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- [00:00]
Sleep Number Representative
Did I talk too much?
- [00:01]
Narrator / Julie Andrews
Can't I just let it go?
- [00:04]
Sleep Number Representative
Thank you so much.
- [00:09]
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- [00:32]
Paige Desorbo
Can I make my sight softer?
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Can I make my sight firmer?
- [00:35]
Narrator / Julie Andrews
Can we sleep cooler?
- [00:37]
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- [01:15]
Narrator / Julie Andrews
Welcome to Jane Austen Stories. I'm Julie Andrews and from the Noiser Podcast Network. This is Pride and prejudice part 14. In the previous episode, Elizabeth's world was shaken as she received another shocking proposal, this time from none other than Mr. Darcy, a man she thought was her enemy. One evening at Mr. Collins Parsonage, Darcy professed his love for Lizzie and asked for her hand in marriage. From that moment, all was thrown into disarray. Our heroine received the proposal with anything but favour, for alongside his offer of marriage, Darcy delivered a series of disparaging remarks about Lizzie's family and their social standing. It also seems he is the one who warned Mr. Bingley away from Lizzie's sister Jane. Confused and angry, Elizabeth turned Darcy down and had a few choice words for him too. She could never marry a cruel and arrogant man who harmed her sister and who denied Mr. Wickham his rightful inheritance. Wounded and perplexed by this response, Darcy retreated, leaving Lizzie to try to make sense of what had just happened. From the Noizub Podcast Network, this is Pride and prejudice. Chapter 35. Elizabeth awoke the next morning to the same thoughts and meditations which had at length closed her eyes. She could not yet recover from the surprise of what had happened. It was impossible to think of anything else, and totally indisposed for employment, she resolved soon after breakfast to indulge herself in air and exercise. She was proceeding directly to her favourite walk when the recollection of Mr. Darcy's sometimes coming there stopped her. Instead of entering the park, she turned up the lane which led her farther from the turnpike road, the park paling, was still the boundary on one side, and she soon passed one of the gates into the ground. After walking two or three times along that part of the lane, she was tempted by the pleasantness of the morning to stop at the gates and look into the park. The five weeks which she had now passed in Kent had made a great difference in the country, and every day was adding to the verdure of the early trees. She was on the point of continuing her walk when she caught a glimpse of a gentleman within the sort of grove which edged the park, and fearful of its being Mr. Darcy, she was directly retreating. But the person who advanced was now near enough to see her, and stepping forward with eagerness, pronounced her name. She had turned away, but on hearing herself called, though in a voice which proved it to be Mr. Darcy, she moved again towards the gate. He had by that time reached it also, and holding out a letter which she instinctively took, said with a look of haughty composure, I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter? And then, with a slight bow, Mr. Darcy turned again into the plantation, and was soon out of sight. With no expectation of pleasure, but with the strongest curiosity, Elizabeth opened the letter, and to her still increasing wonder perceived an envelope containing two sheets of letter paper, written quite through in a very close hand, and the envelope itself was likewise full. Pursuing her way along the lane, she then began, was dated From Rosings at 8 o' clock in the morning, and was as follows. Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any repetition of those sentiments or renewal of those offers which were last night so disgusting to you. I write without any intention of paining you or humbling myself by dwelling on wishes which for the happiness of both cannot be too soon forgotten. And the effort which the formation and the perusal of this letter must occasion should have been spared, had not my character required it to be written and read. You must therefore pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention. Your feelings, I know, will bestow it unwillingly, but I demand it of your justice. Two offences of a very different nature, and by no means of equal magnitude you last night laid to my charge. The first mentioned was, that, regardless of the sentiments of either, I had detached Mr. Bingley from your sister. And the other that I had, in defiance of various claims, in defiance of honour and humanity, ruined the immediate prosperity, and blasted the prospects of Mr. Wickham wilfully and wantonly to have thrown off the companion of my youth, the acknowledged favourite of my father, a young man who had scarcely any other dependence than on our patronage, and who had been brought up to expect its exertion, would be a depravity, to which the separation of two young persons, whose affection could be the growth of only a few weeks, could bear no comparison. But from the severity of that blame which was last night so liberally bestowed respecting each circumstance, I shall hope to be in future secured when the following account of my actions and their motives has been read. If, in the explanation of them which is due to myself, I am under the necessity of relating feelings which may be offensive to yours, I can only say that I am sorry. The necessity must be obeyed, and further apology would be absurd. I had not been long in Hertfordshire before I saw in common with others that Bingley preferred your elder sister to any other young woman in the country. But it was not till the evening of the dance at Netherfield that I had any apprehension of