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

“I will promise no such thing! But since you are intent on killing me, why should you care?”

“Insolent, ungrateful girl!” yelled Lady Catherine, now incandescent with rage. Lady Catherine’s nails were formidable and were locked onto Lizzy’s neck as their owner ranted and raged. Lizzy could feel the final breath being squeezed from her limp body. Somewhere in the haze of near death, she saw Lady Catherine signal to the helicopter hovering above. A hook was lowered down, and Lady Catherine attached it to her diamanté belt. As Lizzy passed in and out of consciousness, she was aware of Lady Catherine being lifted from her and swept up and away towards the hovering helicopter, still screaming, “Insolent, ungrateful girl!” The pressure released from her throat, Lizzy choked and coughed until, coming round, she saw the helicopter disappearing towards Bolberry Down, Lady Catherine leaning from the open doorway, shaking her fist, and Miss de Brrr peeping out of a window. Lizzy recovered herself and rowed back to 3 Island Street, hardly knowing what to think.

The day after the extraordinary visit, Mr Bennet received a text from Mr Collins that cheered him up no end.

“I say, Lizzy,” he called, “I’ve just had a text from Mr Collins. It will amuse you! Ha! Ha! Ha! It says… Ha! Ha! Ha!… that you, Lizzy… you… may be linked to… Ha! Ha!… Mr Darcy! Mr Darcy! That man who probably never looked at you in his life! Ha! Ha!… and there is more… Dear Mr Collins expressly advises against it, as Lady Catherine would be seriously displeased! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

Lizzy would have much rather cried than laughed but did manage to add a “Ha! Ha!” to keep up appearances.

Bingley and Darcy took it upon themselves to suggest a walk with the Bennet girls over to Bolt Head that afternoon. Jane and Bingley walked ahead, hand in hand, then arm in arm, then arms around each other’s shoulders, then arms around each other’s waists, and with eyes only for each other. Darcy, Lizzy, and Kitty formed an uncomfortable threesome behind, until Kitty, bored, spotted some absolute machines playing volleyball as they passed South Sands and decided they would make better company than a dull sister and the odious Darcy, so she left. Darcy and Lizzy climbed the steep path to the cliff top alone. Darcy seemed most interested in the seagulls and failed to look once at Lizzy, but she, gathering boldness, burst out, “Thank you so much for saving Lydia!”

“Lydia! That was meant to be a secret. I thought Mrs Gardiner could have been trusted.”

“Oh, it was Lydia herself who blurted it all out. We are most grateful.”

They stood on the cliff top, where a gun emplacement had previously bravely stood to protect Salcombe, surviving the war but subsequently being destroyed by deadly health-and-safety orders. Now Darcy took courage.

“Lizzy, if you still cannot bear the sight of me, speak now, and I will never…”

A gust of wind raced up across the cliff and swept Darcy off his feet. He stumbled, and to Lizzy’s horror, disappeared backwards over the cliff top and out of sight.

“Darcy! Darcy!” she called frantically. Could it be that the joy she hardly dared to hope for had just been cruelly blown away? Was her chance of happiness lying dashed on the jagged rocks below? Or could he be lying injured in terrible pain? The idea of his perfect body mangled tore at Lizzy’s heart.

“Darcy! Darcy!”

Her cries were caught and tossed around by the heartless wind.

“I was just trying to say,” Darcy went on from somewhere far below, “if you cannot bear the sight of me, I will never ask you out again and will never ohh!…”

Above the deafening roar of the wind, there was a louder roar of falling rocks. Darcy’s voice went on but sounded farther away than ever.

“…I will never ohh!… mention the subject again.”

“Oh, Darcy!” called Lizzy over the cliff top. Her relief that he was still alive gave her the courage to voice her true feelings. “Far from not bearing the sight of you, I could not bear not to have sight of you, but I simply cannot see you at all at this very moment! Oh, Darcy!”

“Did you say you could or could not bear the sight of me?”

“I said I could not bear not to have sight of you!”

The wind whistled and snatched at their words, whisking them away so comprehension was almost impossible. Darcy tried again.

“I say, do you think you could make yourself clear on this, Elizabeth? Can you or can you not bear the sight of me? It is rather important to my next move.”

“I cannot bear not to have sight of you.”

“What was that?”

The wind still mocked at their words. Darcy hanging onto the rock face, with sixty feet sheer drop below and a devil of a climb above, was facing the dilemma of his lifetime. He loved Elizabeth more than life itself. That he would now admit to himself, and if Elizabeth could bear the sight of him, he would try and climb up. If she could not bear the sight of him, he might as well fling himself off the cliff onto the rocks below. He tried again.

“Elizabeth. Could you please try and speak more clearly. Can you or can you not bear the sight of me?”

There was no distinguishable answer. Darcy was desperate. Then he had an idea. From his pocket, he got out an old copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, which he had intended to read should they stop on their walk and conversation dry up. Reluctantly, he tore out the frontispiece and scribbled a note.

Elizabeth. Can you—or can you not—bear the sight of me? Yours, F Darcy.

PS Please roll one stone down if your answer is no you cannot, and two if yes you can.

He then wrapped the note around a bit of rock that he burrowed out from the rock face with his bare hands, and threw the little parcel successfully up and over the top of the cliff.

Darcy’s heart was racing, his mind in turmoil as he waited in torment for an answer from the woman he was so deeply, violently in love with. He writhed in passionate agony but immediately saw the danger of any such movement, as the ground threatened to fall away from below his feet, sending him to certain death. What could he do? Very carefully, hardly moving, to take his mind off his predicament, he opened Pride and Prejudice and started to read. Despite himself, he was immediately engaged and struck with how well the novel resonated with the modern reader.

Meanwhile, the little note wrapped around the stone met its mark almost too well. It smacked Lizzy in the middle of her forehead and knocked her clean out. She lay unconscious on the cliff top for a good half hour before coming round, whereupon she eagerly dropped two stones over the top. Darcy was not sure if one of the stones was or was not intended or had fallen by accident.

“Could you be more specific?” came another note.

Two large boulders came crashing down.

Darcy, now on chapter fifty-eight of Pride and Prejudice, felt a thrill of joy surge through his whole being. He tucked the book into his breast pocket, and with trembling hands, began the ascent of the cliff face. It was a superhuman effort, and for years later, walkers peering over the edge of the sheer drop would marvel at Darcy’s survival. But Lizzy’s response had inspired him, given him hope, courage, fearlessness. He found every nook and cranny on the rock face that could be found; every little projection that could be held onto was grasped, and despite the wind, wild and whipping around him, trying to peel him away, Darcy clambered on and upwards towards the object of his tempestuous affections.

At the top, Lizzy was lying down, the long grass whipping her face, leaning forward over the cliff as far as she dared, waiting for him. Without hesitation, she grabbed his strong, muscular arms as soon as they were in reach.