Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy scenes - Pride & Prejudice (2005)

And may I introduce Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire. Do you dance, Mr. Darcy? Not if I can help it. I've never seen so many pretty girls in my life. You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room. She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld. But her sister Elizabeth is very agreeable. Fairly tolerable, I dare say. Not handsome enough to tempt me. You'd better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles. You're wasting your time with me. Count your blessings, Lizzie. If he liked you, you'd have to talk to him. Precisely. As it is, I wouldn't dance with him for all of Derbyshire, let alone the miserable heart. Of course, it's my Jane who is considered the beauty of the county. No, ma'am, no, ma'am, please. Well, she was only 15. There was a gentleman so much in love with her, that I was sure he would make her an offer. However, he did write her some very pretty verses. And that put paid to it. I wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love. I thought that poetry was the food of love. Of a fine stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination, I'm convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead. So what do you recommend to encourage affection? Dancing. Even if one's partner is barely tolerable. Miss Elizabeth Bent. Good Lord, Miss Elizabeth, did you walk here? I did. I'm so sorry, how is my sister? She's upstairs. Thank you. My goodness, did you see her hem? Six inches deep in mud. She looked positively medieval. I cannot boast of knowing more than half a dozen women in all my acquaintance that are truly accomplished. Nor I, to be sure. Goodness, you must comprehend a great deal in the idea. I do. Absolutely. And, of course, you must improve her mind by extensive reading. I'm no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather want to know that you're knowing any. Are you so severe on your own sex? I never saw such a woman. She would certainly be a fearsome thing to behold. Miss Elizabeth, let us take a turn about the room. You're too proud, Mr. Darcy. And would you consider pride a fault or a virtue? That I couldn't say. Because we're doing our best to find a fault in you. Maybe it's that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offences against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever. Oh dear, I cannot tease you about that. What a shame, for I dearly love to laugh. A family trait, I think. Thank you for your stimulating company. It has been most instructive. Not at all. Pleasure is all mine. Mr. Darcy. Miss Elizabeth. I have never met a more pleasant gentleman in all my years. Did you see how he doped? Always doing what's best, my old friend. May I have the next dance, Miss Elizabeth? You may. I love this dance. Indeed, most invigorating. You tend to say something, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance. Now you ought to remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples. I am perfectly happy to oblige. Please advise me of what you would like most to hear. That reply will do for present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private rules are much pleasanter than public ones. We remain silent. You talk as a ruler while dancing? No. No, I prefer to be unsociable and taciturn. It makes it all so much more enjoyable, don't you think? Tell me, do you and your sisters very often walk to Meryton? Yes, we often walk to Meryton. It's a great opportunity to meet new people. In fact, when we met us, we just had the pleasure of forming a new acquaintance. Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners. He is sure of making friends. Whether he's capable of retaining them is less so. He's been so unfortunate as to lose your friendship. And I dare say that is an irreversible event. It is. Why do you ask such a question? To make out your character, Mr. Darcy. And what have you discovered? Very little. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly. I hope to afford you more clarity in the future. Rather low cost of £300. Mr. Darcy? What are you doing here? Mr. Darcy, I had no idea we had the honour. Miss Elizabeth, I'm a guest here. You know my nephew? Yes, ma'am. I had the pleasure of meeting your nephew in Hertfordshire. Colonel Fitzwilliam. How do you do? I trust your family is in good health, Miss Elizabeth? They are, thank you. My eldest sister is currently in London. Perhaps you happen to see her there? I haven't been fortunate enough, no. You play the piano forte, Miss Bennett? Yes. Where does Georgiana get along, Darcy? She plays very well. I hope she practices. No excellence can be acquired without constant practice. I've told Mrs. Collins this. Though you have no instrument of your own, you're very welcome to come to Rosings and play on the piano forte in the housekeeper's room. Thank you, Elizabeth. You'll be in nobody's way in that part of the house. You may miss the Darcy by coming in all your state to hear me. But I won't be alarmed even if your sister does play so well. I'm well enough acquainted with you, Miss Elizabeth, to know that I cannot alarm you even should I wish it. What was my friend like in Hertfordshire? You really care to know? Prepare yourself for something very dreadful. The first time I saw him at the assembly, he danced with nobody at all. Even though gentlemen were scarce and there was more than one young lady sitting down without a partner. I knew nobody beyond my own party. Oh, and nobody can be introduced in a ballroom. But William, I need you. I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before. Perhaps you should take your aunt's advice and practice. Mr. Darcy? Please do be seated. I'm afraid Mr. and Mrs. Collins have gone on business to the village. I'm afraid so. This is a charming house. I believe my aunt did a great deal to it when Mr. Collins first arrived. I believe so. She could not have bestowed her kindness on a more grateful subject. Shall I call for some tea? No, thank you. Good day, Miss Elizabeth. It's been a pleasure. Miss Elizabeth, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you. I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectation, the inferiority of your birth, my rank and circumstance, all these things, and I'm willing to put them aside and ask you to end my agony. I don't understand. I love you. Most ardently. