Original subtitles

Lydia. Kitty.

My dear Mr. Bennet, have you heard?

Netherfield Park is let at last.

Do you not want to know who has taken it?

As you wish to tell me, my dear,

I doubt I have any choice in the matter.

Liddy, Kitty, what have I told you about listening at the door?

Shh! Never mind that. There's a Mr. Bingley

- arrived from the North. - Perchance.

- £5,000 a year! - Really?

- He's single. - He's single.

- Who's single? - A Mr. Bingley.

Kitty.

And how can that possibly affect them?

Oh, Mr. Bennet, how can you be so tiresome?

- You know he must marry one of them. - A-ha!

So that is his design in settling here.

You must go and visit him at once.

Good heavens. People.

For we may not visit if you do not, as you well know, Mr. Bennet.

Aren't you listening? You never do.

You must, Papa.

At once.

There's no need. I already have.

- Have? - When?

Oh, Mr. Bennet, how can you tease me so?

Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?

You mistake me, my dear.

I have the highest respect for them.

They've been my constant companions these 20 years.

Papa.

- Is he amiable? - Who?

- Is he handsome? - Who?

He's sure to be handsome.

With £5,000 a year, it wouldn't matter if he had warts and a leer.

- Who's got warts? - I will give my hearty consent

to his marrying whichever of the girls he chooses.

So, will he come to the ball tomorrow, Papa?

I believe so.

Can I wear your spotted muslin, Jane?

No, I need it.

I'll lend you my green slippers.

- They were mine. - Were they?

Then I'll do your mending for a week.

I'll re-trim your new bonnet.

- Two weeks. - And I'll pay you myself, Jane.

- Jane, look at me. Jane. - But I want to wear it myself.

I can't breathe.

I think one of my toes just came off.

Now, if every man in the room does not end the evening

in love with you, then I'm no judge of beauty.

- Or men. - No, they are far too easy to judge.

They're not all bad.

Humorless poppycocks, in my limited experience.

One of these days, Lizzie, someone will catch your eye

and then you'll have to watch your tongue.

How good of you to come.

So, which of the painted peacocks is our Mr. Bingley?

Well, he's on the right, and on the left is his sister.

And the person with the quizzical brow?

That is his good friend, Mr. Darcy.

He looks miserable, poor soul.

Miserable, he may be, but poor, he most certainly is not.

- Tell me. - £10,000 a year,

and he owns half of Derbyshire.

The miserable half?

He's about the best butcher in the county.

If I could introduce the ladies in the choir.

Mr. Bennet, you must introduce him to the girls.

Immediately.

Smile. Smile at Mr. Bingley. Smile.

Mary.

Mr. Bingley, my eldest daughter you know.

Mrs. Bennet, Miss Jane Bennet,

Elizabeth, and Miss Mary Bennet.

It is a pleasure.

I have two others, but they're already dancing.

I'm delighted to make your acquaintance.

And may I introduce Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.

Yes.

How do you like it here in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley?

Very much.

The library at Netherfield, I've heard, is one of the finest in the country.

Yes, it fills me with guilt. I'm not a very good reader, you see.

I prefer being out of doors.

I mean, I can read, of course.

And I'm not suggesting you can't read out of doors, of course.

I wish I read more,

but there's always so many other things to do.

Yes, that's exactly what I meant.

Mama! Mama!

You will never, ever believe what we're about to tell you!

- Well, tell me quickly. - She's going to take the veil.

The regiments are coming.

Officers!

They're to be stationed the whole winter in the village, just right there!

Officers!

- As far as the eye can see. - Officers!

Oh, look, Jane's dancing with Mr. Bingley.

Mr. Bennet.

- Do you dance, Mr. Darcy? - Not if I can help it.

I didn't know you were coming to see me. What's the matter?

We are a long way from Grosvenor Square, are we not, Mr. Darcy?

I've never seen so many pretty girls in my life.

You were dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.

She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.

But her sister, Elizabeth, is very agreeable.

Perfectly tolerable, I dare say, but not handsome enough to tempt me.

You'd better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles.

You're wasting your time with me.

Count your blessings, Lizzie.

If he liked you, you'd have to talk to him.

Precisely.

As it is, I wouldn't dance with him for all of Derbyshire,

let alone the miserable half.

I nearly went the wrong way.

Wait.

- I enjoyed that so much, Miss Lucas. - How well you dance.

Mrs. Bennet, I've enjoyed this better than any other dance I've been to before.

- Jane is a splendid dancer, is she not? - Oh, she is indeed.

Your friend, Miss Lucas, is a most amusing young woman.

Oh, yes. I adore her.

It is a pity she's not more handsome.

Mama.

But Lizzie will never admit that she's plain.

Of course it's my Jane who is considered the beauty of the county.

No, Mama, please.

When she was only 15 there was a gentleman so much in love with her that I was sure

he would make her an offer.

However, he did write her some very pretty verses.

And that put paid to it.

I wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?

I thought that poetry was the food of love.

Of a fine, stout love, it may.

But if it is only a vague inclination,

I'm convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.

So what do you recommend to encourage affection?

Dancing.

Even if one's partner is barely tolerable.

Mr. Bingley is just what a young man ought to be.

- Sensible, good humored... - Handsome, conveniently rich.

You know I do not believe marriage

- should be driven by a lot of money. - I agree.

Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony,

which is why I will end up an old maid.

Do you really believe he liked me, Lizzie?

Jane, he danced with you most of the night and stared at you for the rest of it.

But I give you leave to like him. You've liked many a stupider person.

Now, you're a great deal too apt to like people in general, you know.

All the world is good and agreeable in your eyes.

Not his friend.

Oh, I still can't believe what he said about you.

Mr. Darcy?

I could more easily forgive his vanity had he not wounded mine.

But no matter. I doubt we shall ever speak again.

And then he danced the third with Miss Lucas.

We were all there, dear.

Oh, poor thing. It is a shame she's not more handsome.

There's a spinster in the making and no mistake.

The fourth, with a Miss King, of little standing,

and the fifth, again with Jane.

If he had any compassion for me,

he would've sprained his ankle in the first set.

Mr. Bennet, the way you carry on, anyone would think

our girls look forward to a grand inheritance.

When you die, Mr. Bennet, which may in fact be very soon,

our girls will be left without a roof over their head,

nor a penny to their name.

Oh, Mama, please, it's 10:00 in the morning.

A letter addressed to Miss Bennet, ma'am, from Netherfield Hall.

Praise the Lord.

We are saved.

Make haste, Jane. Make haste.

Oh, happy day.

It is from Caroline Bingley.

She has invited me to dine with her.

Her brother will be dining out.

Dining out?

- Can I take the carriage? - Where? Let me see that.

It is too far to walk.

This is unaccountable of him. Dining out, indeed.

Mama. The carriage? For Jane?

Certainly not.

She'll go on horseback.

- Horseback? - Horseback?

Lizzie.

Now she'll have to stay the night. Exactly as I predicted.

Good grief, woman.

Your skills in the art of matchmaking are positively occult.

Though I don't think, Mama,

you can reasonably take credit for making it rain.

"My friends will not hear of me returning home until I'm better.

