PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 18

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TILL Elizabeth entered the drawing-room at Netherfield and looked in
  vain for Mr. Wickham among the cluster of red coats there assembled,
  a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her. The certainty
  of meeting him had not been checked by any of those recollections that
  might not unreasonably have alarmed her. She had dressed with more than
  usual care, and prepared in the highest spirits for the conquest of
  all that remained unsubdued of his heart, trusting that it was not more
  than might be won in the course of the evening. But in an instant arose
  the dreadful suspicion of his being purposely omitted for Mr. Darcy's
  pleasure in the Bingleys' invitation to the officers; and though this
  was not exactly the case, the absolute fact of his absence was pronounced
  by his friend Mr. Denny, to whom Lydia eagerly applied, and who told
  them that Wickham had been obliged to go to town on business the day
  before, and was not yet returned; adding, with a significant smile,
  

  "I do not imagine his business would have called him away just now,
  if he had not wished to avoid a certain gentleman here."

This part of his intelligence, though unheard by Lydia, was caught
  by Elizabeth, and as it assured her that Darcy was not less answerable
  for Wickham's absence than if her first surmise had been just, every
  feeling of displeasure against the former was so sharpened by immediate
  disappointment, that she could hardly reply with tolerable civility
  to the polite inquiries which he directly afterwards approached to make.
  -- Attention, forbearance, patience with Darcy, was injury to Wickham.
  She was resolved against any sort of conversation with him, and turned
  away with a degree of ill humour, which she could not wholly surmount
  even in speaking to Mr. Bingley, whose blind partiality provoked her.

But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour; and though every prospect
  of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on
  her spirits; and having told all her griefs to Charlotte Lucas, whom
  she had not seen for a week, she was soon able to make a voluntary transition
  to the oddities of her cousin, and to point him out to her particular
  notice. The two first dances, however, brought a return of distress;
  they were dances of mortification. Mr. Collins, awkward and solemn,
  apologising instead of attending, and often moving wrong without being
  aware of it, gave her all the shame and misery which a disagreeable
  partner for a couple of dances can give. The moment of her release from
  him was exstacy.

She danced next with an officer, and had the refreshment of talking
  of Wickham, and of hearing that he was universally liked. When those
  dances were over she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation
  with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who
  took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that,
  without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again
  immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence
  of mind; Charlotte tried to console her.

"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."

"Heaven forbid! -- That would be the greatest misfortune of all!
  -- To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! -- Do not
  wish me such an evil."

When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim
  her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not
  to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear
  unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence. Elizabeth
  made no answer, and took her place in the set, amazed at the dignity
  to which she was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy,
  and reading in her neighbours' looks their equal amazement in beholding
  it. They stood for some time without speaking a word; and she began
  to imagine that their silence was to last through the two dances, and
  at first was resolved not to break it; till suddenly fancying that it
  would be the greater punishment to her partner to oblige him to talk,
  she made some slight observation on the dance. He replied, and was again
  silent. After a pause of some minutes, she addressed him a second time
  with:

"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. -- I talked about
  the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of
  the room, or the number of couples."

He smiled, and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should
  be said.

"Very well. -- That reply will do for the present. -- Perhaps by
  and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public
  ones. -- But now we may be silent."

"Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?"

"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd
  to be entirely silent for half an hour together, and yet for the advantage
  of some, conversation ought to be so arranged as that they may have
  the trouble of saying as little as as possible."

"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do
  you imagine that you are gratifying mine?"

"Both," replied Elizabeth archly; "for I have always seen a great
  similarity in the turn of our minds. -- We are each of an unsocial,
  taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something
  that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with
  all the eclat of a proverb."

"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am
  sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say.
  -- You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."

"I must not decide on my own performance."

He made no answer, and they were again silent till they had gone down
  the dance, when he asked her if she and her sisters did not very often
  walk to Meryton. She answered in the affirmative, and, unable to resist
  the temptation, added, "When you met us there the other day, we had
  just been forming a new acquaintance."

