Lady Catherine's confrontation with Elizabeth

Lady Catherine de Bourgh's confrontation with Elizabeth Bennet at Longbourn is the pivotal scene in which the novel's central obstacle to the Elizabeth-Darcy union is dramatically confronted and ultimately overturned. Arriving unannounced in a chaise and four, the imperious aunt of Fitzwilliam Darcy attempts to force Elizabeth to promise never to accept Darcy's hand, only to be met with Elizabeth's spirited and principled defiance. The confrontation, which begins as an attempt to suppress a rumored engagement, paradoxically becomes the very catalyst that removes Darcy's doubts and emboldens him to renew his proposal, transforming a scene of social intimidation into the engine of the novel's happy resolution.

The Unexpected Arrival and the Setting

The scene unfolds about a week after Bingley's engagement to Jane Bennet has been formed, when the family is sitting together in the dining-room at Longbourn. Their attention is suddenly drawn to the window by the sound of a carriage, and they perceive a chaise and four driving up the lawn. It is too early in the morning for visitors, and the equipage does not answer to that of any of their neighbours; the horses are post, and neither the carriage nor the livery of the servant who precedes it is familiar to them. Bingley, recognizing the potential for an awkward intrusion, instantly prevails on Miss Bennet to avoid the confinement of such a visit and walk away with him into the shrubbery. The conjectures of the remaining three—Elizabeth, Mrs. Bennet, and Kitty—continue, though with little satisfaction, until the door is thrown open and their visitor enters: it is Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Their astonishment is beyond their expectation, and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and Kitty, though she is perfectly unknown to them, it is even inferior to what Elizabeth feels. Lady Catherine enters with an air more than usually ungracious, makes no other reply to Elizabeth's salutation than a slight inclination of the head, and sits down without saying a word. Mrs. Bennet, all amazement, though flattered by having a guest of such high importance, receives her with the utmost politeness. After sitting for a moment in silence, Lady Catherine says very stiffly to Elizabeth, "I hope you are well, Miss Bennet. That lady, I suppose, is your mother." Elizabeth replies very concisely that she is. Lady Catherine then asks, "And that I suppose is one of your sisters," to which Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to Lady Catherine, answers that she is her youngest girl but one, adding that her youngest of all is lately married, and her eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man who, she believes, will soon become a part of the family. Lady Catherine, after a short silence, makes a series of disparaging remarks about the estate, observing that Longbourn has a very small park, that it is nothing in comparison of Rosings, and that the sitting room must be most inconvenient for the evening in summer, as the windows are full west. Mrs. Bennet assures her that they never sit there after dinner, and asks whether she left Mr. and Mrs. Collins well, to which Lady Catherine replies that she saw them the night before last. Elizabeth now expects that Lady Catherine will produce a letter for her from Charlotte Lucas, as it seems the only probable motive for her calling, but no letter appears, and she is completely puzzled. Mrs. Bennet, with great civility, begs her ladyship to take some refreshment, but Lady Catherine very resolutely, and not very politely, declines eating anything, and then, rising up, says 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." Mrs. Bennet eagerly urges Elizabeth to go and show her ladyship about the different walks, suggesting she will be pleased with the hermitage. Elizabeth obeys, and running into her own room for her parasol, attends her noble guest downstairs. As they pass through the hall, Lady Catherine opens the doors into the dining-parlour and drawing-room, and pronouncing them, after a short survey, to be decent looking rooms, walks on. Her carriage remains at the door, and Elizabeth sees that her waiting-woman is in it. They proceed in silence along the gravel walk that leads to the copse; Elizabeth is determined to make no effort for conversation with a woman who is now more than usually insolent and disagreeable. As she looks in her face, she thinks to herself, "How could I ever think her like her nephew?"

