There was a ripple of excitement across the beach. The Harbour Master had transferred all contenders; from his wooden boat, twenty yards out to sea, he was holding an oar aloft; the sea was choppy but not wild; the tide was high; the early morning sun sparkled: the moment had come.
‘When I drop my oar, it is the signal to start,’ he bellowed. Despite the megaphone, nobody could hear his words, yet despite not hearing his words, everyone got the gist. Almost. The oar had not quite dropped, but everyone knew he was on the verge—the sound of his voice had been enough, excitement overspilled, and the several hundred people who had waited so patiently and with such good humour on the beach now ran at full speed into the water.
The splashing was unprecedented, the battle roar tremendous as bodies large and small, fat and thin, old and young hurled themselves voluntarily into the waves. Lydia and Kitty found themselves at the forefront with Denny and a group of six fit young men. Mary, not wishing to be last, had allowed herself to be swept along with the crowd and was swimming sidestroke in a regular, balanced motion, trying to recite the periodic table to take her mind off the cold. Bingley had made a dash for it with Jane, and they were destined to enjoy a most romantic swim across, with the young man feeling he had fallen in love with a mermaid, so beautifully—in his eyes—did the eldest Miss Bennet glide through the water. Lizzy, meanwhile, was right at the back. Mr Collins had not released his grip of her when the rush began. Being right by the shore as everyone charged in, the pair found themselves near the front, but they were soon overtaken.
‘Oh, it’s cold!’ shrieked Mr Collins, hopping about, barely toe deep. ‘Oh my! Oh my!’
‘Come on!’ insisted Lizzy impatiently.
Mr Collins was forced to let go of Lizzy’s hand, as he could not swim and be noble, being good at neither. Lizzy waded out and struck off, but her kind heart impelled her to turn to see that Mr Collins was now only waist deep and still not swimming but bobbing around on tiptoes, trying not to get wet.
‘Oh my! Oh my! I can hardly breathe! Oh my!’
‘You can swim, can’t you?’ shouted Lizzy.
‘Oh my! Of course! Lady Catherine condescended herself to compliment me on hearing that I achieved my Duckling Award at the tender age of six but…’
He tripped and lunged forward into the water. Lizzy was not able to tell if he was swimming or floundering. The buoyancy of his wetsuit seemed to keep him roughly afloat, but they were going at such a slow pace that the other swimmers were moving away.
‘Mr Collins, we will never cross the estuary at this rate. Can you not speed up?’
‘I…! Oh! I think I have swallowed a fish! I…! Oh my!’
Mr Collins, now progressed to deeper water, was coughing and spluttering and flailing his arms around and indeed looked in danger of drowning. They were out of their depths, and Lizzy had serious cause for concern.
‘Oh my! Oh…’
Mr Collins disappeared under the waters.
‘Mr Collins! Mr Collins!’ She looked around, but there was no sign. She dived under. Nothing could be seen! She dived again. Nothing! It seemed Mr Collins had completely disappeared!
‘Help! Help! Over here!’ Lizzy waved frantically at the lifeguards who were floating around on surfboards for the very purpose of rescuing anyone in difficulties. But as she waved, she felt a tug on her leg and was pulled underwater. Something black enveloped her, pushing her down, deeper and deeper. As it pushed her deeper, it propelled itself upwards. Lizzy thought her lungs would burst. Almost too late, she escaped the great weight, and freed, swam desperately to the surface. Only moments from death, she managed to gasp in great mouthfuls of air, and even in such desperate straits, she was conscious of the sight of the great black posterior of Mr Collins being heaved onto a surfboard and his plaintive cry of ‘Oh my! Oh my! I nearly drowned! Oh! Oh! Oh!’
Mr Collins safe and thankfully out of the way, Lizzy now filled her lungs with air and struck out with vigour. She was a fine swimmer and was determined, despite this initial setback, not to finish last. She sped through the water, doing a fast crawl, enjoying the physical challenge and soon catching up with a clutch of swimmers. At the same time, she became aware that someone was swimming alongside her. She paused for breath, and on looking round, to her astonishment saw it was Mr Darcy! He, too, was a fine swimmer and seemed able to talk and swim at the same time with ease.
