‘And her fingers and toes blue with cold. Quite blue!’
‘All lost on me,’ said Bingley. ‘I thought Lizzy looked remarkably well when she emerged from the sea this morning. Her blue extremities quite escaped my notice.’
‘You observed it, Mr Darcy, I am sure, and I am afraid that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.’
‘Not at all,’ he replied, ‘even through her mask I could see that they were brightened by the exercise.’
Cazza was brought to a momentary silence by this remark, but then continued, ‘Jane is a sweet girl, and I hope she will be married well. But with such parents and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it.’
‘No. And what is more, they are state educated. They have little hope.’
‘State educated they may be, but grammar girls,’ cried Bingley. ‘By my understanding, they are as bright as buttons!’
‘That, dear Brother, is your understanding.’
At that moment, Lizzy re-entered the room.
‘Ah, Lizzy! Do come and join us on our Wii,’ said Cazza, leaping up. ‘We thought we would play polo. You are familiar with polo, I presume?’
‘Sadly not. At our school, netball was the main sport. I was wing defence. No, I shall decline polo and would rather read.’
‘Read!’ cried Mr Hurst, astonished. ‘How could you prefer to read than play polo?’
‘Lizzy is a great reader,’ said Cazza. ‘She is insanely keen on reading, reading, reading, page after page after page, book after book after book, and has no pleasure in anything else.’
‘That is not true! I—’
‘I am sorry I have so pifflingly small a library,’ interjected Bingley. ‘I am afraid I am not a great reader myself, so have only a few classics for you to peruse—Dahl, Potter, Blyton—the usual stuff.’
‘I am sure you have a fine library aboard Pemberley, Darcy,’ said Cazza. ‘Your father was a beast of a reader.’
‘I do.’
‘And tell me, will your sweet sister, Georgiana, be joining us soon? She must be much grown. GCSE’s I do believe. And such a bright girl—top of her class at a top public school. And what accomplishments—polo, of course, and she plays the pianoforte like a dream.’
Chapter 9
The following day, Lizzy was horrified to see Mrs Bennet, Lydia, and Kitty landing at Small’s Cove and making their way up the cliff path to Netherpollock. Mrs Bennet was pleased to discover that Jane was not in any danger, and so had no wish for her to recover more quickly than necessary and wished instead to prolong her daughter’s stay.
Bingley, all smiles, invited his visitors to stay for morning coffee, an invitation Mrs Bennet accepted with alacrity.
‘Do you have hot chocolate?’ asked Lydia. ‘I was freezing to death on the boat. My fingers are like icebergs.’
‘Of course! Hot chocolate it is,’ Bingley replied, all generosity and geniality.
‘And how do you like Salcombe, Mr Bingley?’ enquired Mrs Bennet. ‘I do hope we will have the pleasure of your company down here for many a summer to come.’
‘Oh it is the most splendid, delightful, splendid location!’ enthused Bingley. ‘Why I could spend the rest of my days here!’
‘And how about you, Mr Darcy?’
‘I prefer my boat, which gives me the opportunity to move on.’
‘Is the company not good enough for you here?’
‘In a small town, the company is naturally less varied than in a larger.’
‘I’ll have you know, Mr Darcy, that we keep a good range of company here—most variable and all with mannerisms! We picnic often, for instance, with Sir William Lucas—such a man of fashion! So careful and so concerned! He has always something on health-and-safety matters to say to everybody—That is my idea of good breeding; and those arrogant, bigheaded, supercilli… silly persons who fancy themselves superior and never open their mouths except to be rude and supercilli… silly… quite, quite mistake the matter!’
An embarrassed silence ensued until Lydia, remembering, reminded Mr Bingley of his promise to give a beach party.
‘I am perfectly ready to keep my promise, and as soon as your dear sister has recovered, you may name the date, and the party will be set.’
Lydia and Kitty squeaked in delight, and to Lizzy’s relief, left with their mother before any more damage could be done.
Chapter 10
The Bingley party had become particularly fond of The Ferry Inn, which lay on the waterside directly across the estuary from Netherpollock. Evening entertainment saw them take to the seas in Little Miss Splendid to cross the harbour and enjoy the real ale and other liquid refreshments available at this lively inn.
