Mr. Darcy Goes Overboard (12 page)

Lydia, it seemed, was safe at last. She returned to 3 Island Street, apparently intact though with a tattoo of an anchor on the back of her neck and a sheepish Wickham in tow. She delighted in teasing her elder siblings that she now had a proper boyfriend, and everything thereafter was 'My boyfriend this...' and 'My boyfriend that...' Wickham was welcomed with open arms into the bosom of Mrs Bennet, who, on seeing Lydia, had recovered immediately. It seemed the lies and deceptions of Polegate were over.

'So, Mother, what do you think of my boyfriend?' Lydia asked the delighted Mrs Bennet. 'Don't you wish your elder daughters were no longer on the shelf?'

This was too much for Lizzy and Jane, who rushed out in tears.

Later that day, the girls were sitting on the quayside, admiring Wickham's fine windsurfing talents--or at least Lydia was admiring him, when she happened to say, 'Aren't things strange. Here I am with my boyfriend, and you, Jane, and Lizzy with none. But never mind. You never know what might turn up. Talking of turning up, wasn't it strange that that horrible Mr Darcy came into Tottie's with Uncle G and dragged me away--just as I was about to get my best tip ever! Can you believe it! Just as we were leaving, the manager came out, and Darcy had a real hoo hah with him and got me struck off my contract that dear Wickham had worked so hard to set up!' Lydia clasped her hand to her mouth. '...Oh!--it was all meant to be a secret! Oh, fish hooks!'

Lizzy nearly fell off the quayside in shock. So Darcy was the saviour! Oh, Lor! Darcy! Questions, rapid and wild, crowded her mind. Feelings, passions, possibilities rose to the surface and were then quelled immediately by reasoning. She walked on into town, but nothing could distract her; not Jane imploring her to try on the bright pink sweatpants in Jack Wills that she had long coveted; not the glorious sight of
Bolt
,
Cadmus
, and
Wolf
, the rowing club's Cornish Pilot Gigs, out training; not the site of a common heron standing on the shoreline; not the sudden dramatic exit of
The Baltic Exchange III
all-weather lifeboat, leaving its pontoon on a rescue mission; not even Lydia offering to buy her a ginger-and-honeycomb ice cream from Salcombe Dairy. No! Her mind was in turmoil. Unable to relax in ignorance, Lizzy determined to send a text to Aunt G, begging her to clarify, to explain, to enable her to comprehend this extraordinary occurrence.

As Lizzy was scrambling about the rocks on Mill Bay later that day, her text from Aunt G was to surprise her further.

My dear Lizzy

Dear Aunt G. She always used text as if writing a letter.

How strange! I thought you knew all, otherwise Uncle G may not have acted as he did. But never mind that now. I will tell you what you are so anxious to hear.

When Lydia disappeared and Uncle G went to find her, he was surprised to meet with Darcy in Newquay. Darcy, it appeared, had discovered Lydia and Wickham's whereabouts! I am sorry to say that Wickham has behaved most abominably, and Lydia barely any better. Darcy apologised, saying that he knew of the dangers of Wickham's character and felt it was almost his fault. Lydia should have been warned. Warned! I ask you. She, unlike you and Jane, is a silly goose, and in my opinion, has behaved very badly. I digress, however. Darcy, with great generosity, sorted out the contract. He did all this with

Oh! Aunt G! With what? How frustrating! The text ended, and nothing more was waiting. But Lizzy had learnt enough. It was Darcy. But why? Could he really have done such a thing because he felt responsible? A quiet voice she could not suppress murmured that perhaps he had done it all for her. She checked the thought. How ridiculous. She had rejected him once, and besides, the last thing he would want would be to go out with a girl whose sister was going out with the abhorred Wickham. At that moment, Wickham himself appeared from behind a large seaweed-clad outcrop.

'Lizzy!' he said in surprise.

'Wickham!' she returned, challenging.

He grinned up at her, trying to gauge her feelings, but then slipped and looked likely to fall into the swirling sea below. Lizzy grasped him just in time, and his fate hung with her. After a fleeting hesitation, her kindheartedness and good sense won over. 'Come, Wickham, you are dating my sister now. Let us no longer argue.' And she pulled him back to safety, slapped him heartily on the back, and linking his arm in hers, they walked back along the sunlit beach.

Soon after her Newquay adventures, Lydia awoke one morning, having had a vivid dream that her life would change and she was destined to do great things. This played on her mind. Deep in thought, she made a cup of coffee and went to sit on the bench outside the Over 60's Club overlooking the harbour. A frail, elderly lady with skin as delicate as parchment and hair so wispy it was hardly there seemed to appear from nowhere and perched on the bench beside Lydia.

They fell into conversation. In a faint, whispery voice that at the same time had a mysterious strength and directness that pierced Lydia's very soul, the lady spoke of her own vocation. She was a nun and had devoted her life to helping others: survivors of natural disasters; abandoned orphans; victims of war; sufferers from horrendous diseases; prisoners; prostitutes; the blind; the deaf; the dumb; the lost; the limbless--even the lap dancers. Lydia thought of her own selfish life, burst into tears, vowed to reform, and perhaps, if God would allow, eventually take orders.

