Mr. Darcy Goes Overboard (10 page)

An hour later, Lizzy, now back at Little Rosings on the Rocks, found herself restless and unable to settle at any useful occupation. Her surprise at what had just passed could not be greater. Her heart and soul were in turmoil, so she resolved to indulge in air and exercise. Slipping the wooden sailing dinghy that came with Rosings on the Rocks from its mooring, she hoisted the white mainsail and jib and set sail for the open seas.

The breeze was strong, and white horses broke threateningly over the top of the waves as she left the safety of the estuary. But Lizzy was in no mood to be cautious. The more the spray threw itself over the bows, the more reckless she felt. Feelings of fury, insult, and humiliation lashed her as cruelly as the bite of the wind. It was only as she passed Prawle Point she became aware of another sailing boat coming up fast to her starboard. It cut suddenly across her bow.

'Hey, you idiot!' yelled Lizzy, when to her surprise, the boat tacked and drew up alongside her. It was Darcy!

'Miss Elizabeth!' he called.

Lizzy was furious and gybed to escape him. It was a dangerous move, and she nearly capsized, but righting the boat just in time, found he had tacked and was sailing along her port side, whereupon he handed her a bottle with a screw top, within which was a letter.

'Miss Elizabeth,' he shouted above the wind and the waves. 'I have been sailing back and forth around Prawle Point some time in the hope of meeting you. Will you do me the honour of reading that letter?'

And with a slight bow, Darcy himself gybed and was soon out of sight.

With no expectation of pleasure but with the strongest curiosity, Lizzy turned into the wind and allowed the sails to flap wildly whilst she tried to extricate the said letter from the bottle. It was not an easy task, as the sea was choppy and she was constantly rocked from side to side, but Lizzy persisted, and at last she had the letter freed and in her hand. Spray caused the ink to splodge in many places, but huddling over and constantly wiping water away, she endeavoured to read through the two sheets of letter paper written quite through in a very close hand.

'Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter.'

Lizzy
was
alarmed, and being alone at sea, found herself reading out loud those phrases that struck her most:

'I will not repeat my sentiments which were so disgusting to you. I write only to clarify the two offences you laid to my charge. Yes, Bingley was in love with your sister, but from my observations, I did not think she reciprocated, and this, combined with the ghastly behaviour of certain members of your family--sorry to offend you--encouraged me, as a friend, to discourage my friend. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not reflect with satisfaction--I did conceal from Bingley your sister's presence in town. If I have wounded your sister's feelings, it was unknowingly done. As for Wickham...'

A sudden spray made much of what followed illegible, but enough remained for Lizzy to understand the heinous behaviour of that young gentleman. Wickham had wasted money and opportunity bestowed upon him by Darcy's generous father. When this source of money had dried up, he planned to elope with Georgiana, Darcy's sister, his object being the young girl's fortune! But at the last minute, Georgiana confessed the plan to her brother, whom she looked up to as a father, and Darcy foiled the elopement, saving his sister from disaster and writing to Wickham who, seeing the game was up, left immediately!

So Wickham wanted revenge on Darcy! All along, he had tainted Darcy's character in her eyes--in the eyes of all Salcombe society!

The final words of Darcy's now-soggy letter swam before her eyes.

I will only add, God bless you.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Oh! Oh! Oh! Lizzy scarcely knew what to think. She pulled in the mainsheet as if to gather her thoughts, but gybed instantly, then almost immediately went about in error and was in danger of being thrown into the waters. The little boat rocked and rolled on the tempestuous seas. She began with prejudice against his every word. How could he pretend that he was insensible to Jane's feelings? That must be false! How could he find her family such an objection? And where was the apology? Only a hint of wrongdoing at concealing Jane's existence in London. But hardly an apology. Yes, he was all pride and insolence.

