Well, yes, there is certainly a social gap between them. The difference in wealth is astronomical; and Mr. Darcy has connections to the aristocracy, while some of Elizabeth's relatives aren't even part of the landed gentry. It's certainly a bit of a mismatch, but I can't help but wonder, if we were to look at the context realistically (and ignore potential fictional dramatization for plot purposes), how much of Mr. Darcy's original perception of the divide between himself and Elizabeth is exaggerated as a result of his pride, and how much could be accepted as a very real concern that reflects Regency attitudes? Would many people in Mr. Darcy's circles have truly been very critical?

As Elizabeth says in response to Lady Catherine, she and Mr. Darcy are "equal," she is the daughter of a gentleman, after all (ch. 56). She isn't a working-class girl, this isn't a Cinderella story, or the fourth season of Bridgerton.

Yet, Lady Catherine (also guilty of pride) strongly believes that marriage to Elizabeth would "disgrace" Mr. Darcy "in the eyes of everybody," and "ruin him in the opinion of all his friends, and make him the contempt of the world" (ch. 56).

But then Colonel Fitzwilliam (not prideful, simply realistic) implies that if younger sons could afford the luxury of marrying without paying "attention to money" (ch. 33), he possibly would've considered pursuing a love match (though he would definitely never dare to think of marrying anyone outside of the gentry/aristocracy, but he would perhaps be fine with the woman being poorer than him and not having grand connections if he genuinely liked her).

In the end, Mr. Darcy is not said to be grievously injured by marrying Elizabeth; his friends don't abandon him, he doesn't suffer financially, neither does his marriage affect the future prospects of his sister; even Lady Catherine eventually succumbs (and I'm sure that if he had married an actress, for example, she would've never forgiven him). So my question is, especially for those familiar with Regency reality and perhaps even real-life similar cases, is Mr. Darcy exaggerating how much the world would be against such a match due to his own pride and prejudices, or did Austen carefully omit the negative aspects that would've plagued this union in order not to spoil the romantic conclusion for the reader?

I've been wondering for quite some time about Regency etiquette when it comes to morning calls and visits between fiancés. I'd love some context if anyone here is familiar with this topic.

From my understanding and brief research, morning calls (held between 12PM and 3PM despite the name) were approximately 15-30 minutes long and anything more was considered a major social faux pas and even an imposition on the host. But then, as I was reading Pride and Prejudice, I couldn't help but notice that once Mr. Bingley and Jane are engaged, he is pretty much free to spend full days at Longbourn.

>"Bingley, from this time, was of course a daily visitor at Longbourn; coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after supper" (ch. 55)

If I'm not mistaken, it was the custom to have breakfast between 9AM and 11AM, while supper would take place at around 10PM-11PM (though it depended on the household). Austen tells us that Mr. Bingley stays with the Bennets "till after supper," which would mean that his visit lasts at least 10-11 hours. How did society reason this drastic shift from barely seeing one another during morning calls to being together for the whole day? Was it because the engagement elevated Mr. Bingley's status to future son-in-law and therefore made it okay for him to not worry about bothering the family? Was it to allow engaged couples to get to know each other better (with chaperones, of course)? Or was Mr. Bingley pushing the limits of politeness a bit? Could women visit their fiancés for the whole day as long as there was a female hostess (like Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley)? I doubt it. I assume Jane's stay at Netherfield early in the novel was only acceptable because she was the particular guest of Caroline and Louisa, originally going there for a dinner invitation, and because she developed an illness. Am I missing something?

AND what puzzles me even further is Mr. Darcy tagging along with his friend on these long visits. When he comes to Longbourn "early" (ch. 58) on the day of his second proposal (when him and Elizabeth lose track of time and wander around while discussing their feelings), he isn't tied to the family in any way, apart from being Mr. Bingley's friend, but still stays for dinner (ch. 59). How acceptable was this? I'm assuming it definitely wasn't scandalous, as I doubt he would be so bold as to cross any boundaries of propriety, but Mrs. Bennet was certainly annoyed by him on his subsequent visit with Mr. Bingley:

>"Good gracious! [...] if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or other, and not disturb us with his company" (ch. 59)

And how would his extended presence be perceived by the neighbors (if no formal engagement was announced soon)?

