Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge (2 page)

"Enough talk of ale, gentlemen, for my throat is positively parched. Blast this insufferable, sweltering heat!" Ellis Fleming wrenched at his neckcloth and continued, "How much farther until we finally reach your home, Darcy? I am afraid I shall appear at your illustrious parents' doorstep a sopping dishrag if we have to travel much longer. I had much rather make a good first impression and sincerely hope my accoutrements have preceded me to Pemberley. A good washing-up and fresh clothing are very appealing right now."

"I am sure your valet has your belongings awaiting you in a guest room, my friend; and you have, in fact, been on Pemberley's grounds for some time now. My parents are presently not in residence, so you only have to worry about impressing my impressionable younger sisters. But I share your discomfort, Fleming. Hell, 'tis hotter than Hades today." Fitzwilliam Darcy doffed his hat, wiped his brow with his handkerchief, and gave his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, a challenging look. "Too bad we are no longer carefree youths, for the pond is but another ten minutes afar."

"Youth is a relative term, Darcy; and I am not yet eight and twenty. As for being carefree, are we not all gentlemen of leisure, or at least on holiday or leave?"

"To the pond, then?"

"To the pond. Charge!"

Pemberley's heir and his army-officer cousin left their friends in the dust as they galloped off. Bingley and Fleming exchanged grins before urging their horses to follow the others around the bend. The four then veered off and, at a trot, followed a narrow path through the woods; within minutes they emerged into a grassy clearing edging a small lake.

If the gentlemen expected to behold pristine, fresh water, they were certainly disappointed. The lake was partially covered with a film of slimy pea-green scum. Dragonflies and a variety of other insects droned, dipped, and danced above the putrid soup. The four dismayed gentlemen dismounted, saw to the comfort of their horses, and gazed in disgust at the stagnant pond.

"You cannot be serious, Darcy! I can certainly believe it of Fitz. But you, Mr. Meticulous, actually swam here?" Ellis Fleming wrinkled his nose in repugnance and exclaimed, "Well, I, for one, absolutely refuse to submerge my body in
that
!"

Bingley nodded in agreement. "Ugh! Is that unpleasant odour actually emanating from the water?" He bent his head to take a wary sniff beneath his clammy armpit.

Colonel Fitzwilliam told the two youngest men not to be so fastidious and turned to Darcy. "I do not believe this pond has been tended since we used to swim here years ago, cousin. Nevertheless, are you game?"

"Are you daring me, Richard?"

"Last one in is both a chicken and a rotten egg; and no, I do not know which came first, so do not bother to ask."

The others watched in amazement and disgust as the cousins quickly divested themselves of hats, cravats, coats, waistcoats, and riding boots in preparation for a plunge into Pemberley's polluted pond.

The meticulous Fitzwilliam Darcy ensured each and every piece of his clothing was neatly folded - or it may simply have been a delaying tactic - so Richard Fitzwilliam was the first to disrobe down to shirt and breeches. The Colonel dashed toward a small, decrepit wooden pier that extended from the bank several yards into and over the murky water hole. The rickety boards creaked and groaned under his weight as he ran; and with a shout and a running leap, he cannonballed into the middle of the pond. When he surfaced, green slime oozed down his head and dripped back into the lake. He grinned and slicked back his sandy hair while he treaded water. His three companions stood at the water's edge, arms akimbo, and shook their heads.

"I always knew Fitz was a slimy fellow. Absolute pond scum!"

"Slimeball!"

"Scumbucket!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam paddled toward the others and said, "So happy to be of service to you by way of providing such am
ooze
ment. I admit this pool could use a good dredging, but you fellows could use a good ... drenching!" He launched a dousing spray of water toward Bingley and Fleming and lunged for his cousin. Darcy realized what Fitz was up to just a moment too late; the hand that clutched his ankle suddenly jerked the young man off balance; and, with an ungentlemanly oath, Pemberley's distinguished heir was yanked into the muck.

The friends on shore were surprised when Darcy proceeded to the deeper middle instead of rejoining them on clean, dry land. Their algae-covered host shouted to them, "Come, you two blokes. I must have you swim. I hate to see you standing about on the bank in that stupid manner. You had much better swim."

Colonel Fitz added, "For wat-er you waiting? Just jump in, you rotten-egg chickens."