his feeling a serious attachment. I had often seen him in love before at that wall. While I had the honour of dancing with you, I was first made acquainted by Sir William Lucas Accidental information. That Bingley's attentions to your sister had given rise to a general expectation of their marriage. He spoke of it as a certain event of which the time alone could be undecided. From that moment I observed my friend's behaviour attentively, and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him. Your sister? I also watched. Her look and manners were open, cheerful and engaging, as ever, but without any symptom of peculiar regard. And I remain convinced from the evening's scrutiny that though she received his attentions with pleasure, she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment. If you have not been mistaken here, I must have been in an error. Your superior knowledge of your sister must make the latter probable. If it be so, if I have been misled by such error to inflict pain on her, your resentment has not been unreasonable. But I shall not scruple to assert that the serenity of your sister's countenance and air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched. That I was desirous of believing her indifferent is certain. But I will venture to say that my investigations and decisions are not usually influenced by my hopes or fears. I did not believe her to be indifferent because I wished it. I believed it on impartial conviction as truly as I wished it. In reason, my objections to the marriage were not merely those which I last night acknowledged to have required the utmost force of passion to put aside. In my own case, the want of connection could not be so great an evil to my friend as to me. But there were other causes of repugnance, causes which, though still existing, and existing to an equal degree, in both instances I had myself endeavoured to forget, because they were not immediately before me. These causes must be stated, though briefly. The situation of your mother's family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison of that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your fatherpardon me. It pains me to offend you, but amidst your concern for the defects of your nearest relations and your displeasure at this representation of them, let it give you consolation to consider that to have conducted yourselves so as to avoid any share of the like censure is praise no less generally bestowed on you and your elder sister than it is honourable to the sense and disposition of both. I will only say, Father, that from what passed that evening my opinion of all parties was confirmed and every inducement heightened, which could have led me before to preserve my friend from what I esteemed a most unhappy connection. He left Netherfield for London on the day following, as you, I am certain, remember, with the design of soon returning. The part which I acted is now to be explained. His sister's uneasiness had been equally excited with my own. Our coincidence of feeling was soon discovered, and alike sensible that no time was to be lost in detaching their brother Bingley. We shortly resolved on joining him directly in London. We accordingly went, and there I readily engaged in the office of pointing out to my friend the certain evils of such a choice. I described and enforced them earnestly. But however this remonstrance might have staggered or delayed his determination, I do not suppose that it would ultimately have prevented the marriage had it not been seconded by the assurance which I hesitated not in giving of your sister's indifference. He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgment than on his own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire when that conviction had been given was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair, on which I do not reflect with satisfaction, it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister's being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley, but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without ill consequence is perhaps probable, but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise, was beneath me. It is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject, I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister's feelings. It was unknowingly done. And though the motives which govern me may to you very naturally appear insufficient, I have not yet learned to condemn them. With respect to that other more weighty accusation of having injured Mr. Wickham, I can only refute it by laying before you the whole of his connection with my family. Of what he has particularly accused me, I am ignorant. But of the truth of what I shall relate, I can summon more than one witness of undoubted veracity. Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates, and whose good conduct, in the discharge of his trust naturally inclined my father to support him. And on George Wickham, who was his godson, his kindness was therefore liberally bestowed. My father supported him at school and afterwards at Cambridge. Most important, assistance, as his own father, always poor from the extravagance of his wife, would have been unable to give him a gentleman's education. My father was not only fond of this young man's society, whose manners were always engaging, he had also the highest opinion of him, and, hoping the church would be his profession, intended to provide for him in it. As for myself, it is many, many years since I first began to think of him in a very different manner. The vicious propensities, the want of principle, which he was careful to guard from the knowledge of his best friend, could not escape the observation of a young man of nearly the same age with himself, and who had opportunities of seeing him in unguarded moments, which the elder Mr. Darcy could not have. Here again