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

Meanwhile, romance for the Bennet girls was seriously on the slide. Jane had buzzed off to London with Aunt G and Uncle G. She had called in on Cazza, who was courteous but cool and said Chas was busy with Darcy. Poor Jane was under no illusion that she had been dumped. Lizzy noticed Wickham’s attentions had moved on, too, to Mary King, a young lady who had just inherited a pink-hulled speedboat. Lizzy’s fortunes were no match for this. Like her dear sister, she, too, had been dumped.

Yet startling news was to follow. Lady Catherine had condescended to offer the lodge of her magnificent Salcombe holiday home, “Rosings on the Rocks”, to the newly wed Mr and Mrs Collins as a honeymoon holiday destination. Lottie and Mr Collins would be returning to Salcombe to stay in “Little Rosings on the Rocks”, and Lady Catherine herself would be installed in the main house. Lizzy, Sir William, and Maria Lucas, Lottie’s sweet but dim sister, had been invited to stay for a few days at Little Rosings. Lady Catherine felt it would do them good to get out of the damp lowlands of Island Street, into the uplands of Cliff Road, and besides, she wanted to inspect them.

Lizzy packed her blue-and-white Quba bag and set off in Angelica with Sir William, Lady Lucas, and Maria. Mr Bennet came with them so they could disembark on Rosings on the Rocks’ private jetty and he could return in the boat. Sir William kept a constant flow of conversation going during the voyage, but fortunately, his words were swept away by the breeze or drowned out by Maria’s squawks every time water splashed over the bows. After landing, they waved farewell to Mr Bennet and started the trudge up the steep, rocky path to Little Rosings on the Rocks—only a short distance, but by the time they arrived, Sir William was sweating profusely. Standing before the little lodge house were the honeymoon couple, suitably dressed in swimwear—Mr Collins, bucking the Salcombe trend for swim shorts, was clad in a skimpy Speedo, and Lottie looked attractive in a delightful stripy all-in-one from Crew. Suddenly, Mr Collins caught sight of something, or someone, and ran helter-skelter down towards their private jetty. A sleek black Phantom speedboat appeared from nowhere and skidded to a stop at the jetty, drenching him in spray from head to toe. A small exchange between the driver and Mr Collins occurred, and the boat sped off again. Mr Collins turned, beaming, to welcome his guests and to announce with great delight the marvellous news. Lady Catherine had condescended to invite them all to Rosings on the Rocks for dinner that very night.

Poor Maria was in a state of great anxiety as she rummaged through her kit bag, desperately trying to find something suitable to wear for the evening’s entertainment. Lizzy was pleased with her recent Jack Wills purchases: a pink-and-white-striped shirt, which she wore with the sleeves turned up; a 100 percent cotton, mini-fit, antique denim skirt, which sat low on her hips; a thick, heavily buckled leather belt. Mr Collins was happy that she looked, if anything, a little relaxed for the occasion, as it was important not to outdazzle Lady Catherine.

Rosings on the Rocks was everything Mr Collins had boasted. Set in a concrete frame with steel bracing, it had an excess of glass-curtain walling with unrivalled views of the estuary.

“The structure,” explained Mr Collins, “is expressed as an ornamental order, the style high-tech modern. It has an unapologetic modern façade, combining a jagged profile in an elegant concrete frame that is braced by gunmetal grey and stainless steel rods oozing an airy spirit full of honesty but not lacking in bravado.”

Lizzy was amazed by Mr Collins’s erudite description and, for one horrible moment, thought she might have misjudged him, but Lottie soon explained: “A speech he has practised for some time,” she whispered. “ Architecture Week magazine. Different building but surprisingly appropriate.”

At that moment, a tall, powerful woman appeared on the balcony. She was dressed in skintight black jeans, a black strappy top embroidered with “Brrr” in diamanté. Her dyed blond hair was piled high, her nails painted blood red, her feet adorned with high-heeled golden slippers.

“Collywobbles, dahling!” she called. “Here you are at last and with all your little friends. Come on in! The Bloody Marys are waiting!”

Lady Catherine condescended to kiss each and every one of her guests on each cheek—twice, as Mr Collins recalled.

“Now you must be little Maria,” she cooed. “What a babe! Lottie, dahling—you never told me your little sis was so cute!” And to the delight of Mr Collins, she went on in this vein, welcoming all her guests.

“Now, Collywobbles—who is this?”

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“And how old are you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“You surely would not expect a lady to reveal her age, madam,” replied Lizzy.

“Oh! Quite a feisty number, I see,” retorted Lady Catherine, maintaining her good humour even if she did feel put out by Lizzy’s reply. “Come on. Let’s eat. We have lobster tonight. I have my own pot, of course. Does your family have a pot, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“No. I am afraid we do not have a pot. And please do call me Lizzy.”

“Not a pot! I pity you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”

At that moment, Lizzy noticed a rather large, overweight girl lazing around on a leather poof. To her surprise, she was introduced as Miss de Brrr. Her eyes were fixed on her Wii, and she failed to join in conversation once all evening. Lizzy smiled to herself. She felt Miss de Brrr would indeed make the perfect partner for a certain gentleman.

Mr Collins was in his element admiring the view, the golden statues of King Charles spaniels with their diamanté collars, the Maria Theresa chandelier, the abstract paintings by Gotspod, and being quite overcome—and off-balanced—by the black-and-chrome revolving stools that they sat on to eat cracked lobster from a high chrome-and-blackened glass table.

“It’s all bulletproof, of course,” pronounced Lady Catherine as Mr Collins admired the glass curtain for the umpteenth time.

“And I always wear a bulletproof vest,” she continued. “In my position, you can never be too careful. Do you wear a bulletproof vest, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“Rarely.”

“That is very foolish.”

“I find it hard to accommodate under a bikini. Do you wear a bikini, Lady Catherine?”

The audacity of this remark made other members of the party draw sharp intakes of breath.

“You are a bold and foolish girl, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but I will excuse you this once, as you clearly are new to such company as occurs at Rosings on the Rocks.”

An awkward silence followed, broken only by Maria getting a small amount of shell stuck in her throat. She began to cough and then choke. She fell from her rotating stool and lay on the white carpet, spluttering and gasping for breath.

“She is choking,” remarked Lady Catherine.

“It must be a bit of shell stuck in her throat!” exclaimed Lizzy in great anxiety and leaping off her stool to assist.

“It could not be shell,” declared Lady Catherine. “Our lobsters never have shell that would make you choke. It must be something else. Perhaps one of those cheap baubles she is wearing round her neck has come loose, and she has swallowed one. Yes. That is what is making her choke. Believe me. I am always right in these matters.”

By this stage, Maria was unable to speak and had stopped coughing and, more alarmingly, stopped breathing. Lizzy proceeded to carry out the Heimlich manoeuvre—giving her five subdiaphragmatic abdominal thrusts, alternating with five back blows to remove the obstruction—whilst the others continued with their cracked lobster and discussed what Maria might or might not have swallowed, with Lady Catherine continuing a powerful argument why it could not be one of her lobsters at fault. As Maria slipped into unconsciousness, Lizzy turned her on her back, requested a 999 call—though nobody heard—and placing the heel of her hand just above Maria’s waistline, proceeded to give four upward thrusts. Lady Catherine was just saying, yet again, how her lobsters could not have caused such a problem—in fact, they were renowned for being the safest lobsters in the estuary—when there was a horrible gurgling sound from Maria and a cough that seemed to come from her very soul. A hard, brittle object shot out of her mouth and landed with a tinkle on Lady Catherine’s plate. It was quite clearly a piece of lobster shell.