Bingley and Fleming looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders, and stripped down as far as propriety dared. If the slime-surfaced water met with the persnickety standards of Fitzwilliam Darcy, then it should certainly be acceptable to them. They raced to the dock and enthusiastically launched themselves into the scummy pond. They surfaced, spitting and sputtering, and pointed and laughed at the goop and gunk adhered to each other's hair and linen shirts. Ellis Fleming started to fuss again about appearing as a slimy and foul-smelling dishrag in front of Darcy's siblings. Bingley assured him it would not be a problem; but he suddenly stopped and cried out in alarm, "Bloody hell! What was that?" Bingley frantically tried to see, with wide, panicky eyes, below the lime-green surface. "Good God, Fleming! Something vile just latched onto my foot!"

Fleming floated on his back in a clear patch of water and calmly said, "Probably just vile Fitz again, kicking up a lark."

"No. Fitzwilliam and Darcy are on the other side, wisely climbing out of this godforsaken hole."

"Then probably just vile leeches feasting on your blood and sucking you dry."

"Very funny, Mr. Phlegm-ing."

"Well, Bingley, duck underwater and detach the nefarious sucker."

"Swim underwater in this turbid ... phlegm? Do not hold your breath, Fleming. Fiend seize it! There it is again!" Bingley began to thrash about and pant. "I am not staying another second in this foul murky soup! Who knows what sinister denizens of the deep reside beneath this scum!" He splashed toward the shore, slipped and slid in the mud, and scrambled up the bank to safety with an anxious Ellis Fleming close on his heels. Firmly entwined around Bingley's right ankle and trailing behind were several strands of slimy aquatic grass.

The friends spent a few moments drying themselves out in the sun and ribbing Bingley, who insisted he quite easily might have drowned. The four then donned their boots, gathered their belongings and mounts, and squished and squelched their way, on foot, the short distance toward the manor. Two stable boys met them at the edge of the meadow and took the horses. With algae-tinted hair and clinging, revealing shirts and breeches, the sodden, malodorous gentlemen continued across the lawn, on a direct trajectory to four genteel and unsuspecting young ladies.

The gentlemen, for they were still worthy of that distinction even though they did not appear to deserve it at that moment, strode onward, four abreast, and continued to tease Bingley about his hair-raising encounter. The victim, an easy-going chap, took it all in stride. Fleming suggested they should search the shelves of Pemberley's library for information on plant life so they could identify the lank specimen from the abyss that had latched onto their friend.

Darcy's smirk belied his serious tone when he said, "I do not believe we would succeed in finding such books, for our family has not recently botany."

Colonel Fitzwilliam added, "That is a shame, for Bingley will be unable to weed 'em and reap. Fortunately, our friend has his feet firmly planted on the ground and, like a mushroom, he is a fungi."

The good-natured Charles Bingley shot back, "Fitz, unlike you, grass grows up; and with fronds like you, who needs anemones. I think you should make like a tree and leave."

"Oh, for pity's sake," groaned Ellis Fleming, "enough already!"

"Yes," Darcy agreed. "Incorrigible punsters should never be incorriged."

"Darcy, I swear you are behaving just as badly as Fitz and Bingley today. You are, you know, quite a different fellow in public settings, always so perfect and proper and notoriously picksome, with a stiff upper lip and all. I am still trying to recover from the awful shock of seeing you in your current unkempt state. I sincerely hope we can all avoid detection until we have had an opportunity to put our appearances to rights. It would simply not do to be observed as we are now."

From behind a seven-foot neatly trimmed hedgerow, four very elegant and pretty young women suddenly appeared before the four creatures from the green lagoon. The ladies had their backs to the men while they searched the bushes for the puppies and did not initially notice the swamp savages.

"Bloody hell! Look," whispered Richard Fitzwilliam as he grabbed his cousin's arm to halt forward momentum and pointed in the direction of the females.

Darcy glanced toward the hedge and the colour drained from his face. Nonplussed, he frantically swung his head around looking for a place to hide but saw no options for concealment and was brought to point non plus. "Oh God," he groaned. "They cannot
possibly
be allowed to see us like this," he hissed, "and who
are
those ladies with my sisters?"

The other two men froze in their tracks and Charles Bingley muttered out of the side of his mouth to Ellis Fleming, "Perhaps if we stand absolutely still, they will not even notice us."

"Bingley, sometimes you are as thick as two short planks. We are obviously quite highly visible out here in the middle of the lawn, I foresee no possible way to salvage this unacceptable encounter and my chance of making a good first impression is now certainly dashed." Fleming spoke in a quiet undertone, not wanting to draw the ladies' attention.