The Confrontation in the Copse

As soon as they enter the copse, Lady Catherine begins 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 looks with unaffected astonishment and replies, "Indeed, you are mistaken, Madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here." Lady Catherine, in an angry tone, retorts, "Miss Bennet, 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." Elizabeth, colouring with astonishment and disdain, asks, "If you believed it impossible to be true, I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?" Lady Catherine declares her purpose is "At once to insist upon having such a report universally contradicted." Elizabeth coolly observes that her coming to Longbourn, to see her and her family, will rather be a confirmation of it, if indeed such a report is in existence. Lady Catherine, growing more heated, demands, "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?" Elizabeth replies that she never heard that it was. Lady Catherine presses further, "And can you likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?" Elizabeth answers, "I do not pretend to possess equal frankness with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer." Lady Catherine, now thoroughly incensed, insists, "This is not to be borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has my nephew, made you an offer of marriage?" Elizabeth, with a pointed retort, reminds her, "Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible." Lady Catherine responds that it ought to be so, it must be so, while he retains the use of his reason, but that Elizabeth's arts and allurements may, in a moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. Elizabeth replies, "If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it." Lady Catherine, appealing to her own authority, declares, "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." Elizabeth firmly responds, "But you are not entitled to know mine; nor will such behaviour as this, ever induce me to be explicit." Lady Catherine then states her ultimate objection: "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?" Elizabeth replies, "Only this; that if he is so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me." Lady Catherine hesitates for a moment and then explains the peculiar nature of the engagement: "The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as of hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes of both sisters would be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! Do you pay no regard to the wishes of his friends? To his tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest hours he was destined for his cousin?" Elizabeth, undaunted, replies, "Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither by honour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am that choice, why may not I accept him?"

Elizabeth's Defiance and Lady Catherine's Threats

Lady Catherine, now resorting to threats, declares, "Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if you wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be mentioned by any of us." Elizabeth, with a calm that belies the gravity of the threat, replies, "These are heavy misfortunes. But the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine." Lady Catherine, exasperated, calls her an "Obstinate, headstrong girl!" and appeals to her gratitude for the attentions she paid her last spring, asking, "Is nothing due to me on that score?" She then insists they sit down, declaring, "You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submit to any person's whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment." Elizabeth, with a touch of irony, observes, "That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on me." Lady Catherine, refusing to be interrupted, launches into a full exposition of the suitability of the match between her daughter and her nephew: "My daughter and my nephew are formed for each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable, honourable, and ancient—though untitled—families. Their fortune on both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their respective houses; and what is to divide them? The upstart pretensions of a young woman without family, connections, or fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been brought up." Elizabeth, asserting her own equality, replies, "In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are equal." Lady Catherine, with contempt, retorts, "True. You are a gentleman's daughter. But who was your mother? Who are your uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition." Elizabeth, with finality, answers, "Whatever my connections may be, if your nephew does not object to them, they can be nothing to you." Lady Catherine then demands, "Tell me once for all, are you engaged to him?" Though Elizabeth would not, for the mere purpose of obliging Lady Catherine, have answered this question, she cannot but say, after a moment's deliberation, "I am not." Lady Catherine seems pleased, and presses her advantage: "And will you promise me, never to enter into such an engagement?" Elizabeth, with unwavering resolve, replies, "I will make no promise of the kind." Lady Catherine, shocked and astonished, declares, "Miss Bennet I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find a more reasonable young woman. But do not deceive yourself into a belief that I will ever recede. I shall not go away till you have given me the assurance I require." Elizabeth, refusing to be intimidated, responds, "And I certainly never shall give it. I am not to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter; but would my giving you the wished-for promise make their marriage at all more probable? Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to bestow it on his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was ill-judged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by such persuasions as these. How far your nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, therefore, to be importuned no farther on the subject."