I shall give you pain, to what degree you only can tell, but whatever may be the sentiments which Mr. Wickham has created, a suspicion of their nature shall not prevent me from unfolding his real character. It adds even another motive. My excellent father died about five years ago, and his attachment to Mr. Wickham was to the last so steady that in his will he particularly recommended it to me, to promote his advancement in the best manner that his profession might allow and, if he took orders in the church, desired that a valuable family living would might be his as soon as it became vacant. There was also a legacy of £1,000. His own father did not long survive mine, and within half a year from these events, Mr. Wickham wrote to inform me that having finally resolved against taking orders, he hoped I should not think it unreasonable to for him to expect some more immediate pecuniary advantage in lieu of the preferment by which he could not be benefited. He had some intention, he added, of studying the law, and I must be aware that the interest of £1,000 would be a very insufficient support therein. I rather wished, then believed, him to be sincere, but at any rate was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman. The business was therefore soon settled. He resigned all claim to assistance in the church, were it possible that he could ever be in a situation to receive it, and accepted in return £3,000. All connection between her seemed now dissolved. I thought too ill of him to invite him to Pemberley, or admit his society in town. In town, I believe, he chiefly lived, but his studying the law was a mere pretense, and being now free from all restraint, his life was a life of idleness and dissipation. For about three years I heard little of him, but on the decease of the incumbent of the living which had been originally designed for him, he applied to me again by letter for the presentation. His circumstances, he assured me, and I had no difficulty in believing it, were exceedingly bad. He had found the law a most unprofitable study, and was now absolutely resolved on being ordained. If I would present him to the living in question of which he trusted, there could be little doubt, as he was well assured, that I had no other person to provide for, and I could not have forgotten my revered father's intentions. You will hardly blame me for refusing to comply with this entreaty, or for resisting every repetition of it. His resentment was in proportion to the distress of his circumstances, and he was doubtless as violent in his abuse of me to others as in his reproaches to myself. After this period, every appearance of acquaintance was dropped. How he lived, I know not but last summer he was again most painfully obtruded. On my notice, I must now mention, a circumstance which I would wish to forget myself, and which no obligation less than the present should induce me to unfold to any human being. Having said thus much, I feel no doubt of your secrecy. My sister Georgiana, who is more than 10 years my junior, was left to the guardianship of my mother's nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and myself. About a year ago she was taken from school and an establishment formed for her in London. And last summer she went with a lady, Mrs. Young, who presided over her, to Ramsgate. And thither also went Mr. Wickham, undoubtedly by design, for there proved to have been a prior acquaintance between him and Mrs. Young, in whose character we were most unhappily deceived. And by her connivance and aid, he so far recommended himself to Georgiana, whose affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child, that she was persuaded to believe herself in love and to consent to an elopement. She was then but 15, which must be her excuse. And after stating her imprudence, I'm happy to add that I owed the knowledge of it to herself. I joined them unexpectedly a day or two before the intended elopement, and then Georgiana, unable to support the idea of grieving and offending a brother whom she almost looked up to as a father, acknowledged the whole to me. You may imagine what I felt and how I acted. Regard for my sister's credit and feelings prevented any public exposure. But I wrote to Mr. Wickham, who left the place immediately, and Mrs. Young was, of course, removed from her charge. Mr. Wickham's chief object was unquestionably my sister's fortune, which is 30,000 pounds. But I cannot help supposing that the hope of revenging himself on me was a strong inducement. His revenge would have been complete indeed. This, madam, is a faithful narrative of every event in which we have been concerned together, and if you do not absolutely reject it as false, you will, I hope, acquit me henceforth of cruelty towards Mr. Wickham. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood he has imposed on you. But his success is not, perhaps, to be wondered at. Ignorant, as you previously were of everything concerning either detection, could not be in your power and suspicion, certainly not in your inclination. You may possibly wonder why all this was not told to you last night. But I was not then master enough of myself to know what could or ought to be revealed. For the truth of everything here related, I can appeal more particularly to the testimony of Colonel Fitzwilliam, who, from our near relationship and constant intimacy, and still more, as one of the executors of my father's will has been unavoidably acquainted with every particular of these transactions. If your abhorrence of me should make my assertions valueless, you cannot be prevented by the same course from confiding in my cousin, and that there may be the possibility of consulting him, I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your hands. In the course of the morning, I will only add, God bless you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.
