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

“You see!” cried Lady Catherine in triumph. “I was right. It is lobster shell but not from one of my lobsters! You must have had a lobster sandwich for lunch, Maria, and a bit of shell got lodged in your teeth and you just happened to swallow it while you were eating my lobster!”

Lady Catherine pincered the offending shell between two sharp red nails and held it aloft for closer inspection.

“Most definitely not one of my lobsters! I knew I was right. I always am in such matters. Now who would like some Rosings on the Rocks ice cream for pudding? We have quite the best ice cream you will have ever tasted. It is made for me by Ollie James, a chef of great repute, who heard me discussing my ice cream one day and was so impressed he begged me for the recipe and now sells it by the boatload.”

By this stage, Maria had regained consciousness, and Lizzy was advising her to rest. But Maria, though a frightened rabbit by nature, was also very fond of ice cream and recovered sufficiently to join the party for pudding.

Thus a successful evening was rounded off with much thanks from Mr Collins and his party and an announcement by Lady Catherine on what the weather would be on the morrow.

The following day, Sir William, confident that his daughter was in good hands and happily married, returned to his own abode. Lizzy now spent her time swimming from the private bay, snorkelling and fishing off the rocks at Little Rosings on the Rocks. Mr Collins spent his time dashing up to Rosings on the Rocks whenever he was summoned, and Lottie spent her time between the two. Another great excitement was in store for Mr Collins. He had been told by Lady Catherine that Mr Darcy was expected at the main house, and sure enough, that afternoon the good ship Pemberley could be seen gliding into the harbour, and minutes later, its tender, a fine wooden rowing boat with twelve horsepower engine, came into view, bringing with it two gentlemen. The first to disembark on the private jetty was Colin Fitzwilliam, a cousin of Darcy’s—not a handsome man but so well fitted out in a fabulously British Jack Wills blazer and so amiable, that he was clearly a gentleman. Darcy, equally well dressed, was as reserved as ever. As the group gathered on the jetty, he said nothing until, for the sake of civility, he enquired after Lizzy’s family.

“Are your family as barmy as ever, madam?” he enquired, all politeness.

“Yes. Quite as barmy,” Lizzy replied, “apart from Jane, of course. She has been in London. Did you not happen to see her?”

Darcy blanched and nearly lost his footing on the lichen-covered jetty. Moments later, the gentlemen departed for the main house.

After luncheon, Mr Collins received an invitation to join his patroness at the Sandcastle Competition. The invitation was by text:

Collywobbles. The Sandcastle Competition takes place this afternoon at South Sands. My artistic superiority would be missed if I did not take part. Join us. LCdB.

“Oh my! Oh my! The annual Sandcastle Competition. Oh, Lord. What shall I do? You must all think of a subject. We must not disgrace ourselves in front of Lady Catherine. Oh my! Oh my! She is coming! We must hurry!”

Mr Collins raced round, gathering buckets, spades, and his favourite little rake for making marks on the sand, and was stopped in his hunt for any other vital equipment only by the appearance of Lady Catherine herself in the doorway.

“You all know the rules, I presume?” said Lady Catherine and, without waiting for any response, continued, “We may work in small groups to portray either a traditional sandcastle or a humourous sandcastle. The best wins. You can make sandcastles to a high standard, I presume, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“To a moderate standard.”

“Then you will learn from me. Come along, Darcy!”

With that, she swept away and started the walk to South Sands, her arm linked firmly with Darcy’s, whose other arm was struggling to hold all the buckets and spades that Lady Catherine had insisted he carry.

Lizzy found herself in the fortunate position of falling into step with Colin, who made the most amiable of conversation. Their laughter caused not only Lady Catherine to turn round from time to time to enquire what was so funny and that she must be alerted to it, for there was no doubt she would find whatever was so funny funnier than anyone, as she had a very fine sense of humour and found anything funny, very funny indeed, but also caused Darcy to turn round and look at the couple with curiosity.

After trawling up Cliff Road, down to North Sands, and up again, over the pine-clad cliffs, the party made the final descent to South Sands. Through the trees they could already see a hundred or so families and little groups preparing their area on the beach, ready for the start of the competition.

“Hurry!” commanded Lady Catherine, and the little party hurried down onto the beach. On arrival, Darcy managed to identify a good patch of sand not yet claimed.

“I will create a magnificent traditional sandcastle here with Miss de Brrr,” announced Lady Catherine. “You, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will enter the humourous category, since you find life so amusing. You may dig there.”

With her pink spade, she pointed to a shingly patch.

“The rest of you may join whichever group you prefer, although I dare say you will learn somewhat more from watching my sandcastle skills.”

Mr Collins advised Lottie that they would be best to take advantage of Lady Catherine’s condescending offer and went to join her. To Lizzy’s delight, Colin came to join her, and to her surprise—and Lady Catherine’s irritation—so did Darcy.

“Mr Darcy! I am surprised,” Lizzy owned honestly. “I did not think humour was something you would seek out.”

“Rarely, it is true. But I can enjoy a joke from time to time. Did you hear the one about the…?”

At that moment, the hooter went for the competition to start. All around, groups fell into immediate action, like lots of rabbits, scooping out, burrowing down, sending sand flying, building sand up, hunting for pebbles and seaweed for decoration.

To Mr Collins’s surprise, Lady Catherine produced a deck chair from nowhere, sat down, told him to take off his shoes, roll up his trousers, and get to work. With the help of Lottie, he was soon digging a deep hole and piling up the sand in an effort to create a great mound, which was required before any skilful artistry could be employed.

Lizzy’s team were, it has to be said, caught out by the hooter.

“Let us start to dig, at least, while we try to think of an idea,” suggested Colin.

Darcy grabbed a small red spade and set to with a vengeance. The sun was up, and his vigorous activity meant he soon felt the heat. He had some time ago removed socks and shoes, and now removed his shirt, revealing a muscular torso and leaving him only in his shorts. Still he worked on.

Lizzy had let her hair loose and had stripped down to her bikini top, although, for modesty’s sake, had kept her shorts on. She looked, in Darcy’s opinion, just like a mermaid—and he made the error of murmuring his thoughts aloud.

“A mermaid?” repeated Colin loudly. “A mermaid is a good idea, Darcy,” he continued, mistaking Darcy’s train of thought, “but hardly humorous.”

“Unless,” Lizzy chipped in with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “unless the mermaid were a man! You enjoy a joke, Mr Darcy. You said so yourself but a minute ago. Why don’t you lie down, and we can cover you to the waist in all this sand and shape it into a tail, then make a bikini top for you out of shells, and you would look divine with long seaweed hair.”