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.’
‘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 anything; 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 downstairs. As they passed through the hall, Lady Catherine opened the doors into the dining-parlour and drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent looking rooms, walked on.
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 trifled with. But however insincere YOU may choose to be, you shall not find ME so. My character has ever been celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that not only your sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united to my nephew, my own nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I KNOW it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off for this place, that I might make my sentiments known to you.’
‘If you believed it impossible to be true,’ said Elizabeth, colouring with astonishment and disdain, ‘I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?’
‘At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted.’
‘Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family,’ said Elizabeth coolly, ‘will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence.’
‘If! Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourselves? Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?’
‘I never heard that it was.’
‘And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?’
‘I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer.’
‘This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?’
‘Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible.’
‘It ought to be so; it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You may have drawn him in.’
‘If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it.’
‘Miss Bennet, do you know who I am? I have not been accustomed to such language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has in the world, and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns.’
‘But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, ever induce me to be explicit.’
‘Let me be rightly understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No, never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?’
‘Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me.’
Lady Catherine hesitated for a moment, and then replied:
