Mr. Darcy Goes Overboard

by Belinda Roberts

  An event like drinks on the Pemberley could not go undiscussed by the Lucas and Bennet families, and so it was not surprising to see a group of them sitting on the jetty, enjoying ice creams and conversing over the previous day’s events.

  ‘You were favoured with early conversation with Mr Bingley, my dear Lottie,’ said Mrs Bennet generously.

  ‘Oh yes! We had a most interesting discussion about university. To think a young man should have a house in Salcombe and at the same time be applying to university. Why! It is most uncommon!’

  ‘With such a fortune, I doubt he will take out a student loan,’ added Kitty.

  ‘A student loan! Heavens, child!’ exclaimed Mrs Bennet. ‘A man of Mr Bingley’s means would not need such a thing as a loan. He has all the money in the world! A loan indeed!’

  ‘University? Why I doubt he will be going anyway now he has gone completely loopy over Jane!’ said Kitty.

  ‘Really, Kitty!’ interjected Mary. ‘How could you speak in such ignorant terms? A young man of intelligence will always choose education over romance.’

  ‘Oh chill out, Mary!’

  ‘Why should I? My opinions are just as valuable as anyone else’s. In fact, I would go further to say that in the present company, they are probably more valuable.’ Mary licked her pistachio ice cream with vigour to prove her point.

  ‘And what about Mr Darcy? Wasn’t he insanely rude to poor Lizzy?’

  ‘He is very proud,’ said Lizzy, smiling. ‘But I suppose he is a fine and outrageously rich young man who can afford yachts and champagne, so I suppose you could forgive him for being a little proud. In fact, I would forgive him for being such a bad prawn if he had not made me feel like one, too.’

  Chapter 6

  As the summer days slipped by, the Bennets saw more and more of the Bingley party. Angelica proved invaluable for popping backwards and forwards to Netherpollock and Mill Bay. Bingley soon purchased his own rib, which he christened Little Miss Splendid, and the two rubber boats became a familiar sight nuzzling on the beach as their owners enjoyed picnics, games of cricket, and swimming in the clear waters. It became clear that Bingley was completely crazy about Jane. He was attentive and kind, always having a towel ready for her when she emerged shivering from the sea, offering a hand to help her to her feet after sunbathing may have made her dizzy, and in a daring moment, applying factor-fifty suncream to protect her snowy white back. Jane was cheerful and composed in response, so no one could guess which way her affections lay.

  Lizzy remarked on Jane’s strength of character to Lottie one day as they wandered down the beach towards the Venus Cafe for a quiet Magnum ice cream and was surprised by her friend’s response.

  ‘Jane’s behaviour might be admirable in your eyes, but she is playing a dangerous game.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Lizzy, astonished. ‘A dangerous game? Are you suggesting Bingley is not what he seems? Is he some sort of criminal or undercover agent who means to trick dear Jane into a subculture of espionage or…?’

  ‘Lizzy! Be serious. I simply mean that if Jane is so guarded in her behaviour, she may lose that which she most desires! Bingley is clearly head over heels in love with Jane, but if she shows him no encouragement, it may go no further. She must help him on.’

  ‘But if I can tell she has a high regard for him, he must be a simpleton indeed not to discover it, too.’

  ‘Lizzy, you have known Jane since the cradle. Bingley has only just become aware of her charms.’

  ‘And it is up to him to discover her feelings.’

  ‘Perhaps if he sees enough of her. But remember there are always crowds of sisters around. Jane should ensure that she contrives at least some time in his company alone. When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as she chooses.’

  ‘Fine, if her only desire is to be well married. But she has known him barely a fortnight and may not be sure yet of her own feelings. She has swum with him several times at Mill Bay and has visited Captain Morgan’s twice with him for a slap-up breakfast, the Winking Prawn three times to enjoy a dozen king prawns for lunch, and snuggled up in the oak-beamed Victoria Inn four times for a fireside supper—but all in company. This is not quite enough to make her understand his character.’

  ‘Not as you represent it. Had she merely visited a public house with him, it would be enough to ascertain whether he preferred Becks or Stella Artois; but you must remember that four evenings have also been spent in an intimate atmosphere together—and four evenings may do a great deal.’

