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

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 café, 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.