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

“So, Mother, what do you think of my boyfriend?” Lydia asked the delighted Mrs Bennet. “Don’t you wish your elder daughters were no longer on the shelf?”

This was too much for Lizzy and Jane, who rushed out in tears.

Later that day, the girls were sitting on the quayside, admiring Wickham’s fine windsurfing talents—or at least Lydia was admiring him, when she happened to say, “Aren’t things strange. Here I am with my boyfriend, and you, Jane, and Lizzy with none. But never mind. You never know what might turn up. Talking of turning up, wasn’t it strange that that horrible Mr Darcy came into Tottie’s with Uncle G and dragged me away—just as I was about to get my best tip ever! Can you believe it! Just as we were leaving, the manager came out, and Darcy had a real hoo hah with him and got me struck off my contract that dear Wickham had worked so hard to set up!” Lydia clasped her hand to her mouth. “…Oh!—it was all meant to be a secret! Oh, fish hooks!”

Lizzy nearly fell off the quayside in shock. So Darcy was the saviour! Oh, Lor! Darcy! Questions, rapid and wild, crowded her mind. Feelings, passions, possibilities rose to the surface and were then quelled immediately by reasoning. She walked on into town, but nothing could distract her; not Jane imploring her to try on the bright pink sweatpants in Jack Wills that she had long coveted; not the glorious sight of Bolt , Cadmus , and Wolf , the rowing club’s Cornish Pilot Gigs, out training; not the site of a common heron standing on the shoreline; not the sudden dramatic exit of The Baltic Exchange III all-weather lifeboat, leaving its pontoon on a rescue mission; not even Lydia offering to buy her a ginger-and-honeycomb ice cream from Salcombe Dairy. No! Her mind was in turmoil. Unable to relax in ignorance, Lizzy determined to send a text to Aunt G, begging her to clarify, to explain, to enable her to comprehend this extraordinary occurrence.

As Lizzy was scrambling about the rocks on Mill Bay later that day, her text from Aunt G was to surprise her further.

My dear Lizzy

Dear Aunt G. She always used text as if writing a letter.

How strange! I thought you knew all, otherwise Uncle G may not have acted as he did. But never mind that now. I will tell you what you are so anxious to hear. When Lydia disappeared and Uncle G went to find her, he was surprised to meet with Darcy in Newquay. Darcy, it appeared, had discovered Lydia and Wickham’s whereabouts! I am sorry to say that Wickham has behaved most abominably, and Lydia barely any better. Darcy apologised, saying that he knew of the dangers of Wickham’s character and felt it was almost his fault. Lydia should have been warned. Warned! I ask you. She, unlike you and Jane, is a silly goose, and in my opinion, has behaved very badly. I digress, however. Darcy, with great generosity, sorted out the contract. He did all this with

Oh! Aunt G! With what? How frustrating! The text ended, and nothing more was waiting. But Lizzy had learnt enough. It was Darcy. But why? Could he really have done such a thing because he felt responsible? A quiet voice she could not suppress murmured that perhaps he had done it all for her. She checked the thought. How ridiculous. She had rejected him once, and besides, the last thing he would want would be to go out with a girl whose sister was going out with the abhorred Wickham. At that moment, Wickham himself appeared from behind a large seaweed-clad outcrop.

“Lizzy!” he said in surprise.

“Wickham!” she returned, challenging.

He grinned up at her, trying to gauge her feelings, but then slipped and looked likely to fall into the swirling sea below. Lizzy grasped him just in time, and his fate hung with her. After a fleeting hesitation, her kindheartedness and good sense won over. “Come, Wickham, you are dating my sister now. Let us no longer argue.” And she pulled him back to safety, slapped him heartily on the back, and linking his arm in hers, they walked back along the sunlit beach.

Soon after her Newquay adventures, Lydia awoke one morning, having had a vivid dream that her life would change and she was destined to do great things. This played on her mind. Deep in thought, she made a cup of coffee and went to sit on the bench outside the Over 60’s Club overlooking the harbour. A frail, elderly lady with skin as delicate as parchment and hair so wispy it was hardly there seemed to appear from nowhere and perched on the bench beside Lydia.

They fell into conversation. In a faint, whispery voice that at the same time had a mysterious strength and directness that pierced Lydia’s very soul, the lady spoke of her own vocation. She was a nun and had devoted her life to helping others: survivors of natural disasters; abandoned orphans; victims of war; sufferers from horrendous diseases; prisoners; prostitutes; the blind; the deaf; the dumb; the lost; the limbless—even the lap dancers. Lydia thought of her own selfish life, burst into tears, vowed to reform, and perhaps, if God would allow, eventually take orders.

The nun comforted her and said salvation was open to all who opened their hearts and minds to repentance. She took Lydia’s smooth, soft hand in her own feathery fingers and whispered that God would give her strength. Tears flowed down Lydia’s cheeks. A haze blew in from over the sea, enveloping the two women, and when it was gone, the elderly lady, too, had disappeared. Lydia knew now that the dream last night had not been merely a dream but a vision, and that God had sent the nun to speak to her.

Hope surged through her selfish veins. She ran home, crying out that she had seen the light, was spurning her foolish ways, was determined to devote the rest of her life to helping others, and administered blessings to one and all. Mr Bennet was surprised. Kitty was openmouthed in shock. Lizzy, reading an article on “Sisters of Mercy” in the Daily Telegraph , said that might be the first step of her salvation. Lydia saw Lizzy’s reading that article at that very moment as a sign so clear and bright and shining that within half an hour she had booked herself an interview at the Sisters of Mercy recruiting office in London, which if successful, would see her sent off to build a school for abandoned children in Ecuador for the rest of the summer holidays.

“May the Lord bless you, Lizzy,” cried Lydia in ecstasy.

At that moment, Wickham appeared at the door.

“Ready for the beach?” he asked Lydia cheerfully.

“Not the beach you’re thinking of! But if you think you can be saved, pack a rucksack with your most basic belongings,” replied the transformed Lydia. “I am off to Ecuador on the first step to salvation. Come along if you like—but don’t expect any fun and games from me!” she added, winking conspiratorially at her family.

“Actually, Lydia,” replied Wickham, blushing, “there was something I was going to… I think I…”

Wickham’s voice trailed off. To the Bennets’ surprise, Denny also appeared by the doorway and stood beside Wickham.

“What Wickham is trying to say,” explained Denny, “what he was going to say on the beach but perhaps best be said now is… well, Lydia, Wickham has decided to stay. With me.”

Denny put his arm protectively round Wickham’s shoulder. Wickham stared at the pavement, unable to meet Lydia’s eyes.

“On manoeuvres,” added Denny as if to explain.

“Of course,” said Lydia in a whisper. “God bless you. Both.”

Wickham just managed a smile, and the two young men were gone.

“Well!” said Lydia, trying to take it all in. “Well!” she repeated, recovering herself and regathering her thoughts, “I guess it’s time for me to get going, too!”