In three cases—Northanger Abbey, the Marianne plot of Sense and Sensibility, and Emma —it comes from the heroine. In three others —the Elinor plot of Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, and Persuasion —it comes from the hero (in the last case the heroine also made a crucial error in earlier refusing the hero, but that error took place long before the action of the novel and no longer forms a barrier on her side). But in Pride and Prejudice both hero and heroine are in the wrong on important matters, and both bear a significant responsibility for the estrangement that lasts for most of the novel. Furthermore, their mutual errors and mutual misunderstandings create an antagonism between the two principals exceeding that of any other novel. Other Jane Austen romantic pairs tend to like each other throughout the story, however much something keeps them apart romantically; at worst, one of the two stands aloof from the other. In contrast, Pride and Prejudice's hero is both aloof at times toward the heroine and frequently uncomprehending of her, while its heroine develops a positive loathing for the hero, and informs him fully of this feeling.

These two distinct features of Pride and Prejudice offer a number of advantages. First, the hostility between the two protagonists allows the novel to present a running battle of wits and intellects between the two. This battle lets them both display vividly their distinctive characters; it also provides a particular thrill for the reader through the presentation of two combatants who are actually made for each other and who will both end up having to eat many of their words. This is a long established formula, perhaps seen most memorably in the sparring of Beatrice and Benedick in Shakespeare's Much Ado about Nothing. It is even possible that Shakespeare's play influenced Pride and Prejudice, for Jane Austen was familiar with Shakespeare, though there is no evidence indicating she drew on that source. Second, the mutuality of error gives the story a neat symmetry and equality, for both the hero and heroine are forced to reform and learn lessons, and neither enjoys a clear advantage over the other. Third, the sharp estrangement of the protagonists allows for a highly dramatic reversal of fortune, in which for a long while all looks hopeless and then in the end all turns out right.

Finally, the many plot developments necessarily involved in such a sharp reversal of fortune mean that much, both good and bad, occurs between the hero and heroine, which allows the novel to focus continual attention on their relationship. This is another unique characteristic of Pride and Prejudice. In no other Jane Austen novel does the romance between the hero and heroine occupy such center stage (except for the slight Northanger Abbey): in Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion the pairs of lovers have only limited contact with each other over the course of the novel; in Mansfield Park and Emma they have extensive contact, but until the end it is only in the capacity of friends. In contrast, Elizabeth and Darcy have frequent contacts, and the issue of love between them is almost always on at least one of their minds. Such focusing of attention has obvious advantages in a novel whose main subject is this very love.

Along with offering such advantages, these distinctive features of Pride and Prejudice also pose a critical challenge, one that determines the nature of the story and that leads to difficulties of its own. The challenge is how to reconcile two conflicting imperatives, that of showing a strong enough compatibility between the hero and heroine to make their eventual union both believable and satisfying, and that of also making plausible a severe rupture between two such compatible souls. In other words, how can two who are destined to love and comprehend each other so deeply, stumble instead into hating or misunderstanding so strongly? For writers of a romantic stamp, who dwell on extreme passions, often of a type that can easily change into other extreme passions, and who emphasize the mysteriousness or unpredictability or perversity of the human heart, such reversal of sentiment would not present a serious problem, or even perhaps a need for much explanation. But it does for Jane Austen, who has a strong commitment to clear and rational explanations and whose novels depict people acting in ways that, while often irrational, are still comprehensible.

One way she reconciles these conflicting imperatives is through the differing social positions she provides for the hero and heroine. In all her novels Jane Austen concentrates almost exclusively on the class to which she and her family belonged, and which she knew best, the class generally known as the gentry. The gentry meant the broad mass of those who were considered genteel, which in effect meant moderately wealthy landowners along with the clergy and most military officers. Above it stood the aristocracy or nobility (though the line between it and the gentry was not a firm one), the class of those with privileged titles, tremendous wealth in land, and great political power. Below the gentry stood a generally urban middle class, consisting of merchants and manufacturers as well as the members of most professions. Pride and Prejudice is distinctive for focusing more on these other two classes than any other Jane Austen novel. Darcy, the grandson of an earl and the possessor of wealth comparable to many titled lords, is almost part of the aristocracy; his relatives Lady Catherine and Colonel Fitzwilliam, both the children of earls, are certainly part of it. Elizabeth, in contrast, has a mother who, as the daughter of an attorney, definitely comes from the middle class, and a pair of aunts and uncles who remain in that class; her initial love interest, Wickham, is also someone of middle-class origin. Moreover, Elizabeth's lack of almost any inheritance creates the prospect that she might have to marry someone ofthat level, and thereby lose her own membership in the gentry (since a woman's position derived from that of her husband).

The resulting social gulf between Darcy and Elizabeth plays a critical role in keeping them apart, despite the compatibility of their personalities. Initially it keeps Darcy from even considering marriage to Elizabeth, regardless of her attractions; in fact, his fear of becoming attracted to her motivates him at times to be even more aloof than usual in his conduct toward her. Moreover, Darcy's social superiority to Elizabeth, as well as to those around her, encourages his early arrogant behavior, as well as his actions to separate Bingley and Jane. Even when he does decide to pursue Elizabeth, his superior position makes him assume she would welcome any offer of marriage from him, and thus reduces any incentive for him to behave more agreeably or to propose more courteously.