Mrs Bennet Quotes

It is doubtful whether Mrs Bennet missed the company of her second daughter, but her husband certainly did. Elizabeth had always been his favourite child.

If he had any compassion for me' cried her husband impatiently 'he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of his partners. Oh! that he sprained his ankle in the first dance!

Did you think of anything when Miss Marcy said Scoatney Hall was being re-opened? I thought of the beginning of Pride and Prejudice – where Mrs. Bennet says 'Netherfield Park is let a last.' And then Mr. Bennet goes over to call on the rich new owner.

Mrs Bennet could not help but resent that a handful of pretty girls, even as corpses, attracted more attention from the gentleman than any of her daughters could merit.

By 1803, therefore, Mrs Bennet could be regarded as a happy woman so far as her nature allowed and had even been known to sit through a four-course dinner in the presence of Sir William and Lady Lucas without once referring to the iniquity of the entail.

A few of the guests, who had the misfortune of being too near the windows, were seized and feasted on at once. When Elizabeth stood, she saw Mrs. Long struggle to free herself as two female dreadfuls bit into her head, cracking her skull like a walnut, and sending a shower of dark blood spouting as high as the chandeliers. As guests fled in every direction, Mr. Bennet's voice cut through the commotion. "Girls! Pentagram of Death!" Elizabeth immediately joined her four sisters, Jane, Mary, Catherine, and Lydia in the center of the dance floor. Each girl produced a dagger from her ankle and stood at the tip of an imaginary five-pointed star. From the center of the room, they began stepping outward in unison - each thrusting a razor-sharp dagger with one hand, the other hand modestly tucked into the small of her back.

Las personas que como yo padecen de los nervios no tienen muchas ganas de hablar. ¡Nadie imagina mi sufrimiento! Pero siempre ha sido igual. Si uno no se queja, nadie le compadece.

The human egg is a Mrs. Bennet, desperate to marry off her daughters...It is a truth universally acknowledged that a sperm must be in want of a matching strand of DNA.

Mrs. Bennet's morals were indeed much better than Miss Bingley's, as the matron never prompted anything truly underhanded, she merely wished to see her girls well settled.

He’s a lawyer in Atlanta, and he’s very active in his church,” Mrs. Bennet said. “If that’s not the description of a man looking for a wife, I don’t know what is.

She had learnt from Mrs. Bennet that without beauty no real and lasting happiness was attainable. It never occurred to her to question what she’d been taught.

Well,” exclaimed Mrs Bennet expressively, “all I can say is, thank goodness she is not staying under my roof! Have you ever met such a peevish, complaining woman?

Seems to me that you did your best to ensure your survival, ma'am. Mrs Bennet's fear of the hedgerows is legendary in these parts,” quipped Old Queenie Toms,

Or perhaps you did see the signs, but you did not care because you always hated your brightest daughter,’ she said and saw a flash of fear cross Mrs Bennet’s features.

I would rather they did not speak of it at all, until I am out of the district." Mrs. Bennet was all amazement. "Until you are out of the district, child! What else are people to speak of when they hear you are to marry a man so rich, so highly placed in society, so... rich?

Peter was now standing very close - as if he wanted to comfort me - as if he knew how hurt I felt that Mrs Knowles had not asked me to play or to sing. And I did feel comforted. It was as if a tide of warmth was carrying me out of myself, inclining me to trust him and to conduct myself well.

In the next moment, and for the first time in many years, Elizabeth found herself wrapped tightly in her mother’s embrace. “Oh, my sweet Lizzy. My poor, sweet girl,” Mrs Bennet said, patting her back as if she were in the nursery again with a skinned knee.

Thank heavens they have gone! A stranger family I have never come across in my life,” cried Mrs Bennet. “Imagine if you had married Mr Collins, Lizzy? You would have had to put up with both of them as your neighbours whenever they were at Rosings. What a lucky escape!