"Do not be alarmed." "Excepting a sore throat, a fever,

and a headache, there is nothing much wrong with me."

This is ridiculous.

Well, if Jane does die, it'll be a comfort to know

it was in pursuit of Mr. Bingley.

People do not die of colds.

Though she may well perish with the shame of having such a mother.

I must go to Netherfield at once.

Apparently, Lady Bathurst is redecorating her ballroom

in the French style.

A little unpatriotic, don't you think?

Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Good Lord, Miss Elizabeth. Did you walk here?

I did.

- I'm so sorry. How is my sister? - She's upstairs.

Thank you.

My goodness, did you see her hem?

Six inches deep in mud. She looked positively medieval.

I feel such a terrible imposition. They're being so kind to me.

Don't worry. I don't know who is more pleased

at your being here, Mama or Mr. Bingley.

Aw.

Thank you for tending to my sister so diligently.

She is in far better comfort here than she would've been at home.

It's a pleasure.

Oh. I mean, it's… Sorry.

Not a pleasure that she's ill, of course not.

It's a pleasure that she's here, being ill.

Not going to be famous, our pig.

Back of the back, not related to the learned pig of Norwich.

Now, that pig is...

- Mr. Bennet. - Yes.

It's all going according to plan.

He's half in love with her already.

- Who is, blossom? - Mr. Bingley.

And he doesn't mind a bit that she hasn't a penny,

for he has more than enough for the two of them.

- How will we meet them? - It's easy.

Wait for me.

You drop something, they pick it up,

and then you're introduced.

Officers.

You write uncommonly fast, Mr. Darcy.

You are mistaken. I write rather slowly.

How many letters you must have occasion to write, Mr. Darcy.

Letters of business, too. How odious I should think them.

It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot

instead of yours.

Do tell your sister that I long to see her.

I've already told her once, by your desire.

I do dote on her.

I was quite in raptures

at her beautiful little design for a table.

Perhaps you'll give me leave to defer your raptures

till I write again?

I have not room enough to do them justice.

It's amazing you young ladies have the patience to be so accomplished.

What do you mean, Charles?

You all paint tables, and play the piano, and embroider cushions.

I never heard of a young lady, but people say she is accomplished.

The word is applied too liberally.

I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen women who are truly accomplished.

Nor I, to be sure.

Goodness. You must comprehend a great deal in the idea.

- I do. - Absolutely.

She must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing,

dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word.

And something in her air and manner of walking.

And, of course, she must improve her mind by extensive reading.

I'm no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women.

I rather wonder now at your knowing any.

Are you so severe on your own sex?

I never saw such a woman.

She would certainly be a fearsome thing to behold.

Miss Elizabeth, let us take a turn about the room.

It's refreshing, is it not, after sitting so long in one attitude?

And it is a small kind of accomplishment, I suppose.

Will you not join us, Mr. Darcy?

You can only have two motives, Caroline, and I would interfere with either.

What can he mean?

Our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask him nothing about it.

But do tell us, Mr. Darcy.

Either you are in each other's confidence and you have secret affairs to discuss,

or you are conscious that your figures

appear to the greatest advantage by walking.

If the first, I should get in your way.

If the second, I can admire you much better from here.

Shocking.

How shall we punish him for such a speech?

- We could always laugh at him. - Oh, no, Mr. Darcy is not to be teased.

Are you too proud, Mr. Darcy?

And would you consider pride a fault or a virtue?

That I couldn't say.

Because we're doing our best to find fault in you.

Maybe it's that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others,

or their offenses against me.

My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.

Oh, dear, I cannot tease you about that.

What a shame, for I dearly love to laugh.

A family trait, I think.

A Mrs. Bennet, a Miss Bennet, a Miss Bennet, and a Miss Bennet, sir.

Oh, for heaven's sake, are we to receive every Bennet in the country?

What an excellent room you have, sir.

Such expensive furnishings.

Oh, I do hope you intend to stay here, Mr. Bingley.

Absolutely. I find the country very diverting.

Don't you agree, Darcy?

I find it perfectly adequate,

even if society's a little less varied than in town.

Less varied? Not at all.

We dine with four and 20 families of all shapes and sizes.

Sir William Lucas, for instance, is a very agreeable man

and a good deal less self-important than some people half his rank.

Mr. Bingley, is it true that you've promised

- to hold a ball here at Netherfield? - A ball?

It would be an excellent way to meet new friends.

You could invite the militia. They're excellent company.

- Oh, do hold a ball. - Kitty.

When your sister is recovered, you shall name the day.

I think a ball is a perfectly irrational way

to gain new acquaintance.

It would be better if conversation, instead of dancing,

were the order of the day.

Indeed, much more rational, but rather less like a ball.

Thank you, Mary.

What a fine, imposing place it is, to be sure, is it not, my dears?

There's no house to equal it in the county.

- Mr. Darcy. - Miss Bennet.

There she is.

Mr. Bingley, I don't know how to thank you.

You're welcome any time you feel the least bit poorly.

Thank you for your stimulating company. It has been most instructive.

Not at all. The pleasure is all mine.

- Mr. Darcy. - Miss Elizabeth.

And then, there was one with great long lashes like a cow.

Did you see him? He looked right at me.

Ask Mrs. Hill to order us a sirloin, Betsy.

Just the one, mind, we're not made of money.

I hope, my dear, you've ordered a good dinner today.

I have reason to expect an addition to our family party.

His name's Mr. Collins, the dreaded cousin.

- Who's to inherit. - Indeed. Everything, apparently.

Even my piano stool belongs to Mr. Collins.

When?

He may turn us out of the house as soon as he pleases.

But why?

Because the estate passes directly to him and not to us poor females.

Mr. Collins, at your service.

What a superbly featured room and what excellent boiled potatoes.

Many years since I've had such an exemplary vegetable.

To which of my fair cousins

should I compliment the excellence of the cooking?

Mr. Collins, we are perfectly able to keep a cook.

Excellent.

I'm very pleased the estate can afford such a living.

I am honored to have as my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourg.

You've heard of her, I presume?

My small rectory abuts her estate, Rosings Park,

and she often condescends to drive by my humble dwelling

in her little phaeton and ponies.

Does she have any family?

One daughter, the heiress of Rosings and very extensive property.

I've often observed to Lady Catherine

that her daughter seemed born to be a duchess,

for she has all the superior graces of elevated rank.

These are the kind of little delicate compliments

which are always acceptable to the ladies

and which I conceive myself particularly bound to pay.

How happy for you, Mr. Collins,

to possess the talent for flattering with such delicacy.

Do these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment,

or are they the result of previous study?

They arise from what is passing at the time,

and though I do sometimes amuse myself

with arranging such little elegant compliments,

I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.

Oh, believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed.

After dinner, I thought I might read to you all for an hour or two.

I have with me Fordyce's Sermons,

which speak very eloquently on all matters moral.

Are you familiar with Fordyce's Sermons, Miss Bennet?

Mrs. Bennet, you do know that I've been bestowed

by the good grace of Lady Catherine de Bourg

a parsonage of no mean size.

I have become aware of the fact.