The nun comforted her and said salvation was open to all who opened their hearts and minds to repentance. She took Lydia's smooth, soft hand in her own feathery fingers and whispered that God would give her strength. Tears flowed down Lydia's cheeks. A haze blew in from over the sea, enveloping the two women, and when it was gone, the elderly lady, too, had disappeared. Lydia knew now that the dream last night had not been merely a dream but a vision, and that God had sent the nun to speak to her.

Hope surged through her selfish veins. She ran home, crying out that she had seen the light, was spurning her foolish ways, was determined to devote the rest of her life to helping others, and administered blessings to one and all. Mr Bennet was surprised. Kitty was openmouthed in shock. Lizzy, reading an article on 'Sisters of Mercy' in the
Daily Telegraph
, said that might be the first step of her salvation. Lydia saw Lizzy's reading that article at that very moment as a sign so clear and bright and shining that within half an hour she had booked herself an interview at the Sisters of Mercy recruiting office in London, which if successful, would see her sent off to build a school for abandoned children in Ecuador for the rest of the summer holidays.

'May the Lord bless you, Lizzy,' cried Lydia in ecstasy.

At that moment, Wickham appeared at the door.

'Ready for the beach?' he asked Lydia cheerfully.

'Not the beach you're thinking of! But if you think you can be saved, pack a rucksack with your most basic belongings,' replied the transformed Lydia. 'I am off to Ecuador on the first step to salvation. Come along if you like--but don't expect any fun and games from me!' she added, winking conspiratorially at her family.

'Actually, Lydia,' replied Wickham, blushing, 'there was something I was going to... I think I...'

Wickham's voice trailed off. To the Bennets' surprise, Denny also appeared by the doorway and stood beside Wickham.

'What Wickham is trying to say,' explained Denny, 'what he was going to say on the beach but perhaps best be said now is... well, Lydia, Wickham has decided to stay. With me.'

Denny put his arm protectively round Wickham's shoulder. Wickham stared at the pavement, unable to meet Lydia's eyes.

'On manoeuvres,' added Denny as if to explain.

'Of course,' said Lydia in a whisper. 'God bless you. Both.'

Wickham just managed a smile, and the two young men were gone.

'Well!' said Lydia, trying to take it all in. 'Well!' she repeated, recovering herself and regathering her thoughts, 'I guess it's time for me to get going, too!'

So with hugs, kisses, and a profusion of blessings to her mother, father, and sisters, Lydia, her face aglow with The Good News, left, her new life beckoning.

After the shock of Lydia's transformation, a jubilant Mr Bennet took himself off to Captain Morgan's for a full slap-up English breakfast of bacon, fried egg, black pudding, beans, sausages, mushrooms, and hash browns, followed by thick slabs of toast spread with thick dollops of butter and marmalade, to celebrate the miracle of his youngest daughter's redemption.

Mrs Bennet retired to The Wardroom--only to hear gossip that had made her splutter into her cappuccino once more. Mr Bingley was returning to Netherpollock!

Jane nearly choked on her tutti-frutti ice cream when she heard the news, but denied to observers she was at all affected by the rumour. Yet how could she be unaffected? All her hopes and dreams were tied up in that one name. Bingley! How she had fought them, subdued them, pretended to herself that they did not exist, and now all those passions threatened to well up again. It was too much!

A knock on the open door of 3 Island Street early in the evening, however, challenged her strongest powers of composure. Bingley stood there, resplendent in swimming trunks, and towel in hand. The girls were out in the yard at the back, busy making friendship bracelets, so Mrs Bennet welcomed Mr Bingley in. Bingley walked through the little house with a hop, skip, and a jump, and out into the yard. Jane did not dare raise her eyes. She firmly carried on, plaiting yellow over cerise over emerald green, until she became aware of blond hairs tickling her forehead.

'Jane,' said Bingley, leaning over, 'are you not going to say hello?'

'But of course,' said Jane, adding her greeting, and she looked up into the bluest, merriest eyes she had ever seen, and hope welled up once more.

'Whom are you making a friendship bracelet for?' enquired Bingley, smiling. 'A friend or a lover?'

'I... oh...' Jane was pink with confusion. Who, indeed, was she making the bracelet for? 'Mary,' she said for safety. Bingley looked disappointed. 'But I could make one for you!' she added hastily, sensing his disappointment. 'What are your favourite colours?'

Bingley took the opportunity to sit down beside Jane.

'Cornflower blue, like your eyes.'

'And like your cornflower blue eyes,' said Jane with a giggle, surprised at her own bravery for making a remark of such a personal and intimate nature. But Bingley was clearly delighted at such progress.

'Pink like your lips,' he continued, 'and let me see, gold like your hair would be just perfect, more than perfect.'