As the title suggests, I’m looking for stories where the main focus is on Mr. Bingley and Jane, set in Regency England, with both of them characterised as in canon?

>“You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.” (ch. 32)

Mr. Darcy says this when he visits Elizabeth at the Parsonage and finds her alone, and they begin talking about how important distance from home/family is in a marriage. In another post, I interpret this as him trying to compliment her while at the same time (either unconsciously or maybe quite deliberately) insulting her family. I'll just copy-paste from my other post for the sake of brevity: "Mr. Darcy has spent the better part of the novel being horrified by the lack of decorum of [the Bennets]. In light of that, we can infer that apart from testing the waters on her willingness to live away from home, he is also trying to express that she is too intelligent and too refined to be a product of that environment."

I was strongly convinced (and still am) that this analysis is correct; but yesterday I bought a Bulgarian translation (Hermes, 2023) of Pride and Prejudice, which renders Mr. Darcy's implications in a completely different light.

>"Точно вие не бива да сте толкова силно привързана към Лонгборн. Не може точно вие да останете завинаги там." (ch. 32)

This is basically saying "someone (as lovely) as you should not be so attached to your home/family, because someone like you will never have to remain there forever," or more humorously "don't worry you'll never be a spinster, because someone (me) will certainly want to marry you." I wonder if the translation is just bad or if I'm misreading the original Austen line? Still, even if it is wrong, it's not wildly off the mark—if anything, it's more romantic as there is no hidden dig at her family and it fits with him hinting that she would be staying at Rosings Park, rather than the Parsonage, when visiting Kent in the future (ch. 33).

So my question is: What do you think is the correct interpretation of this line? I'm more inclined towards my original understanding of it as it's more in line with Mr. Darcy still being plagued by pride at this point. Can anyone provide further insights with other translations? I'm curious to hear.

* Edit! The literal translation of the Bulgarian would be something along these lines: "You precisely (=of all people) should not be so strongly attached to Longbourn. It cannot be that you precisely (=of all people) would remain there forever."

Wow, I must say I'm quite fastidious when it comes to characterization in fanfiction/variations (or whatever they are called), but I have to admit that these two authors really impressed me with how they portray Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. I believe they really manage to capture their essence as close to canon as possible, considering it's a fanwork. The stories I'm referencing are:

Lin Mei Wei: Stranded with Mr Darcy and Mr Darcy and the Murder at Rosings. Despite the unconventional narratives (she's SO good at making complex plots feel exciting and should highkey consider writing an original novel), Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are exactly as Austen would've written them in these circumstances I would say.

Lara S. Ormiston: Yielding to Persuasion (I just loved this one!!!), Unequal Affections and Adventures at Morecastle.

I will continue with Lin Mei Wei's other stories, and then Elizabeth Adams is next on my list. But wow, these two impressed me. Does anyone know if they plan on/are in the process of writing more?

While much is said and written about Mr. Darcy's pining, I feel like we, as readers, rarely focus on Elizabeth's own longing once she begins to fall in love. Honestly, it's a very overlooked aspect of Pride and Prejudice, and certainly deserves more attention, as Austen is (like usual) brilliant at in her portrayals. Let's unpack and discuss in the comments.

>As soon as they were gone, Elizabeth walked out to recover her spirits; or, in other words, to dwell without interruption on those subjects which must deaden them more. Mr. Darcy’s behaviour astonished and vexed her.
“Why, if he came only to be silent, grave, and indifferent,” said she, “did he come at all?”
She could settle it in no way that gave her pleasure.
“He could be still amiable, still pleasing to my uncle and aunt, when he was in town; and why not to me? If he fears me, why come hither? If he no longer cares for me, why silent? Teasing, teasing man! I will think no more about him.”
Her resolution was for a short time involuntarily kept by the approach of her sister. (Ch. 54)

After Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley's visit to Longbourn towards the end of the novel, Elizabeth goes outside for some fresh air to supposedly 'recover her spirits,' or that is what she tells herself—because Austen promptly clarifies that she is, in fact, simply going to continue to 'dwell without interruption' on whether Mr. Darcy is still partial to her or not after the whole Mr. Wickham/Lydia incident. This is a proof of how strong her fixation has grown: she is unable to think about anything else, even when the thoughts are painful.