It meant leaving the invalid, Jane, still in traction on the other side of the waters, but they supplied her with a torch, and it was felt that if the pain worsened and that she was in mortal danger or in need of extra morphine, she could always signal across by flashing in Morse code.
Lizzy was amused to note on these occasions how outrageously Cazza would flirt with Darcy, complimenting him on his speed of texting (‘I text rather slowly’ came the reply), how masterfully he managed Little Miss Splendid’s tiller (‘No better than any other man before me’) and what fine taste he had in beers (‘I assure you, selecting a pint of Marston’s Pedigree does not make me a connoisseur’).
Karaoke was always leapt upon as a great diversion, and Cazza, Lulu, and Hattie delighted the locals in a bawdy rendition of ‘Je t’aime’, but Lizzy could not be prevailed upon. Darcy tried to encourage her to join in some arm wrestling, but she was not to be drawn. However, her sweet and fun-loving nature was having an effect. Darcy was bewitched.
Chapter 11
Frantic Morse coding from across the bay went unnoticed at The Ferry Inn until the group was departing and became aware of a flashing light. On landing on Small’s Cove, Lizzy leapt out of Little Miss Splendid and hurried up the cliff path to Jane’s room, whereupon she found her sister had fallen out of bed and had become entangled in the traction equipment.
‘I am sorry,’ said Jane, gasping through a web of bandages that had come loose. ‘I was merely trying to get to the window to send a Morse code message, as I was ravaged with pain. Oh!’
It was only now that Lizzy realised the folly of their plan: Jane’s torch could not be shone through the window at the correct angle to be seen at The Ferry Inn if she was lying in her bed. It was an unfortunate mistake. As Lizzy was pondering the error, Cazza, Lulu, and Hattie popped their heads round the door and claimed delight that Jane seemed to be recovering so speedily, then dashed downstairs to watch reality TV. Lizzy remained to heave Jane back into bed, retie her bandages—including strapping up the broken jaw, which as a consequence left her dear sister unable to speak again—and resetting the traction before descending to the drawing room, by which time the news had come on, and Cazza, yawning, suggested she and Lizzy take a turn on the treadmills.
‘I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.’
Lizzy accepted happily, and the young ladies started jogging two kilometers at a speed of 11.5. Darcy looked up at the spectacle, and Cazza immediately asked him to join them.
‘Try the rowing machine, Darcy. You have the perfect physique for rowing.’
Darcy declined and spent the rest of the evening exercising his vision in a most pleasing fashion.
Chapter 12
The next day, despite Mrs Bennet’s protestations, the elder Bennet girls decided the time had come to return to 3 Island Street, and Angelica was sent for. Jane was stretchered down the steep cliff path, swaddled in bandages, and deposited in the loyal inflatable. Lizzy waved good-bye to the Netherpollock party with relief, and Jane blinked repeatedly in gratitude, leaving the two young men, Bingley and Darcy, on the beach, feeling deflated by the departure of their recent acquaintances. Bingley remained on the sands, waving until Angelica and its precious cargo was out of si
ght; Darcy muttered an expletive and turned to walk at a fearsome pace across rugged cliff paths, determined to beat out unwelcome passions.
Chapter 13
The following week saw the Town Regatta commence in Salcombe. This was a week of uncommon excitement and challenging events. Running races, street art, and fancy dress were all on offer, but for the Bennet girls, the highlights had to be the Harbour Swim across the estuary and Greasy Pole competition.
Jane was recovering well, though Mary insisted she still bore a convincing resemblance to the Egyptian mummy Queen Hatshepsut. Mummy or not, Mr Bennet was relieved to have his two elder girls home. The remainder of his family had done their very best to drive him insane with their constant chitter-chatter about hunky lifeguards, rugged fishermen, and brave and bold lifeboatmen. He had one further reason to be glad of their return. Mr Bennet was in receipt of a letter, the contents of which he took the opportunity to reveal to his family over breakfast.
‘Mrs Bennet,’ he said, ‘I hope you will make a special visit to obtain fresh lobster today from a local pot, as we have a visitor for dinner tonight.’