Well, it is my avowed hope that soon

I may find a mistress for it, and I have to inform you

that the eldest Miss Bennet has captured my special attention.

Oh, Mr. Collins,

unfortunately, it is incumbent upon me

to hint that the eldest Miss Bennet is very soon to be engaged.

Engaged?

But Miss Lizzie, next to her in both age and beauty,

would make anyone an excellent partner.

Do not you agree, Mr. Collins?

Indeed.

Indeed.

Very agreeable alternative.

Mr. Collins is the sort of man who makes you despair at the entire sex.

Yours, I believe.

- Oh, Mr. Wickham, how perfect you are. - He picked up my handkerchief, too.

Did you drop yours on purpose, Lizzie?

- Mr. Wickham's a lieutenant. - An enchanted lieutenant.

What are you up to, Liddy?

We were looking for some ribbon.

White, for the ball.

Shall we all look for some ribbon together?

- Good afternoon, Mr. James. - Good afternoon, Miss Lydia.

- Miss Bennet. - I shan't even browse.

I can't be trusted. I have very poor taste in ribbons.

Only a man truly confident of himself would admit to that.

No, it's true. And buckles.

When it comes to buckles, I'm lost.

Dear, oh, dear. You must be the shame of the regiment.

- A laughingstock. - What do your superiors do with you?

Ignore me.

I'm of next to no importance, so it's easily done.

Lizzie, lend me some money.

You already owe me a fortune, Liddy.

- Allow me to oblige. - Oh, no, Mr. Wickham, please.

I insist.

- I pity the French. - What are they talking about?

- So do I. - I don't know.

- Look, Mr. Bingley. - Mr. Bingley!

I was just on my way to your house.

Mr. Bingley, how do you like my ribbons for your ball?

Very beautiful.

She is. Look at her. She's blooming.

Oh, Lydia.

Be sure to invite Mr. Wickham. He is a credit to his profession.

Lydia, you can't invite people to other people's balls.

Of course you must come, Mr. Wickham.

If you'll excuse me, ladies. Enjoy the day.

Do you plan to go to the Netherfield ball, Mr. Wickham?

Perhaps.

How long has Mr. Darcy been a guest there?

- About a month. - Hmm.

Forgive me, but are you acquainted with him?

With Mr. Darcy?

Indeed. I've been connected with his family since infancy.

You may well be surprised, Miss Elizabeth,

especially given our cold greeting this afternoon.

Well, I hope that your plans in favor of Meryton

will not be affected by your relations with the gentleman.

Oh, no, it is not for me to be driven away.

If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go,

not I.

I must ask, Mr. Wickham,

what is the manner of your disapproval of Mr. Darcy?

My father managed his estate.

We grew up together, Darcy and I.

His father treated me like a second son.

Loved me like a son.

We were both with him the day he died.

With his last breath,

his father bequeathed me the rectory in his estate.

He knew I had my heart set on joining the church.

But Darcy ignored his wishes and gave the living to another man.

- But why? - Jealousy.

His father…

Well, he loved me better and Darcy couldn't stand it.

- How cruel. - So, now I'm a poor foot soldier,

too lowly even to be noticed.

Oh!

Breathe in.

I can't any more. You're hurting.

Betsy.

Betsy.

I still think there must have been a misunderstanding.

Oh, Jane, do you never think ill of anybody?

Well, how could Mr. Darcy do such a thing?

I'll discover the truth from Mr. Bingley at the ball this evening.

If it is not true, let Mr. Darcy contradict it himself.

Till he does, I hope never to encounter him.

Poor, unfortunate Mr. Wickham.

On the contrary, Wickham is twice the man Darcy is.

And let us hope, a rather more willing dancer.

Oh, there they are. Look.

Jane Martin is here tonight.

May I say what an immense pleasure it is

- to see you again, Mr. Bingley. - Mrs. Bennet.

- Miss Bingley. - Charming.

I'm… I'm so pleased you're here.

So am I.

And… how are you?

Miss Elizabeth, are you looking for someone?

No. No, not at all.

I was just admiring the general splendor.

It is breath-taking, Mr. Bingley.

Good.

You might at least have

passed a few pleasantries with Mr. Bingley.

I dare say I've never met a more pleasant gentleman

in all my years.

Did you see how he dotes on her?

Dear Jane. Always doing what's best for her family.

- Charlotte. - Lizzie.

- Have you seen Mr. Wickham? - No. Perhaps he is through here.

Lizzie. Mr. Wickham is not here.

Apparently he's been detained.

Detained where? He must be here.

There you are.

Mr. Collins.

Perhaps you will do me the honor, Miss Elizabeth?

Oh.

I did not think you danced, Mr. Collins.

I do not think it incompatible with the office of a clergyman

to indulge in such an innocent diversion.

In fact, several people, well, Her Ladyship included,

have complimented me on my lightness of foot.

Apparently, your Mr. Wickham has been called on some business to town.

To be sure, dancing is of little consequence to me, but it does…

it does harbor the opportunity to lavish…

To lavish upon one's partner…

My informer tells me he was less inclined...

…delicate attentions, which is my...

That he'd be less inclined to be engaged, were it not for the…

Were it not for the presence of a certain gentleman.

Which is my primary object of the evening.

That gentleman barely warrants the name.

It is my intention, if I may be so bold,

to remain close to you throughout the evening.

Oh.

May I have the next dance, Miss Elizabeth?

You may.

Did I just agree to dance with Mr. Darcy?

I daresay you will find him very amiable, Lizzie.

It would be most inconvenient,

since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity.

- I love this dance. - Indeed. Most invigorating.

It is your turn to say something, Mr. Darcy.

I talked about the dance, now you ought to remark

on the size of the room, or the number of couples.

I am perfectly happy to oblige.

Please advise me of what you would like most to hear.

That reply will do for present.

Perhaps by and by, I may observe

that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones.

For now we may remain silent.

Do you talk, as a rule, while dancing?

No.

No, I prefer to be unsociable and taciturn.

Makes it all so much more enjoyable, don't you think?

Tell me, do you and your sisters very often walk to Meryton?

Yes, we often walk to Meryton.

It's a great opportunity to meet new people.

In fact, when you met us, we'd just had the pleasure

of forming a new acquaintance.

Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners,

he is sure of making friends.

Whether he's capable of retaining them is less certain.

He's been so unfortunate as to lose your friendship.

And I daresay that is an irreversible event?

It is. Why do you ask such a question?

To make out your character, Mr. Darcy.

- And what have you discovered? - Very little.

I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.

I hope to afford you more clarity in the future.

Is that Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire?

I believe so.

I must make myself known to him immediately.

- But, sir... - He is the nephew of Lady Catherine.

Mr. Collins, he will consider it an impertinence.

Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy.

Good evening.

What interesting relatives you have, Miss Elizabeth.

I believe we have a mutual acquaintance

in the personage of Lady Catherine de Bourg?

Mary dear, you've delighted us long enough.

Let the other young ladies have a turn.

I had her since I was a child, and then she died.

Now I have a beautiful gray.

Of course Caroline's a much better rider than I am. Of course.

Oh, yes, we fully expect a most advantageous marriage.