The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his
  features, but he said not a word, and Elizabeth, though blaming herself
  for her own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in
  a constrained manner said,

"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his
  making friends -- whether he may be equally capable of retaining them,
  is less certain."

"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," replied Elizabeth
  with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all
  his life."

Darcy made no answer, and seemed desirous of changing the subject.
  At that moment Sir William Lucas appeared close to them, meaning to
  pass through the set to the other side of the room; but on perceiving
  Mr. Darcy he stopt with a bow of superior courtesy, to compliment him
  on his dancing and his partner.

"I have been most highly gratified indeed, my dear Sir. Such very
  superior dancing is not often seen. It is evident that you belong to
  the first circles. Allow me to say, however, that your fair partner
  does not disgrace you, and that I must hope to have this pleasure often
  repeated, especially when a certain desirable event, my dear Miss Eliza
  (glancing at her sister and Bingley), shall take place. What congratulations
  will then flow in! I appeal to Mr. Darcy: -- but let me not interrupt
  you, Sir. -- You will not thank me for detaining you from the bewitching
  converse of that young lady, whose bright eyes are also upbraiding me."

The latter part of this address was scarcely, heard by Darcy; but
  Sir William's allusion to his friend seemed to strike him forcibly,
  and his eyes were directed with a very serious expression towards Bingley
  and Jane, who were dancing together. Recovering himself, however, shortly,
  he turned to his partner, and said,

"Sir William's interruption has made me forget what we were talking
  of."

"I do not think we were speaking at all. Sir William could not have
  interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves.
  -- We have tried two or three subjects already without success, and
  what we are to talk of next I cannot imagine."

"What think you of books?" said he, smiling.

"Books -- Oh! no. -- I am sure we never read the same, or not with
  the same feelings."

"I am sorry you think so; but if that be the case, there can at least
  be no want of subject. -- We may compare our different opinions."

"No -- I cannot talk of books in a ball-room; my head is always full
  of something else."

"The present always occupies you in such scenes -- does it?" said
  he, with a look of doubt.

"Yes, always," she replied, without knowing what she said, for her
  thoughts had wandered far from the subject, as soon afterwards appeared
  by her suddenly exclaiming,

"I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever
  forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are
  very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."

"I am," said he, with a firm voice.

"And never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"

"I hope not."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion,
  to be secure of judging properly at first."

"May I ask to what these questions tend?"

"Merely to the illustration of your character," said she, endeavouring
  to shake off her gravity. "I am trying to make it out."

"And what is your success?"

She shook her head. "I do not get on at all. I hear such different
  accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that report may
  vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that
  you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there
  is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."

"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another
  opportunity."

"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he coldly replied.
  She said no more, and they went down the other dance and parted in silence;
  on each side dissatisfied, though not to an equal degree, for in Darcy's
  breast there was a tolerable powerful feeling towards her, which soon
  procured her pardon, and directed all his anger against another.

They had not long separated when Miss Bingley came towards her, and
  with an expression of civil disdain thus accosted her,

"So, Miss Eliza, I hear you are quite delighted with George Wickham!
  -- Your sister has been talking to me about him, and asking me a thousand
  questions; and I find that the young man forgot to tell you, among his
  other communications, that he was the son of old Wickham, the late Mr.
  Darcy's steward. Let me recommend you, however, as a friend, not to
  give implicit confidence to all his assertions; for as to Mr. Darcy's
  using him ill, it is perfectly false; for, on the contrary, he has been
  always remarkably kind to him, though George Wickham has treated Mr.
  Darcy, in a most infamous manner. I do not know the particulars, but
  I know very well that Mr. Darcy is not in the least to blame, that he
  cannot bear to hear George Wickham mentioned, and that though my brother
  thought he could not well avoid including him in his invitation to the
  officers, he was excessively glad to find that he had taken himself
  out of the way. His coming into the country at all, is a most insolent
  thing indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you,
  Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favorite's guilt; but really,
  considering his descent one could not expect much better."

