Pride & Prejudice, ch. 43: First Sight And Second Thoughts

Credit to Mónica Armiño.

We join Lizzy and the Gardiners on their (first) trip to the Pemberley grounds. Right away, we’re faced with possibly the most willfully misunderstood quote in literature: After riding in their carriage over a hill through some pretty woods, Elizabeth sees the large and stately Pemberley House perfectly sandwiched between a bubbling brook and more hills and valleys, and “at that moment [feels] that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!”

What’s interesting about this, and what I think gets glossed over, is that Lizzy has this epiphany before seeing Pemberley’s (equally impressive) interior. Not only that, but this statement is preceded by the words, “[t]hey were all of them warm in their admiration,” which carries the implication that Lizzy is pleased with her aunt and uncle’s reaction. It’s almost like she’s a little … oh, I don’t know … proud about their praise. This is one of the (few?) times in the novel where pride is neither a direct flaw or virtue, but an organic emotional reaction. 

This continues even once they’re inside Pemberley: Lizzy is still taken with the view—so much so that she barely pays attention to the first room they tour in order to stare out the window. Only once she’s done admiring the surrounding nature does she “[see], with admiration of [Darcy’s] taste, that [the decor] was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of splendor, and more real elegance, than the furniture of Rosings.” And again, there is this element of juxtaposition in her observation. In comparing Darcy’s “taste” to his aunt’s, it becomes even more palatable to Lizzy; it seems like a rebuke to Lady Catherine’s overbearing pretension. Lizzy imagines that, had she accepted Darcy’s proposal, “[w]ith these rooms I might now have been familiarly acquainted! Instead of viewing them as a stranger, I might have rejoiced in them as my own,” but then concludes that she wouldn’t have been allowed to invite her middle-class aunt and uncle, proving that in her mind Darcy and Lady Catherine still appear more alike than dissimilar.

This dubious realization “save[s] her from something like regret.” Sounds like grasping at straws to me, but I’ll let it go …

Let’s turn to the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, “a respectable-looking, elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than [Lizzy] had any notion of finding her.” Uncle Gardiner gets a real kick out of her, egging her on in her flattering descriptions of Darcy and Miss Darcy. She mentions that Wickham is persona non grata there, despite Darcy keeping a picture of him in his father’s room (a bittersweet gesture, to be sure). Mrs. Reynolds goes on to praise Miss Darcy’s pianoforte skills and Darcy’s generosity and mild temper, the latter of which contradicts Lizzy’s “firmest opinion” that Darcy “was not a good tempered man.” Delightfully, Mrs. Reynolds remarks that everyone’s waiting for Darcy to settle down and get married already, though she adds, “I do not know who is good enough for him.” Whether she is just parroting her master’s high standards or has formed them on her own is not clear, but I’m inclined to think that it’s a mix of both.

Lizzy, hearing all this, doesn’t know what to think. Mrs. Reynolds strikes her as trustworthy, though she and her uncle both account for some exaggeration on her part. It helps that Mrs. Reynolds’ opinion of Lizzy blossoms once she finds out that Lizzy has already met Darcy. I don’t mean that in a cynical way, necessarily. Just that her increase in “respect” for Lizzy speaks to her own pride in her master, which is evident for all to see. Mrs. Reynolds, unprompted, denies that Darcy is “proud,” implying that this reputation of him is fairly widespread (due to Wickham? Or others?) and that she resents it. Given that Lizzy’s faith in his unbending pride has so far remained intact, this hits her like a ton of bricks.

Adding to her confusion, Aunt Gardiner quietly questions the inconsistency of Darcy’s “behavior to our poor friend” with “[t]his fine account.” 

Excuse me. I had to wait until the gagging stopped.

Their next interesting stop is Miss Darcy’s room, where Lizzy examines her “drawings … in crayons” and finds that “[their] subjects were usually more interesting, and also more intelligible” than many of the formal paintings in the gallery. This is such an underrated gem. It establishes a) Georgiana’s genuine talent and b) a connection between Georgiana and Lizzy—while staying true to Lizzy’s previous statement that she’s kind of a plebeian when it comes to formal education in literature and the arts. She’s already impressed with the natural landscape of the Pemberley grounds; there’s no need for her to be bowled over by Darcy’s art collection as well (though this line could foreshadow the idea of Georgiana teaching her how to appreciate art).

However, one formal painting does catch her off-guard, and not in a bad way: Darcy’s portrait. He is painted “with such a smile over the face as she remembered to have sometimes seen, when he looked at her.” Ding ding dingggg! Can this be the irony fairy once again? Might our quick-thinking, judgmental heroine actually benefit from taking some time to get a better look at Darcy? She might, mightn’t she! Another bittersweet detail: the portrait was made during Darcy the Elder’s lifetime, meaning that all the Wickham stuff had not yet taken place. So … did Darcy used to smile more often back then? When his parents were still around and he didn’t have to worry about some bastard manipulating his little sister? Whoa, game changer! Examining the portrait, Lizzy’s views on him shift, “[thinking] of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remember[s] its warmth, and soften[s] its impropriety of expression.”

