? Haven’t you heard me say that he was destined for his cousin from the moment he was born?”

“Yes; and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?”

“Yes, and I had heard it before. But what does that matter to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, his mother’s and aunt’s wishes certainly won’t stop me. They wanted him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did all you could to arrange the marriage. But whether the marriage happened depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is not bound to his cousin by honor or his own wishes, why can’t he choose someone else? And if he chooses me, why shouldn’t I accept him?”

“Because honour, decorum, prudence—nay, interest—forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us.”

“Because honour, proper conduct, good judgment, and even your own interests forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, your own interests. For if you deliberately go against everyone’s wishes, do not expect his family or friends to acknowledge you. Everyone connected with him will criticize you, treat you with contempt, and despise you. Your marriage will be a disgrace. None of us will ever even mention your name.”

“These are heavy misfortunes,” replied Elizabeth. “But the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.”

“Those are serious misfortunes,” Elizabeth replied. “But being Mr. Darcy’s wife must bring such extraordinary happiness that, overall, she could have no reason to complain.”

“Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me on that score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person’s whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.”

“Stubborn, headstrong girl! I am ashamed of you! Is this how you thank me for the attention I paid you last spring? Do you owe me nothing for that? Let us sit down. You must understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here firmly determined to achieve my purpose. And I will not be persuaded to give it up. I am not used to giving in to anyone’s whims. I am not used to tolerating disappointment.”

“That will make your Ladyship’s situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me.”

“That will make your Ladyship’s current situation more pitiful. But it will have no effect on me.”

“I will not be interrupted! Hear me in silence. My daughter and my nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and, on the father’s, from respectable, honourable, and ancient, though untitled, families. Their fortune on both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them?—the upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune! Is this to be endured? But it must not, shall not be! If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up.”

“I will not be interrupted! Listen to me in silence. My daughter and my nephew are made for each other. On their mothers’ side, they come from the same noble family. On their fathers’ side, they come from respectable, honorable, long-established families, though without titles. Both sides have great wealth. Every member of both families agrees that they are destined for each other. And what is to keep them apart? The presumptuous ambitions of a young woman with no family standing, connections, or fortune! Must we put up with this? We must not, and we will not! If you understood what was good for you, you would not wish to leave your own social class.”

“In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman’s daughter; so far we are equal.”

“If I married your nephew, I would not see myself as leaving that social class. He is a gentleman. I am a gentleman’s daughter. In that respect, we are equal.”

“True. You are a gentleman’s daughter. But what was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition.”

“True. You are a gentleman’s daughter. But what was your mother’s social standing? Who are your uncles and aunts? Don’t think I don’t know their social standing.”

“Whatever my connections may be,” said Elizabeth, “if your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to you.”

“Whatever my family connections may be,” said Elizabeth, “if your nephew doesn't object to them, they're no business of yours.”

“Tell me, once for all, are you engaged to him?”

“Tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?”

Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady Catherine, have answered this question, she could not but say, after a moment’s deliberation,—

Elizabeth would not have answered the question just to please Lady Catherine. But after a moment’s thought, she could not help saying:

“I am not.”

“I am not.”

Lady Catherine seemed pleased.

Lady Catherine seemed pleased.

“And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?”

“And will you promise me never to agree to such a marriage?”

“I will make no promise of the kind.”

“I won’t make any promise like that.”

“Miss Bennet, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the assurance I require.”

“Miss Bennet, I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young woman. But do not fool yourself into thinking I will ever back down. I will not leave until you give me the assurance I require.”

“And I certainly never shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your Ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make their marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no further on the subject.”

“And I certainly never will make that promise. I will not be bullied into anything so completely unreasonable. Your Ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter. But would my making the promise you want make their marriage any more likely? Suppose he is in love with me. Would my refusing to marry him make him want to marry his cousin? Let me say, Lady Catherine, your arguments for this extraordinary request are as flimsy as the request itself is misguided. You have completely misjudged my character if you think arguments like these can sway me. I cannot say how much your nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs. But you certainly have no right to interfere in mine. So I must ask you not to press me any further on this subject.”

“Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the objections I have already urged I have still another to add. I am no stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister’s infamous elopement. I know it all; that the young man’s marrying her was a patched-up business, at the expense of your father and uncle. And is such a girl to be my nephew’s sister? Is her husband, who is the son of his late father’s steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!—of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”

“Not so fast, please. I am not finished yet. Besides all the objections I have already raised, I have one more to add. I know all the details of your youngest sister’s disgraceful elopement. I know it all. The young man’s marriage to her was a hastily arranged affair, paid for by your father and uncle. And is such a girl to become my nephew’s sister-in-law? Is her husband, the son of my nephew’s late father’s estate manager, to become his brother-in-law? Heaven and earth! What are you thinking? Are the grounds of Pemberley to be disgraced like this?”

“You can now have nothing further to say,” she resentfully answered. “You have insulted me, in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house.”

“You can now have nothing more to say,” she replied resentfully. “You have insulted me in every possible way. Please let me return to the house.”

And she rose as she spoke. Lady Catherine rose also, and they turned back. Her Ladyship was highly incensed.

And she stood up as she spoke. Lady Catherine stood up too, and they turned back. Lady Catherine was furious.

“You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?”

“So you have no concern for my nephew’s honor and reputation! You heartless, selfish girl! Don’t you realize that a relationship with you must disgrace him in everyone’s eyes?”

“Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments.”

“Lady Catherine, I have nothing more to say. You know how I feel.”

“You are then resolved to have him?”

“So you’ve decided to marry him?”

“I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”

“I have said no such thing. I am only determined to act in the way I believe will make me happy. I will not consider you, or anyone else with so little connection to me.”

“It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world.”

“Very well. So you refuse to do as I ask. You refuse to do what duty, honor, and gratitude demand. You are determined to ruin his reputation among all his friends and make the whole world despise him.”

“Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude,” replied Elizabeth, “has any possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former were excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment’s concern—and the world in general would have too much sense to join in the scorn.”

“Neither duty, nor honor, nor gratitude,” replied Elizabeth, “has any claim on me in this situation. Marrying Mr. Darcy would violate none of those principles. As for his family’s resentment or the world’s outrage, if his family were upset by his marrying me, I would not worry for a moment. And people in general would have too much sense to join in their scorn.”

“And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable; but depend upon it I will carry my point.”

“And this is what you really think! You have made your final decision! Very well. Now I know what to do. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that you will ever get what you want. I came to test you. I hoped to find you reasonable. But you can be sure I will get my way.”

In this manner Lady Catherine talked on till they were at the door of the carriage, when, turning hastily round, she added,—

Lady Catherine kept talking like this until they reached the carriage door. Then she turned around quickly and added:

“I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your mother. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased.”

“I will not say goodbye to you, Miss Bennet. I send no regards to your mother. You deserve no such courtesy. I am extremely displeased.”

Elizabeth made no answer; and without attempting to persuade her Ladyship to return into the house, walked quietly into it herself. She heard the carriage drive away as she proceeded upstairs. Her mother impatiently met her at the door of her dressing-room, to ask why Lady Catherine would not come in again and rest herself.

Elizabeth said nothing. Without trying to persuade her Ladyship to return to the house, she walked quietly inside herself. As she went upstairs, she heard the carriage drive away. Her mother met her impatiently at the dressing-room door, asking why Lady Catherine would not come back inside and rest.

“She did not choose it,” said her daughter; “she would go.”

“She didn’t want it,” said her daughter. “She insisted on going.”

“She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were well. She is on her road somewhere, I dare say; and so, passing through Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?”

“She is a very good-looking woman! And it was extremely polite of her to visit us! After all, I suppose she only came to tell us the Collinses were well. I dare say she is on her way somewhere. So, as she was passing through Meryton, she thought she might as well visit you. I suppose she had nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth was forced to give in to a little falsehood here; for to acknowledge the substance of their conversation was impossible.

Elizabeth had to tell a small lie here, because she could not reveal what they had discussed.