And my Jane marrying this young man

must throw her sisters in the way of other rich men.

Ah.

Clearly my family are having a competition

to see who can expose themselves to the most ridicule.

Well, at least Bingley has not noticed.

- No. I think he likes her very much. - But does she like him?

There are few of us who are secure enough

to be really in love without proper encouragement.

Bingley likes her enormously,

but might not do more if she does not help him on.

But she's just shy and modest.

If he cannot perceive her regard, he is a fool.

We are all fools in love.

He does not know her character as we do.

She should move fast, snap him up.

There is plenty of time for us to get to know them

after we're married.

Can't help feeling that at any point this evening

someone's going to produce a piglet and make us chase it.

Oh, dear.

I do apologize, sir. I'm awfully sorry.

Do forgive me.

Mary.

There, there. There, there.

- I've been practicing it all week. - I know, my dear.

I hate balls!

Mr. Bennet, wake up.

Oh, I've never had such a good time in my life.

Charles, you cannot be serious.

We'll be having a wedding here at Netherfield

in less than three months, if you ask me, Mr. Bennet.

Mr. Bennet!

Mary, please.

Thank you, Mr. Hill.

Mrs. Bennet, I was hoping,

if it would not trouble you, that I might solicit

a private audience with Miss Elizabeth in the course of the morning.

Oh, yes. Certainly.

Lizzie will be very happy indeed. Everyone, out.

Mr. Collins would like a private audience with your sister.

No, wait, please. I beg you.

He can't have anything to say to me that nobody can hear.

No nonsense, Lizzie. I desire you will stay where you are.

Everyone else to the drawing room.

- Mr. Bennet? - But…

Now.

Jane. Jane.

Jane, please, don't.

- Jane? - Jane.

Papa, stay.

Dear Miss Elizabeth,

I am sure my attentions have been too marked to be mistaken.

Almost as soon as I entered the house,

I singled you out as the companion of my future life.

But, before I am run away with my feelings,

perhaps I may state my reasons for marrying.

Firstly, that it is the duty of a clergyman

to set the example of matrimony in his parish.

Secondly, that I am convinced it will add greatly to my happiness.

And thirdly, that it is at the urging of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine,

that I select a wife.

My object in coming to Longbourn was to choose such a one

from among Mr. Bennet's daughters, for I am to inherit the estate…

and such an alliance will surely…

suit everyone.

And now, nothing remains but for me

to assure you in the most animated language,

- of the violence of my affections. - Mr. Collins.

And that no reproach on the subject of fortune

will cross my lips once we're married.

You are too hasty, sir. You forget that I have given no answer.

I must add that Lady Catherine will thoroughly approve

when I speak to her of your modesty, economy, and other…

amiable qualities.

Sir, I am honored by your proposal, but I regret that I must decline it.

I know ladies don't seek to seem too eager...

Mr. Collins, I am perfectly serious.

You could not make me happy, and I'm convinced

I'm the last woman in the world who could make you happy.

I flatter myself, cousin, that your refusal is merely a natural delicacy.

Besides, you should take into account that despite the manifold attractions,

it's by no means certain that another offer of marriage

- may ever be made to you. - Mr. Collins.

So I must conclude that you simply seek to increase my love by suspense…

Sir.

…according to the usual practice of elegant females.

Sir.

I am not the sort of female to torment a respectable man.

Please understand me, I cannot accept you.

Headstrong, foolish child.

Don't worry, Mr. Collins.

We'll have this little hiccup dealt with immediately.

Lizzie!

Lizzie!

Mr. Bennet. Mr. Bennet.

We're all in an uproar.

You must come and make Lizzie marry Mr. Collins.

Huh?

Mr. Collins has proposed to Lizzie. But she vows she will not have him.

And now the danger is Mr. Collins may not have Lizzie.

- Well, what am I to do? - Well, come and talk to her.

Now.

Uh…

Tell her you insist upon them marrying.

Papa, please.

- You will have this house. - I can't marry him.

- And save your sisters from destitution. - I can't.

Go back now and say you've changed your mind!

- No! - Think of your family!

- You cannot make me! - Mr. Bennet, say something!

So…

your mother insists on you marrying Mr. Collins.

Yes, or I shall never see her again.

Well, Lizzie, from this day onward,

you must be a stranger to one of your parents.

Who will maintain you when your father is dead?

Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins,

and I will never see you again if you do.

- Mr. Bennet! - Thank you, Papa.

Ungrateful child. I shall never speak to you again!

Not that I take much pleasure in talking.

People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints

can have no pleasure in talking to anybody.

Jane.

What's the matter?

Jane?

I don't understand what would take him from Netherfield.

Why would he not know when he was to return?

Read it. I don't mind.

"Mr. Darcy is impatient to see his sister,

and we are scarcely less eager to meet her again."

"I really do not think Georgiana Darcy

has her equal for beauty, elegance, and accomplishments,

so much so I must hope to hereafter call her my sister."

Is that not clear enough?

Caroline sees that her brother is in love with you

and has taken him off to persuade him otherwise.

But I know her to be incapable of willfully deceiving anyone.

It's far more likely that he does not love me and never has.

He loves you, Jane. Do not give up.

Go to our aunt and uncle's in London,

let it be known you are there, and I am sure he will come to you.

Give my love to my sister, and try not to be a burden, dear.

Poor Jane.

Still, a girl likes to be crossed in love now and then.

It gives her something to think of,

and a sort of distinction amongst her companions.

I'm sure that will cheer her up, Papa.

Well, it's your turn now, Lizzie.

You turned down Collins.

You're free to go off and be jilted yourself.

What about Mr. Wickham?

Well, he's a pleasant fellow and he'd do the job credibly.

Father.

And you have an affectionate mother…

who would make the most of it.

- Charlotte. - My dear Lizzie.

I've come here to tell you the news.

Mr. Collins and I are engaged.

- Engaged? - Yes.

To be married?

Yes, of course, Lizzie. What other kind of engaged is there?

Oh, for heaven's sake, Lizzie, don't look at me like that.

There was no earthly reason

why I shouldn't be as happy with him as any other.

- But he's ridiculous. - Oh, hush.

Not all of us can afford to be romantic.

I've been offered a comfortable home, and protection.

- There's a lot to be thankful for. - Charlotte...

I'm 27 years old.

I've no money and no prospects.

I'm already a burden to my parents.

And I'm frightened.

So don't judge me, Lizzie. Don't you dare judge me.

Dear Charlotte, thank you for your letter.

I'm so glad the house, furniture, and roads are all to your taste

and that Lady Catherine's behavior is friendly and obliging.

What with your departure, Jane's to London,

and the militia to the North with the colorful Mr. Wickham,

I must confess, the view from where I sit has been rather gray.

As for the favor you ask, it is no favor at all.

I would be happy to visit you at your earliest convenience.

Welcome to our humble abode.

My wife encourages me to spend as much time in the garden as possible

for the sake of my health.

My dear, I think our guest is tired after her journey.

I plan many improvements, of course.

I intend to throw out a bough and plant a lime walk.

Oh, yes, I flatter myself

that any young lady would be happy to be the mistress of such a house.

