Mrs Bennet and the girls spent the morning discussing what the barbeque would consist of, only to be quashed in their enthusiasm by a message received on Mr Bennet’s phone from young Mr Bingley, informing them he had made a diary error and would in fact be in Dartmouth that evening and unable to join them. Mrs Bennet was most vexed and commented that she hoped he was not going to be one of those young men who was constantly flitting from one thing to another and could never be trusted to make up his mind. Her anxieties, however, were assuaged when Mr Bennet read out the remainder of the message.
“Soz, Mr Bonnet, but will be back 2 Salcombe 2morrow with friends on 62ft yacht Pemberley. All invited for drinks. Bingley.”
“A sixty-two-foot yacht! He must be a very wealthy young man!” exclaimed Mrs Bennet in delight, quite forgetting her anxiety about his flightiness.
Discussion now transferred from the barbeque to what one should wear for drinks at noon on a sixty-two-foot yacht.
“I shall wear like my new pink sundress from Fat Face,” declared Kitty. “Although I have only worn it like once, I have seen many a young man turn their heads to stare at me.”
“In horror,” concluded Lydia.
“Beast,” retorted Kitty tearfully. “Mother, tell Lydia not to be so mean.”
“I think you look most fetching in pink, Kitty dear,” said Mrs Bennet, “and, Lydia, you must wear your yellow satin with the little matching bandanna.”
“Yellow, Mother? Joke on!” retorted Lydia. “No, I will wear Kitty’s pink. I look so much more glamourous in it than she does!”
“What! Have you, like, dared to try it on?” Kitty sat up in horror.
“Only once—and it suited me perfectly.”
“Really. How childish you girls are,” interjected Mary. “I, for one, will not be taking up such an invitation. I have my physics and my future to consider.”
“Whateva,” snorted Lydia, and the conversation continued in such a vein for some time.
The eldest two Bennet girls took the opportunity to slip away and enjoy a deep, meaningful conversation while strolling along the beach.
“How Lydia and Kitty go on,” laughed Jane.
“They drive me to distraction,” replied Lizzy, picking up a smooth, flat pebble and skimming it across the calm sea. “But you, Jane, why, you have the patience of an angel.”
Jane smiled, unable to think of a response. Lizzy continued teasingly. “But even angels may wish to fall in love and marry, Jane. Have you considered what you will wear tomorrow, for you are surely the prettiest of us all and by far the sweetest natured and have the most chance of landing a prize catch.”
“Oh, Lizzy. How you tease me. I have given it very little thought, but now you come to mention it, I think I will wear my pale blue.”
Jane laughed, and the girls, reaching the end of the beach, scrambled over the rocks to consider the matter further whilst poking around in the rock pools.
In the event, Mr Bennet was diverted by business matters and was unable to join the party venturing out to drinks on Pemberley , so the girls (including Mary who persuaded herself that a few hours in constructive leisure may refresh her mind and therefore be beneficial to her studies) went accompanied only by their mother. Mrs Bennet was vexed that Lydia had insisted on dressing in her seriously short shorts, but apart from this, was in good spirits as they left the safety of the shore and travelled over the estuary waters in Angelica to where they understood Pemberley to be at anchor. Unfortunately, Mrs Bennet had misunderstood Mr Bennet’s directions, and, by the time they had putt-putted up the inlets to South Pool, then Frogmore, and practically all the way to Kingsbridge with no sign of the magnificent Pemberley, Mrs Bennet was becoming agitated.
“Oh, Lord! We are so late! It will be teatime before we arrive. We will make such a terrible impression!” At that moment, Lizzy’s mobile rang. It was Charlotte Lucas.
“Oh, Lizzy! Thank goodness you have answered. Listen, I am at a drinks party on a yacht and have just overheard the delightful Mr Bingley saying how disappointed he is that your family is not here. He has heard much of your reputation as hotties and was looking forward to judging for himself! Are you not coming?”
“Hotties!” Lizzy laughed. “Yes, Charlotte—we are intending to come directly, but I fear we are lost—or at least Pemberley is lost to us!”
“What?” interjected Mrs Bennet. “Is Charlotte Lucas already on board? Trust Marcia to think only of her own daughter! Find out where the yacht is. Hurry, Lizzy! Hurry!”
“Mother, please! The line is poor enough. I can barely hear dear Charlotte.”
