my being in town last spring! I had not believed it possible."
"I suspected as much," replied Elizabeth. "But how did he account for it?"
"It must have been his sister's doing. They were certainly no friends to his acquaintance with me,
which I cannot wonder at, since he might have chosen so much more advantageously in many
respects. But when they see, as I trust they will, that their brother is happy with me, they will
learn to be contented, and we shall be on good terms again; though we can never be what we
once were to each other."
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"That is the most unforgiving speech," said Elizabeth, "that I ever heard you utter. Good girl! It
would vex me, indeed, to see you again the dupe of Miss Bingley's pretended regard."
"Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to town last November, he really loved me, and
nothing but a persuasion of MY being indifferent would have prevented his coming down
again!"
"He made a little mistake to be sure; but it is to the credit of his modesty."
This naturally introduced a panegyric from Jane on his diffidence, and the little value he put on
his own good qualities. Elizabeth was pleased to find that he had not betrayed the interference of
his friend; for, though Jane had the most generous and forgiving heart in the world, she knew it
was a circumstance which must prejudice her against him.
"I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed!" cried Jane. "Oh! Lizzy, why am I
thus singled from my family, and blessed above them all! If I could but see YOU as happy! If
there WERE but such another man for you!"
"If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your
disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and,
perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time."
The situation of affairs in the Longbourn family could not be long a secret. Mrs. Bennet was
privileged to whisper it to Mrs. Phillips, and she ventured, without any permission, to do the
same by all her neighbours in Meryton.
The Bennets were speedily pronounced to be the luckiest family in the world, though only a few
weeks before, when Lydia had first run away, they had been generally proved to be marked out
for misfortune.
Chapter 56
One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been formed, as he and the
females of the family were sitting together in the dining-room, their attention was suddenly
drawn to the window, by the sound of a carriage; and they perceived a chaise and four driving up
the lawn. It was too early in the morning for visitors, and besides, the equipage did not answer to
that of any of their neighbours. The horses were post; and neither the carriage, nor the livery of
the servant who preceded it, were familiar to them. As it was certain, however, that somebody
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was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid the confinement of such an
intrusion, and walk away with him into the shrubbery. They both set off, and the conjectures of
the remaining three continued, though with little satisfaction, till the door was thrown open and
their visitor entered. It was Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their astonishment was beyond their
expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to
them, even inferior to what Elizabeth felt.
She entered the room with an air more than usually ungracious, made no other reply to
Elizabeth's salutation than a slight inclination of the head, and sat down without saying a word.
Elizabeth had mentioned her name to her mother on her ladyship's entrance, though no request of
introduction had been made.
Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such high importance,
received her with the utmost politeness. After sitting for a moment in silence, she said very
stiffly to Elizabeth,
"I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your mother."
Elizabeth replied very concisely that she was.
"And THAT I suppose is one of your sisters."
"Yes, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to a Lady Catherine. "She is my youngest
girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds,
walking with a young man who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family."
"You have a very small park here," returned Lady Catherine after a short silence.
"It is nothing in comparison of Rosings, my lady, I dare say; but I assure you it is much larger
than Sir William Lucas's."
"This must be a most inconvenient sitting room for the evening, in summer; the windows are full
west."
Mrs. Bennet assured her that they never sat there after dinner, and then added:
"May I take the liberty of asking your ladyship whether you left Mr. and Mrs. Collins well."
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"Yes, very well. I saw them the night before last."
Elizabeth now expected that she would produce a letter for her from Charlotte, as it seemed the
only probable motive for her calling. But no letter appeared, and she was completely puzzled.
Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begged her ladyship to take some refreshment; but Lady
Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, declined eating any thing; and then, rising up,
said to Elizabeth,
"Miss Bennet, there seemed to be a prettyish kind of a little wilderness on one side of your lawn.
I should be glad to take a turn in it, if you will favour me with your company."
"Go, my dear," cried her mother, "and show her ladyship about the different walks. I think she
will be pleased with the hermitage."
Elizabeth obeyed, and running into her own room for her parasol, attended her noble guest down
stairs. As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour
and drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent looking rooms,
walked on.
Her carriage remained at the door, and Elizabeth saw that her waiting-woman was in it. They
proceeded in silence along the gravel walk that led to the copse; Elizabeth was determined to
make no effort for conversation with a woman who was now more than usually insolent and
disagreeable.
"How could I ever think her like her nephew?" said she, as she looked in her face.
As soon as they entered the copse, Lady Catherine began in the following manner:—
"You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own
heart, your own conscience, must tell you why I come."
Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment.
"Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of
seeing you here."
"Miss Bennet," replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to know, that I am not to be