"By golly, your mention of pieces of wood and 'dashed' has just given me an excellent idea, Fleming. I shall gather some twigs, toss them behind the bushes and while the ladies investigate the sound, we shall all make a mad dash for cover."

Fleming looked at Charles Bingley as if he had grown a second head. "
Mad
is right, my friend; for you are certainly as mad as a March hare. Egad, man, I have always suspected you were dicked in the nob!"

Bingley picked up two projectiles and quite precisely lobbed them over the hedge. To his friend's amazement, the ruse actually worked, for the young women disappeared behind the bushes. Fleming hissed and frantically gestured, "Psst, Darcy! Fitz! Make haste! Bingley has created a diversion so we can run and hide. Come, let us remove ourselves from this horrible hobble."

Bemused Fitzwilliam Darcy and befuddled Richard Fitzwilliam stood momentarily rooted to the spot and looked at their friends in bewilderment. Unfortunately, a moment was all Dust Bunny and Pug-Nacious needed to each snatch up one of the sticks and bound toward Darcy, overjoyed to welcome him home and to play fetch with the toys that had fallen from the sky. This action, of course, alerted the ladies to the fact they had unexpected company.

P
ART
II

A Mad Derbyshire Cat
or
Northern Angered Tabby

A tribute to Austen's
Northanger Abbey

C
hapter I

"I Have a Bone of Contention to Pick With You!"

The first to retrace her steps from behind the tall hedge, Miss Georgiana Darcy was curious to determine why Dust Bunny and Pug-Nacious had so suddenly bolted. Her eyes followed their pell-mell progress across the manicured lawn until four pairs of tall leather boots arrested both her vision and the puppies' motion. As she glanced further upward, Miss Darcy saw a most incredulous and alarming blot on the landscape. She gave a little squeal, the colour drained from her face, and she lost her grip on the parasol and very nearly on reality. In spite of her angst, Georgiana stubbornly refused to give in to a missish swoon; instead she muttered an unladylike oath and quickly turned around to prevent the other three females from witnessing the humiliating and scandalous spectacle.

Miss Darcy was too late. When the elder Miss Bennet re-emerged, her gaze immediately came to rest on four damp and raffish ruffians frozen in front of her. "Good Lord in heaven," she gasped and immediately lowered her eyes. A furtive second glance verified the wild green-tinged rogues were, indeed, not a figment of her imagination. There they stood, not moving one obviously well-toned muscle. Jane clamped down on her rising panic; and, face flooded with colour, she spun around to protect the two younger ladies from observing the jaw-dropping sight.

Miss Bennet was too late. Her sister gasped and blushed. To Elizabeth's utter amazement, four handsome, earthy specimens of masculinity stood immobile on the lawn before her very appreciative eyes.
My goodness! Perhaps the crass truly is always greener on the other side of the hedge.
She was, of course, properly embarrassed; just the same, Elizabeth was also mesmerized by the way their revealing clothing clung quite indecently to rather impressive bodies. She knew it was wrong to stare; still, her only familiarity with the male form came from changing her baby brother's nappies and from artwork and statuary. Although the specimens in front of her were as inanimate as statues, they were actual flesh and red-blooded full-grown men. She only looked, therefore, for purely educational purposes. Elizabeth did, however, have the presence of mind to try and shield the youngest member of their party from the scandalous exhibition; and she quickly turned to give a warning.

Miss Elizabeth was too late. Miss Anna stepped out from behind the massive hedge and wondered why the others had either grown pale or coloured up so quickly. A bizarre image caught her notice; she screamed, swooned and would have fallen had Miss Elizabeth not been instantly at her side. Anna had recently finished reading a Viking novel that caused her vivid imagination to run wild, so she thought the barbarians on the lawn had come to plunder and pillage Pemberley and perhaps to ravish young maidens. When the youngest Darcy regained consciousness, Georgiana whispered in her ear; and Anna's reaction turned to chagrin when it was revealed she was actually well acquainted with three of the four brutes. She narrowed her eyes at the low-life hooligans across the way; and the awful truth was confirmed, for there stood the impeccable brother she had earlier boasted about to the Misses Bennet. For the first time ever, Fitzwilliam was shamefully scruffy, wretchedly rumpled, and most inappropriately attired for polite company. Her cousin Richard, the amiable Mr. Bingley, and another young fellow were in no better condition. Anna was miffed because her dear new friends were exposed to such impropriety on Pemberley property.