- [26:27]
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- [27:23]
Narrator / Julie Andrews
I just let it go.
- [27:23]
Sleep Number Representative
I wish I would stop thinking so much.
- [27:27]
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- [27:55]
Narrator / Julie Andrews
Chapter 36 if Elizabeth, when Mr. Darcy gave her the letter, did not expect it to contain a renewal of his offers, she had formed no expectation at all of its contents. But such as they were, it may be well supposed how eagerly she went through them, and what a contrariety of emotion they excited. Her feelings, as she read, were scarcely to be defined with amazement did she first understand that he believed any apology to be in his power, and steadfastly was she persuaded that he could have no explanation to give, which a just sense of shame would not conceal, with a strong sense of prejudice against everything he might say, she began his account of what had happened at Netherfield. She read with an eagerness which hardly left her power of comprehension, and from impatience of knowing what the next sentence might bring, was incapable of attending to the sense of the one before her eyes. His belief of her sister's insensibility, she instantly resolved to be false. And his account of the real, the worst objections to the match made her too angry to have any wish of doing him justice. He expressed no regret for what he had done, which satisfied her. His style was not penitent, but haughty. It was all pride and insolence. But when this subject was succeeded by his account of Mr. Wickham, when she read with somewhat clearer attention a relation of events which, if true, must overthrow every cherished opinion of his worth, and which bore so alarmingly an affinity to his own history of himself, her feelings were yet more acutely painful and more difficult of definition. Astonishment, apprehension, and even horror oppressed her. She wished to discredit it entirely, repeatedly exclaiming, this must be false. No, this cannot be. This must be the grossest falsehood. And when she had gone through the whole letter, though scarcely knowing anything of the last page or two, put it hastily away, protesting that she would not regard it, that she would never look in it again. In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, she walked on. But it would not do. In half a minute the letter was unfolded again, and, collecting herself as well as she could, she again began the mortifying perusal of all that related to Wickham, and commanded herself so far as to examine the meaning of every sentence. The account of his connection with the Pemberley family was exactly what he had related himself, and the kindness of the late Mr. Darcy, though she had not before known its extent, agreed equally well with his own words. So far each recital confirmed the other. But when she came to the will, the difference was great. What Wickham had said of the living was fresh in her memory, and as she recalled his very words, it was impossible not to feel that there was gross duplicity on one side or the other. And for a few moments, she flattered herself that her wishes did not err. When she read and re read with the closest attention the particulars immediately following of Wickham, resigning all pretensions to the living, of his receiving in you so considerable a sum as £3,000, again was she forced to. To hesitate. She put down the letter, weighed every circumstance with what she meant to be impartiality, deliberated on the probability of each statement, but with little success on both sides. It was only assertion Again she read on, but every line proved more clearly that the affair, which she had believed it impossible that any contrivance could so represent as to render Mr. Darcy's conduct in it less than infamous, was capable of a turn which must make him entirely blameless throughout the whole. The extravagance and general profligacy which she scrupled not to lay to Mr. Wickham's charge exceedingly shocked her, the more so as she could bring no proof of its injustice. She had never heard of him before his entrance into the militia, in which he had engaged at the persuasion of the young man who, on meeting him accidentally in town, had there renewed a slight acquaintance of his former way of life. Nothing had been known in Hertfordshire but what he told himself as to his real character. Had information been in her power, she had never felt a wish of inquiring. His countenance, voice and manner had established him at once in the possession of every virtue. She tried to recollect some instance of goodness, some distinguished trait of integrity or benevolence, that might rescue him from the attacks of Mr. Darcy, or at least by the predominance of virtue, atone for those casual errors under which she would endeavour to class what Mr. Darcy had described as the idleness and vice of many years continuance, but no such recollection befriended her. She could see Mr. Wickham instantly before her in every charm of air and dress, but she could remember no more substantial good than the general approbation of the neighborhood, and the regard which