His reason for coming strengthened his resolve, and without further delay, his words spilled out. "Mr. Bennet, I request a private audience with Miss Bennet." The room was thick with silence. Elizabeth blinked several times, trying to convince herself she had heard him correctly. The heaviness that had settled over her heart lifted, and her mouth turned up into a small smile. Before her father could respond to Mr. Darcy's request, they heard her mother blurt, "Good Lord! It is about time!

There is seldom a physical description of a character or scene in Pride and Prejudice and yet we feel that we have seen each of these characters and their intimate worlds; we feel we know them, and sense their surroundings. We can see Elizabeth's reaction to Darcy's denunciation of her beauty, Mrs. Bennet chattering at the dinner table or Elizabeth and Darcy walking in and out of the shadows of the Pemberley estate. The amazing thing is that all of this is created mainly through tone—different tones of voice, words that become haughty and naughty, soft, harsh, coaxing, insinuating, insensible, vain. The sense of touch that is missing from Austen's novels is replaced by a tension, an erotic texture of sounds and silences. She manages to create a feeling of longing by setting characters who want each other at odds.

You see, not everything worth knowing is to be found between the covers of books; and not everything worth listening to is to be heard from the mouths of those who read them. On the contrary, there is a kind of knowledge that is to be had only by virtue of the 'chatter' and 'gossip' at which Mrs Bennet and Mrs Jennings are so adept.

Long in body, late in arrival, Jane would always have an uneasy relationship with her mother. Her fiction is full of bad mothers: Mrs Dashwood and Mrs Bennet, who lack sense, Mrs Price, who lacks attention, and the absent Mrs Woodhouse and Mrs Elliot, both dead when the story starts. Perhaps the trouble began right at the beginning.

Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?

avoiding Mrs. Bennet as much as possible,

If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield," said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, "and all the others equally well married, I shall have nothing

They agreed that Mrs. Bennet should only hear of the departure of the family, without

Elizabeth had only just consented to be his wife. Mrs. Bennet had promptly fainted dead away.

This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!” said Mrs. Bennet more than once, as if the credit of making it rain were all her own.

short silence Mrs. Bennet began repeating her thanks to

Darcy had never imagined that when Mrs. Bennet finally vanished, he would miss her – a spectre who had come to disrupt his life. But he did.

If I can but see one of my daughters happily settled at Netherfield,” said Mrs. Bennet to her husband, “and all the others equally well married, I shall have nothing to wish for.

Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being quite unable to sit alone.

of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected

An ear-splitting shriek silenced her. Mrs. Bennet's eyes gleamed with triumph as she proclaimed the damning word: "Compromise!" Only then did he realise that this was no dream after all. It was a nightmare.

Mrs. Bennet was beyond the reach of reason, and she continued to rail bitterly against the cruelty of settling an estate away from a family of five daughters, in favour of a man whom nobody cared anything about.

I knew you could not be so intelligent for nothing,” said Mrs. Bennet as she squeezed Elizabeth’s hands.  There was a hint of pride in her voice and a softness to her expression.  “Your Mr. Darcy is a very lucky man.

The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished; that of Mrs. Bennet perhaps surpassing the rest; though, when the first tumult of joy was over, she began to declare that it was what she had expected all the while.

Mrs. Reynolds knocked on the door to Darcy’s office. Darcy didn’t lift his eyes, but waved a hand to let the younger man know he could speak. “Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bennet have arrived. Shall I show them to the drawing room?

Mrs. Bennet was not one to tiptoe around the edges of disaster, with one eye to the abyss and another to her own comportment: she plunged headlong in, and as she fell, took pains to enumerate the discomforts and inconveniences of the fall.

I found I could listen without envy to Letty's singing, and afterwards when the applause came, I did not mind that Mrs Knowles was heaping praises upon her. Peter's hands were on my chair, and when I leaned back I could feel them against my shoulders.