Some time later, they are all outside with the gardener (the Gardiners … with the gardener … do I smell a metaphor?) when suddenly spotted in the distance, flying low … Mr. Darcy??? See, earlier, Lizzy had been told that Darcy et al were expected to arrive tomorrow, so she thought she was in the clear. But, you know, we need to keep the plot going, so let’s have him show up by himself a day early. Poor Lizzy, who is not aware that she’s the female lead in a proto-romance novel, reacts with human emotions like surprise, confusion, and (eventually) shame. They are both in a world of pain, but Darcy makes the effort to greet her (remember, as the social superior, he is the one to initiate the conversation) and going to some lengths to carry on with “perfect civility.” However, they’re both stilted, blushing messes, with Darcy repeating questions over and over and Lizzy unable to look him in the eye. He then excuses himself and leaves, and the party continues the tour.

Unlike how some adaptations show Lizzy trying to make a break for it, this Lizzy stays put. But she’s plagued with thoughts of “Her coming there was the most unfortunate, the most ill-judged thing in the world!” and “In what a disgraceful light might it not strike so vain a man!” This is a detail I think a lot of us skip, because her opinion of his vanity (which she used to call his “pride”) is still rock-solid. The interesting thing is that she seems to care what he thinks of her even though she’s sure that his opinion of her is still negative. And on top of all this, she can’t help but wonder if she is “still dear to him.” That she can’t imagine why “his manners [had never been] so little dignified” or why “never had he spoken [to her] with such gentleness” is an indication that, though she has spent the day re-educating herself about Darcy, she still can’t read him that well. “Whether he had felt more of pain or of pleasure in seeing her, she could not tell … ”

Meanwhile, the woods that they’re exploring sound like a forest from a Disney movie, where “the opening of the trees gave the eye power to wander” and “a simple bridge” leads them to “a glen [that] allowed room only for the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it.” Sign me up for the next tour! Aunt Gardiner begs pardon, as she is not a great walker like Lizzy, and they turn back (despite Lizzy being perfectly eager to venture further into the woods and valleys). On their way, they again meet up with Darcy. Her courage on the rise, Lizzy tries to “imitate his politeness” by “admir[ing] the beauty of the place; but she had not got beyond the words ‘delightful,’ and ‘charming,’ when some unlucky recollections obtruded, and she fancied that praise of Pemberley from her might be mischievously construed.” She strives not to give the appearance of husband-hunting, or more specifically, the appearance of taking Darcy’s professed love for granted. It’s a fine line to walk under normal circumstances, but coupled with Lizzy’s belief in Darcy’s overinflated ego, it’s a potential disaster.

Then Darcy surprises her further by asking to be introduced to the Gardiners. As he’s “seeking the acquaintance of some of those very people against whom his pride had revolted,” Lizzy anticipates his inner snob will rear its ugly head and … and that he’ll throw them off his property? Sneer at their middle-class background? Give her a more concrete reason to stop maybe-regretting turning down his proposal? Anyway, Darcy does none of those things, but instead engages Uncle Gardiner in a real conversation. Lizzy “glorie[s] in every expression, every sentence of her uncle, which marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good manners.” Score one for true love propriety! Aunt Gardiner is amazed at how nice Darcy is after hearing about what a meanie he was back in Hertfordshire. Lizzy feels “gratified” by Darcy’s new behavior, though she still questions its source, doubtful that her “reproofs” could have been the catalyst.

After a bit of musical chairs, Darcy ends up walking next to Lizzy. He tells her that the Bingley siblings will be there tomorrow, and one other person who Lizzy hasn’t been introduced to yet. With particularly modest wording, Darcy asks, “[D]o I ask too much to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?” Though shocked, Lizzy accepts, thinking with equal modesty that “it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think really ill of her.” Despite several awkward pauses and meek attempts at conversation, there is the sense that these two are more compatible than ever before: they are equally embarrassed, equally humbled, equally relying on standard politeness to get them through a unique social situation. The pattern we’ve seen thus far is that one spurs the other into making a declaration, but that was largely because Darcy was intrigued by Lizzy while Lizzy was focused on getting the last word. Now that the dynamic has changed and some unasked questions have been answered, they have to figure out how to interact now that their armor has been stripped away. So there’s going to be some growing pains.

The Gardiners and Lizzy call it a day and are handed into a carriage. Lizzy is explicitly shown watching Darcy walk back to his house, which would be a mundane detail were it not for the fact that Austen doesn’t often include these small observations. You get the feeling that Lizzy is still trying to get a bead on Darcy, or is perhaps still in general shock. The Gardiners reveal that they were quite impressed with his behavior, that they saw little of his so-called pride, and that he’s just as attractive as Wickham.* Lizzy scrambles to explain why she’d told them previously that Darcy was “disagreeable” and Uncle Gardiner jokes that he may be “a little whimsical in his civilities.” Lizzy, ironically, thinks that they’re misjudging Darcy, but wisely says nothing. However, feeling bad about their misconception re: the Darcy-Wickham drama, she delicately explains that, as a matter of fact, there’s reason to believe that Wickham left quite a few important details out of his story. 

For the rest of the day, the Gardiners focus on their itinerary. But Lizzy can’t stop thinking about Darcy’s new behavior and “his wishing her to be acquainted with his sister.” I think she’s finally getting it … 

Soon to come: We meet Darcy’s shy little sister, Bingley bingles his way into the proceedings, and the Gardiners begin to realize that the owner of Pemberley has a thing for their niece.

*Aunt Gardiner’s observation that “there is something pleasing about [Darcy’s] mouth when he speaks” might also point to a subtle smile that is similar to the one Lizzy recognizes.