Belinda Roberts - Mr. Darcy Goes Overboard: A Tale of Tide & Prejudice

Jane smiled, unable to think of a response. Lizzy continued teasingly. “But even angels may wish to fall in love and marry, Jane. Have you considered what you will wear tomorrow, for you are surely the prettiest of us all and by far the sweetest natured and have the most chance of landing a prize catch.”

“Oh, Lizzy. How you tease me. I have given it very little thought, but now you come to mention it, I think I will wear my pale blue.”

Jane laughed, and the girls, reaching the end of the beach, scrambled over the rocks to consider the matter further whilst poking around in the rock pools.

In the event, Mr Bennet was diverted by business matters and was unable to join the party venturing out to drinks on Pemberley , so the girls (including Mary who persuaded herself that a few hours in constructive leisure may refresh her mind and therefore be beneficial to her studies) went accompanied only by their mother. Mrs Bennet was vexed that Lydia had insisted on dressing in her seriously short shorts, but apart from this, was in good spirits as they left the safety of the shore and travelled over the estuary waters in Angelica to where they understood Pemberley to be at anchor. Unfortunately, Mrs Bennet had misunderstood Mr Bennet’s directions, and, by the time they had putt-putted up the inlets to South Pool, then Frogmore, and practically all the way to Kingsbridge with no sign of the magnificent Pemberley, Mrs Bennet was becoming agitated.

“Oh, Lord! We are so late! It will be teatime before we arrive. We will make such a terrible impression!” At that moment, Lizzy’s mobile rang. It was Charlotte Lucas.

“Oh, Lizzy! Thank goodness you have answered. Listen, I am at a drinks party on a yacht and have just overheard the delightful Mr Bingley saying how disappointed he is that your family is not here. He has heard much of your reputation as hotties and was looking forward to judging for himself! Are you not coming?”

“Hotties!” Lizzy laughed. “Yes, Charlotte—we are intending to come directly, but I fear we are lost—or at least Pemberley is lost to us!”

“What?” interjected Mrs Bennet. “Is Charlotte Lucas already on board? Trust Marcia to think only of her own daughter! Find out where the yacht is. Hurry, Lizzy! Hurry!”

“Mother, please! The line is poor enough. I can barely hear dear Charlotte.”

In time, Lizzy managed to hush Mrs Bennet, ascertain the location of the yacht, and instruct Lydia, who was at Angelica’ s helm, to head in the right direction.

There was much shrieking and wobbling of the boat as the girls disembarked from Angelica and climbed the wooden stepladder to board Pemberley . And what a splendid yacht it was indeed: sixty-two feet long—or an inch or so more—with fine varnished decks, polished brass instruments, two masts that seemed to touch the sky, furled round with the whitest of sails. All this was enough to take one’s breath away, but what captivated the girls most—and Mrs Bennet the very most—was Mr Bingley. Mr Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. He seemed equally captivated, waving away the Bennets’ apologies for being late, and helping each one on board with delight. One could not help but notice his sharp intake of breath on first beholding Jane and how he took a little longer helping her on board and how his eyes followed her every move and how attentive he was to her every possible requirement for a drink or perhaps a little shade or to ensure she did not suffer from too strong a breeze or was not made giddy by the gentle rocking of the boat.

Champagne was served, and all was jollity and delight. Mr Bingley introduced his visitors to his sisters, Cazza, Lulu, and Hattie, who attempted civility before taking out their towels, lying down towards the bows, closing their eyes, and busying themselves with sunbathing. Mrs Bennet, so put out initially to find Mrs Lucas already on board, soon fell into discussion with her dear friend, and both agreed that Mr Bingley was the perfect young man.

“To think,” whispered Mrs Bennet, “that such a young man should own not only Netherpollock but also such a fine yacht.”

“Oh, Mrs Bennet! You are mistaken. Mr Bingley may own Netherpollock, but he does not own this yacht. No. That honour goes to his good friend Mr Darcy!”

“Mr Darcy! And who is he?” asked Mrs Bennet, most puzzled.

At that very moment, Mr Bingley seemed to come out of his entrancement with Jane and called in a loud voice, “I say, Darcy! Do come and join us! We have guests! Darcy!”

All eyes looked to the front of the yacht where stood a tall, dark figure no one had previously observed. Now hearing his name, the gentleman in question turned and immediately drew gasps of admiration from all the ladies, thrilled by his fine, tall person, his impressive physique set off perfectly by a fabulously British blue-and-white-striped cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, muscular arms, dark blue shorts revealing strong, muscular legs, handsome features, noble mien, and the fact that circulated almost immediately that his fortune was tenfold that of Mr Bingley’s.

“Oh, Lord!” exclaimed Mrs Bennet in an excited whisper on receiving this news. “He is far handsomer than Mr Bingley. He would make the better husband!”