Dust Bunny and Pug-Nacious sat in front of their hero, their tiny tails and ears twitched whilst they waited for Darcy to play fetch. The puppies soon lost interest in being totally ignored, dropped the sticks, and bounded off in search of adventure. Fitzwilliam Darcy, still rooted to the spot, was absolutely horrified and mortified; and he knew there would be the devil to pay for his reckless actions. Nevertheless, he began to sheepishly speak, "Georgiana ... Anna ... "

Georgiana abruptly overrode him. Although the young lady was neither timid nor reserved, she usually projected a very gentle and genteel mien; however, her rather infamous temper, once provoked, was both fearsome and fierce. She snatched up her parasol, marched toward the delinquents, stopped in front of her elder sibling, tapped her foot, and glared. Miss Darcy's blue eyes flashed as she poked her brother in the chest with the point of her folded bumbershoot and launched a tirade.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy! Do you, by chance, have a maggot in that bacon-brained head of yours? How
dare
you arrive at our home so indecently attired? You must certainly be touched in the upper works to display such blatant disregard for propriety. You have incontrovertibly disgraced our family in front of my new friends while making a cake of yourself. I swear you have more hair than wit; and speaking of hair, I wonder what cork-brained whim resulted in this smelly green slime you are all sporting so prominently. Whatever the foul substance is, it must have seeped through your thick skull and addled your feeble mind."

The victim winced at the warranted criticism and tried to raise his hands in supplication, but they were filled with hat, riding crop, wrinkled cravat, coat, and waistcoat. Darcy turned to his cousin for moral support before attempting an explanation. Georgiana noticed the fleeting look between the two and became suspicious. She shifted her glare, and her ire, to her cousin. "Richard! I might have guessed. You, Colonel Mud-stuffin must be behind this ... this ...
this
!"

The army officer's military training instinctively kicked in. He stood at attention under her glower and eloquently gave his self-justifying defense. "
He
thought of it first, Georgie," accused the soldier as he twitched his head toward Darcy.

Georgiana continued to seethe and fume. "Richard Fitzwilliam! I very much doubt that
thought
played any part whatsoever in whatever rowdiness you
boys
have been involved in. Shame on you!" She turned her scorn on a new victim, pointing her frilly pink weapon at him. "And you, Mr. Bingley! I would have expected better of you, sir."

Charles Bingley hung his head in shame. In doing so, he caught sight of his form-hugging shirt and inexpressibles. The coat and waistcoat he had earlier flung off with wild abandon were quickly utilized to shield his torso from further scrutiny by the wide-eyed, innocent young women.

Ellis Fleming was entirely miserable, for he had so wanted to favourably impress Darcy's esteemed family. He might have been somewhat mollified, however, to know his sculpted body and handsome face had actually already made quite a fine impression on at least one of the ladies.

Jane Bennet, whose face was still flushed, had modestly dropped her gaze to the ground; and she had endeavoured not to glance up again. Miss Bennet spared a quick sideways glimpse at her sister and caught Elizabeth staring, chest level, at one of the men. "Lizzy," she hissed, "lower your gaze!" Miss Elizabeth obediently lowered her eyes, but not to her sister's satisfaction. When Jane peeked at her once more, she scolded, "Lizzy, not
there
! I meant lower your gaze to the ground!"

During Georgiana's dressing-down of her brother, Elizabeth was surprised to discover the male she had been ogling was, in fact, the always proper and impeccable Darcy heir. He certainly seemed far removed from the perfect specimen described by his youngest sister and more closely resembled a very good-looking barbaric buffoon; therefore, further observation was definitely warranted.

Fitzwilliam Darcy gradually regained his dignity and decided to also gain control of the situation. Determined to ignore the fact he and his companions were indecently attired, he squared his broad shoulders and stood proud and tall. Darcy noticed this slight movement again drew the attention of the pretty brunette's fine eyes, but it could not be helped. "Fleming, please allow me to introduce my charming sisters to you." He gestured with his riding crop and grimaced slightly as he said, "This dear, sweet, dulcet-toned gentlelady is Miss Georgiana Darcy." He gave them time to bow and curtsey before he beckoned his youngest sibling and continued. "And here is Miss Anna Darcy. Ladies, this is Mr. Ellis Fleming from farther north in Derbyshire. He and I enjoyed many a friendly rivalry on opposing sides of chess, debating, and fencing matches at Cambridge."