We shan't be disturbed here.

This parlor is for my own particular use.

Oh, Lizzie, it's such a pleasure to run my own home.

Charlotte, come here.

- What's happened? - Charlotte!

Has the pig escaped again?

Oh, it's Lady Catherine. Come and see, Lizzie.

Great news. Great news.

We've received an invitation to visit Rosings this evening

from Lady Catherine de Bourg.

How wonderful.

Do not make yourself uneasy, my dear cousin, about your apparel.

Just put on whatever you've brought that's best.

Lady Catherine's never been averse to the truly humble.

One of the most extraordinary sights in all of Europe, is it not?

The glazing alone cost upwards of £20,000.

Come along. Come along.

I think a little later we'll play cards.

- Your Ladyship. - Ah!

Miss de Bourg.

So you are Elizabeth Bennet?

I am, Your Ladyship.

Hmm.

This is my daughter.

It's very kind of you

- to ask us to dine, Lady Catherine. - The rug alone cost upwards of £300.

Mr. Darcy.

What are you doing here?

Mr. Darcy, I had no idea we had the honor.

Miss Elizabeth, I'm a guest here.

You know my nephew?

Yes, ma'am, I had the pleasure of meeting your nephew in Hertfordshire.

Colonel Fitzwilliam. How do you do?

Mr. Collins, you can't sit next to your wife. Move.

Over there.

Harvey, I wonder, could you get me a fish course?

I trust your family is in good health, Miss Elizabeth?

They are, thank you.

My eldest sister is currently in London.

Perhaps you happened to see her there?

I haven't been fortunate enough, no.

Do you play the pianoforte, Miss Bennet?

A little, ma'am, and very poorly.

Oh.

Do you draw?

No, not at all.

Your sisters, do they draw?

- Not one. - That's very strange.

I suppose you had no opportunity.

Your mother should've taken you to town every spring

for the benefit of the masters.

I'm sure my mother wouldn't have minded, but my father hates town.

- Has your governess left you? - We never had a governess.

No governess?

Five daughters brought up at home without a governess.

I never heard such a thing.

Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education.

Not at all, Lady Catherine.

Your younger sisters, are they out in society?

Yes, ma'am. All.

All? What, all five out at once?

Oh, that's very odd. And you only the second.

The younger ones out before the elders are married.

Your youngest sisters must be very young.

Yes, my youngest is not 16.

But I think it would be very hard on younger sisters

not to have their share of amusement because the elder is still unmarried.

It would hardly encourage sisterly affection.

Upon my word,

you give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person.

Pray, what is your age?

With three younger sisters grown up,

Your Ladyship can hardly expect me to own to it.

Come, Miss Bennet, and play for us.

No, I beg you.

For music is my delight.

In fact, there are few people in England

who have more true enjoyment of music than myself…

or better natural taste.

If I had ever learnt,

I should have been a great proficient.

So would Anne, if her health would have allowed her.

Lady Catherine, I'm not afflicted with false modesty.

When I say I play poorly...

Come, come, Lizzie, Her Ladyship demands it.

Thank you.

How does Georgiana get along, Darcy?

- She plays very well. - I hope she practices.

No excellence can be acquired without constant practice.

I've told Mrs. Collins this.

Though you have no instrument of your own, you're very welcome to come to Rosings

and play on the pianoforte in the housekeeper's room.

Oh, I thank you, Your Ladyship.

You'll be in nobody's way in that part of the house.

You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all your state to hear me,

but I won't be alarmed even if your sister does play so well.

I'm well enough acquainted with you, Miss Elizabeth,

to know that I cannot alarm you, even should I wish it.

What was my friend like in Hertfordshire?

You really care to know?

Prepare yourself for something very dreadful.

The first time I saw him at the assembly, he danced with nobody at all.

Even though gentlemen were scarce

and there was more than one young lady sitting down without a partner.

I knew nobody beyond my own party.

Oh, and nobody can be introduced in a ballroom.

Fitzwilliam, I need you.

I do not have the talent

of conversing easily with people I have never met before.

Perhaps you should take your aunt's advice and practice.

Dear Jane…

Mr. Darcy.

Please, do be seated.

I'm afraid Mr. and Mrs. Collins have gone on business to the village.

This is a charming house.

I believe my aunt did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first arrived.

I believe so.

She could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful subject.

- Shall I call for some tea? - No. Thank you.

Good day, Miss Elizabeth. It's been a pleasure.

What on earth have you done to poor Mr. Darcy?

I have no idea.

Every mind must have some counselor

to whom it may apply for consolation in distress.

There are many conveniences which others can supply

and which we cannot procure for ourselves.

I have now principally in view those objects

which are only to be obtained through intercourse.

Forgive me.

Through the intercourse of friendship, or civility.

On such occasions, the proud man steps forth

to meet you not with the cordiality of affection,

but with the suspicion of one who reconnoiters an enemy…

So, how long do you plan to stay in Kent, Colonel?

As long as Darcy chooses. I'm at his disposal.

Everyone appears to be at his disposal.

I wonder he doesn't marry and secure a lasting convenience of that kind.

She would be a lucky woman.

Really?

Darcy is a most loyal companion.

From what I heard on our journey here,

he recently came to the rescue of one of his friends just in time.

What happened?

He saved the man from an imprudent marriage.

Who was the man?

His closest friend, Charles Bingley.

Did Mr. Darcy give a reason for this interference?

There were apparently strong objections to the lady.

What kind of objections?

Her lack of fortune?

I think it was her family that was considered unsuitable.

So he separated them.

I believe so. I know nothing else.

…in need to every man which is bound

not to think of himself more highly…

Miss Elizabeth.

I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer.

These past months have been a torment.

I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you.

I had to see you.

I've fought against my better judgment, my family's expectation,

the inferiority of your birth, my rank, circumstance, everything,

and I'm willing to put them aside and ask you to end my agony.

- I don't understand. - I love you.

Most ardently.

Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.

Sir, I… I appreciate the struggle you have been through

and I am very sorry to have caused you pain.

Believe me, it was unconsciously done.

- Is this your reply? - Yes, sir.

Are you… are you laughing at me?

- No. - Are you rejecting me?

I'm sure that the feelings, which you say, have hindered your regard

will help you in overcoming it.

Might I ask why,

with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus repulsed?

I might as well inquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me,

you told me that you liked me

- against your better judgment! - No...

If I was uncivil, then that is some excuse!

But I have other reasons. You know I have.

What reasons?

Do you think that anything might tempt me to accept the man

who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?

Do you deny it, Mr. Darcy?

That you separated a young couple who loved each other,

exposing your friend to the center of the world for caprice

and my sister to its derision for disappointed hopes.

And involving them both in misery of the acutest kind?

I do not deny it.

How could you do it?

Because your sister was indifferent to him.

- Indifferent? - I watched them most carefully

and saw he was more attached than her.

- Because she's shy. - Bingley, too, is modest

and felt she didn't feel strongly for him.

- Because you suggested it. - I did it for his own good.

My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me!

I suppose you suspect that his… his fortune had some bearing...

No! I wouldn't do your sister the dishonor!