"His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,"
  said Elizabeth angrily; "for I have heard you accuse him of nothing
  worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy's steward, and of that, I can
  assure you, he informed me himself."

"I beg your pardon," replied Miss Bingley, turning away with a sneer.
  "Excuse my interference. -- It was kindly meant."

"Insolent girl!" said Elizabeth to herself. -- "You are much mistaken
  if you expect to influence me by such a paltry attack as this. I see
  nothing in it but your own wilful ignorance and the malice of Mr. Darcy."
  She then sought her eldest sister, who had undertaken to make inquiries
  on the same subject of Bingley. Jane met her with a smile of such sweet
  complacency, a glow of such happy expression, as sufficiently marked
  how well she was satisfied with the occurrences of the evening. -- Elizabeth
  instantly read her feelings, and at that moment solicitude for Wickham,
  resentment against his enemies and every thing else gave way before
  the hope of Jane's being in the fairest way for happiness.

"I want to know," said she, with a countenance no less smiling than
  her sister's, "what you have learnt about Mr. Wickham. But perhaps
  you have been too pleasantly engaged to think of any third person, in
  which case you may be sure of my pardon."

"No," replied Jane, "I have not forgotten him; but I have nothing
  satisfactory to tell you. Mr. Bingley does not know the whole of his
  history, and is quite ignorant of the circumstances which have principally
  offended Mr. Darcy; but he will vouch for the good conduct, the probity
  and honour of his friend, and is perfectly convinced that Mr. Wickham
  has deserved much less attention from Mr. Darcy than he has received;
  and I am sorry to say that by his account as well as his sister's, Mr.
  Wickham is by no means a respectable young man. I am afraid he has been
  very imprudent, and has deserved to lose Mr. Darcy's regard."

"Mr. Bingley does not know Mr. Wickham himself?"

"No; he never saw him till the other morning at Meryton."

"This account then is what he has received from Mr. Darcy. I am perfectly
  satisfied. But what does he say of the living?"

"He does not exactly recollect the circumstances, though he has heard
  them from Mr. Darcy more than once, but he believes that it was left
  to him conditionally only."

"I have not a doubt of Mr. Bingley's sincerity," said Elizabeth
  warmly; "but you must excuse my not being convinced by assurances only.
  Mr. Bingley's defence of his friend was a very able one I dare say,
  but since he is unacquainted with several parts of the story, and has
  learnt the rest from that friend himself, I shall venture still to think
  of both gentlemen as I did before."

She then changed the discourse to one more gratifying to each, and
  on which there could be no difference of sentiment. Elizabeth listened
  with delight to the happy, though modest hopes which Jane entertained
  of Bingley's regard, and said all in her power to heighten her confidence
  in it. On their being joined by Mr. Bingley himself, Elizabeth withdrew
  to Miss Lucas; to whose inquiry after the pleasantness of her last partner
  she had scarcely replied, before Mr. Collins came up to them and told
  her with great exultation that he had just been so fortunate as to make
  a most important discovery.

"I have found out," said he, "by a singular accident, that there
  is now in the room a near relation of my patroness. I happened to overhear
  the gentleman himself mentioning to the young lady who does the honours
  of this house the names of his cousin Miss de Bourgh, and of her mother
  Lady Catherine. How wonderfully these sort of things occur! Who would
  have thought of my meeting with -- perhaps -- a nephew of Lady Catherine
  de Bourgh in this assembly! -- I am most thankful that the discovery
  is made in time for me to pay my respects to him, which I am now going
  to do, and trust he will excuse my not having done it before. My total
  ignorance of the connection must plead my apology."

"You are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Darcy?"

"Indeed I am. I shall intreat his pardon for not having done it earlier.
  I believe him to be Lady Catherine's nephew. It will be in my power
  to assure him that her ladyship was quite well yesterday se'nnight."