his social powers had gained him in the mess. After pausing on this point a considerable while, she once more continued to read. But, alas, the story which followed of his designs on Miss Darcy received some confirmation from what had passed between Colonel Fitzwilliam and herself only the morning before, and at last she was referred for the truth of every particular to Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, from whom she had previously received the information of his near concern in all his cousin's affairs, and whose character she had no reason to question. At one time she had almost resolved on applying to him, but the idea was checked by the awkwardness of the application, and at length wholly banished by the conviction that Mr. Darcy would never have hazarded such a proposal if he had not been well assured of his cousin's corroboration. She perfectly remembered everything that had passed in conversation between Wickham and herself in their first evening at Mrs. Phillips. Many of his expressions were still fresh in her memory. She was now struck with the impropriety of such communications to a stranger, and wondered it had escaped her before she saw the indelicacy of putting himself forward as he had done, and the inconsistency of his professions with his conduct. She remembered that he had boasted of having no fear of seeing Mr. Darcy, that Mr. Darcy might leave the country, but that he should stand his ground, yet he had avoided the Netherfield ball the very next week. She remembered also that till the Netherfield family had quitted the country, he had told his story to no one but herself, but that after their removal, it had been everywhere discussed, that he had then no reserves, no scruples in sinking Mr. Darcy's character, though he had assured her that respect for the father would always prevent his exposing the son. How differently did everything now appear in which he was concerned. His attentions to his former fiance, Ms. King, were now the consequence of views solely and hatefully mercenary. And the mediocrity of her fortune proved no longer the moderation of his wishes, but his eagerness to grasp at anything else. His behaviour to Lizzy herself could now have had no tolerable motives. He had either been deceived with regard to her fortune, or had been gratifying his vanity by encouraging the preference which she believed she had most incautiously shown. Every lingering struggle in his favour grew fainter and fainter. And in further justification of Mr. Darcy, she could not but allow that Mr. Bingley, when questioned by Jane, had long ago asserted his blamelessness in the affair, that proud and repulsive as were his manners, she had never, in the whole course of their acquaintance, an acquaintance which had latterly brought them much together, and given her a sort of intimacy with his ways, seen anything that betrayed him to be unprincipled or unjust, anything that spoke him of irreligious or immoral habits, that among his own connections he was esteemed and valued, that even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother, and that she had often heard him speak so affectionately of his sister as to prove him capable of some amiable feeling, that, had his actions been what Wickham represented them, so gross a violation of everything right could hardly have been concealed from the world. And that friendship between a person capable of it and such an amiable man as Mr. Bingley would have been incomprehensible. Lizzie grew absolutely ashamed of herself, of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she think without feeling that she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd. How despicably have I acted. She cried. I, who have prided myself on my discernment I, who have valued myself on my abilities, who have often disdained the generous candor of my sister and gratified my vanity in useless or blameless distrust. How humiliating is this discovery. Yet how just a humiliation. Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one and offended by the neglect of the other. On the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prejudice and ignorance, and driven reason away where either were concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself. From herself to Jane, from Jane to Bingley. Her thoughts were in a line which soon brought to her recollection that Mr. Darcy's explanation there had appeared very insufficient. And she read it again. Widely different was the effect of a second page. How could she deny that credit to his assertions in one instance which she had been obliged to give in the other? He declared himself to have been totally unsuspicious of her sister's attachment. And she could not help remembering what Charlotte's opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Jane. She felt that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant complacency in her air and manner, not often united with great sensibility. When she came to that part of the letter in which her family were mentioned in tones of such mortifying yet merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded as having passed at the