- Though it was suggested... - What was?

It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage...

- Did my sister give that impression? - No! No!

No. There was, however, I have to admit, the matter of your family.

Our want of connection?

Mr. Bingley wasn't vexed about that.

- No, it was more than that. - How?

It's the lack of propriety

shown by your mother, younger sisters, even, on occasion, your father.

Forgive me.

You and your sister I must exclude from this.

And what about Mr. Wickham?

Mr. Wickham?

What excuse can you give for your behavior towards him?

You're interested in that gentleman's concerns.

He told me of his misfortunes.

Oh, yes, his misfortunes have been very great indeed.

You ruin his chances, and yet you treat him with sarcasm?

So this is your opinion of me.

Thank you for explaining so fully.

Perhaps you'd have overlooked them had not your pride

- been hurt by my honesty… - My pride?

…in admitting scruples about our relationship.

Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?

And those are the words of a gentleman.

From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit,

your selfish disdain for the feelings of others

made me realize that you were the last man in the world

I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

Forgive me, madam, for taking up so much of your time.

I came to leave you this.

I shall not renew the sentiments which were so disgusting to you,

but if I may, I will address the two offenses you have laid against me.

My father loved Mr. Wickham as a son.

In consequence, he left him a generous living.

But upon my father's death, Mr. Wickham announced

he had no intention of taking orders.

He demanded the value of the living which he was given,

and which he gambled away within weeks.

He then wrote demanding more money, which I refused,

after which he severed all acquaintance.

He came back to see us last summer,

at which point he declared passionate love for my sister,

whom he tried to persuade to elope with him.

She is to inherit £30,000.

When it was made clear

he would never receive a penny of that inheritance,

he disappeared.

I will not attempt to convey the depth of Georgiana's despair.

She was 15 years old.

As to the other matter, that of your sister and Mr. Bingley…

though the motives which governed me may to you appear insufficient,

they were in the service of a friend.

Lizzie?

Are you all right?

I hardly know.

Lizzie, how fortunate you have arrived.

Your aunt and uncle are here to deliver Jane from London.

- How is Jane? - She's in the drawing room.

I'm quite over him, Lizzie.

If he passed me in the street, I'd hardly notice.

London is so diverting.

- Jane. - It's true.

There's so much to entertain.

What news from Kent?

Nothing.

At least, not much to entertain.

Lizzie. Lizzie, tell Mama! Tell her!

Oh, Kitty, stop making such a fuss.

Why didn't she ask me as well?

She can't afford it.

- Because I'm better company. - What's the matter?

I've as much right as Lydia.

If I could go to Brighton.

- I'm two years older. - Let's all go.

Lydia's been invited to go to Brighton with the Forsters.

A little sea-bathing would set me up very nicely.

I shall dine with the officers every night.

Please, Papa, don't let her go.

Lydia will never be easy until she's exposed herself

in some public place or other,

and we can never expect her to do it with so little inconvenience

as under the present circumstances.

If you, dear father, do not take the trouble to check her,

she will be fixed forever as the silliest and most determined flirt

who ever made her family ridiculous.

And Kitty will follow, as she always does.

Lizzie, we shall have no peace until she goes.

Peace. Is that really all you care about?

Colonel Forster is a sensible man.

He will keep her out of any real mischief.

And she is far too poor to be an object of prey to anyone.

- Father, it's dangerous. - I am certain

the officers will find women better worth their while.

Let us hope, in fact, that her stay in Brighton

will teach her her own insignificance.

At any rate, she can hardly grow any worse.

If she does,

we'd be obliged to lock her up for the rest of her life.

Lizzie dear, you'd be welcome to accompany us.

The Peak District is not Brighton

and officers are very thin on the ground, which may influence your decision.

Come to the Peak District with us, Lizzie, and get some fresh air.

The glories of nature.

What are men compared to rocks and mountains?

Believe me, men are either eaten up with arrogance or stupidity.

If they are amiable, they're so easily led

they have no minds of their own whatsoever.

Oh, take care, my love, that savors strongly of bitterness.

I saw Mr. Darcy when I was at Rosings.

Why did you not tell me?

Did he mention Mr. Bingley?

No.

No, he did not.

Oh, what are men compared to rocks and mountains?

Or carriages that work.

Where exactly are we?

I think we're quite close to Pemberley.

- Mr. Darcy's home? - That's the fellow.

Very well stocked lake. I've a hankering to see it.

Oh, no, let's not.

Oh, he's so…

I'd rather not. He's so… He's so…

- So what? - He's so rich.

By heavens, Lizzie, what a snob you are.

Objecting to poor Mr. Darcy because of his wealth.

The poor man can't help it.

He won't be there anyway. These great men are never at home.

My goodness.

Keep up.

Is your master much at Pemberley?

Not as much as I would wish, sir, for he dearly loves it here.

If he should marry, you might see more of him.

Yes, madam, but I do not know when that will be.

He's a lot like his father.

And most generous.

When my husband was ill, Mr. Darcy couldn't do enough.

He didn't fuss.

He just organized the servants for me.

This is he, Mr. Darcy.

A handsome face.

Lizzie, is it a true likeness?

Does the young lady know Mr. Darcy?

Only a little.

Do you not think him a handsome man, miss?

Yes.

Yes, I daresay he is.

This is his sister, Miss Georgiana.

Is she at home?

Miss Elizabeth!

I thought you were in London.

No.

No, I'm not.

No.

- I came back a day early. - We wouldn't have come

- had we known you were here. - Some business with my steward.

I'm in Derbyshire with my aunt and uncle.

And are you having a pleasant trip?

Very pleasant.

- Tomorrow we go to Matlock. - Tomorrow?

- Are you staying at Lambton? - Yes. At the Rose and Crown.

Yes.

I'm so sorry to intrude.

They said that the house was open for visitors. I had no idea…

- May I see you back to the village? - No!

- I'm very fond of walking. - Yes.

Yes, I know.

Goodbye, Mr. Darcy.

This way, sir.

Are you sure you wouldn't like to join us?

- Thank you again, sir. Goodbye. - Goodbye. Goodbye.

Lizzie, we've just met Mr. Darcy.

You didn't tell us that you'd seen him.

He's asked us to dine with him tomorrow.

He was very civil, was he not?

- Very civil. - Not at all how you had painted him.

To dine with him?

There's something pleasant about his mouth when he speaks.

You don't mind delaying our journey another day, do you?

He particularly wants you to meet his sister.

His sister?

Miss Elizabeth!

My sister, Miss Georgiana.

My brother has told me so much about you.

I feel as if we are friends already.

Well, thank you. What a beautiful pianoforte.

My brother gave it to me. He shouldn't have.

- Yes, I should've. - Oh, very well, then.

Easily persuaded, is she not?

Your unfortunate brother once had to put up with my playing

for a whole evening.

But he says you play so well.

Then he has perjured himself most profoundly.

No, I said, "Played quite well."

Oh, "quite well" is not "very well." I'm satisfied.

Mr. Gardiner,

- are you fond of fishing? - Oh, very much, sir.

Can I persuade you to accompany me to the lake this afternoon?