Elizabeth tried hard to dissuade him from such a scheme; assuring
  him that Mr. Darcy would consider his addressing him without introduction
  as an impertinent freedom, rather than a compliment to his aunt; that
  it was not in the least necessary there should be any notice on either
  side, and that if it were, it must belong to Mr. Darcy, the superior
  in consequence, to begin the acquaintance. -- Mr. Collins listened to
  her with the determined air of following his own inclination and when
  she ceased speaking, replied thus,

"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I have the highest opinion in the world
  of your excellent judgment in all matters within the scope of your understanding,
  but permit me to say that there must be a wide difference between the
  established forms of ceremony amongst the laity, and those which regulate
  the clergy; for give me leave to observe that I consider the clerical
  office as equal in point of dignity with the highest rank in the kingdom
  -- provided that a proper humility of behaviour is at the same time
  maintained. You must therefore allow me to follow the dictates of my
  conscience on this occasion, which leads me to perform what I look on
  as a point of duty. Pardon me for neglecting to profit by your advice,
  which on every other subject shall be my constant guide, though in the
  case before us I consider myself more fitted by education and habitual
  study to decide on what is right than a young lady like yourself."
  And with a low bow he left her to attack Mr. Darcy, whose reception
  of his advances she eagerly watched, and whose astonishment at being
  so addressed was very evident. Her cousin prefaced his speech with a
  solemn bow, and though she could not hear a word of it, she felt as
  if hearing it all, and saw in the motion of his lips the words "apology,"
  "Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh." -- It vexed her to see
  him expose himself to such a man. Mr. Darcy was eyeing him with unrestrained
  wonder, and when at last Mr. Collins allowed him time to speak, replied
  with an air of distant civility. Mr. Collins, however, was not discouraged
  from speaking again, and Mr. Darcy's contempt seemed abundantly increasing
  with the length of his second speech, and at the end of it he only made
  him a slight bow, and moved another way. Mr. Collins then returned to
  Elizabeth.

"I have no reason, I assure you," said he, "to be dissatisfied
  with my reception. Mr. Darcy seemed much pleased with the attention.
  He answered me with the utmost civility, and even paid me the compliment
  of saying that he was so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment
  as to be certain she could never bestow a favour unworthily. It was
  really a very handsome thought. Upon the whole, I am much pleased with
  him."

As Elizabeth had no longer any interest of her own to pursue, she
  turned her attention almost entirely on her sister and Mr. Bingley,
  and the train of agreeable reflections which her observations gave birth
  to, made her perhaps almost as happy as Jane. She saw her, in idea,
  settled in that very house, in all the felicity which a marriage of
  true affection could bestow; and she felt capable, under such circumstances,
  of endeavouring even to like Bingley's two sisters. Her mother's thoughts
  she plainly saw were bent the same way, and she determined not to venture
  near her, lest she might hear too much. When they sat down to supper,
  therefore, she considered it a most unlucky perverseness which placed
  them within one of each other; and deeply was she vexed to find that
  her mother was talking to that one person (Lady Lucas) freely, openly,
  and of nothing else but of her expectation that Jane would be soon married
  to Mr. Bingley. -- It was an animating subject, and Mrs. Bennet seemed
  incapable of fatigue while enumerating the advantages of the match.
  His being such a charming young man, and so rich, and living but three
  miles from them, were the first points of self-gratulation; and then
  it was such a comfort to think how fond the two sisters were of Jane,
  and to be certain that they must desire the connection as much as she
  could do. It was, moreover, such a promising thing for her younger daughters,
  as Jane's marrying so greatly must throw them in the way of other rich
  men; and lastly, it was so pleasant at her time of life to be able to
  consign her single daughters to the care of their sister, that she might
  not be obliged to go into company more than she liked. It was necessary
  to make this circumstance a matter of pleasure, because on such occasions
  it is the etiquette, but no one was less likely than Mrs. Bennet to
  find comfort in staying at home at any period of her life. She concluded
  with many good wishes that Lady Lucas might soon be equally fortunate,
  though evidently and triumphantly believing there was no chance of it.