She compares his behavior to her aunt and uncle ('amiable') to his behavior to her ('silent, grave, and indifferent'). This contradiction and the suspense it gives her make her irritated. By labeling him 'teasing,' she is sort of framing his behavior as a provocation aimed at her (though we are well-aware that he was simply embarrassed and nervous); Elizabeth creates a narrative where his coolness is a challenge to be solved rather than a final rejection, because she now loves him and does not want this romance to end.

And then, she vows to not think about him anymore. She is extremely affected by how much power he now has over her; though, as every person who has ever been in love knows, such resolutions are often short-lived and 'involuntarily kept' by other distractions (in this case, Jane). She is now so emotionally dependent on his regard that the only way to protect her ego is to pretend she has the power to end it.

Elizabeth is a creature of wit and liveliness. For her, silence is a vacuum that she anxiously feels compelled to fill. In their early acquaintance, his silence was 'pride' (he was, indeed, prideful; but his silence around her was definitely not because of pride). In this scene, she fears his silence is now a sign of him being 'indifferent,' just when she has finally began to return his feelings and it scares her.

>She was in hopes that the evening would afford some opportunity of bringing them together; that the whole of the visit would not pass away without enabling them to enter into something more of conversation, than the mere ceremonious salutation attending his entrance. Anxious and uneasy, the period which passed in the drawing-room before the gentlemen came, was wearisome and dull to a degree that almost made her uncivil. She looked forward to their entrance as the point on which all her chance of pleasure for the evening must depend.
“If he does not come to me, then,” said she, “I shall give him up for ever.” (Ch. 54)

The first thing that stands out in this passage is the fact that she is so 'anxious and uneasy' about whether they will get a chance to talk that evening or ever, that she has become 'uncivil'—something very uncharacteristic for someone as spirited as her. This is also a direct reference to an opinion she herself professes earlier in the story. When Mrs. Gardiner asks her how 'violent' Mr. Bingley's love for Jane was, Elizabeth says: "I never saw a more promising inclination; he was growing quite inattentive to other people, and wholly engrossed by her. Every time they met, it was more decided and remarkable. At his own ball he offended two or three young ladies by not asking them to dance; and I spoke to him twice myself without receiving an answer. Could there be finer symptoms? Is not general incivility the very essence of love?" (Ch. 25)

What is more, her yearning is so strong that 'all her chance of pleasure for the evening' depends on them having a moment. Again, she does the same thing as in the previous passage—in an attempt to regain control of her emotions (a classic defense mechanism), she again decides to 'give him up for ever' unless he approaches her then and there, giving him a deadline of sorts, which she, of course, does not intend to hold him to meet. You don't threaten to 'give up' someone you don't desperately want to keep.

>“Dearest Jane! who could have done less for her? But make a virtue of it by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may be; and I shall begin directly, by asking you what made you so unwilling to come to the point at last? What made you so shy of me, when you first called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did you look as if you did not care about me?”
“Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement.”
“But I was embarrassed.”
“And so was I.”
“You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner.”
“A man who had felt less might.”
“How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that I should be so reasonable as to admit it!" (Ch. 60)

Being the very direct person that she is and having finally returned to her true cheerful and playful self, Elizabeth plainly asks him about his seemingly indifferent behavior on his return. She is no longer 'wearisome and dull,' because the anxiety of the unknown has been alleviated. Her love has found its safe harbor, allowing her to tease him about her past doubts from a place of security.

---

Can I just add that Mr. Darcy's line here—'a man who had felt less might [have talked more]—is perhaps the most romantic admission in the book!!! It recontextualizes his earlier perceived coldness (on his return to Hertfordshire) as a symptom of overwhelming emotion. And the cherry on top? This line serves as the ultimate proof of Elizabeth’s earlier theory about incivility. It confirms that true passion is paralyzing.

For me, it has always been Hunsford. It's honestly so, so, so good.