It's well stocked and its occupants left in peace for far too long.

I would be delighted.

Do you play duets, Miss Elizabeth?

Only when forced.

Brother, you must force her.

Splendid fishing, good company. What a capital fellow.

Thank you so much, Mr. Darcy.

A letter for you, madam.

Oh, it's from Jane.

It's the most dreadful news.

Lydia has run away…

with Mr. Wickham.

They are gone from Brighton to Lord-knows-where.

She has no money, no connections.

I fear she is lost forever.

This is my fault.

If only I had exposed Wickham when I should.

No.

No, this is my fault.

I might have prevented all this merely by being open with my sisters.

Has anything been done to recover her?

My father has gone to London.

But I know very well that nothing can be done.

We have not the smallest hope.

Would I could help you.

Sir, I think it is too late.

This is grave indeed.

I will leave you. Goodbye.

I'm afraid we must go at once.

I will join Mr. Bennet and find Lydia before she ruins the family forever.

Oh, why did the Forsters let her out of their sight?

I always said they were unfit to take charge of her.

- And now she's ruined. - You are all ruined.

Who will take you now with a fallen sister?

Poor Mr. Bennet will now have to fight the perfidious Wickham

and then be killed.

He hasn't found him yet, Mama.

And then Mr. Collins will turn us out before he's cold in his grave.

Do not be so alarmed, Mama.

Our uncle has gone on to London and is helping in the search.

Lydia must know what this must be doing to my nerves.

Such flutterings and spasms all over me.

My baby Lydia.

My baby.

How could she do such a thing to her poor mama?

- You can't do that. - Don't be such a baby.

Kitty, give it to me.

- No! - Who is it for?

It's addressed to Papa.

It's in Uncle's writing.

Papa, there's a letter!

- Let me catch my breath. - It's in Uncle's writing.

- He has found them. - Are they married?

- Wait. I can't make out his script. - Oh, give it to me!

Are they married?

They will be, if father will settle £100 a year on her.

- That is Wickham's condition. - £100?

- You will agree to this, Father? - Of course I'll agree.

God knows how much your uncle must have laid on that wretched man.

What do you mean, Father?

No man in his senses would marry Lydia

under so slight a temptation as £100 a year.

Your uncle must have been very generous.

Do you think it a large sum?

Wickham's a fool if he accepts less than £10,000.

£10,000? Heaven forbid.

Father!

Lydia married.

And at 15, too.

Ring the bell, Kitty.

I must put on my things and tell Lady Lucas.

Oh, to see her face.

And tell the servants they will have a bowl of punch.

We should thank our uncle, Mama.

And so he should help.

He's far richer than us and has no children.

A daughter, married!

Is that really all you think about?

When you have five daughters, Lizzie,

tell me what else will occupy your thoughts,

and then perhaps you will understand.

You don't know what he's like.

- Lydia! - Mama.

We passed Sarah Sims in her carriage.

So I took off my glove and let my hand just rest

so she might see the ring.

Then I bowed and smiled like anything.

Sarah Sims.

I'm sure she was not half as radiant as you, my dear.

Oh, Mama!

You must all go to Brighton, for that is the place to get husbands.

- I hope you have half my good luck. - Lydia.

I want to hear every little detail, Lydia dear.

- Oh, Mama! - Beautiful.

I've been enlisted in a regiment in the North of England, sir.

Glad to hear it.

Near Newcastle. We travel there next week.

- Can I come and stay with you? - That is out of the question.

Well, Monday morning came and I was in such a fuss.

I don't want to hear.

There was my aunt, preaching and talking away

as if she was reading a sermon.

- She was horrid unpleasant. - Can't you understand why?

Mmm. But I didn't hear a word, because I was thinking of my dear Wickham.

I longed to know whether he'd be married in his blue coat.

The North of England, I believe, boasts some spectacular scenery.

And then my uncle was called away on business,

and I thought, "Who is to be our best man if he doesn't come back?"

Lucky he did come back, or I would have had to ask Mr. Darcy,

but I don't really like him.

Mr. Darcy?

Oh, I forgot. But I shouldn't have said a word.

Mr. Darcy was at your wedding?

He was the one that discovered us.

He paid for the wedding, Wickham's commission. Everything.

But don't tell anyone. He told me not to tell.

- Mr. Darcy? - Stop it, Lizzie.

Mr. Darcy's not half as high and mighty as you sometimes.

Tell Kitty to stop glaring at Mr. Wickham.

Your father's doing enough for the pair of them.

Kitty, have you seen my ring?

Write to me often, my dear.

Married women never have much time for writing.

No, I dare say you won't.

When I married your father,

there didn't seem to be enough hours in the day!

Well, my sisters may write to me. For they'll have nothing else to do.

There's nothing so bad as parting with one's children.

One seems so forlorn without them.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, Lydia. Goodbye, Mr. Wickham.

Bye, Kitty. Bye, Papa.

I can't imagine what your father does with all that ink.

Mrs. Bennet.

Did you hear the news, madam?

Mr. Bingley is returning to Netherfield.

Mr. Bingley?

Mrs. Nichols is ordering a haunch of pork.

She expects him tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

Not that I care about him. Mr. Bingley's nothing to us.

I'm sure I never want to see him again. No.

We shan't mention a word about it. Is it quite certain he's coming?

Yes, madam. I believe he is alone. His sister remains in town.

Oh.

Why he thinks we should be interested, I've no idea.

Come along, girls.

Let's go home at once, Mary,

and tell Mr. Bennet the impudence of the man.

I wonder he dare show his face.

It's all right, Lizzie. I'm…

I'm just glad he comes alone, because then we shall see less of him.

Not that I'm afraid of myself. But I dread other people's remarks.

Oh, I'm sorry.

He's here! He's here. He's at the door!

Mr. Bingley!

Mr. Bingley? Oh, my goodness!

Everybody behave naturally.

And whatever you do, do not appear overbearing.

- There's someone with him. - Mama.

Mr. What's-his-name. The pompous one from before.

Mr. Darcy!

The very insolence of it. What does he think of, coming here?

Keep still, Jane.

Mary, put that away at once. Find some useful employment.

Oh, my Lord! I shall have a seizure, I'm sure I shall.

Kitty!

- Kitty! - We can't have this here.

Mary, the ribbons, the ribbons, the ribbons.

Mary, sit down at once. Mary!

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, ma'am.

- Good... - How very glad we are

to see you, Mr. Bingley.

There've been a great many changes since you went away.

Miss Lucas is married and settled.

And one of my own daughters, too.

You will have seen it in the papers,

though it was not put in as it ought to have been.

Very short, nothing about her family.

Yes. Yes, I did hear of it. I offer my congratulations.

But it is very hard to have my Lydia taken away from me.

Mr. Wickham has been transferred to Newcastle, wherever that is.

Do you hope to stay long in the country, Mr. Bingley?

Just a few weeks. For the shooting.

When you've killed all your own birds,

I beg you will come here and shoot as many as you please.

Thank you.

Mr. Bennet will be vastly happy to oblige you,

and will save all the best of the coveys for you.

Excellent.

Are you well, Mr. Darcy?

Quite well, thank you.