The visitor bowed again and said, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy and Miss Anna. Please accept my apologies for not gracing your presence with the decorum it deserves. We had truly expected to have ample opportunity to make ourselves presentable before being in such refined company."

Miss Darcy blushed, smiled, and responded sweetly, "Mr. Fleming, I am heartily convinced the fault was in no way yours." Again Georgiana looked daggers at her brother, thus providing her eyes a place to rest other than the direction to which they were involuntarily drawn, namely Fleming's tantalizing indigo eyes, thick, feathery black hair, exposed neck, and clinging shirt that hugged broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest. "Welcome to Pemberley. I hope you will enjoy your stay, sir. Gentlemen, please meet our delightful new friends, Miss Jane Bennet and her sister, Miss Elizabeth, who are visiting from Hertfordshire with their aunt, a dear friend of Mrs. Reynolds, our housekeeper."

Georgiana moved along the row of malodorous young men as she made each of them known to the Misses Bennet. Between each presentation, while those being introduced bowed, curtsied, and made polite small talk, she daintily took a whiff of her perfumed handkerchief to counteract the dank, fusty odour that permeated the air surrounding the gents. When she lastly introduced her brother, Miss Darcy emphasized the fact he had not been expected home any sooner than the evening. Georgiana shot her elder sibling an ominous look that unmistakably implied he was definitely not welcome in his present deplorable state. In his own defense, Darcy tersely explained he had received an express from their parents urging him to hasten the arrival of his party.

Indeed, whenever duty called them away from home, George and Lady Anne Darcy did not like to leave their two beloved daughters without the caring protection of their elder brother, albeit Georgiana was of age and quite capable of running the estate for a few days. Even though Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds were totally dependable and Pemberley had an excellent steward in Hugh Wickham, George Darcy was always more at ease when the strong, decisive heir was available to take over the reins in his absence.

The heir was predictably strong and decisive that very afternoon; and the strong odour, Fitzwilliam Darcy decided, would be washed away just as soon as enough hot water for four baths could be made available. He spoke on behalf of the other gentlemen when he said, "Please pardon us, ladies. We must repair to the manor and attempt to, uh, repair our appearances and, hopefully, our sullied reputations. We trust the damage is not irreparable." He bowed, as did the other fellows, and they made their way across the lawn with as much dignity as they could muster.

Charles Bingley's sullied reputation suffered further defilement when his cravat slipped from his bundle of clothing, wafted toward his boot, and wrapped itself around his ankle. As Bingley walked, the strip of white linen trailed through the grass, unnoticed by the men.

The four young ladies turned to watch the departure and one after another began to giggle. The menfolk immediately stiffened upon hearing the tittering but refused to be cowed by the offensive sound. They raised proud chins and strode toward the house without a backward glance. They proceeded without incident until Bingley's vile neckcloth became entangled around his other foot, which caused him to stumble. Without so much as a glance or stutter in his step, Colonel Fitzwilliam grabbed the chap's arm to steady him and muttered, "Shake a leg, Bingley." The foursome stepped up the pace and could not reach the safety of Darcy's home quickly enough.

Warm water, scented soaps, and crisp, clean clothing did much to restore the four gentlemen to rights. They did not give any thought to the number of servants sent scampering to see to their needs. Indeed, many heavy kettles of water had to be heated and lugged up flights of stairs by overworked chambermaids. Then their invaluable valets had to be summoned to assist with hair, barbering, and attire. Most employers tended to take such service for granted; however, these mannerly men were at least considerate enough to thank the workers for their efforts.

Darcy, Fitzwilliam, Bingley, and Fleming regrouped to lick their wounds and quaff alcoholic beverages in Pemberley's delightfully well stocked library, which benefitted from the work of many generations. The first three gents wholeheartedly agreed Georgiana could be an out-and-out hellcat. However, Fleming defended the lady, saying, "She was quite rightfully provoked by our unseemly appearance and was merely being protective of her younger sister and new friends. I greatly admire Miss Darcy's pluck."

Bingley sniggered and said, "Hah! Pluck reminds me of a chicken, which is just how I felt while being berated by her. I say, Darcy, your sister is absolutely lovely. All the same, if she ever eventually sets her cap at someone, I shall undoubtedly pity the poor chap when she is in high dudgeon. Miss Darcy can definitely raise a breeze. That said, she cannot hold a candle to my sister Caroline for being a harridan."