‘But we are partying, Father!’ interrupted Lydia in dismay. ‘It’s Frankie C’s birthday, and he has invited all the beautiful young people to meet at Whitestrand at six, and then we’re walking over to North Sands to chill out on the beach for a bit before having cracked crab in the Winking Prawn. How awesome is that?’
‘Tonight, Lydia, you will dine with us,’ interjected Mr Bennet with unusual firmness. ‘I have received a letter from a gentleman and a stranger.’
The pairing of the words held the young lady’s attention momentarily.
‘It’s Mr Bingley!’ cried Mrs Bennet. ‘Why, Jane, did you say nothing of it?’
‘It is not Mr Bingley,’ said Mr Bennet with patience. ‘It is from my cousin Mr Collins, who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of Longbourn and 3 Island Street as soon as he pleases!’
‘Oh, that odious man!’ exclaimed Mrs Bennet. ‘I cannot bear to hear his name! How unfair it is that he should inherit our family’s wealth and leave our girls penniless!’
‘We will not be penniless, Mother, for we are educated and are going to university, and will, God willing, have a career.’
‘A career! A career! What do I care for a career?’ wailed Mrs Bennet. ‘All I care for is to see my five daughters well married, for they will inherit nothing. Nothing!’
‘Calm yourself, my dear,’ commanded Mr Bennet. ‘Let me read you an extract from his letter, which may perhaps soften you towards him.’
‘Dear Sir, sorry about the mix-up between our papas. Mine has now gone to a better place, and I, having recently been ordained, find myself quite dashing in a dog collar and in a good spot, fiscally speaking, and thinking outside the box (or kennel!) would be more than happy to touch base with you and your daughters to heal the chasm, and since my boss, Lady Catherine de Brrr, has condescended to see me married off, I will hasten to you and arrive at six.
Yours, William C’
At six o’clock, Mr Collins did indeed arrive. He had an excessive number of bags and was unable to find a space for his car. This caused him great anxiety, as he did not want to be issued with a parking ticket, as firstly, it was not seemly for a vicar to be reprimanded in such a manner, and secondly, Lady Catherine de Brrr would be seriously displeased. Mary stepped forward to offer her services and guided the distressed guest to the Batson Creek car park, where he failed to have the right amount of change, but Mary again was happy to help and demonstrated the method of being able to easily dispose of a large number of coins into the machine.
Once Mr Collins was successfully located in his room on the second floor of the little terraced house, Lydia made a general announcement at the top of her voice that they should hurry, for the Greasy Pole competition was about to take place.
Mr Collins was anxious to accompany the girls and had already spied that Jane seemed exceedingly pretty and commented to Mrs Bennet as he passed her in the hall that he thought her eldest daughter would make an excellent Mrs Collins.
‘You flatter us, Mr Collins, with your kind attentions,’ replied Mrs Bennet in a whisper, ‘but I should tell you that Jane is practically engaged.’
‘Oh!’ Mr Collins looked crestfallen, but then, after a moment’s thought, transferred his affections to Elizabeth, and—as far as he was concerned—all was well.
‘Come on!’ urged Lydia.
Mary attempted to walk with Mr Collins along the small path that took them round to the quayside where a large crowd was gathering, but Mr Collins seemed anxious to sidle up to Lizzy. He eventually found himself in what seemed to be a queue, and although he devoted himself to interesting conversation, felt the attentions of the young ladies were not with him and something was going on which he was not really party to.
Ahead, there was a great deal of noise—shouting, laughing, and rather unnervingly for Mr Collins, splashing. He soon became aware that the queue was moving slowly but undeniably towards the edge of the water, but he still could not quite make out what was going on.
Suddenly and to his horror, he saw that Lydia was pulling off her strappy top, which he had already considered immodest, and then worse, peeling off her excessively short skirt, and the rest of her sisters were following suit, even Lizzy, the object of his affections. The five girls now stood before him, all in the skimpiest of bikinis, apart from Jane, who still had plaster on arms and legs, and Mary, who wore a more modest all-in-one swimsuit and was now tucking her short hair into an unbearably tight-fitting bathing cap.