‘I do hope you do not mind me accompanying you, Miss Bennet?’
‘You are hardly alone in accompanying me, Mr Darcy. There are at least four hundred other swimmers in the vicinity.’
‘I mean swim alongside you?’
‘If you wish.’
And Lizzy struck out as fast as she could, but to her irritation, found that Darcy managed to keep up with her.
They were soon overtaking Sir William Lucas, who was swimming at a cautious rate.
‘Ah, Lizzy! Darcy!’ he puffed. ‘This sea is full of young people swimming with such style and grace. Allow me to say, Mr Darcy, your young partner does not disgrace you, and I am sustained in my efforts by thoughts of a desirable event, my dear Eliza, that may soon take place.’ And he glanced across at Jane and Bingley, who were swimming now at a leisurely pace just to starboard. Darcy was halted in his tracks by this thought, which seemed to strike him forcibly. Uncharacteristically he seemed to lose control and swallow an unwise amount of seawater, causing a temporary spluttering and coughing. Lizzy, wishing to escape, took her chance and swam swiftly on. Yet Darcy, recovered, hastened to catch up again, which to Elizabeth’s annoyance, he did and proceeded to encourage conversation whilst swimming on his back.
‘What think you of books?’
‘Books? I feel we will be all at sea in our varying opinions of books, Mr Darcy.’
‘Then let us discuss our opinions.’
‘Opinions? I remember you once saying that once you have an opinion of someone you will not change. You must be cautious about forming those opinions.’
‘Indeed I am.’
‘And you are never blinded by prejudice?’
‘I hope not.’
‘First impressions must be most important to you. Oh, sorry!’
Lizzy’s apology came from her error in coming into contact with a rather porky man to her port.
‘To what are you alluding?’
‘Your character, Mr Darcy. I have heard so many conflicting opinions that I am having trouble making you out.’
‘I would wish, Miss Bennet, that you would not sketch my character at present, as I have reason to fear that some may not wish to give you the best impression. Ouch!’
The portly gentleman swerved to avoid Lizzy, and in doing so, hit Darcy in a most uncomfortable spot. Darcy, for the second time, found himself spluttering and gasping—this time in agony, and Lizzy, for the second time, found an opportunity to escape and merged into a group of swimmers just ahead.
‘Oh, Lizzy!’ came the haughty voice of Lulu. ‘I must warn you that your beloved Wickham is not all that he seems. Darcy has always been remarkably kind to him—even though he was only a trumped up…’
‘That is enough, Louisa!’ retorted Lizzy angrily. ‘Wickham himself told me of his background, which it seems is his only crime, and I will not be prejudiced against him for that reason!’
And with that, Lizzy swam off with as much energy as she could muster, not waiting to hear Lulu’s ‘Oh, no need to get all moody!’ retort.
***
Swimmers were now starting to reach land on the town side. Faces glowing, hearts pounding, exuberant in their achievement, they climbed the steps out of the sea and into the Cliff House Gardens where they were given a hero’s welcome by waiting friends, a Mars bar, and a prized Harbour Swim Certificate by the organisers. There was no more joyous couple than Jane and Bingley, who had swum together for the whole distance and were now only separated as Bingley, happy to see Jane warm in her towel, went to find his.
***
‘Oh, Lor! Oh, Lor!’ L
ydia was shrieking. ‘That was a beast of a swim! I was freezing all the way. My fingers are blue.’
‘Not half as cold as I was,’ said Kitty. ‘Look, my fingers are bluer than yours.’
‘It was horrible! Horrible!’ sobbed Mary. ‘What a foolish, ill-advised idea. I will never again take to the seas. I nearly died!’
‘You will recover, I am sure,’ said Jane kindly as she and Lizzy joined the group.
‘I say, girls! Girls!’
‘Oh no! Mr Collins! Whatever is the matter with him?’
‘He looks as if he is going to explode!’
‘How did he get across so quickly?’
Mr Collins had been relieved to have been rescued early on in the swim and so avoid the physical exertion so enjoyed by most of the remaining four hundred swimmers. He had been delivered by surfboard back to the safety of Cliff House Gardens and had been able to watch the event, wrapped warmly in his towel, and by eavesdropping on some fellow spectators, had picked up the most extraordinary news, which he was now about to relate to the surprised and shivering Bennet girls.