When she was a girl, and still growing, ravenous, whenever there had been a cake - a sponge cake, dusted with sugar, which Mrs. Hill had conjured up out of eggs and flour and creamy butter - Sarah would never even let herself look at it, because she knew that it was not for her. Instead, she would carry it upstairs to be rendered into crumbs, and the crumbs lifted from the plate by a moistened Bennet finger, and the empty smeared plate carried back again. So Sarah would stare instead at the carpet underneath her feet, or at the painting of a horse with a strangely small head that hung at the end of the hall, or the rippled yellow curtains in the parlour, and would do her best not to breathe, not to inhale the scent of vanilla or lemon or almonds; event to glance at the cake was an impossible agony. And for months, she realized, James had hardly looked at her at all.

Just as some people enjoy knitting in front of the television, Mrs. Bennet was fond of perusing housewares catalogs; indeed, the sound of pages turning, that quick flap when no item caught her eye and the pauses when something did, the occasional businesslike lick of the index finger, was one of the essential sounds of Liz’s childhood. This habit was also, apparently, what allowed Mrs. Bennet to maintain a belief that she had not actually “watched” a wide variety of shows even though she had been in the room for the duration of entire episodes and, in some cases, entire seasons. They

His character was decided. He was the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there again. Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his having slighted one of her daughters.

Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may be guessed. I wish I could say, for the sake of her family, that the accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life; though perhaps it was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and invariably silly.

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

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 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

Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, make them marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, after they are married.

Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to contain herself, began scolding one of her daughters. "Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces." "Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," said her father; "she times them ill." "I do not cough for my own amusement," replied Kitty fretfully.

An invitation to dinner was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had Mrs. Bennet planned the courses that were to do credit to her housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Bingley was obliged to be in town the following day, and, consequently, unable to accept the honour of their invitation, etc. Mrs. Bennet was quite disconcerted. She could not imagine what business he could have in town so soon after his arrival in Hertfordshire; and she began to fear that he might be always flying about from one place to another, and never settled at Netherfield as he ought to be. Lady Lucas quieted her fears a little by starting the idea of his being gone to London only to get a large party for the ball; and a report soon followed that Mr. Bingley was to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the assembly. The girls grieved over such a number of ladies, but were comforted the day before the ball by hearing, that instead of twelve he brought only six with him from London—his five sisters and a cousin. And when the party entered the assembly room it consisted of only five altogether—Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and another young man.

Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him in various ways—with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained.

Mary was the only daughter who remained at home; and she was necessarily drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet's being quite unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but she could still moralize over every morning visit; and as she was no longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters' beauty and her own, it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without much reluctance.

Its effect was most extraordinary; for on first hearing it, Mrs. Bennet sat quite still, and unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many, many minutes that she could comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to credit what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of a lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself.

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 home at any period of her life.

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by a manoeuvre of Mrs. Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody 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.

Very well. We now come to the point. Your mother insists upon your accepting it. Is it not so, Mrs. Bennet?" Mrs. Bennet clenched both her fists. "Yes, or I will never see her again!" she sobbed. "An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth." Mr. Bennet tsk-tsked. "From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do." Lizzy shared a warm smile with her dad. She double-tapped her chest, he double-tapped his, and they did their super secret Favorite Daughter-Daddy handshake. Mrs. Bennet, at the sight of it, broke into sobs anew, and Mr. Collins quietly disappeared down the road, muttering that he would be spending the remainder of his visit at Lucas Lodge, if anybody gave a shit. Which emphatically they did not.

When she was a girl, and still growing, ravenous, whenever there had been a cake – a sponge cake, dusted with sugar, which Mrs Hill had conjured up out of eggs and flour and creamy butter – Sarah would never even let herself look at it, because she knew that it was not for her. Instead, she would carry it upstairs to be rendered into crumbs, and the crumbs lifted from the plate by a moistened Bennet finger, and the empty smeared plate carried back again. So Sarah would stare instead at the carpet underneath her feet, or at the painting of a horse with a strangely small head that hung at the end of the hall, or the rippled yellow curtains in the parlour, and would do her best not to breathe, not to inhale the scent of vanilla or lemon or almonds; even to glance at the cake was an impossible agony. And for months, she realized, James had hardly looked at her at all.