  ‘Yes. Those four evenings have enabled them to ascertain that they both like Vampire Weekend better than Glasvegas; but with respect to any other leading characteristic, I do not imagine that much has been unfolded.’

  ‘Well,’ said Lottie, ‘I wish Jane all happiness, but I think she could dive in, tie the knot tomorrow, and be as happy as if she spent the next twelve months researching Charles Bingley and his suitability for marriage.’

  ***

  So occupied was Lizzy in observing Mr Bingley’s attentions to her sister that she failed to notice that she was becoming the object of some interest in the eyes of his friend Mr Darcy. Darcy, who had initially dismissed Lizzy, had become alarmed that with further observation where he had at first seen fault, he now saw strengths. Her face that he had so criticised, he now saw was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. Her manners, though not fashionable by Bingley’s sisters’ standards, were of a light and playful sort that could not fail to attract. In short, Darcy, despite himself, was falling in love.

  ***

  It was at Sir William Lucas’s barbeque bash that very evening that Darcy found himself wishing to become better acquainted with Elizabeth. It was a warm and balmy evening. Sir William had assiduously completed his health-and-safety check before guests arrived and had placed the barbeque on an upper level of the terrace and carefully put red-and-white tape around the steps leading to it to ensure no one should venture into such dangerous territory without his permission. Signs alerted guests to the uneven nature of the pavings, the drop to the side into the estuary, the fact that the sausages might be hot, so to wait at least three minutes before biting, and that drinks were limited to two each to avoid unpleasant side effects. With great pleasure and professionalism, Sir William generously gave a little health-and-safety speech once all the guests were gathered to advise them on dangers and precautions necessary, and then bade them to enjoy themselves, but not excessively.

  Lydia and Kitty failed to heed the final warning of ‘not excessively’ and were on a mission to enjoy themselves a great deal. Barbeque parties in Salcombe were a thing to be treasured, grasped, and revelled in. Some of the more chavvy young guests, who had joined the party only by slipping through a hole in the social net of the Lucas invitation list, feared possible limitations on alcohol from Sir William, so prepared themselves by frontloading before arrival. Fortunately, the facility to vom over the sea wall meant the indiscretions of this minority passed largely unnoticed by the majority.

  Lydia and Kitty were by no means of this category, but once at the party, gaily ignored the limit on two drinks and were soon singing, dancing, and laughing outrageously loudly with the clutch of handsome young men who had excessive thatches of blond hair or spiky black hair, wore pink shirts with the collars turned up and tails out, long shorts that fell off their waists and balanced dangerously on skinny hips, looking as if they might slip farther with the slightest provocation, and to Sir William’s disgust, soft shoes with no socks—a smelly result at best, a health hazard at worst. But still, he was in no mood to complain. He was the host, after all, and was all smiles as the young people partied hard around him. He was surprised but delighted that Mr Darcy had deigned to come along.

  ‘Is this not a pleasant evening?’ Sir William ventured. ‘It is always such a joy to see young people enjoying themselves, and,’ he continued, observing a young man break dancing, ‘h
ow well they dance.’

  ‘Any savage can dance,’ retorted Darcy.

  At that moment, Lizzy happened to step to one side to avoid being kicked in the teeth by the break-dancer and found herself directly before Sir William and Darcy.

  ‘Ah, Elizabeth!’ said Sir William. ‘Mr Darcy and I were just discussing the pleasures of dancing. What a perfect opportunity for you, too, to show your prowess on the dance floor.’

  Mr Darcy, though surprised, was not averse to taking Elizabeth as a partner, although break dancing was not his forte.

  ‘Do not suppose I stepped this way hoping for a partner,’ said Elizabeth quickly.

  Mr Darcy acknowledged this but reiterated Sir William’s suggestion that they might dance. Lizzy was determined in her refusal and moved away. Darcy’s eyes followed her lithe figure as she threaded her way through the gyrating bodies.

  ‘Hmmm.’ A voice at his shoulder failed to avert his gaze.

  ‘I can guess the subject of your reverie.’

  It was Cazza Bingley.