Lizzy went about putting the boat onto a starboard tack, heading straight out to sea. She was in no mood to return. What mood she was in she hardly knew. The sun came out and glinted over the breaking waves. The dark clouds became rimmed with silver, and the little boat struck forth intrepidly through the waters. But where Lizzy's mind was going she could not say. After her fury but confirmation of feelings at the first part of the letter, she found the account of Wickham filled her with astonishment, apprehension, even horror. She thought back of her times with Wickham and blushed at her own forwardness, her own fondness, his impropriety--yes impropriety--at discussing Darcy's faults so freely with her aunt, then a stranger to him. Oh! And what of Mary King? Of course, the pink-hulled speedboat. Despite the cold wind, Lizzy felt herself redden at the thought of any affection she had had with Wickham. She had been well and truly duped.

But what then of Darcy? Perhaps... she reread the letter again. Charlotte's words rang in her ears that Jane should not be too secretive about her affections. How she had teased her friend then, but perhaps, after all, Lottie had been right. Jane was in danger of losing the man she loved by disguising her feelings too well. As for the comments about her family--she blushed at the outrageous behaviour at the Estuary Swim. It was a ghastly exhibition. Her mind rambled on over the events of the summer since first meeting Darcy and Bingley. Each memory of each encounter caused her excruciating embarrassment and an immediate wish to expunge all recollection of her behaviour towards Darcy. Physical exertion seemed her only immediate escape. She pulled in the jib, jamming its sheet into its clamp, and heaved in the mainsheet as tightly as possible, forcing the boat to keel over, and pushing herself out on the gunnels, leaning right back over the waters to prevent capsizing. In this manner, she battled fiercely with the waves, the wind, and her feelings until she felt able to return to Little Rosings on the Rocks and appear cheerful as usual.

On her return, soaking and exhausted, she was told that earlier, Darcy had called for a few moments, apparently soaked and exhausted, then left. Sometime later, Colin had called and waited and waited for her, and eventually, with a sigh, had also left. Lizzy could only pretend to affect concern at missing him; she really rejoiced. Colin was no longer an object. She could think only of her letter.

Darcy and Colin had left Rosings on the Rocks that afternoon, and Lizzy decided to leave Little Rosings shortly after. She had a call from Mr Bennet, begging her to return. With Jane also away, he was finding no moment of sense with the rest of the family and, fearing for his own sanity, could do with her company.

At lunchtime Lizzy, taking Maria with her, said her good-byes to dear Lottie and thanked Mr Collins (who laboured over their leaving a great deal and without necessity) and returned by water taxi and with much relief to 3 Island Street.

As the water taxi glided past The Ferry Inn, Lizzy's attention was caught by screams, and turning her head towards the shore, she saw Kitty and Lydia leaning over The Ferry Inn wall, waving wildly at them. Lizzy waved back and instructed the taxi to drop them off at the inn, where she and Maria went and joined her sisters in the stone garden. Kitty and Lydia were in high spirits. On the table was a spread of mussels, oysters, and crab for the girls to enjoy as a reunion lunch.

'Is it not kind of us?' said Kitty.

'And we mean to treat you,' added Lydia, 'only you will have to lend us the money, as we have just spent all ours in Amelia's Attic on this gorgeous clippy art bag and this gorgeous sun hat from Joules. It doesn't really fit me, but I thought I might as well buy it as not.'

'And guess what the big news is, Lizzy!' said Kitty.

'Mary King has given Wickham the boot!' interrupted Lydia, stealing Kitty's thunder. 'What do you think of that, Lizzy? Are you thrilled?'

'I just think Mary King has had a lucky escape,' said Lizzy, smiling.

'Who cares about Mary King anyway?' interjected Kitty, already losing interest in Mary King. 'I'm starving. Let's start!'

The girls had a very merry lunch and walked back down Fore Street arm in arm and singing jollily until they reached 3 Island Street, where Mary was sitting, studying Advanced Physics, and whose only greeting on seeing Lizzy was 'Shhhh.'

Later, as Lizzy and Jane sat crabbing on Victoria Quay, Jane squeaked in surprise at news of Darcy's attentions to Lizzy. Lizzy calmed her, but she squeaked again on hearing what a bad egg Wickham had been. She could never have thought one human being could be quite so ghastly!