In vain did Elizabeth endeavour to check the rapidity of her mother's
  words, or persuade her to describe her felicity in a less audible whisper;
  for to her inexpressible vexation, she could perceive that the chief
  of it was overheard by Mr. Darcy, who sat opposite to them. Her mother
  only scolded her for being nonsensical.

"What is Mr. Darcy to me, pray, that I should be afraid of him? I
  am sure we owe him no such particular civility as to be obliged to say
  nothing he may not like to hear."

"For heaven's sake, madam, speak lower. -- What advantage can it
  be to you to offend Mr. Darcy? -- You will never recommend yourself
  to his friend by so doing."

Nothing that she could say, however, had any influence. Her mother
  would talk of her views in the same intelligible tone. Elizabeth blushed
  and blushed again with shame and vexation. She could not help frequently
  glancing her eye at Mr. Darcy, though every glance convinced her of
  what she dreaded; for though he was not always looking at her mother,
  she was convinced that his attention was invariably fixed by her. The
  expression of his face changed gradually from indignant contempt to
  a composed and steady gravity.

At length however Mrs. Bennet had no more to say; and Lady Lucas,
  who had been long yawning at the repetition of delights which she saw
  no likelihood of sharing, was left to the comforts of cold ham and chicken.
  Elizabeth now began to revive. But not long was the interval of tranquillity;
  for when supper was over, singing was talked of, and she had the mortification
  of seeing Mary, after very little entreaty, preparing to oblige the
  company. By many significant looks and silent entreaties, did she endeavour
  to prevent such a proof of complaisance, -- but in vain; Mary would
  not understand them; such an opportunity of exhibiting was delightful
  to her, and she began her song. Elizabeth's eyes were fixed on her with
  most painful sensations; and she watched her progress through the several
  stanzas with an impatience which was very ill rewarded at their close;
  for Mary, on receiving amongst the thanks of the table, the hint of
  a hope that she might be prevailed on to favour them again, after the
  pause of half a minute began another. Mary's powers were by no means
  fitted for such a display; her voice was weak, and her manner affected.
  -- Elizabeth was in agonies. She looked at Jane, to see how she bore
  it; but Jane was very composedly talking to Bingley. She looked at his
  two sisters, and saw them making signs of derision at each other, and
  at Darcy, who continued however impenetrably grave. She looked at her
  father to entreat his interference, lest Mary should be singing all
  night. He took the hint, and when Mary had finished her second song,
  said aloud,

"That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough.
  Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."

Mary, though pretending not to hear, was somewhat disconcerted; and
  Elizabeth sorry for her, and sorry for her father's speech, was afraid
  her anxiety had done no good. -- Others of the party were now applied
  to.

"If I," said Mr. Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to sing,
  I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with
  an air; for I consider music as a very innocent diversion, and perfectly
  compatible with the profession of a clergyman. -- I do not mean however
  to assert that we can be justified in devoting too much of our time
  to music, for there are certainly other things to be attended to. The
  rector of a parish has much to do. -- In the first place, he must make
  such an agreement for tithes as may be beneficial to himself and not
  offensive to his patron. He must write his own sermons; and the time
  that remains will not be too much for his parish duties, and the care
  and improvement of his dwelling, which he cannot be excused from making
  as comfortable as possible. And I do not think it of light importance
  that he should have attentive and conciliatory manners towards every
  body, especially towards those to whom he owes his preferment. I cannot
  acquit him of that duty; nor could I think well of the man who should
  omit an occasion of testifying his respect towards any body connected
  with the family." And with a bow to Mr. Darcy, he concluded his speech,
  which had been spoken so loud as to be heard by half the room. -- Many
  stared. -- Many smiled; but no one looked more amused than Mr. Bennet
  himself, while his wife seriously commended Mr. Collins for having spoken
  so sensibly, and observed in a half-whisper to Lady Lucas, that he was
  a remarkably clever, good kind of young man.