The young couple felt a shiver as their hands, selecting the coloured embroidery thread, touched.

There was a cough from the front door. The girls peered down the hallway. A figure, also in swimming trunks with a towel slung over broad shoulders, was outlined in the front door frame. Darcy.

'Oh dear,' said Mrs Bennet in a tone quite different from that she had used to greet Bingley.

'It's that miserable, moody man who always looks as if he's swallowed a lump of granite,' said Kitty too loudly. 'And he's got a horrible hairy chest. Like a gorilla!'

Lizzy, who had taken such pleasure in observing Jane, was paralysed. Darcy was not invited in by Mrs Bennet, and so his conversation, being conducted from a distance, was restricted, although he did ask Lizzy if she had seen her uncle or aunt of late.

When the time came for the two gentlemen to leave, Mrs Bennet took the opportunity to invite Bingley to join them for a picnic at Starehole Bay the following day.

'Wicked,' replied Bingley, which Mrs Bennet took as a 'yes.'

It was a blustery day as the party set off for the little beach, a not inconsiderable walk along the Devonshire coastline. The path was uneven and rocky in places, and Lizzy was happy to note Bingley grasping Jane's arm from time to time to prevent himself from slipping. They passed Sharp Tor, and crossing the stream, made the descent down to Starehole Bay. Mrs Bennet was all shrieks and alarm as the shaly ground constantly threatened to slip from beneath her and in the end got the better of her, and she tumbled the last forty feet, taking with her Darcy, who had surprised all by coming along, too, and had been leading the way, alone with his own thoughts. Lizzy was mortified to see her mother grasping at Darcy as she fell, pulling him with her down the remainder of the path, onto the beach, where Mrs Bennet fell in a heap. To his credit, Darcy helped her to her feet, and they brushed themselves down and waited for the remainder of the party to make a more genteel entrance onto the sandy shore.

The picnic was spread out, and the girls wrapped themselves in towels, and shrieking, wriggling and hopping about on one leg and then another, changed into their bikinis. Bingley and Darcy coyly retired to the rocks for their changing room. When they emerged in swimming trunks, the girls could not fail to be impressed. Bingley was slim and trim, and Jane had eyes only for him. But as for Mr Darcy! Fit, muscular, glowing. A silent gasp uttered by the remaining group of women left them openmouthed as he approached across the sands. Only Mary was unable to restrain herself, and to her embarrassment, let out a squeak, quickly covering her mouth to prevent further eruptions and then burrowing into her bag for her physics textbook
Electric Surges
to divert her mind and recover her reputation. Kitty broke the ice and suggested a game of volleyball before lunch. Bingley and Darcy were selected to pick teams. Lizzy was desperate to see if Bingley would choose Jane first, which he did. Jane went and stood by him, both only too aware of the proximity of their nearly naked bodies.

'Splendid!' cried Bingley. 'Now, Darcy,' he enthused, desperately trying to divert his own attention from the attractions of Jane, 'your turn!'

Darcy stared at the three sisters before him. Three young women in swimwear. It was hard to think with his usual clarity. His eyes moved swiftly from Kitty to Mary to Lizzy, where they stopped, taking her all in from head to toe to head, where they locked with Lizzy's. After a full two minutes, Lizzy felt impelled to turn away, but Darcy still did not speak.

'Come now, Darcy!' encouraged Bingley. 'I must have you choose. I hate to see you standing about in this stupid manner. If you do not hurry, the tide will have come up and drowned us all before we have had a chance to even throw the ball.'

Darcy opened his mouth, and still looking as if in a trance at Lizzy, so tempting, clad in so very little, said very slowly, 'Mary.'

Lizzy, it must be said, felt some disappointment but smiled gamely, and in the event, ended up on Bingley's team. This did give her the opportunity to observe Darcy at length, who was observing her rather than the ball, and this, combined with Jane and Bingley both inclined to say 'After you' before hitting the ball, led to a poor standard of play. This, however, could not keep the young people's spirits down, and once the game was complete, there was a general dash into the sea. Much splashing followed, and Kitty dared them all to a swimming race to Bellhouse Rock and back. Lizzy found herself swimming beside Darcy, and they had a few polite words about Durham until mountains of surf reduced conversation to small exclamations. They all reached Bellhouse Rock successfully and sat to get their breath until someone said, 'Where's Mary?'

'Help! Help!' came a thin cry from the seas.

Mary was in the process of drowning. Bingley and Darcy gamely dived in and hauled her out of the water, and while Bingley pumped her chest, it fell to Darcy, reluctantly some would say, to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Lizzy was ablaze with emotion as she watched. She almost felt it would have been worth nearly drowning herself for such salvation. But she had rejected him once. Who could possibly expect that a man such as Darcy would ever repeat his overtures? No. It was over. Silly girl.

***

Back on the beach, everyone declared the picnic a great success: marmite sandwiches had never tasted so good, and the prawns made only one person ill. The party returned to Salcombe in high spirits, Jane especially walking on air.