The comedy of errors deepened with the arrival of the ludicrous Mr. Collins, a clergyman built like a pompous pigeon, who proposed to Elizabeth in a speech of such staggering self-regard that she rejected him with a laughter that echoed through the house. Then came the dashing Mr. Wickham, a militia officer with a dazzling smile and a tragic story of how Darcy had cruelly denied him his inheritance. Elizabeth, her judgment clouded by her own wounded pride, swallowed the tale whole.
He left, a shattered colossus.
That illusion shattered when he chose that very evening to offer a disastrous, almost insulting proposal. "In vain have I struggled," he declared, standing rigid as a soldier. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you… despite my better judgment." pride and prejudice 1940
The finale was pure 1940 Hollywood magic. Not at a quiet church, but in the breathtaking marble hall of Pemberley itself. Lady Catherine, having failed, had inadvertently revealed Darcy’s love. Elizabeth and Darcy met by a fountain, the sun turning the spray into diamonds. The comedy of errors deepened with the arrival
Elizabeth heard it. Her dark eyes flashed with a fire that had nothing to do with the chandeliers. She repeated the slight to her friends with a laugh just a shade too bright, filing it away not as a wound, but as a weapon. The war was declared. Wickham, a militia officer with a dazzling smile
She stepped forward, the last wall between them falling. "Then you must allow me," she said, her eyes shining, "to tell you how ardently I admire—and love—you."
"I told you once," Darcy said, his voice finally soft, "that my affections were against my reason. I lied. My affections are my reason."