Netherfield wall, and as confirming all his first disapprobation could not have made a stronger impression on his mind than on hers. The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her, for the contempt which had been thus self attracted by the rest of her family. And as she considered that Jane's disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both sisters must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever, ever known before. After wandering along the lane for two hours, giving way to every variety of thought, reconsidering events, determining probabilities, and reconciling herself as well as she could to a change so sudden and so important, fatigue and a recollection of her long absence made her at length return to the parsonage, and she entered the house with the wish of appearing cheerful as usual, and the resolution of repressing such reflections as must make her unfit for conversation. She was immediately told that the two gentlemen from Rosings had each called during her absence. Mr. Darcy Only for a few minutes to take leave, but that Colonel Fitzwilliam had been sitting with them at least an hour, hoping for her return and almost resolving to walk after her till she could be found. Elizabeth could but just affect concern in missing him. She really rejoiced at it. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no longer an object. She could think only of her letter.
- [43:44]
Sleep Number Representative
Did I talk too much?
- [43:45]
Narrator / Julie Andrews
Can't I just let it go?
- [43:53]
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- [44:14]
Narrator / Julie Andrews
Time.
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Narrator / Julie Andrews
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- [44:49]
Narrator / Julie Andrews
Chapter 37 the two gentlemen left Rosings the next morning, and Mr. Collins, having been in waiting near the lodgers to make them his parting obeisance, was able to bring home the pleasing intelligence of their appearing in very good health and in as tolerable spirits as could be expected after the melancholy scene so lately gone through at Rosings. To Rosings, he then hastened to console Lady Catherine and her daughter, and on his return brought back with great satisfaction a message from her ladyship, importing that she felt herself so dull as to make her very desirous of having them all to dine with her. Elizabeth could not see Lady Catherine without recollecting that had she chosen it, she might by this time have been presented to her as her future niece. Nor could she think without a smile of what her ladyship's indignation would have been. What would she have said? How would she have behaved? Were the questions with which she amused herself. Their first subject was the diminution of the Rosings party. I assure you I feel it exceedingly, said Lady Catherine. I believe nobody feels the loss of friends so much as I do, but I am particularly attached to These young men, and know them to be so much attached to me, they were excessively sorry to go, but so they always are. The dear colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just at last. But Darcy seemed to feel it most acutely, more, I think, than last year. His attachment to rosings certainly increases. Mr. Collins had a compliment and an allusion to throw in here, which were kindly smiled on by the mother and daughter. Lady Catherine observed after dinner that Miss Bennet seemed out of spirits, and immediately accounting for it herself by supposing that she did not like to go home again so soon. She added, but if that is the case, you must write to your mother to beg that you may stay a little longer. Mrs. Collins will be very glad of your company, I am sure. I am very much obliged to your ladyship for your kind invitation, replied Elizabeth, but it is not in my power to accept it. I must be in town next Saturday. Why, at that rate, you will have been here only six weeks. I expected you to stay two months. I told Mrs. Collins so before you came. There can be no occasion for your going so soon. Mrs. Bennet could certainly spare you for another fortnight. But my father cannot, replied Lizzie. He wrote last week to hurry my return. Oh, your father, of course, may spare you, if your mother can, replied Lady Catherine. Daughters are never of so much consequence to a father. And if you will stay another month complete, it will be in my power to take one of you as far as London, for I am going there early in June for a week. And as Dawson does not object to the barouche box, there will be very good room for one of you. And indeed, if the weather should happen to be cool, I should not object to taking you both, as you are neither of you large. You are all kindness, madam, but I believe we must abide by our original plan. Lady Catherine seemed resigned. Mrs. Collins, you must send a servant with them. You know I always speak my mind, and I cannot bear the idea of two young women traveling by post by themselves. It is highly improper you must contrive to send somebody. I have the greatest dislike in the world to that sort of thing. Young women should always be