But, depend upon it, Mr. Collins,” she added, “that Lizzy shall be brought to reason. I will speak to her about it directly. She is a very headstrong, foolish girl, and does not know her own interest but I will make her know it.” “Pardon me for interrupting you, madam,” cried Mr. Collins; “but if she is really headstrong and foolish, I know not whether she would altogether be a very desirable wife to a man in my situation, who naturally looks for happiness in the marriage state. If therefore she actually persists in rejecting my suit, perhaps it were better not to force her into accepting me, because if liable to such defects of temper, she could not contribute much to my felicity.” “Sir, you quite misunderstand me,” said Mrs. Bennet, alarmed. “Lizzy is only headstrong in such matters as these. In everything else she is as good-natured a girl as ever lived. I will go directly to Mr. Bennet, and we shall very soon settle it with her, I am sure.

out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley's way." Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal; yet was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an epithet. As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information; and he soon afterwards said aloud, "Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again to-day?" "I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty," said Mrs. Bennet, "to walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view." "It may do very well for the others," replied Mr. Bingley; "but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won't it, Kitty?" Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented. As she went up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying: "I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it: it is all for Jane's sake, you know; and there is no occasion for talking to him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to inconvenience." During their walk, it was resolved that Mr. Bennet's consent should be asked in the course of the evening. Elizabeth reserved to herself the application for her mother's. She could not determine how her mother would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she were violently set against the

Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent, 15th October. “Dear Sir,— “The disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach; but for some time I was kept back by my own doubts, fearing lest it might seem disrespectful to his memory for me to be on good terms with anyone with whom it had always pleased him to be at variance.—’There, Mrs. Bennet.’—My mind, however, is now made up on the subject, for having received ordination at Easter, I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her ladyship, and be ever ready to perform those rites and ceremonies which are instituted by the Church of England. As a clergyman, moreover, I feel it my duty to promote and establish the blessing of peace in all families within the reach of my influence; and on these grounds I flatter myself that my present overtures are highly commendable, and that the circumstance of my being next in the entail of Longbourn estate will be kindly overlooked on your side, and not lead you to reject the offered olive-branch. I cannot be otherwise than concerned at being the means of injuring your amiable daughters, and beg leave to apologise for it, as well as to assure you of my readiness to make them every possible amends—but of this hereafter. If you should have no objection to receive me into your house, I propose myself the satisfaction of waiting on you and your family, Monday, November 18th, by four o’clock, and shall probably trespass on your hospitality till the Saturday se’nnight following, which I can do without any inconvenience, as Lady Catherine is far from objecting to my occasional absence on a Sunday, provided that some other clergyman is engaged to do the duty of the day.—I remain, dear sir, with respectful compliments to your lady and daughters, your well-wisher and friend, “William Collins

when he observed Kitty with her. “Damnation, can’t that girl do anything she’s told!” Wickham thumped the wall with his clenched fist, a red mist of anger blurring his vision. Lydia might be persuaded to keep his presence here

Kitty disliked

Let Mrs. Bennet think what she will. The Longbourn entail aside, to be perfectly honest, I myself almost wish that the babe turns out to be a girl.

Mama will be pleased to know that her least favourite daughter is to be married." "To her least favourite man in the world, no doubt. I clearly recall how Mrs. Bennet barely tolerated my presence when I visited Longbourne.

Even if you were to forbid Miss Elizabeth Bennet to pursue such endeavours, Mrs Sherlock Darcy shall always be thrown into the path of sinister mysteries.

of his knowledge that the man was Mrs. Bennet’s sister.