  ‘I should imagine not.’

  ‘I think you are wishing to escape such a grotesque party?’

  ‘You are quite wrong. I was meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.’

  ‘And who is the owner of these “fine eyes?”’

  ‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’

  ‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Why, I am all astonishment. When are we to wish you joy?’

  Mr Darcy allowed Cazza to continue in such a vein. He meanwhile spent the rest of the evening in pleasant observation.

  Chapter 7

  The following day, great excitement was felt as it was rumoured a pack of lifeguards were descending on the seaside town, where they would be staying to attend training exercises. The girls—and especially Kitty and Lydia—could think of nothing but rippling torsos encased in yellow T-shirts and muscular thighs locked in red shorts. Tales of bravery and rescue were the most enchanting of conversations. After listening to their prattling on this subject, Mr Bennet put down the Daily Telegraph and coolly observed, ‘From your conversation, you must be the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it for some time, but I am now convinced.’

  ‘How could you say such a thing about your own daughters?’ retorted Mrs Bennet. ‘They are not foolish! Indeed, they are clever. Why they are all “A” class students and will all go to excellent universities, I’ll be bound.’

  ‘Universities? My dear, I thought you were only concerned with husbands,’ said Mr Bennet, feigning surprise. ‘But now you mention it,’ he continued, turning his attention to Lizzy, ‘with Jane considering History of Art as a suitable course for a young lady, have you made your decision yet? Do you have a subject? A place of learning? Your room seems piled high in prospectus… or should that be prospectii?’

  ‘Durham is a possibility, Father,’ replied Lizzy.

  ‘Durham! Why Durham? It is a cold, far-flung place that will enable you to escape your sisters, but is that a good enough reason?’

  ‘That is not my reason, Father. It is one of the best universities, with a fine department, and to top it all, with its medieval castle and cathedral, they say it is very pretty.’

  ‘Hmmm. Well visit it first, my dear. You don’t want to be disappointed.’

  ‘Oh!’ A screech from Jane who was sitting before her Apple laptop made all heads turn.

  ‘What is it, my dear?’ asked Mrs Bennet.

  ‘An email, Mother. From Cazza Bingley.’

  ‘What does it say? Read it out!’

  ‘Hey, Jane. Lulu, Hattie, and I are so bored right now. Chas has gone off surfboarding. We are marooned here in Netherpollock. Come to munch at lunch with us b4 we go bonkers! Muchos love, Cazza :)’

  ‘You must go directly,’ said Mrs Bennet, excited.

  ‘Shall I take Angelica?’

  ‘No,’ retorted her mother. ‘It looks like a storm might be brewing. Sail across in the topper, and then you will get marooned at East Portlemouth and will have to stay the night.’

  Within half an hour, Jane was ready to go. She had on a flimsy dress on top of which she wore a bright orange, bulky life jacket, which slightly spoilt the delicate effect of the dress, but even Mrs Bennet did not want her daughter to actually drown. As she sat in the topper and was pushed off from the pontoon, the sun was still ominously shining, but Mrs Bennet was reassured to see thunderous black clouds thickening on the horizon. By the time Jane was sailing across the centre of the estuary, a massive storm had blown up. Later, Lizzy was not surprised to receive a message on her phone.

  ‘Lizzy. Got soaked. Whacked on head by boom. Knocked unconscious but picked up by passing fisherman while floating facedown in sea. Been to Plymouth hospital. Twenty head stitches for large gash, broken jaw, and arm in plaster. Back at Bingley’s. Staying night. nbd. Hugs. Jane xx’

  Lizzy related this news to the rest of the family, and Mr Bennet was able to comfort his wife.

  ‘At least if Jane were to die, you could feel it was all in pursuit of Mr Bingley.’

  ‘Jane will not die!’ said Mrs Bennet indignantly. ‘She just has a little scratch. Lizzy, what are you doing?’

  ‘I am going to visit Jane.’

  ‘But why are you putting on your wetsuit?’

  ‘I am going to swim across. The freezing water will do me good.’

  ‘Swim! You will not be fit to be seen.’

  ‘I will be fit to be seen by Jane, and that is all that matters.’