properly guarded and attended according to their situation in life. When my niece Georgiana went to Ramsgate last summer, I made a point of her having two men servants go with her. Miss Darcy, the daughter of the late Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and Lady Anne, could not have appeared with propriety in a different manner. I am excessively attentive to all those things. You must send John with the young ladies, Mrs. Collins. I'm glad it occurred to me to mention it, for it would really be discreditable to you to let them go alone. My uncle is to send a servant for us, said Charlotte. Oh, your uncle, he keeps a manservant, does he? I'm very glad you have somebody who thinks of those things. Where shall you change horses? Oh, Bromley, of course. If you mention my name at the bell, you will be attended to. Lady Catherine had many other questions to ask respecting their journey, and as she did not answer them all herself, attention was necessary, which Elizabeth believed to be lucky for her. Or with a mind so occupied by she might have forgotten where she was. Reflection must be reserved for solitary hours. Whenever she was alone, she gave way to it as the greatest relief. And not a day went by without a solitary walk in which she might indulge in all the delight of unpleasant recollections. Mr. Darcy's letter. She was in a fair way of soon knowing by heart. She studied every sentence, and her feelings toward its writer were at times widely different. When she remembered the style of his address, she was still full of indignation. But when she considered how unjustly she had condemned and upbraided him, her anger was turned against herself, and his disappointed feelings became the object of compassion. His attachment excited gratitude, his general character respect. But she could not approve him. Nor could she for a moment repent her refusal, or feel the slightest inclination to ever to see him again. In her own past behaviour there was a constant source of vexation and regret, and in the unhappy defects of her family, a subject of yet heavier chagrin, they were hopeless of remedy. Her father, contented with laughing at them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his youngest daughters. And her mother, with manners so far from right herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine and Lydia. But while they were supported by their mother's indulgence, what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak, spirited, irritable and completely under Lydia's guidance, had been always affronted by their advice. And Lydia, self willed and careless, would scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle and vain. While there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him. And while Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there forever. Anxiety on Jane's behalf was another prevailing concern, and Mr. Darcy's explanation, by restoring Bingley to all her former good opinion heightened the sense of what Jane had lost. His affection was proved to have been sincere, and his conduct cleared of all blame, unless any could attach to the implicitness of his confidence in his friend. How grievous then, was the thought, that of a situation so desirable in every respect, so replete with advantage, so promising for happiness, Jane had been deprived by the folly and indecorum of her own family. When to these recollections was added the development of Wickham's character, it may be easily believed that the happy spirits, which had seldom been depressed before, were now so much affected as to make it almost impossible for Lizzie to appear tolerably cheerful. Their engagements at Rosings were as frequent during the last week of her stay as as they had been at first. The very last evening was spent there, and her ladyship again inquired minutely into the particulars of their journey, gave them directions as to the best method of packing, and was so urgent on the necessity of placing gowns in the only right way, that Maria thought herself obliged on her return to undo all the work of the morning and pack her trunk afresh. When they parted, Lady Catherine, with great condescension, wished them a good journey, and invited them to come to Hunsford again next year, and Ms. De Bourgh exerted herself so far as to curtsy and hold out her hand to both. In the next episode, Elizabeth departs from the excitements and mortifications of Kent, returning at last to Longbourn, only to find that peace is no more easily had at home. Troubled by what has happened and what she has learned, Lizzie struggles to know what to do next. How much does she tell her family? Can she protect her siblings from similar distress? And with her younger sisters still chasing after the militia officers, it's impossible to predict what's going to happen. That's next time on Jane Austen Stories. Pride and Prejudice. You can listen to the next two episodes of Pride and Prejudice right now without waiting by subscribing to Noiser plus, head to www.noiza.comscriptions for more information or click the link in the episode description.
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