It focuses on the best set of characters (yes, by that I quite unironically mean Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine, both of which are so funny; and, of course, the Colonel with the romantic tension he provides, playing the Mr. Bingley role as a "social butterfly" foil to Mr. Darcy's more reserved personality and also having a bit of Mr. Wickham's "evident admiration" of Elizabeth as she observes; and then Charlotte, who is often the voice of reason in this "spirited" party).

It's a crucial point in the relationship between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, duh. His growing attraction and inability to control it; her increasing puzzlement at his behavior and total inability to understand him, and then the climax of finding out by the Colonel how he interfered in Jane and Mr. Bingley's courtship. Brilliant. "Absolute cinema," as the TikTok kids say.

And then I love the overall setting. The time of year, it's April, the countryside location. I've had the pleasure of living in the UK for a few years in a small beautiful town, much like how I imagine the surrounding area of the Parsonage/Rosings Park, AND spring was always gorgeous.

It also provides the best opportunity for fanfiction/variation. I specifically love canon divergence starting from the proposal or just after it.

https://preview.redd.it/659ddepj8wyg1.png?width=732&format=png&auto=webp&s=225cbb90b5ccc539e1ec7a4b7c978692ab65d7aa

I find it interesting that in "Pride and Prejudice" only the truly sensible characters (Charlotte and the Gardiners) realize that Mr. Darcy is in love with Elizabeth without being directly informed of it or given explicit hints (like Caroline Bingley was by Mr. Darcy himself). Everyone else is blinded by some major personality flaw, while Charlotte and the Gardiners are emotionally intelligent and lack all sort of self-absorption, which makes them good at reading people. I think it's a brilliant narrative choice by Jane Austen (as always)—it's basically saying that only those who are sensible can have a clear perception of the world.

Charlotte

>“I may thank you, Eliza, for this piece of civility. Mr. Darcy would never have come so soon to wait upon me.” (Ch. 30)

>“What can be the meaning of this?” said Charlotte, as soon as he was gone. “My dear Eliza, he must be in love with you, or he would never have called on us in this familiar way.” (Ch. 32)

Charlotte is not oblivious; no one is forcing Mr. Darcy to spend time at the Parsonage. He is clearly there for something, and since it's not her or her husband's company, it has to be Elizabeth's.

>But why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there ten minutes together without opening his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice—a sacrifice to propriety, not a pleasure to himself. He seldom appeared really animated. Mrs. Collins knew not what to make of him. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s occasionally laughing at his stupidity proved that he was generally different, which her own knowledge of him could not have told her; and as she would have liked to believe this change the effect of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza, she set herself seriously to work to find it out: she watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success. He certainly looked at her friend a great deal, but the expression of that look was disputable. It was an earnest, steadfast gaze, but she often doubted whether there were much admiration in it, and sometimes it seemed nothing but absence of mind. She had once or twice suggested to Elizabeth the possibility of his being partial to her, but Elizabeth always laughed at the idea; and Mrs. Collins did not think it right to press the subject, from the danger of raising expectations which might only end in disappointment; for in her opinion it admitted not of a doubt, that all her friend’s dislike would vanish, if she could suppose him to be in her power. (Ch. 32)

Charlotte deduces that a man like Mr. Darcy doesn't endure social awkwardness or do "sacrifice[s] to propriety" for no reason. In her mind, the only force strong enough to pull a man of his pride into such an uncomfortable setting is attraction. While Elizabeth interprets Mr. Darcy's silence as arrogance, Charlotte correctly identifies it as the nervousness of a man in love.

I would even argue that the most sensible thing Charlotte does is keep her mouth shut (for the most part). As the passage reveals, she suspects that if Elizabeth knew Mr. Darcy loved her, her "dislike would vanish," which is quite a profound insight into Elizabeth's character, highlighting something that Elizabeth herself doesn't realize until later. ("Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind. But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away where either were concerned. Till this moment, I never knew myself." / Ch. 36) Indeed, Charlotte understands that even a spirited, independent girl like Elizabeth likes to be the object of a man's devotion, especially a man like Mr. Darcy. Charlotte is aware of both the power of vanity and the danger of expectations, which is why she refuses to press the subject.

