If there are two types of women in this world then they are the Elizabeth Bennet’s and the Catherine Ernshaws, I’m afraid I might be a Cathy. I might say, ‘Oh Mr. Darcy’ but give me a Heathcliff any day. I mean,
"If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever." is all very nice but wouldn’t you rather,
"Be with me always- take any form- drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"
And herein lies the problem, I’d climb over a million safe and reliable Mr. Darcy’s for one brute of a Heathcliff, which is why I’ll end up miserably haunting the moors rather then living out my days in comfort in Pemberley.