‘I say! I say! I say! News of the most exciting nature! By chance I have discovered that the nephew of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Brrr, is here! Here in Salcombe! And there he is! Right now! Coming out of the water! Fitzwilliam Darcy! What a fine figure of a man! I will go and make his acquaintance!’ Mr Collins rushed off, pushing his way down the slippery steps as swimmers endeavoured to come up the steps. Darcy, only just recovered from his agony in the water, was unprepared for the onslaught of friendliness from Mr Collins, who grabbed him in a handshake and had only just managed to get out the words:
‘Lady Catherine would be…’ before he slipped and fell from the steps into the deep water, pulling the astonished Darcy with him.
The waters closed over them. Lizzy, whose embarrassment was overtaken by hilarity, now felt a stab of fear as no sign of either man could be seen. Suddenly Darcy emerged.
‘Where is the fool?’ he shouted, gasping for breath and looking wildly around. Then Darcy disappeared, yanked from below as if by a deep sea monster, and Mr Collins in turn appeared.
‘Oh my! Oh my! Save me! Lady Catherine would…’
Mr Collins never finished his sentence as Darcy rose to the surface again, and despite Mr Collins’s efforts to drown him, managed to get them both safely to the steps. The ordeal of a near drowning for the second time in one day had so shocked Mr Collins that he was unable to stand, so Darcy was forced to carry him, in his arms, up the steps. Physically, Mr Collins succumbed like a baby to this mode of transport. Mentally, however, he was quite alert and was not one to miss an opportunity. Recovering slightly, he could see the closeness of the situation was the perfect moment for a little intimate conversation and proceeded to wrap his arms fondly around Darcy’s neck and to introduce himself.
‘Mr Darcy, what a fortunate meeting this is. I have reason to believe you are the nephew of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Brrr, who… oh! Oh my! Oh!…’
Darcy, on the verge of exploding, had had enough. He deposited Mr Collins in a blob at the feet of the vicar’s cousins and strode off—not before he had unwillingly overheard Mrs Bennet, who had just arrived on the scene, expressing in the loudest of voices to Mrs Lucas how she was looking forward to a happy event between her eldest daughter and the charming Mr Bingley. The past few moments had been mortifying for Lizzy, but worse was to come. Mary had managed to inveigle herself with the organisers, and to Lizzy’s horror, had volunteered to give a vote of thanks on behalf of the swimmers. Mary had climbed onto a table and was trying to master the megaphone with little success.
‘Oh behalf of the…’ beep ‘I would like to…’ screech. All the swimmers and their supporters laughed and clasped their hands to their ears in mock horror at the sound.
Mary was encouraged. She had their attention.
‘At times like these…’ screech ‘…a song… rousing…’
Mary then proceeded to sing ‘For those in peril on the sea’ down the megaphone. Mary’s voice was weak and tuneless, her choice of song unfortunate; the crowd stood still in amazement at the exhibition. As she was about to launch into the third verse, Mr Bennet stepped forward.
‘Jolly good, Mary. Now let us give someone else a go,’ and handed the megaphone to one of the organisers. Mary was disconcerted, but cries and hoots of laughter from the crowd diverted her attention. At the far corner of the garden there was a commotion. ‘They’re coming! They’re coming! Make way! Make way!’
The crowds, wolf whistling and shouting encouragement, were parting and moving into the centre to make a track round the edge of the gardens. And round the track were two girls in full flight, screaming, laughing, waving their hands in the air… and totally naked.
Streakers!
Lizzy stood horrified as the identity of the streakers became apparent. Lydia and Kitty! How could they? As her naked sisters raced past, a whirl of giggling, bouncing femininity, she caught sight of Darcy, who had been transfixed by the spectacle in amazement and disbelief. If her family had planned to expose themselves as much as they could that morning, they could not have played their parts with more spirit.