There was a scream from 3 Island Street to disturb the girls' intimate, deep, meaningful conversation. Seconds later, Lydia came rushing down Victoria Quay, her face beaming, her eyes alight with excitement. Mrs Forster, whose husband, Colonel Forster, trained all the lifeguards, had invited her to join them at the official lifeguard summer camp at South Sands!

'I'm off to stay at South Sands,' she yelled in rapturous delight. Kitty came trawling behind her, crying, 'It's not fair! It's so like not fair!'

Lizzy was horrified. Goodness knows what mischief Lydia would get up to, running riot amongst all the red-and-yellows. 'Father!' she implored. 'Lydia will embarrass the whole family and cause untold damage!'

'Poor Lizzy!' replied Mr Bennet. 'Has your naughty little sister been upsetting your lovers? Tut! Tut! I say, the farther away she is from here the better.'

'It's not fair! It's so like not fair!' cried Kitty.

Wickham, who would of course be returning to South Sands for hard lifeguard training, came to say 'hello' and 'cheerio' to Lizzy. He could not help probing her for a little info: 'Were there any other guests while you were at Little Rosings on the Rocks?'

'We had the pleasure of Mr Darcy and the delightful Colin staying at Rosings on the Rocks, both of whom we saw a great deal, and both of whom appeared only the more delightful the more one saw of them and learnt of their true natures and histories.'

'I... oh... um... well, cheerio then,' said Wickham in confusion, and he left, only tripping over his own feet so as to tumble out headfirst into Island Street.

Lydia away, Kitty in constant tears about not being away, Mary with her eyes glazed and nose in a book, and Jane bravely trying not to be upset, Lizzy was grateful to be invited on a trip north with her uncle and aunt, during which they planned to visit Durham University. The day came for her to leave, and Mr Bennet took her up the estuary in
Angelica
to Kingsbridge, where she would catch the Tally Ho! bus to Totnes, and thereafter, having breakfasted in the splendid, greasy-spoon station cafe, take the train up to Durham, where she would meet her uncle and aunt.

Lizzy had considered all universities with care and had still to be tempted north, but Aunt G's glowing reports about Durham, and in particular, University College, which was situated in Durham Castle, the ancient palace of the Prince Bishops of Durham, aroused her curiosity.

'The students actually live in the castle,' Aunt G had enthused. 'And what an historic and impressive home! Nine hundred years old and placed high on the Bailey, with Durham Cathedral just across Palace Green, and almost totally surrounded by the River Wear. And as for the little cobbled streets and ancient buildings, my dear, you will be enchanted.'

The journey north was long but pleasantly spent in completing her racy blockbuster, texting old pals, listening to Duffy on her iPod, and dozing, and before she knew it, Lizzy was opening the door of her carriage and throwing herself into the arms of her uncle and aunt as they waited excitedly on Durham station. Without further ado, they set off for the castle.

When at last the massive structure of Durham Castle reared into view, Lizzy's spirits were in a flutter. Its great stone turrets rose high above the small city, only rivalling in height the spires of the adjacent medieval cathedral. The trio walked across Elvet Bridge and turned left into Saddler Street. Lizzy was glad of her stout shoes, for the cobbled streets could undoubtedly cause a twist to anyone in high heels. They turned up the Georgian passage of Owengate, and there before them, rising dramatically to the right, was Durham Castle, the flat, beautifully mown Palace Green before them and Durham Cathedral to their left. Lizzy hardly knew which way to look.

'Now, my dear,' explained Aunt G, 'the students, of course, have not yet returned for term, but I understand that if we ask at the gatehouse, the porter might show us round the castle itself.'

'Oh, I do hope so!' breathed Lizzy, captivated.