The Final Accusation and Departure

Lady Catherine, not yet done, adds her final and most personal objection: "Not so hasty, if you please. I have by no means done. To all the objections I have already urged, I have still another to add. I am no stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous elopement. I know it all; that the young man's marrying her was a patched-up business, at the expence of your father and uncles. And is such a girl to be my nephew's sister? Is her husband, is the son of his late father's steward, to be his brother? Heaven and earth!—of what are you thinking? Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?" Elizabeth, now fully resentful, answers, "You can now have nothing further to say. You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house." She rises as she speaks, and Lady Catherine rises also, and they turn back. Her ladyship, highly incensed, continues her tirade: "You have no regard, then, for the honour and credit of my nephew! Unfeeling, selfish girl! Do you not consider that a connection with you must disgrace him in the eyes of everybody?" Elizabeth, with finality, replies, "Lady Catherine, I have nothing further to say. You know my sentiments." Lady Catherine, pressing for a definitive answer, asks, "You are then resolved to have him?" Elizabeth clarifies, "I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me." Lady Catherine, in a last attempt at intimidation, declares, "It is well. You refuse, then, to oblige me. You refuse to obey the claims of duty, honour, and gratitude. You are determined to ruin him in the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world." Elizabeth, with a final assertion of her own moral autonomy, replies, "Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude, have any possible claim on me, in the present instance. No principle of either would be violated by my marriage with Mr. Darcy. And with regard to the resentment of his family, or the indignation of the world, if the former were excited by his marrying me, it would not give me one moment's concern—and the world in general would have too much sense to join in the scorn." Lady Catherine, defeated, declares, "And this is your real opinion! This is your final resolve! Very well. I shall now know how to act. Do not imagine, Miss Bennet, that your ambition will ever be gratified. I came to try you. I hoped to find you reasonable; but, depend upon it, I will carry my point." In this manner Lady Catherine talks on, till they are at the door of the carriage, when, turning hastily round, she adds, "I take no leave of you, Miss Bennet. I send no compliments to your mother. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased." Elizabeth makes no answer; and without attempting to persuade her ladyship to return into the house, walks quietly into it herself. She hears the carriage drive away as she proceeds up stairs. Her mother impatiently meets her at the door of the dressing-room, to ask why Lady Catherine would not come in again and rest herself. Elizabeth says, "She did not choose it, she would go." Mrs. Bennet, oblivious to the true nature of the visit, remarks, "She is a very fine-looking woman! and her calling here was prodigiously civil! for she only came, I suppose, to tell us the Collinses were well. She is on her road somewhere, I dare say, and so, passing through Meryton, thought she might as well call on you. I suppose she had nothing particular to say to you, Lizzy?" Elizabeth is forced to give into a little falsehood here; for to acknowledge the substance of their conversation is impossible.

Consequences and Aftermath

The discomposure of spirits which this extraordinary visit throws Elizabeth into cannot be easily overcome; nor can she, for many hours, learn to think of it less than incessantly. Lady Catherine, it appears, has actually taken the trouble of this journey from Rosings, for the sole purpose of breaking off her supposed engagement with Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth is at a loss to imagine from what the report of their engagement could originate, till she recollects that his being the intimate friend of Bingley, and her being the sister of Jane, is enough, at a time when the expectation of one wedding makes everybody eager for another, to supply the idea. She had not herself forgotten to feel that the marriage of her sister must bring them more frequently together. And her neighbours at Lucas Lodge, therefore (for through their communication with the Collinses, the report, she concludes, had reached Lady Catherine), had only set that down as almost certain and immediate, which she had looked forward to as possible at some future time. In revolving Lady Catherine's expressions, however, she cannot help feeling some uneasiness as to the possible consequence of her persisting in this interference. From what she has said of her resolution to prevent their marriage, it occurs to Elizabeth that she must meditate an application to her nephew; and how he might take a similar representation of the evils attached to a connection with her, she dares not pronounce. She knows not the exact degree of his affection for his aunt, or his dependence on her judgment, but it is natural to suppose that he thinks much higher of her ladyship than she can do; and it is certain that, in enumerating the miseries of a marriage with one, whose immediate connections are so unequal to his own, his aunt would address him on his weakest side. With his notions of dignity, he would probably feel that the arguments, which to Elizabeth had appeared weak and ridiculous, contained much good sense and solid reasoning. If he had been wavering before as to what he should do, which has often seemed likely, the advice and entreaty of so near a relation might settle every doubt, and determine him at once to be as happy as dignity unblemished could make him. In that case he would return no more. Lady Catherine might see him in her way through town; and his engagement to Bingley of coming again to Netherfield must give way. "If, therefore, an excuse for not keeping his promise should come to his friend within a few days," she adds, "I shall know how to understand it. I shall then give over every expectation, every wish of his constancy. If he is satisfied with only regretting me, when he might have obtained my affections and hand, I shall soon cease to regret him at all." The surprise of the rest of the family, on hearing who their visitor had been, is very great; but they obligingly satisfy it, with the same kind of supposition which had appeased Mrs. Bennet's curiosity; and Elizabeth is spared from much teasing on the subject. The next morning, as she is going downstairs, she is met by her father, who comes out of his library with a letter in his hand. He tells her he has received a letter that has astonished him exceedingly, and that as it principally concerns herself, she ought to know its contents. He says, "I did not know before, that I had two daughters on the brink of matrimony. Let me congratulate you on a very important conquest." The colour now rushes into Elizabeth's cheeks in the instantaneous conviction of its being a letter from the nephew, instead of the aunt; and she is undetermined whether most to be pleased that he explained himself at all, or offended that his letter was not rather addressed to herself; when her father continues, "You look conscious. Young ladies have great penetration in such matters as these; but I think I may defy even your sagacity, to discover the name of your admirer. This letter is from Mr. Collins." Mr. Bennet then reads aloud Mr. Collins's letter, which contains a warning about a supposed engagement between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, based on information from the Lucases, and which cautions against the match because Lady Catherine does not look on it with a friendly eye. Mr. Bennet, finding the idea of Elizabeth marrying Mr. Darcy, who he believes never looks at any woman but to see a blemish, delightfully absurd, is highly amused. Elizabeth tries to join in her father's pleasantry, but can only force one most reluctant smile. Never had his wit been directed in a manner so little agreeable to her. Her father, noticing her discomfort, asks, "Are you not diverted?" Elizabeth replies, "Oh! yes. Pray read on." Mr. Bennet continues reading Mr. Collins's letter, which also expresses his amazement that the Bennets received the young couple, Lydia and Wickham, into their house as soon as they were married, calling it an encouragement of vice. Mr. Bennet concludes, "That is his notion of Christian forgiveness! The rest of his letter is only about his dear Charlotte's situation, and his expectation of a young olive-branch. But, Lizzy, you look as if you did not enjoy it. You are not going to be missish, I hope, and pretend to be affronted at an idle report. For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?" Elizabeth cries, "Oh! I am excessively diverted. But it is so strange!" Her father replies, "Yes—that is what makes it amusing. Had they fixed on any other man it would have been nothing; but his perfect indifference, and your pointed dislike, make it so delightfully absurd!" Elizabeth has never been more at a loss to make her feelings appear what they are not. It is necessary to laugh, when she would rather have cried. Her father has most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Mr. Darcy's indifference, and she can do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much.