To Elizabeth it appeared, that had her family made an agreement to
  expose themselves as much as they could during the evening, it would
  have been impossible for them to play their parts with more spirit,
  or finer success; and happy did she think it for Bingley and her sister
  that some of the exhibition had escaped his notice, and that his feelings
  were not of a sort to be much distressed by the folly which he must
  have witnessed. That his two sisters and Mr. Darcy, however, should
  have such an opportunity of ridiculing her relations was bad enough,
  and she could not determine whether the silent contempt of the gentleman,
  or the insolent smiles of the ladies, were more intolerable.

The rest of the evening brought her little amusement. She was teazed
  by Mr. Collins, who continued most perseveringly by her side, and though
  he could not prevail with her to dance with him again, put it out of
  her power to dance with others. In vain did she entreat him to stand
  up with somebody else, and offer to introduce him to any young lady
  in the room. He assured her that as to dancing, he was perfectly indifferent
  to it; that his chief object was by delicate attentions to recommend
  himself to her, and that he should therefore make a point of remaining
  close to her the whole evening. There was no arguing upon such a project.
  She owed her greatest relief to her friend Miss Lucas, who often joined
  them, and good-naturedly engaged Mr. Collins's conversation to herself.

She was at least free from the offence of Mr. Darcy's farther notice;
  though often standing within a very short distance of her, quite disengaged,
  he never came near enough to speak. She felt it to be the probable consequence
  of her allusions to Mr. Wickham, and rejoiced in it.

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart; and
  by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriages a quarter
  of an hour after every body else was gone, which gave them time to see
  how heartily they were wished away by some of the family. Mrs. Hurst
  and her sister scarcely opened their mouths except to complain of fatigue,
  and were evidently impatient to have the house to themselves. They repulsed
  every attempt of Mrs. Bennet at conversation, and by so doing, threw
  a languor over the whole party, which was very little relieved by the
  long speeches of Mr. Collins, who was complimenting Mr. Bingley and
  his sisters on the elegance of their entertainment, and the hospitality
  and politeness which had marked their behaviour to their guests. Darcy
  said nothing at all. Mr. Bennet, in equal silence, was enjoying the
  scene. Mr. Bingley and Jane were standing together, a little detached
  from the rest, and talked only to each other. Elizabeth preserved as
  steady a silence as either Mrs. Hurst or Miss Bingley; and even Lydia
  was too much fatigued to utter more than the occasional exclamation
  of "Lord how tired I am!" accompanied by a violent yawn.

When at length they arose to take leave, Mrs. Bennet was most pressingly
  civil in her hope of seeing the whole family soon at Longbourn; and
  addressed herself particularly to Mr. Bingley, to assure him how happy
  he would make them by eating a family dinner with them at any time,
  without the ceremony of a formal invitation. Bingley was all grateful
  pleasure, and he readily engaged for taking the earliest opportunity
  of waiting on her, after his return from London, whither he was obliged
  to go the next day for a short time.

Mrs. Bennet was perfectly satisfied; and quitted the house under the
  delightful persuasion that, allowing for the necessary preparations
  of settlements, new carriages, and wedding clothes, she should undoubtedly
  see her daughter settled at Netherfield in the course of three or four
  months. Of having another daughter married to Mr. Collins, she thought
  with equal certainty, and with considerable, though not equal, pleasure.
  Elizabeth was the least dear to her of all her children; and though
  the man and the match were quite good enough for her, the worth of each
  was eclipsed by Mr. Bingley and Netherfield.

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1. Ebooks list page : 82
2. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 58
3. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 44
4. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 42
5. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 41
6. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 40
7. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 39
8. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 38
9. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 11
10. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 12
11. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 45
12. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 46
13. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 49
14. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 57
15. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 56
16. PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: Chapter 55