I hope that the weather stays fine for your sport.

I return to town tomorrow.

So soon?

My Jane looks well,

does she not?

She does indeed.

Well, we must be going, I think.

Darcy.

It's been very pleasant to see you all again. Miss Elizabeth.

- Miss Bennet. - You must come again.

For when you were in town last winter,

you promised to have a family dinner with us.

I've not forgot, you see.

At least three courses.

Excuse me.

Most extraordinary.

We were going to walk in, and she was going to say, "Sit down."

- No, no. - No.

So, I feel…

Oh, it's a disaster, isn't it?

It's been… It's…

- Miss Bennet. - Mr. Bingley.

I just go in and I'll just say it.

- Just say it. - Yes. Exactly, exactly.

Oh, God.

I'm glad that's over.

At least now we can meet as indifferent acquaintances.

Oh, yes.

No, you cannot think me so weak as to be in danger now.

I think you are in great danger of making him

as much in love with you as ever.

I'm sorry, though, that he came with Mr. Darcy.

Don't say that.

Why ever not?

Jane…

I've been so blind.

What do you mean?

Look, it's him! He's back. He's come again.

I know this is all very untoward,

but I would like to request the privilege of speaking to Miss Bennet.

Alone.

Everybody to the kitchen. Immediately.

Except you, Jane dear. Of course.

Oh, Mr. Bingley. It is so good to see you again so soon.

First, I must tell you I have been

the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass.

Kitty, Mary, quiet.

Yes.

A thousand times, yes.

Thank the Lord for that. I thought it would never happen.

- I'm confident they will do well together. - Hmm.

Their tempers are much alike.

Though they will be cheated assiduously by their servants

and be so generous with the rest,

they will always exceed their income.

Exceed their income? He has £5,000 a year.

I knew she could not be so beautiful for nothing.

Mmm-hmm.

"…must be free from all insincerity.

She only can address herself effectually to the heart

and the feelings of others,

whose mind glows with the warmth of sensibility,

and whose arguments result from conviction.

She must feel the influence of those passions and emotions

which she wishes to inspire.

An assumed…"

Can you die of happiness?

Do you know, he was totally ignorant of my being in town in the spring.

- How did he account for it? - He thought me indifferent.

Unfathomable.

No doubt poisoned by his pernicious sister.

Bravo.

I think that's the most unforgiving speech you've ever made.

Oh, Lizzie, if I could but see you so happy.

If there were such another man for you.

Perhaps Mr. Collins has a cousin.

- What is that? - What?

Maybe he's changed his mind.

Coming!

Yes?

Lady Catherine.

The rest of your offspring, I presume.

All but one. The youngest has been lately married, Your Ladyship.

And my eldest was proposed to, only this afternoon.

You have a very small garden, madam.

Could I offer you a cup of tea, perhaps, Your...

Absolutely not. I need to speak to Miss Elizabeth Bennet alone.

As a matter of urgency.

You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand why I am here.

You're mistaken. I can't account for this honor at all.

Miss Bennet, I warn you, I am not to be trifled with.

A report of a most alarming nature has reached me

that you intend to be united with my nephew, Mr. Darcy.

I know this to be a scandalous falsehood,

though not wishing to injure him by supposing it possible,

I instantly set off to make my sentiments known.

If you believed it to be impossible,

I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far.

To hear it contradicted.

Your coming will be rather a confirmation, surely,

- if indeed such a report exists. - "If?"

Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it?

Has it not been industriously circulated by yourself?

I have never heard of it.

And can you declare there is no foundation for it?

I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with Your Ladyship.

You may ask a question which I may choose not to answer.

This is not to be borne.

Has my nephew made you an offer of marriage?

Your Ladyship has declared it to be impossible.

Let me be understood.

Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter.

- Now, what have you to say? - Only this. If that is the case,

you have no reason to suppose he would make an offer to me.

You selfish girl!

This union has been planned since their infancy.

Do you think it can be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth

whose own sister's elopement

resulted in a scandalously patched-up marriage

only achieved at the expense of your uncle?

Heaven and Earth, are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?

Now tell me once and for all, are you engaged to him?

I am not.

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

I will not, and I certainly never shall.

You have insulted me in every possible way and can now have nothing further to say.

I must ask you to leave immediately.

Goodnight.

I have never been thus treated in my entire life!

- Lizzie, what on earth is going on? - It's just a misunderstanding.

Lizzie.

Oh, for once in your life, leave me alone!

- I couldn't sleep. - Nor I. My aunt…

Yes. She was here.

How can I ever make amends for such behavior?

After what you have done for Lydia, and I suspect for Jane also,

it is I who should be making amends.

You must know. Surely you must know it was all for you.

You are too generous to trifle with me.

I believe you spoke with my aunt last night

and it has taught me to hope as I had scarcely allowed myself before.

If your feelings are still what they were last April,

tell me so at once.

My affections and wishes have not changed,

but one word from you will silence me forever.

If, however, your feelings have changed…

I would have to tell you, you have bewitched me, body and soul,

and I love… I love… I love you.

I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.

Well, then.

Your hands are cold.

Shut the door, please, Elizabeth.

Lizzie, are you out of your senses?

I thought you hated the man.

No, Papa.

He's rich, to be sure,

and you will have more fine carriages than Jane.

But will that make you happy?

Have you no other objection than your belief in my indifference?

None at all.

Well, we all know him to be a proud, unpleasant sort of fellow…

but this would be nothing if you really liked him.

- I do like him. - Well.

I love him.

He's not proud. I was wrong. I was entirely wrong about him.

You don't know him, Papa.

If I told you what he was really like, what he's done.

What has he done?

Mary, look at him.

But he's so…

But she doesn't like him. I thought she didn't like him.

So did I. So did we all.

We must have been wrong.

Wouldn't be the first time, will it?

No.

Nor the last, I dare say.

Good Lord.

- I must pay him back. - No.

You mustn't tell anyone. He wouldn't want it.

We misjudged him, Papa, me more than anyone, in…

in every way, not just in this matter.

I've been nonsensical.

But he's been a fool about Jane,

about so many other things. But…

but then, so have I.

You see, he and I are…

He and I are so similar.

We're both so stubborn.

Papa, I…

You really do love him, don't you?

Very much.

I cannot believe that anyone can deserve you…

but it seems I am overruled.

So, I heartily give my consent.

I could not have parted with you, my Lizzie,

to anyone less worthy.

Thank you.

If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, for heaven's sake, send them in.

I'm quite at my leisure.

How are you this evening, my dear?

Very well. Only, I wish you would not call me "My dear."

- Why? - 'Cause it what my father

always calls my mother when he's cross about something.

What endearments am I allowed?

Well, let me think.

"Lizzie" for every day.

"My Pearl" for Sundays.

And "Goddess Divine," but only on very special occasions.

And… what shall I call you when I'm cross?

- Mrs. Darcy? - No.

No.

You may only call me Mrs. Darcy

when you are completely,

perfectly and incandescently happy.

But how are you this evening…

Mrs. Darcy?

Mrs. Darcy.

Mrs. Darcy.

Mrs. Darcy.

Mrs. Darcy.