In time, Lizzy managed to hush Mrs Bennet, ascertain the location of the yacht, and instruct Lydia, who was at Angelica’ s helm, to head in the right direction.
There was much shrieking and wobbling of the boat as the girls disembarked from Angelica and climbed the wooden stepladder to board Pemberley . And what a splendid yacht it was indeed: sixty-two feet long—or an inch or so more—with fine varnished decks, polished brass instruments, two masts that seemed to touch the sky, furled round with the whitest of sails. All this was enough to take one’s breath away, but what captivated the girls most—and Mrs Bennet the very most—was Mr Bingley. Mr Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. He seemed equally captivated, waving away the Bennets’ apologies for being late, and helping each one on board with delight. One could not help but notice his sharp intake of breath on first beholding Jane and how he took a little longer helping her on board and how his eyes followed her every move and how attentive he was to her every possible requirement for a drink or perhaps a little shade or to ensure she did not suffer from too strong a breeze or was not made giddy by the gentle rocking of the boat.
Champagne was served, and all was jollity and delight. Mr Bingley introduced his visitors to his sisters, Cazza, Lulu, and Hattie, who attempted civility before taking out their towels, lying down towards the bows, closing their eyes, and busying themselves with sunbathing. Mrs Bennet, so put out initially to find Mrs Lucas already on board, soon fell into discussion with her dear friend, and both agreed that Mr Bingley was the perfect young man.
“To think,” whispered Mrs Bennet, “that such a young man should own not only Netherpollock but also such a fine yacht.”
“Oh, Mrs Bennet! You are mistaken. Mr Bingley may own Netherpollock, but he does not own this yacht. No. That honour goes to his good friend Mr Darcy!”
“Mr Darcy! And who is he?” asked Mrs Bennet, most puzzled.
At that very moment, Mr Bingley seemed to come out of his entrancement with Jane and called in a loud voice, “I say, Darcy! Do come and join us! We have guests! Darcy!”
All eyes looked to the front of the yacht where stood a tall, dark figure no one had previously observed. Now hearing his name, the gentleman in question turned and immediately drew gasps of admiration from all the ladies, thrilled by his fine, tall person, his impressive physique set off perfectly by a fabulously British blue-and-white-striped cotton shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, muscular arms, dark blue shorts revealing strong, muscular legs, handsome features, noble mien, and the fact that circulated almost immediately that his fortune was tenfold that of Mr Bingley’s.
“Oh, Lord!” exclaimed Mrs Bennet in an excited whisper on receiving this news. “He is far handsomer than Mr Bingley. He would make the better husband!”
Bingley clambered forward over the deck to speak with urgency to Darcy.
“Come, Darcy. I must have you join our guests. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better join us.”
“I certainly shall not. There is no woman aboard whom I would wish to waste my time with. And you are talking to the only handsome girl.”
“Oh, she is the hottest tottie I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty and, I dare say, splendidly agreeable. Do let me introduce you.”
“Which do you mean?”
Turning round, Darcy looked for a moment at Lizzy, who was perched on the cabin roof, and catching her eye, momentarily withdrew his own.
“Boo that! She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
With that, Darcy turned away and continued his brooding stare out over the estuary. Bingley, perplexed by his friend’s stupid behaviour, clambered back over the deck to further enjoy the company of those in the cockpit. Lizzy, who had overheard Mr Darcy’s remark, felt he was indeed a proud and unpleasant man, so was not hurt and enjoyed regaling the story to her friends.
The drinks party drew to a close, and the Bennet family returned without further incident to 3 Island Street, where the rest of the day was spent recounting the events aboard Pemberley . Mr Bennet was told, if not once but a thousand times by Mrs Bennet, how delightful Mr Bingley was, how he admired Jane, and how he favoured her above all others, and only when Mr Bennet protested that he had heard enough did Mrs Bennet look for another avenue for her story and recount the outrageous behaviour of Mr Darcy. “He is the rudest, most pompous, stuck-up, conceited, high and mighty, self-important, snobbish, arrogant big head one could have the misfortune to meet!”
“You did not like him, then?” suggested Mr Bennet.
“Like him?” retorted Mrs Bennet, incredulous. “Oh, Mr Bennet, how you tease me! You know I would happily have wrung his neck and thrown him overboard.” And with that, Mrs Bennet flounced out of the room, and Mr Bennet was left once more, grateful for silence and solitude.