Mrs. Bennet’s grasp of economy varied greatly with the situation

He knew Elizabeth was resting and so would return her items when she came down to tea or maybe dinner. He had checked with Mrs. Graham prior to leaving for the parish who informed him that Miss Bennet was resting for now.

Stop the ceremony!” Lady Catherine repeated forcefully. “It cannot go on.” “Why ever not?” Mrs. Bennet asked, standing. “His wife is barely cold in her grave.

Mrs. Bennet was fertilizing her roses. (...) She did think that, probably more than most people, they had souls. If she had been asked what she meant by a soul she would have dismissed the question as though soul were as much an ingredient of life as salt or cinnamon or baking powder.(...) The smell of her oses when she buried her nose in them was soul.

Surely a young beauty like yourself is lonely, too. It can be a part of the game, if you like.” “Get off,” she said, thoroughly done with this. His answer was to lean in closer. So she kneed him in the groin. As hard as she could. “Aw, ow, dammit!” He doubled over and thudded onto his knees. Jane brushed off her knee, feeling like it had touched something dirty. “Aw, ow, dammit indeed! What’re you thinking?” Jane heard hurried footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Mr. Nobley. “Miss Erstwhile!” He was barefoot in his breeches, his shirt untucked. He glanced down at the groaning man. “Sir Templeton!” “Ow, she kicked me,” said Sir Templeton. “Kneed him, I kneed him,” Jane said. “I don’t kick. Not even when I’m a ninja.” Mr. Nobley stood a moment in silence, looking over the scene. “I hope you remembered to shout ‘Ya’ when taking him down. I hear that is very effective.” “I’m afraid I neglected that bit, but I’ll certainly ‘ya’ from here to London if he ever touches me again.” “Miss Erstwhile, were you perhaps employed by your president’s armed forces in America?” “What? Don’t British women know how to use their knees?” “Happily, I have never put myself in a position to find out.” He stared at the prostrate Sir Templeton. “Did he hurt you?” “Frankly, your arm-yanking earlier was worse.” “I see. Perhaps you should retire to your chambers, Miss Erstwhile. Would you like me to escort you?” “I’m fine,” she said, “as long as there aren’t any other Sir Templetons lurking upstairs.” “Well, I cannot give Colonel Andrews a glowing reference, but I believe the way is safe.” She stepped closer to Mr. Nobley and whispered, “Are you going to out me to Mrs. Wattlesbrook for the servants’ quarters lurking?” “I think,” he said, nudging the prostrate Sir Templeton with his foot, “that you have suffered enough tonight.” Mr. Nobley smiled at her, the first time she had seen his real smile. She wouldn’t go so far as to call it a grin. His lips were closed, but his eyes brightened and the corners of his mouth definitely turned up, creating pleasing little cheek wrinkles on either side as though the smile were in parentheses. It bothered her in a way she couldn’t explain, like feeling itchy but not knowing exactly where to scratch. He was not particularly amused, she saw, but smiled to reassure her. Wait, who wanted to reassure her? Mr. Nobley or the actual man, Actor X? “Thanks. Good night, Mr. Nobley.” “Good night, Miss Erstwhile.” She hesitated, then left, Sir Templeton’s groans following her up the stairs. On the second floor, Aunt Saffronia was emerging from her room, clutching a white shawl over her nightgown. “What was that noise? Is everything all right?” “Yes. It was…your husband. He was being inappropriate.” Aunt Saffronia blinked. “Inebriated?” “Yes.” She nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Jane.” Jane wasn’t sure if Aunt Saffronia was speaking to Jane the niece or Jane the client. For the first time it didn’t matter; both Janes felt exactly the same. She acknowledged the apology with a nod, went to her room, and locked the door behind her. She thought she was angry but instead she plopped herself down on her bed, put her face in her pillow, and laughed. “What a joke,” she said, sounding to herself like the movie incarnation of Lydia Bennet. “I come for Mr. Darcy, fall for the gardener, and get propositioned by the drunk husband.” Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow she would play for real. She was going to drive full force into the game, have a staggering good time, and kick the nasty Darcy habit for good. She fell asleep with the ticklish thought of Mr. Nobley’s smile.