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand. Sir, I... I appreciate the struggle you have been through and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done. Is this your reply? Yes, sir. Are you... Are you laughing at me? No. Are you rejecting me? I'm sure that the feelings which, as you told me, have hindered your regard will help you in overcoming it. Might I ask why, with so little endeavor and civility, I am less repulsive? And I might as well inquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you like me against your better judgment. No, believe me, I don't mean... If I was uncivil, then that is some excuse, but I have other reasons, you know I have. What reasons? Do you think that anything might tempt me to accept the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister? Do you deny it, Mr. Darcy, that you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to the center of the world's deprese, and my sister to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind? I do not deny it. How could you do it? Because I believed your sister indifferent to him. Indifferent? I watched them most carefully and realized his attachment was deeper than hers. That's because she's shy. Bingley, too, is modest and was persuaded she didn't feel strong before. Because you suggested it. I did it for his own good. My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me. I suppose you suspect that his... his fortune had some bearing on the matter. No, I wouldn't do your sister the dishonor, though it was suggested... What was? It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage... Did my sister give that impression? No, no. No, there was, however, I have to admit, the matter of your family. Our want of connection. Mr. Bingley didn't seem to vex himself about that. No, it was more than that. How, sir? It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, even on the occasion of your father. You and your sister, I must exclude. And what about Mr. Wickham? Mr. Wickham? What excuse can you give your... your behavior towards him? You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns. He told me of his misfortunes. Oh, yes, his misfortunes have been very great indeed. You ruin his chances, and yet you treat him with sarcasm. So this is your opinion of me. Thank you for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt... No! ...by my honesty in admitting scruples about our relationship. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances? And those are the words of a gentleman. From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry. Forgive me, madam, for taking up so much of your time. I leave you this. I shall not renew the sentiments which were so disgusting to you. But if I may, I will address the two offenses you have laid against me. My father loved Mr. Wickham as a son. In consequence, he left him a generous living. But upon my father's death, Mr. Wickham announced he had no intention of taking orders. He demanded the value of the living which he was given, and which he gambled away within weeks. Miss Elizabeth! I thought you were in London. No. No, I'm not. No. No, I came back in the early... We were not to come in the... It's a business with my stewardess. I'm in Devonshire with my aunt and uncle. And are you having a pleasant trip? Very pleasant. Tomorrow we go to Matlock. Tomorrow? Are you staying at Lambton? Yes, at the Rose and Crown. Yes. I'm sorry to intrude. They said that the house was open for visitors. I had no idea. May I see you back to the village? No. Do you want to walk in? Yes. Yes, I know. Goodbye, Mr. Darcy. My sister, Miss Georgiana. My brother has told me so much about you. I feel as if we are friends already. Oh, thank you. What a beautiful pianoforte. My brother gave it to me. He shouldn't have. Yes, I should. Oh, very well then. Easily persuaded, is she not? Your unfortunate brother once had to put up with my playing for a whole evening. But he says you play so well. Then he has perjured himself most profoundly. No, I said I played quite well. Oh, quite well is not very well. I'm satisfied. It's the most dreadful news. Lydia has run away with Mr. Wickham. They have gone from Brighton to Lord knows where. She has no money, no... no connections. I fear she's lost forever. This is my fault. If only I had exposed Wickham when I should. No. No, this is my fault. I would have prevented all this merely by being open with my sisters. Has anything been done to recover her? My father has gone to London. But I know very well that nothing can be done. We have not the smallest hope. Would I could help you? Sir, I think it is too late. This is grave indeed. I will leave you. Goodbye. I'm afraid we must go at once. I will join Mrs. Bennet and find Lydia before she ruins the family forever. He's here. He's here. He's at the door. Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bingley? Oh, my goodness. Everybody behave naturally. And whatever you do, do not appear overbearing. Look, there's someone with him. Mama. Mama. Mr. Watson's name, the pompous one from before. Mr. Darcy? The very insolence of it. What does he think of coming here? He'd still came. Mary, put that away at once. Find some useful employment. Oh, my Lord. You should have a seizure. I'm sure I shall. Get in. Who did this here? Mary, the ribbons. The ribbons. The ribbons. Mary, sit down at once. Mary! Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, ma'am. Mr. Bingley, I beg you will come here and shoot as many as you please. Thank you. Mr. Bennet will be vastly happy to oblige you. And we'll save all the best of the coffees for you. Excellent. Are you well, Mr. Darcy? Quite well, thank you. I hope that the weather stays fine for your sport. I return to town tomorrow. Soon. I couldn't sleep. Laura. My aunt. Yes, she was here. How could I ever make amends for such a babe? After what you have done for Lydia, and I suspect for Jane also, it is I who should be making amends. You must know. Surely you must know it was all for you. You are too generous to travel with me. I believe you spoke with my aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope, as I had scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever. If, however, your feelings have changed, you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love and never wish to be parted from you from this day on. Well, then, your hands are cold. How are you this evening, my dear? Very well. Only I wish you would not call me my dear. Why? Because it's what my father always calls my mother when he's cross about something. What endearments am I allowed? Well, let me think. Lizzie for every day, my pearl for Sundays, and goddess divine, but only on very special occasions. And what shall I call you when I'm cross? Mrs. Darcy? No. You may only call me Mrs. Darcy when you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy. And how are you this evening, Mrs. Darcy? THE END