Bingley clambered forward over the deck to speak with urgency to Darcy.

“Come, Darcy. I must have you join our guests. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better join us.”

“I certainly shall not. There is no woman aboard whom I would wish to waste my time with. And you are talking to the only handsome girl.”

“Oh, she is the hottest tottie I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty and, I dare say, splendidly agreeable. Do let me introduce you.”

“Which do you mean?”

Turning round, Darcy looked for a moment at Lizzy, who was perched on the cabin roof, and catching her eye, momentarily withdrew his own.

“Boo that! She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”

With that, Darcy turned away and continued his brooding stare out over the estuary. Bingley, perplexed by his friend’s stupid behaviour, clambered back over the deck to further enjoy the company of those in the cockpit. Lizzy, who had overheard Mr Darcy’s remark, felt he was indeed a proud and unpleasant man, so was not hurt and enjoyed regaling the story to her friends.

The drinks party drew to a close, and the Bennet family returned without further incident to 3 Island Street, where the rest of the day was spent recounting the events aboard Pemberley . Mr Bennet was told, if not once but a thousand times by Mrs Bennet, how delightful Mr Bingley was, how he admired Jane, and how he favoured her above all others, and only when Mr Bennet protested that he had heard enough did Mrs Bennet look for another avenue for her story and recount the outrageous behaviour of Mr Darcy. “He is the rudest, most pompous, stuck-up, conceited, high and mighty, self-important, snobbish, arrogant big head one could have the misfortune to meet!”

“You did not like him, then?” suggested Mr Bennet.

“Like him?” retorted Mrs Bennet, incredulous. “Oh, Mr Bennet, how you tease me! You know I would happily have wrung his neck and thrown him overboard.” And with that, Mrs Bennet flounced out of the room, and Mr Bennet was left once more, grateful for silence and solitude.

“Oh, Lizzy,” cried Jane, “I must confess he is a blaze! The most delightful, handsomest, cutest guy I have ever had the good fortune to set eyes on.”

“And you, Jane, are quite the most delightful, handsomest, cutest girl he has ever had the good fortune to set eyes on. The perfect match.”

“Oh, don’t tease me, Lizzy. And what of his sisters? Were they not awesome? Quite the most elegant creatures you ever beheld?”

“Elegant they may be but proud and unfriendly. First they spent their time frazzling in the sun to avoid conversation with us, and when this became too dull for them, they talked only to themselves, constantly keeping to starboard when we were on port, and when we moved to port, I could not fail to notice that they moved straightaway to starboard.”

“Oh, Lizzy! I am sure they meant nothing of that. They were simply trying to keep the boat well balanced for our comfort.”

Lizzy was not convinced but did not pursue the matter for fear of upsetting Jane. Bingley’s sisters were indeed fashionable ladies, educated at a reassuringly expensive public school, who had inherited a fortune healthy enough to keep them active in the clothes shops around Sloane Square when in London—a hobby that for the summer season was being successfully maintained by diligent visits to the clothes’ shops of Salcombe. The young ladies had made regular visits to the birthplace of Jack Wills. In addition, Crew, Joules, Fat Face, White Stuff, Quba, and Amelia’s Attic had all felt the beneficence of these diligent shoppers and had happily yielded up their designer carrier bags to allow jackets, hats, stripy shirts, polos, hoodies, sweatpants, and jewellery to be transported back to Netherpollock.

Mr Bingley himself had inherited an equally fine amount of money on the passing away of his father. This had been a most distressing time, since Bingley was only a young fellow with his life ahead of him and barely out of “A” levels. His intention to spend it on bricks and mortar had been encouraged by his older sisters, who planned to escape the north and spend their inheritance on houses in London but were keen to encourage him to buy a holiday house in Devon, where they could all holiday and keep the family together in such sorry times. The sisters contacted agents in Devon and Cornwall, and soon the particulars of tempting residences were dropping through the letterbox. But Bingley, still in mourning for his father, and with the likelihood of re-takes looming, was proving obstinately slow at doing anything with his newfound wealth. It was only on a visit to the dentist that Lulu, reading a surprisingly up-to-date copy of Country Life magazine, saw “a gem of the Devon coastline’ for sale, immediately fell in love with it on behalf of her brother, popped the magazine in her Gucci bag, and within half an hour of leaving the dentist with her jaw numb, had left the magazine open on the kitchen table of their family home in the north. And so it was that the young Charles Bingley spotted Netherpollock in Country Life , announced to his sisters that “Dash it all! It’s what the parentals would have wanted’, and that he must have it, caught a train to Devon, a taxi straight to Salcombe, a water taxi across to Netherpollock, where he met the affable agent, ran around the house, enthusing at its splendid views, its delightful proportions, and was generally so happy and satisfied with everything that he put an offer in there and then and did not sleep soundly until he had exchanged and the property was his.