Though she had been surprised to find murder so thoroughly enjoyable, Mrs Bennet did not believe that this reflected any fault or wickedness in her character. She knew she only committed these acts to secure the future well-being of her daughters. Naturally, she would be able to stop killing once her daughters had husbands and there was no further use for such bloodthirsty deeds. Indeed, she felt adamant that she only enjoyed the planning and execution of such matters because her daughters had not been so good as to provide her with wedding preparations to occupy her active mind.

Though she had been surprised to find that murder was so thoroughly enjoyable, Mrs Bennet did not believe that this reflected any fault or wickedness in her character. She knew she only committed these acts to secure the future well-being of her daughters. Naturally, she would be able to stop killing once her daughters had husbands and there was no further use for such bloodthirsty deeds. Indeed, she felt adamant that she only enjoyed the planning and execution of such matters because her daughters had not been so good as to provide her with wedding preparations to occupy her active mind.

Mrs Bennet was a great connoissuer of feminine beauty and indeed it must be owned that she herself was a very handsome woman. As to the sweetness of her temper, there was less compelling evidence; yet in all her forty years she had given none of her family or general acquaintance reason to suppose her a murderess.

Bennet replied that he had not. "But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it." Mr. Bennet made no answer. "Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife

Mrs Bennet called her into her chamber and closed the door. “Mr Darcy is in love with you, Lizzy,” she said in an urgent whisper. “Do you think so, Mama?” she inquired, unwilling to reveal her secret. “Oh yes, he can scarcely take his eyes off you.

Get up, girl!” Mrs. Bennet swatted at her oldest daughter causing Jane’s eyes to bulge. Jane was used to her mother’s tantrums, but they had usually been focused on Elizabeth or Mary, and on occasion, Kitty. To have her own arm swatted was startling. She hurried from the bed.

​“I am certain Elizabeth does not mean to escape you, Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Bennet. ​“Certainly not!” chimed in Mr. Bennet. “After all, I have heard something of excellent libraries at Mr. Darcy’s homes, and I shall not rest until I see them!

Having obeyed Mrs. Bennet’s final command, they had each pinched their cheeks and, therefore, entered with smiling faces and rosy cheeks.

If Mr. Bingley does not propose to Jane within a fortnight, I shall eat my favorite bonnet,” Mrs. Bennet cried.

​“I apologize, Elizabeth!” wailed Mrs. Bennet, twisting her handkerchief, tears flowing from her eyes. “I knew nothing of what sort of violent man he is! The notion of you girls in the power of such a man fills me with horror!

I would like to request the honor of calling upon you as soon as may be convenient, Mr. Bennet.” “I am at home to love struck suitors whenever they choose to call, Mr. Bingley,” their father replied. “Please do not think that Mrs. Bennet would ever allow it to be otherwise.

And Mrs. Bennet. I am charmed. Indeed. So charmed. Lady Catherine de Bourgh says a gentleman should always be charmed upon meeting a lady, even if he is not charmed.

Only think of it, Mrs. Bennet and those Miss Bennets with us, always.” She was correct. Darcy would have to break off his association with Bingley if that came to pass, which would sadden him.

Mrs. Bennet, are you completely witless?” Lady Catherine asked pointedly.

Here, these are his.” Mrs Reynolds’ eyes seemed to go two sizes bigger as she saw the stockings.

but they were so alike that Jane finally understood where her sister’s fierce character had come from. Elizabeth physically resembled her father, but her fiery temper was from Mrs Bennet.

