Miss Bingley was now all admiration and attention. Her compliments were exceedingly gracious, her smiles remarkably sweet. Lady Catherine’s opinion, however, was not to be lightly contradicted. “She is a selfish, hypocritical woman,” said she, “and I have no doubt her letter will be a very artful one.”
“I do not know,” said Elizabeth, “whether I ought to be pleased or offended. My ideas of the marriage that is to be a happy one have always been very different from yours, Lady Catherine. I have always supposed that it must be the result of mutual affection, and that the parties should be of equal rank, and of similar dispositions, to enable them to be happy.”
“And do you think,” said she, “that I am so ignorant or so stupid as to expect to see you married to my nephew without your consent?”
“I do not know what you expect,” said Elizabeth, “ but I am very certain that I will never be married to him.”
“That is not my fault,” said she, “if you are so obstinate, so determined not to be persuaded. I am sorry to have been so mistaken in my opinion of you.”
“But you are mistaken, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth. “I have no inclination to marry you nephew. He is a proud, disagreeable man, and I am determined to have nothing more to say to him.”
Lady Catherine’s countenance expressed extreme indignation. She had been accustomed to be looked up to, and her opinion implicitly obeyed. Her pride had been hurt by Elizabeth’s indifference, and her resentment was now expressed in no very measured terms. Elizabeth, however, remained perfectly composed, and returned all her reproaches with an imperturbable countenance.
“I am not to be frightened into anything,” said she. “I will not be so treated. I will not be insulted in this manner. I am not afraid of you, Lady Catherine. I will not marry Mr. Darcy, and I will not be dictated to by you.”