The little party walked down the cobbled entrance to the castle, where they enquired at the ancient gatehouse whether it would be possible to have a tour. The porter was a delightful gentleman who explained that normally students would take tours for prospective students, such a prospective student he presumed the lovely young lassie before him to be; but since the regular students were off on their holidays, traipsing round Vietnam and Goa and such places, enjoying themselves catching malaria, scabies, leprosy, and the like, he would have the great pleasure of taking the tour himself. With that, he got out a massive key that swung from a great belt round his girth, locked the gatehouse, and invited the party to follow him. The porter, who introduced himself as 'Reynolds', was a mine of information and an overflowing pot of enthusiasm for the place. 'Howay, man, I'll show you round with pleasure,' he promised and led them down to the ancient Tunstall Chapel.

'Fifteen forty this was built, pet. These days it's packed out down here at Christmas, all lit by candles, a comforting gloom, and then the singing starts! Enough to raise the spirits of the dead by its beauty, it is! Oh, that it is!'

Reynolds then led them up the winding stone stairs to the Norman Chapel, where all admired its stained-glass windows, then on they went down to the Undercroft.

'Very popular, the Undie, packed out all year, this is--not surprising, being the student bar!'

On they went into the Great Hall.

'Very popular with the students, this is. It's where they get their porridge after they've been out rowing on the Wear that early in the morning the mists have hardly lifted, and they come in with fingers all frozen, and blue on the nose.'

Up they went to the Tunstall Gallery.

'Very popular with the students, this is. Study bedrooms as you've not seen the like along here. Some of them have arrow slits for windows. Not used so much for their original purpose, of course, these days.'

Along the Tunstall Gallery, Aunt G noticed some portraits.

'Ah yes, pet,' said Reynolds. 'All the important folk who helped build the castle throughout the ages, starting of course with William the Conqueror. He set it all going with a little mound in 1072.'

'I say! Come and look at this, Lizzy!' Aunt G was staring at a board at the far end of the gallery. On it were a number of photographs of young men and women.

'Isn't that Wickham, Lizzy?'

'You know young Mr Wickham?' asked the porter, his tone changing. 'Of all the students I've known come through these mighty walls, he is the most gormless gawk, rotten to the core, nowt good to be said of him. Expelled he was for deeds dark and dismal, which I will not repeat in front of this delicate young lassie, mind. But what his picture is still doing on our College Board of Student Officers, I do not know.'

And with that, the porter ripped the photograph of Wickham off the board, tore it into little shreds, jumped up and down on it, then kicked the little pieces into a mouse hole that he had spotted between two large stones in the wall.

'Good for nothing little...'

'Oh, but, Lizzy! Do you not know that gentleman, too?' asked Aunt G, interrupting Reynolds as she recognised the name of one of the other student officers.

'Fitzwilliam Darcy!' exclaimed Reynolds, immediately recovering his good humour. 'Now, hinny, there's a fine fellow. He was First Knight of the Castle last year, captain of rowing, rugby, wrestling, debating, and jousting, and the best young fellow anyone could wish to meet. Clivvor, chivalrous, fair, kind, compassionate, strong, brave, resilient, courageous, generous, wise, intelligent, bold, valiant, industrious...'

'...and do you not think him very handsome, too, Lizzy?' interjected Aunt G.

'Aye, pet!' replied Reynolds on Lizzy's behalf. 'He is a most handsome young man. All the fresher maidens here are madly in love with him, and I dare say some of the chaps, too. Whoever captures his heart will be a lucky lassie indeed.'

Lizzy, throughout, was dumbstruck. She had no idea that Darcy was at Durham, let alone University College. In all their conversations, it had never arisen. She could never apply now. He would think she was chasing him! Oh, the embarrassment! And the disappointment when she had quite lost her heart to the place.

'I think the young lady's besotted already!' teased Reynolds.

'No! No! You are much mistaken!' replied Lizzy, her emotions in turmoil. Then another thought struck her. 'When did you say the students returned?'

'Not for a week or so, pet. And then all hell lets loose, but until then, the ghosts of the past have the castle all to themselves.'

Reynolds took them down the grand staircase and out into the central courtyard. It was a most sensational place. Lizzy, her mind awhirl with what she had seen and heard, moved away from the group to gather her thoughts. As she wandered towards the portcullis, she saw a mysterious tall, dark figure outlined against the sky, walking directly towards her. When he was but twenty yards away, the light shifted, and she could make out his shape and his features at the same moment as he saw hers. Their eyes met instantly. Darcy!