Chapter 19
The following day, Mr Collins awoke feeling oysterous. He had been tortured by amorous dreams all night, his passions fuelled by a generous helping of ‘oysters au naturel’ whilst dining the previous evening, and the effect, even by breakfast time, was still undeniably strong. Putting mind over matter, he considered what Lady Catherine would wish him to do in such a situation and came to the firm belief that she would deem it time for him to make a move in the romantic direction. He was anxious for action but unsure how to proceed. Fortunately the Bennet girls’ plan for the day would prove to give him the opportunity he so urgently desired. It transpired that they were taking part in the Parachuting Teddies competition from the top of Salcombe church. As fortune would have it, Mr Collins had brought his teddy, Malcolm, from whom he had been inseparable from a young age, with him to Salcombe; and so, with some misgivings about throwing the said beloved Malcolm from the top of the church tower, attached only to a spotted handkerchief, he felt this was too good an opportunity to miss and volunteered to take part and accompany the girls.
The weather was bright and breezy. Lasers, toppers, and a host of other gaily coloured sailing dinghies scudded about the choppy estuary waters, one or two capsizing as they were caught by mischievous gusts. The sound of loose rigging clanking against masts echoed across the bay, and seagulls seemed to squawk louder than normal in their frenetic swooping and diving to feast on dropped croissant crumbs and ice cream cones. The Bennet girls, Mrs Bennet, and Mr Collins set off in the opposite direction from the sea, up the steep hill of Church Street, to join the small crowd of people and teddies that were assembling before the church porch of Holy Trinity, Salcombe.
Elizabeth became uncomfortably aware that Mr Collins was angling to get close to her at every opportunity. He even seemed to make a pretence that his Malcolm wanted to snuggle up to her teddy, Bertie, which quite horrified her. Bertie had been her dear companion since earliest childhood and was not to be treated in such a fashion.
The vicar, looking himself like a boat at sea, his white gown flapping relentlessly about his tall, mastlike body, handed out tickets to all teddies and invited owners to make their way in groups up to the top of the tower, where their beloved bears, attached to a handkerchief, would be flung out.
‘I will time their descent myself,’ he added and, from deep within his white-sail outfit, produced a large stopwatch. ‘The blessed bear who manages to stay aloft for the longest will be the winner. Off you go, and may the Lord be with you and with your teddies!’
The Bennets and Mr Collins were enough to make up Group F, and when the time came, set off up the winding stairs. The girls scampered ahead, but Mr Collins found his legs would go only at a snail’s pace, and he was forced to stop on several occasions for a breather. By the time he com
pleted the tortuous climb and stepped out into the open at the top of the turret, the girls were already launching their brave teddies into the fresh air. Mrs Bennet, who had made a surprisingly speedy ascent, greeted him in a friendly fashion.
‘My dear Mr Collins! Well done! Now where is Malcolm? It must be his turn!’
‘Malcolm?’ Mr Collins looked around. Where indeed was Malcolm? Oh, Lord! He must have dropped him on the way up. Mrs Bennet saw an opportunity arise.
‘Mr Collins! You must have dropped your teddy on the way up! Poor Malcolm. You rest here and we will look for him on the way down and then one of my girls will run back up with him and you will be able to send him on his way.’
Mrs Bennet had in mind that she would send Lizzy back. It was the perfect opportunity for the two of them to have a tête-à-tête. But Mr Collins, the enflamed romantic, was one step ahead!
‘Thank you, my dear Mrs Bennet. You are most kind. I do find myself rather out of breath, but I would be most grateful if you could ask dear Elizabeth to wait here with me.’
‘Of course! Of course!’
‘But, Mama…’
‘Stay here, Lizzy!’ hissed Mrs Bennet. ‘Come along, girls—let’s go down at once and see if we can find naughty Malcolm.’
***
To Lizzy’s distress, she found herself trapped alone on top of the tower with Mr Collins. Mr Collins smiled and simpered for a moment and then began.
‘My dear Elizabeth. You must know that I—’
‘The view is quite remarkable from here, is it not?’ interjected Lizzy, dreading what was to follow. But Mr Collins was not to be put off.
‘You must know that I… that I fancy you. No, more! I have the hots for you, my dear Elizabeth, and with such feelings, I am desirous that you will be the companion of my future life.’
Mr. Darcy Goes Overboard Page 6