Aunt,” said Elizabeth, as Mrs. Gardiner buttoned up her gown. “May I ask you a question that may seem impertinent and shocking?” “Of course you may. Those are my favourite kinds of questions,” said her aunt, smiling at her through the reflection in the mirror.

When tea was over, Mr. Hurst reminded his sister-in-law of the card-table–but in vain. She had obtained private intelligence that Mr. Darcy did not wish for cards; and Mr. Hurst soon found even his open petition rejected. She assured him that no one intended to play, and the silence of the whole party on the subject seemed to justify her. Mr. Hurst had therefore nothing to do, but to stretch himself on one of the sofas and go to sleep. Darcy took up a book; Miss Bingley did the same; and Mrs. Hurst, principally occupied in playing with her bracelets and rings, joined now and then in her brother’s conversation with Miss Bennet.

Sensible girl,” said Mrs Sinclair. “I was always assured of liking her since I am predisposed to like most things in opposition to Lady Catherine, but it seems Miss Bennet is going to make it easy for me. Tell me, how did she fare against Lady Catherine in person?

When she was a girl, and still growing, ravenous, whenever there had been a cake—a sponge cake, dusted with sugar, which Mrs. Hill had conjured up out of eggs and flour and creamy butter—Sarah would never even let herself look at it, because she knew that it was not for her. Instead, she would carry it upstairs to be rendered into crumbs, and the crumbs lifted from the plate by a moistened Bennet finger, and the empty smeared plate carried back again. So Sarah would stare instead at the carpet underneath her feet, or at the painting of a horse with a strangely small head that hung at the end of the hall, or the rippled yellow curtains in the parlour, and would do her best not to breathe, not to inhale the scent of vanilla or lemon or almonds; even to glance at the cake was an impossible agony. And for months, she realized, James had hardly looked at her at all.

Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Bennet said then. "I think it best if you go speak with Elizabeth." For the first time in his life, he gladly obeyed Mrs. Bennet.

Meanwhile, Xanthe prattled on about the evening for the whole ride home, reminding Izzy horribly of a post-ball Mrs Bennet.

Darcy thought about another mother, who also schemed, but only to ensure the security of her daughters. He decided that compared to his aunt, Mrs Bennet was a paragon of compassion.

He turned to Mrs. Bennet and said, “Madam, I shall speak to Mr. Bennet regarding your youngest child. You must correct her behaviour and return her to the nursery. Her words are unkind by design and reflect poorly upon the Bennet name.

Mrs. Bennet, Miss Lydia, is vulgar! Your excuses for her do not lend credit to our family’s future. Her words have me unsettled and I shall not remain for supper.

Watching her parents, Elizabeth sighed; her mother and father changed after Lydia’s elopement from Brighton. Her father ruled Longbourn with an iron fist and forbid any officer or gentlemen he did not know personally from setting foot on the estate, and Mrs. Bennet placated her husband with his favourite dishes at the table and curbed her tongue as much as possible.

Your father is not here,” said Mrs. Bennet viciously. “He treated me abominably over the years and he selfishly died. Well, now I can do whatever I wish.

Mrs. Bennet had thought it would be a good joke not to tell him they had come, and in a spate of impishness that was unusual for him, Darcy had agreed.

Mrs. Bennet, Lady Bertram, Mrs. Norris, Mrs. Elton, the Steele sisters, Fanny Dashwood, Elizabeth Elliot, Mrs. Clay, Lady Catherine de Bourgh … all differentiated, all unique in their unpleasantness.

Jane, in fact, mothered these girls, and her fiction reveals her belief that motherhood could be a social, not a biological function.4 Blood mothers may be ridiculous or ill-advised, like Mrs Bennet or Mrs Dashwood, but mothers in the form of mentors are often wise, generous, caring. Mrs Gardiner, her aunt, gives Lizzy Bennet better advice than Mrs Bennet does, while Emma Woodhouse has a fine surrogate in the shape of Mrs Weston. In this sense, Fanny and Anna were Jane’s own children.