Pride & Prejudice Page #2

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is good in your eyes.

Not his friend. I still can't believe

what he said about you.

Mr Darcy?

I'd more easily forgive his vanity

had he not wounded mine.

But no matter.

I doubt we shall ever speak again.

He danced with Miss Lucas.

We were all there, dear.

It is a shame she's not more handsome.

There's a spinster

in the making and no mistake.

The fourth with a Miss King

of little standing,

and the fifth again with Jane.

If he had any compassion,

he would've sprained his ankle.

The way you carry on,

you'd think our girls look forward

to a grand inheritance.

When you die,

which may be very soon,

they will be left without a roof over

their head nor a penny to their name.

- Please, it's ten in the morning.

- A letter to Miss Bennet, ma'am.

From Netherfield Hall.

Praise the Lord. We are saved!

Make haste, Jane,

make haste. Oh, happy day!

It is from Caroline Bingley.

She has invited me to dine with her.

- Her brother will be dining out.

- Dining out?

- Can I take the carriage?

- Let me see.

- It is too far to walk.

- This is unaccountable of him.

Mama, the carriage for Jane?

Certainly not. She'll go on horseback.

Horseback!

Lizzie.

Now she'll have to stay the night,

exactly as I predicted.

Good grief, woman,

your skills in the art of matchmaking

are positively occult.

Though I don't think, Mama,

you can take credit for making it rain.

"My friends will not hear of me

returning home until I am better.

Excepting a sore throat, a fever and

a headache, nothing is wrong with me."

If Jane does die it will be a comfort

to know it was in pursuit of Mr Bingley.

People do not die of colds.

But she may perish with the

shame of having such a mother.

I must go to Netherfield at once.

Lady Bathurst is redecorating

her ballroom in the French style.

A little unpatriotic, don't you think?

Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Good Lord, 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 mediaeval.

I feel such a terrible imposition.

They're being so kind to me.

I don't know who is more pleased at your

being here, Mama or Mr Bingley.

Thank you for tending

to my sister so diligently.

She's in far better comfort

than at home.

It's a pleasure.

I mean, it's not a pleasure

that she's ill. Of course not.

It's a pleasure that she's here,

being ill.

Not going to be famous, our pig.

Black on the back, but not related

to the learned pig of Norwich.

- Now that pig is...

- Mr Bennet.

It's all going to plan.

He's half in love with her already.

- Who is, blossom?

- Mr Bingley.

He doesn't mind

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