It was indeed Darcy, who stopped abruptly and stared, unable to move, momentarily transfixed in surprise. Was this an apparition? A ghost of the woman who had bewitched him and whose hold over his being he had so desperately tried to fight off? He trembled.

Lizzy, but ten paces away, felt the cold hand of regret squeeze her heart. This was what she had spurned. She trembled.

A raven high up on the parapet swooped down, squawking, awakening Darcy from his momentary paralysis. He strode forward and grasped Lizzy's pale white hand in both of his. His eyes burned into hers.

'Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Welcome to Durham!'

'Darcy!' Lizzy could hardly breathe. 'What are you...? Why are you...? Where are you...?'

Her words faded as they were uttered. She was enfeebled in his powerful presence. He towered over her like the ancient turrets pushing to the sky behind. Her throat was constricted. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts--yet through it all, she became aware of a dampness. To her surprise, she realised Darcy was wet through, his clothes stuck to his body like limpets, revealing his fine, muscled torso as well as if he was completely naked. Lizzy was astounded and found herself unable to peel her eyes away.

'Oh, my clothes,' said Darcy, realising that the wet proximity of his body was alarming Lizzy. 'Yes, I am soaked through. Completely drenched! I returned to college early to train for the rowing season and have just met with a misadventure on the river.'

'I see,' said Lizzy in barely more than a whisper.

An awkward silence followed, broken by Darcy speaking hurriedly, almost desperately, as if he had made up his mind on some important matter and must get it off his chest.

'I have friends visiting the castle tomorrow. Mr Bingley and his sisters.'

Lizzy felt the awkwardness intensify and could offer only a slight gasp in response.

'And with them comes one whom I would dearly like to make your acquaintance. My young sister, Georgiana.'

Lizzy gasped again.

'Lizzy?' Aunt G's voice brought Lizzy back to her senses.

'This is Aunt G and Uncle G, Darcy,' exclaimed Lizzy as her uncle and aunt approached.

'Very pleased to make your acquaintance,' said Darcy, nodding. He was unable to shake hands, as he still had Lizzy's grasped in his and seemed unwilling or unable to let go.

'Do you enjoy rowing?' Darcy enquired of Uncle G with the utmost civility and to Lizzy's great surprise. 'The college boathouse is just down there,' he continued, jerking his head in the direction of the boathouse. 'It is a beautiful walk down through the trees. The path is steep, but I could lend you some stout shoes if you would do me the honour of joining me later.'

'That is most kind!' replied Uncle G, delighted.

Darcy began to shake alarmingly. His hands were icy cold upon Lizzy's, but he seemed not to notice. His face was deathly pale.

'You look cold, sir,' said Aunt G kindly.

'Oh, yes. So I am!' Darcy's teeth began to chatter. 'I w-w-will g-g-get ch-ch-changed. Perhaps... perhaps you w-w-will join us for t-t-tea?'

'How lovely,' Uncle G thanked him, 'but we have an appointment to view the cathedral.'

'O-o-of course! The c-c-cathedral. Y-y-you must! A-a masterpiece of the Romanesque... don't miss the treasures of St... Cuth... Cuth... Cuthbert... or the m-m-monks dormitory.'

Darcy moved off stiffly, but his hands were either frozen onto Lizzy's or he just could not let go. Luckily, Aunt G always carried a flask of sweet hot tea in case of emergencies such as these, and holding it below the conjoined hands, managed to warm them and prize them apart without as much as the smallest hint of chilblains. Freed, Darcy walked off as briskly as a frozen man can, bowing and waving as he went.

'Well!' exclaimed Aunt G after he had gone. 'What a charming young man, Lizzy!'

'I forgot to say, pet,' interjected Reynolds, who had been observing this exchange, 'that sometimes some students come back a little earlier than the early students. Such an example of this is young Mr Darcy, as you have now seen for yourself.'