“I shall not bother with a wetsuit. It is such a bore trying to pull it on and off all the time, and it makes me look like a giant seal. No, I shall wear the skimpiest of bikinis, so all the lifeguards will make sure of rescuing me should I get into difficulties.”
“I must have goggles, though,” interrupted Kitty. “I can’t like see a thing without goggles.”
“Although I have great demands on my intellect to continue my studies, I feel an early morning swim can but only help. I will be coming, but I feel a wise approach is necessary for a successful outcome. I shall wear goggles and my all-in-one Billabong wetsuit,” announced Mary.
“Will you be taking to the waters, Mr Collins?” asked Lizzy teasingly. “Or would it be considered too unseemly for a man of your position? I am sure you would not want word to get back to Lady Catherine de Brrr of any outrageous behaviour!”
Mr Collins was appalled by the idea of having to swim across the estuary at seven o’clock in the morning. He had, however, enjoyed a glass or two of wine, and also being in courting mode, felt an unaccustomed bravado come over him.
“Lady Catherine would want her vicar to lead by example. I will certainly be there, and if I may take the opportunity to ask if you, Lizzy, would you care to sit next to me on the boat going over so that I may protect you from any undesirable spray, and that I might then have the pleasure of guiding you through any hazardous waters that might come in our way on the swim back?”
Lizzy’s heart sank. She had very much hoped to have the pleasure of swimming alongside Mr Wickham. A slow suspicion had been creeping over her that Mr Collins, from amongst her sisters, had shown a preference for her, and this latest remark only confirmed her worst fears.
Chapter 18
Fishermen, tradesmen, and early walkers—usually elderly—are generally the only characters to be seen in the very early hours of the morning in Salcombe during the summer months. The holidaymakers take a slow start to the day, luxuriating in the opportunity to stay in bed just that little bit longer unless excited toddlers persuade them to get up and out on the sands. The latest risers are teenagers and young adults wasted from the previous night’s partying or from late-night escapades on the beach, which have left them in need of extra sleep.
Not so on the morning of the Estuary Swim. By 6:30 a.m., black rubber-clad figures are creeping out of front doors, closing them softly behind. From Devon Road, Shadycombe Road, Church Street, Buckley Street they come —the teenagers joined by the elderly and youngsters—streaming up Fore Street, past Whitestrand, past The Ferry Inn, past the Salcombe War Memorial, and down onto Cliff House Gardens, where they gather—not in their twos or threes, not in their tens or twenties, but in their hundreds.
The atmosphere intensifies, the Harbour Master and his team are at the ready, and the first boatloads of swimmers are taken across the sparkling waters to Small’s Cove, where they assemble for the big swim back.
All was commotion down in 3 Island Street. Lizzy and Jane were ready, wearing cosy hoodies over their swimwear and carrying beach towels. Lydia was hunting for her bikini top and suddenly confessed that she might have left it on North Sands the day before—how it could have come detached she did not know—so wanted to borrow the bikini that Kitty was wearing, who said she could not because she already had it on, so in the end, Lydia had to wear an unmatching top and bottom. Mary was taking an interminable time getting into her Billabong wetsuit, and they were in danger of running late when they all at last were gathered in the tiny hall.
“Ready at last!” said Lydia, her eyes gleaming in excitement.
Lizzy was just about to step onto the street when her heart stopped.
“Mr Collins! Where is Mr Collins? Mary, did you wake him? You promised you would.”
Mary, already boiling in her wetsuit, would have gone redder if she wasn’t already bright beetroot.
“I forgot,” she mumbled.
The last thing poor Lizzy wished to happen was for Mr Collins to accompany them on the swim, but she felt it would be too unkind to give him the slip, so she raced upstairs and knocked on his door. There was no answer. She knocked again. Still no answer. With caution she opened the door and called his name softly and then a little louder. With still no response, she started to close the door when suddenly from the bedclothes came a snort, a sniffle, and then Mr Collins’s face turned towards her, his eyes opened and then opened wide.
“Elizabeth! My own Elizabeth! Oh, my Lord! You have come! I do doubt the wisdom of your forwardness, but I am prepared to forgive you such is my passion for you!”
He threw back the duvet, inviting her into his hot and enseamed bed.
“Mr Collins! You forget yourself,” cried Lizzy in much alarm. “And you forget that today is the Harbour Swim. I have merely come to wake you, as Mary has quite forgot. We are leaving now, so if you wish to join us, please make haste!”
And with that, Lizzy turned, shut the door, and raced downstairs, her heart beating and her whole being a little shaken by the experience.
“Is he like coming?” asked Kitty, hoping he was not.
In answer to her question, a banging of a door and footsteps were heard above, and Mr Collins appeared, dishevelled but attired in surprisingly brief swimming trunks and carrying the wetsuit Mr Bennet had so kindly lent him the night before.
“Sorry, ladies, to have delayed you, but let us not dally now! I am ready for whatever delights lie before us!”
And with that, the little party hurried to join the throng at Cliff House Gardens.
Once they had paid their entry fee of £1.00, obtained their numbered rubber wristband, and joined the queue for the boats, Lizzy looked around for Wickham. She was disappointed not to see him there but consoled herself thinking he may already be on the far side. Certainly Bingley would already be on the beach with his sisters, as Netherpollock lay that side. It then crossed her mind that if Darcy was going to be there, Wickham might deliberately avoid the event. Her anger towards Darcy intensified at the thought.
“Do not be alarmed!” consoled Mr Collins, seeing her expression and taking her arm. “The seas might be treacherous, but I will be here to guide you and save you from any peril.”
Mr Collins was attentive to Lizzy from then onwards. He helped her down the steps, nearly causing her to trip and fall; he pushed her onto the boat so that she fell headlong onto the wooden planks; he shielded her from the spray as they crossed, so she could see nothing but the fleshy white of his chest, and he gallantly leapt out of the boat to help her down on arrival—but anticipated the landing early in error, so they both found themselves chest deep in the icy sea. The dramatic change of temperature had a devastating effect on Mr Collins. He was scarcely able to breath and became momentarily paralysed by the intense cold. Seconds later he regained control over his faculties and ran shrieking out of the water, then remembering Lizzy, turned to help her out, pulling her so she fell again into the sea.
At last all were ashore on Small’s Cove and were mingling with four hundred or so other early morning swimmers, all in good spirits, all discussing how cold the water would or would not be and whether it would or would not be advisable to wear a wetsuit.
“My wetsuit!” exclaimed Mr Collins. “I fear I have left it on the launch!”
“I have it,” said Jane kindly. “When you so gallantly leapt overboard, I picked it up, thinking it might be forgotten.”
“Thank you! Thank you!” exalted Mr Collins. “You are kindness indeed. Even Lady Catherine would condescend to agree that you almost have the same excessive kindness for which she is famous! Thank you again.”
“Would you like some help putting it on?” further queried Jane.
“No. It would not be seemly. I can manage myself, thank you,” replied Mr Collins, who proceeded to attempt to squeeze himself into the rubbery outfit. It was challenging. Mr Collins soon found himself unbalancing on one leg, rolling round on the sand, trying in vain to catch the zip strap on his back, and with more help than he would like to admit to, eventually found himself crammed into the all-in-one suit. It was not a pretty sight.