  ‘I admire the active form of your benevolence,’ observed Mary, looking up from Advanced Physics III, ‘but every impulse of feeling should be guided by reason; and in my opinion, exertion should always be in proportion to what is required.’

  Lizzy could hear nothing, as she had now added a rubber head protector, and along with flippers, mask, and snorkel was making her way out of the front door, down Island Street, and descending into the water. It was icy in the sea, but Lizzy relished the challenge, striking out and cutting her way through waves with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the shore. With weary limbs, she crawled up Small’s Cove. She was pleased to see all the Bingley party, apart from Jane, assembled before a windshield. Her appearance as an unidentified swimmer emerging from the water caused great surprise and confusion as she tried, possibly in error, to explain her errand before removing her mask and snorkel and making her identity clear. That she should have swum alone across such waters seemed incredible to Cazza, Lulu, and Hattie, and Lizzy was convinced that they held her in contempt for it. But she was greeted with politeness by them all and by more than politeness by Bingley, who went into spasms of ‘Splendid! Delightful! Splendid!’ to her every remark. Mr Darcy said very little, and Mr Hurst, Hattie’s overweight boyfriend, said nothing at all. The former was full of admiration for the dripping wet form before him, watching the rivulets of water stream from her hair and down the rubber-clad body. The latter was thinking only of his prelunch snifter.

  Cazza, with all generosity, took Lizzy up to the house to where Jane was lying in the guest room.

  ‘She has not slept well, I am afraid. She is still feverish and has not left her room.’

  Upon entering, Lizzy could entirely comprehend her sister’s inability for exertion. Jane’s beautiful face was barely visible, wrapped in a swathe of bandages that covered her from head to toe. Her right arm was held aloft in plaster, and what Jane had not alerted Lizzy to in her text, not wanting to alarm her, was the broken leg that now pointed to the heavens, held up in traction.

  ‘Oh, my dear Jane!’ exclaimed Lizzy. ‘You are not well.’

  Jane’s one visible eye spoke volumes, so the two sisters sat in silence for some time until Jane dropped into a merciful sleep.

  Lizzy returned downstairs where the rest of the party had now gathered for afternoon tea. It was quickly ascertained that Jane was not yet well enough to leave, and the suggestion was made that Lizzy should s
tay at Netherpollock to help speed her sister’s recovery. Lizzy accepted with alacrity, and Bingley was dispatched in Little Miss Splendid to collect some attire from 3 Island Street for Lizzy, so she could change out of her wetsuit.

  Chapter 8

  At dinner, Lizzy looked radiant in cropped jeans and a smart pale blue-and-white Crew shirt. Civil enquiries poured in with regards to the patient who, by the ladies, was then soon forgotten, restoring Lizzy to her original dislike of them.

  Bingley’s contrasting constant thoughts for Jane, however, endeared her still more to him, although even in her own mind, his attentions were verging on the excessive. ‘Do you think her right eye will recover to its former glory? Of course, I don’t mind, for her left eye is more than beautiful enough for one person, but I would not like her to be upset.’ And ‘Oh how gracefully she walked previously—I do pray for her sake she will not develop a limp—although of course I should not mind, only mind for her sake.’ And ‘Oh how she had the voice of an angel. Do you think she will be able to speak as sweetly as before? Of course I would not mind if she had no voice at all, as her angelic looks are enough for me, but it might inconvenience her.’ And ‘What if her right arm should not mend? Would she be able to paint and draw and do embroidery as well as previously? Of course I would not mind; her left arm is quite delightful enough for me, but it might upset her to be so encumbered.’ And so on and so forth until Lizzy barely knew which part of Jane’s body had not been discussed and wished for total recovery.

  Mr Darcy said little but continued to observe, and Mr Hurst simply ate.

  After dinner, Lizzy returned to Jane who, by blinking with her one visible eye, managed to indicate she was feeling a little better.

  Downstairs, Cazza, Lulu, and Hattie amused themselves by discussing their horror at Lizzy’s cross-estuary swim.

  ‘Why must she be frolicking about in the waves like that just because her sister had met with a slight misfortune? Her hair so untidy, so blowsy!’