‘Come along, Mr Collins,’ cried Kitty, laughing. ‘Get your kit off!’
‘I will most certainly not! What would Lady Catherine think?’
‘Oh hurry up!’ said Lydia impatiently, and she grabbed at Mr Collins’s shorts. Before he knew it, he was standing in his Y-fronts, shivering on the quayside.
‘I say! This is outrageous! Give me back my clothes!’
‘Too late. It’s your go!’ cried Kitty in delight.
Mr Collins found himself now at the front of the queue and before him a long pole, about the width of a telegraph pole, was extended horizontally out over the water. At the end of the extrusion, which was greased for extra slipperiness, to his amazement sat Lydia, practically naked, laughing and shrieking. On the safe land side, a jolly middle-aged woman, fully dressed, ushered Mr Collins onto the pole.
‘Off you go. See if you can knock the young lady off!’
The true horror of the situation now unfolded to the unhappy clergyman. About one hundred people stood lining the quayside. About fifty more were bobbing around in the water. With great caution, Mr Collins sat down on the pole, legs dangling each side, and edged his flabby white body along and out over the sea.
‘Oh my! Oh my!’ he muttered involuntarily, finding the constant lurching forward exceedingly uncomfortable and more than a little painful.
‘Come on!’ shrieked Lydia.
After several agonising minutes, during which he nearly lost his balance several times, Mr Collins found himself face-to-face with Lydia.
‘On your marks, get set, go!’ commanded the woman from the safety of the bank.
Lydia swung her right arm at Mr Collins, who by chance sneezed, and in doing so, ducked. Lydia was caught off-balance and, with a shriek, fell into the sea. Mr Collins was the victor! A cheer went up from the spectators. It was all over so quickly.
‘Turn around!’ came the command from the shore.
With colossal difficulty, Mr Collins heaved his ungainly body around to face back to shore. Once round, he looked up and saw Lizzy herself, the object of his affections, edging towards him along the pole, delightful in her blue polka-dot bikini.
‘Oh, my Lord,’ breathed Collins. ‘Oh my! Oh my!’
Lizzy got closer and closer.
‘On your marks, get set, go!’ commanded the woman from the side once more.
With pudgy fingers, Mr Collins grabbed hold of Liz
zy’s arms and she his, trying to push him into the sea, so for a moment or two they rocked from side to side until suddenly all balance was lost and they fell, still locked in each other’s arms, into the salty waters.
They rose spluttering, Mr Collins gasping for breath, Lizzy almost drowning in her hilarity. Along the bank, a cheer and roar of laughter went up from the spectators, only superseded by an even greater cheer and roar of laughter as a pair of Y-fronts was, a few moments later, seen floating on the surface.
Chapter 14
Later that evening, during dinner with the family, Mr Collins attempted to regain his dignity and personal sense of importance. He began by directing his first remarks in a suitably formal manner to Mr Bennet.
‘Mr Bennet, I do not presume to come to this thy table trusting in my own righteousness but in thy manifold…’
‘Oh, there is no need for that!’ interjected Mrs Bennet, not quite following Mr Collins’s train of thought but feeling he was unnecessarily apologising for something.
‘My dear, you have interrupted an important speech!’ chided Mr Bennet, much amused. ‘Mr Collins, pray do go on.’
‘Thy manifold… er… great and many, many manifolds… and… oh mercy!’
Mr Collins had little idea of what he was going to say in the first place and had launched out by using familiar words which now he started to feel were out of context. He was sure he had heard them somewhere before. Whilst he was pondering this, a silence fell over the table, broken only by a sudden exclamation from Lydia.
‘Oh, Lor! There seem to be some crumbs under the table. Gather them up, Kitty!’
Girlish laughter spilled over, and Mr Collins, confused and perplexed, felt the moment had come to redirect the conversation to a subject of which he was certain of his expertise. With this in mind and to the delight of Mr Bennet, Mr Collins talked with great eloquence, longevity, and deference about his patron, Lady Catherine de Brrr, her admirable condescension, and her daughter, who by not being presented at Court, had deprived Britain of its brightest ornament.
Mr. Darcy Goes Overboard Page 4