The Paradoxical Catalyst for Reconciliation

The true consequence of Lady Catherine's confrontation is revealed when Darcy himself arrives at Longbourn, not with an excuse, but in person. Instead of receiving any such letter of excuse from his friend, as Elizabeth half expected Mr. Bingley to do, he is able to bring Darcy with him to Longbourn before many days have passed after Lady Catherine's visit. The gentlemen arrive early; and, before Mrs. Bennet has time to tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sits in momentary dread, Bingley, who wants to be alone with Jane, proposes their all walking out. It is agreed to. Mrs. Bennet is not in the habit of walking; Mary can never spare time; but the remaining five set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allow the others to outstrip them. They lag behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy are to entertain each other. Very little is said by either; Kitty is too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth is secretly forming a desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same. They walk towards the Lucases, because Kitty wishes to call upon Maria; and as Elizabeth sees no occasion for making it a general concern, when Kitty leaves them she goes boldly on with him alone. Now is the moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage is high, she immediately says, "Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express." Darcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion, replies, "I am sorry, exceedingly sorry, that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted." Elizabeth assures him, "You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them." Darcy replies, "If you will thank me, let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you." Elizabeth is too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion adds, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever." Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forces herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gives him to understand that her sentiments have undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness which this reply produces is such as he had probably never felt before; and he expresses himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. They walk on, without knowing in what direction. There is too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. She soon learns that they are indebted for their present good understanding to the efforts of his aunt, who did call on him in her return through London, and there relate her journey to Longbourn, its motive, and the substance of her conversation with Elizabeth; dwelling emphatically on every expression of the latter which, in her ladyship's apprehension, peculiarly denoted her perverseness and assurance; in the belief that such a relation must assist her endeavours to obtain that promise from her nephew which she had refused to give. But, unluckily for her ladyship, its effect has been exactly contrariwise. "It taught me to hope," said he, "as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly." Elizabeth colours and laughs as she replies, "Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations." Thus, Lady Catherine's attempt to separate them, by revealing Elizabeth's refusal to promise never to accept him, has the exact opposite effect, giving Darcy the hope he needed to renew his proposal. The confrontation, intended as a final obstacle, becomes the very means by which the central romance of the novel is secured.