She doesn't need to be right to prove a point, but she would not want her friend to miss out on such a favorable match for herself out of foolishness; however, Charlotte practices restraint and does not interfere unless 100% sure. I believe she would have been very supportive had she had proof of Mr. Darcy's love.

The Gardiners

>But she had no reason to fear Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner’s curiosity; it was not their wish to force her communication. It was evident that she was much better acquainted with Mr. Darcy than they had before any idea of; it was evident that he was very much in love with her. They saw much to interest, but nothing to justify inquiry. (Ch. 44)

The Gardiners, as we know, are the epitome of tact, elegance, good manners. They would never impose their views or question Elizabeth, who is clearly uncomfortable at this stage by her relationship with the gentleman, even though they are convinced that Mr. Darcy's interest comes from stronger sentiments than just friendship. They see Mr. Darcy being exceedingly civil to them. A less sensible person might think, "he's trying to impress us because we're important." Instead, the Gardiners think, "he's trying to impress us because Elizabeth is important to him."

>Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth talked of all that had occurred during their visit, as they returned, except what had particularly interested them both. The looks and behaviour of everybody they had seen were discussed, except of the person who had mostly engaged their attention. They talked of his sister, his friends, his house, his fruit, of everything but himself; yet Elizabeth was longing to know what Mrs. Gardiner thought of him, and Mrs. Gardiner would have been highly gratified by her niece’s beginning the subject. (Ch. 45)

Mrs. Gardiner is being protective of Elizabeth's feelings here; she doesn't want to influence her by forcing the subject as she is clearly in the process of changing/re-evaluating her feelings. Mrs. Gardiner would've gladly indulged her niece; but allows her to lead as to not pressure her.

>Will you be very angry with me, my dear Lizzy, if I take this opportunity of saying (what I was never bold enough to say before) how much I like him? His behaviour to us has, in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in Derbyshire. His understanding and opinions all please me; he wants nothing but a little more liveliness, and that**, if he marry** prudently**, his wife may teach him**. I thought him very sly; he hardly ever mentioned your name. But slyness seems the fashion. Pray forgive me, if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish me so far as to exclude me from P. I shall never be quite happy till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton with a nice little pair of ponies would be the very thing. (Ch. 52)

Here, finally, Mrs. Gardiner can no longer help it, having just seen serious proof of Mr. Darcy's constancy and how much he is willing to do for Elizabeth. She correctly identifies that his silence isn't coldness—it's "slyness." He's trying to be discreet, but it's clear to someone as observant as her. Mrs. Gardiner notes that Mr. Darcy "wants nothing but a little more liveliness," which Elizabeth provides. She sees the complementary nature of their personalities, whereas others only see the conflict of their social ranks.

So I recently read "Letter Interrupted" and did not enjoy it at all as I felt too much time was spent on Lydia and barely any on the E/D relationship, which felt rushed. Are her other novels the same (with rushed romance plots) or is this just a bad example of her writing?

I read the summaries of some of the others ("The 26th of November", "Unwilling", "The Houseguest", "How to Fall in Love with a Man You Thought You Hated", "Uncertain Endeavor") and they all seemed interesting, but now I'm apprehensive.

While Caroline suspects that Mr. Darcy admires Elizabeth and teases him about it early on, she intentionally keeps her brother away from that information to protect her own interests. And I honestly think that Jane Austen specifically had to keep Mr. Bingley in the dark (a rather obvious observation, I know), because it would have significantly shifted the dynamics and the plot.

If Mr. Bingley was aware of Mr. Darcy's love, he would have had a counterargument to prevent the whole party from quitting Netherfield Park; he would have probably remained and continued his pursuit of Jane, which would have resulted in an engagement soon after.

On the one hand, Elizabeth would not have had her main objection to Mr. Darcy—him ruining the happiness of her sister. Of course, there is still his overall behavior and Mr. Wickham's sob story, with Mr. Bingley and Jane happily engaged/married, Elizabeth would have likely soon adopted a more charitable frame of mind towards Mr. Darcy due to her brother-in-law's influence.

