It was a blustery day as the party set off for the little beach, a not inconsiderable walk along the Devonshire coastline. The path was uneven and rocky in places, and Lizzy was happy to note Bingley grasping Jane’s arm from time to time to prevent himself from slipping. They passed Sharp Tor, and crossing the stream, made the descent down to Starehole Bay. Mrs Bennet was all shrieks and alarm as the shaly ground constantly threatened to slip from beneath her and in the end got the better of her, and she tumbled the last forty feet, taking with her Darcy, who had surprised all by coming along, too, and had been leading the way, alone with his own thoughts. Lizzy was mortified to see her mother grasping at Darcy as she fell, pulling him with her down the remainder of the path, onto the beach, where Mrs Bennet fell in a heap. To his credit, Darcy helped her to her feet, and they brushed themselves down and waited for the remainder of the party to make a more genteel entrance onto the sandy shore.
The picnic was spread out, and the girls wrapped themselves in towels, and shrieking, wriggling and hopping about on one leg and then another, changed into their bikinis. Bingley and Darcy coyly retired to the rocks for their changing room. When they emerged in swimming trunks, the girls could not fail to be impressed. Bingley was slim and trim, and Jane had eyes only for him. But as for Mr Darcy! Fit, muscular, glowing. A silent gasp uttered by the remaining group of women left them openmouthed as he approached across the sands. Only Mary was unable to restrain herself, and to her embarrassment, let out a squeak, quickly covering her mouth to prevent further eruptions and then burrowing into her bag for her physics textbook Electric Surges to divert her mind and recover her reputation. Kitty broke the ice and suggested a game of volleyball before lunch. Bingley and Darcy were selected to pick teams. Lizzy was desperate to see if Bingley would choose Jane first, which he did. Jane went and stood by him, both only too aware of the proximity of their nearly naked bodies.
“Splendid!” cried Bingley. “Now, Darcy,” he enthused, desperately trying to divert his own attention from the attractions of Jane, “your turn!”
Darcy stared at the three sisters before him. Three young women in swimwear. It was hard to think with his usual clarity. His eyes moved swiftly from Kitty to Mary to Lizzy, where they stopped, taking her all in from head to toe to head, where they locked with Lizzy’s. After a full two minutes, Lizzy felt impelled to turn away, but Darcy still did not speak.
“Come now, Darcy!” encouraged Bingley. “I must have you choose. I hate to see you standing about in this stupid manner. If you do not hurry, the tide will have come up and drowned us all before we have had a chance to even throw the ball.”
Darcy opened his mouth, and still looking as if in a trance at Lizzy, so tempting, clad in so very little, said very slowly, “Mary.”
Lizzy, it must be said, felt some disappointment but smiled gamely, and in the event, ended up on Bingley’s team. This did give her the opportunity to observe Darcy at length, who was observing her rather than the ball, and this, combined with Jane and Bingley both inclined to say “After you” before hitting the ball, led to a poor standard of play. This, however, could not keep the young people’s spirits down, and once the game was complete, there was a general dash into the sea. Much splashing followed, and Kitty dared them all to a swimming race to Bellhouse Rock and back. Lizzy found herself swimming beside Darcy, and they had a few polite words about Durham until mountains of surf reduced conversation to small exclamations. They all reached Bellhouse Rock successfully and sat to get their breath until someone said, “Where’s Mary?”
“Help! Help!” came a thin cry from the seas.
Mary was in the process of drowning. Bingley and Darcy gamely dived in and hauled her out of the water, and while Bingley pumped her chest, it fell to Darcy, reluctantly some would say, to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Lizzy was ablaze with emotion as she watched. She almost felt it would have been worth nearly drowning herself for such salvation. But she had rejected him once. Who could possibly expect that a man such as Darcy would ever repeat his overtures? No. It was over. Silly girl.
Back on the beach, everyone declared the picnic a great success: marmite sandwiches had never tasted so good, and the prawns made only one person ill. The party returned to Salcombe in high spirits, Jane especially walking on air.