On the other hand, Mr. Darcy would have had to confront his feelings more quickly. There is no doubt that Mr. Bingley would have tried to subtly (or maybe even transparently) play matchmaker, leading to a proposal that focuses more on affection and less on social degradation. But what would that mean for his character growth and the development of his relationship with Elizabeth?

And now I must share my main incentive for starting this discussion: the following quote. I just love Mr. Bingley.

>As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at [Elizabeth] 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. (Chapter 59)

I’m not an expert on Regency society (which is precisely why I’m asking this question); but as far as I can deduce Mr. Darcy giving Elizabeth a letter could’ve caused a scandal?

A man seeking a woman out in private in 19th century England and handing her a secret missive was a massive breach of etiquette as it implies a level of intimacy that isn’t proper. Right? It could’ve destroyed Elizabeth’s reputation (or at least seriously injured it).

Mr. Darcy would’ve been well-aware that he was pushing the boundaries a bit if that is the case. He is (as we know) someone obsessed with rules and image, yet he is a bit reckless here. Did he realize that by giving her the letter, he was essentially putting her future in his hands or was he too affected to consider the potential consequences? Was he (at that point in the story) arrogantly blinded by his own status (assuming his position would shield him from petty gossip)? Was it a calculated risk (he believed that telling her the truth about Mr. Wickham was a moral obligation that outweighed the social risk of a brief clandestine encounter)?

AND if someone had seen the exchange, unbeknownst to them, how would he have reacted to being caught?

As it is often said, the opposite of love is not hate; it is indifference. And our dear Elizabeth is many things throughout the story, but she is never, ever indifferent to Mr. Darcy. In fact, there is a very good case to be made that her "hatred" provided her with a socially acceptable excuse for why he began living in her head rent free as soon as she met him and then proceeded to slight her.

If Elizabeth truly found Mr. Darcy repulsive or boring, he would have faded into the background like Mr. Hurst, Mr. Collins (though he can never fade into the background for us readers, as he is the funniest), etc. Instead, she seeks him out in every room. Jane Austen is brilliant when it comes to depicting human psychology and her approach to developing Elizabeth's feelings is proof of that. She writes Elizabeth’s dislike with just enough heat, precision, and sustained attention that it becomes something like fascination born out of resentment.

Elizabeth prides herself on being a good reader of character, and enjoys watching people, but she examines Mr. Darcy with intensity, which she does not have for anyone else: she observes him and is always aware of when he is also looking at her, interprets him, provokes him, and discusses him with others. And because she considers him as a sort of "bad guy," she can justify constantly thinking about him under under the guise of "investigating his crimes," when in reality, she is simply relishing the intellectual stimulation he provides.

>“My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners—my behaviour to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now, be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?”
“For the liveliness of your mind I did.”
“You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is, that you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused and interested you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable you would have hated me for it: but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always noble and just; and in your heart you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduously courted you. There—I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really, all things considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure you know no actual good of me—but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love.” (Chapter 60)

All of this honestly applies to her, too. From the beginning, she withstood his importance (in contrast to everyone else being dazzled by his wealth), and while everyone in Meryton praised her for her beauty and wit, his behavior towards and in front of her bordered on the uncivil in the early days (due to him battling his own bewitchment).

As she admits at the end of the quoted passage, "nobody thinks of [actual good]" when they fall in love;" they only think of the person, who makes their life exciting and he gave her that challenge.

“There is also one other person in the party,” he continued after a pause, “who more particularly wishes to be known to you. Will you allow me, or do I ask too much, to introduce my sister to your acquaintance during your stay at Lambton?”

The surprise of such an application was great indeed; it was too great for her to know in what manner she acceded to it. She immediately felt that whatever desire Miss Darcy might have of being acquainted with her, must be the work of her brother, and without looking farther, it was satisfactory; it was gratifying to know that his resentment had not made him think really ill of her.

How much do you think Mr. Darcy told Georgiana about his relationship with Elizabeth—perhaps not about the rejected proposal, but maybe about his feelings? Or maybe he simply praised her as a very admirable person? Or maybe Georgiana herself deduced there was something going on from his letters?