The nun comforted her and said salvation was open to all who opened their hearts and minds to repentance. She took Lydia’s smooth, soft hand in her own feathery fingers and whispered that God would give her strength. Tears flowed down Lydia’s cheeks. A haze blew in from over the sea, enveloping the two women, and when it was gone, the elderly lady, too, had disappeared. Lydia knew now that the dream last night had not been merely a dream but a vision, and that God had sent the nun to speak to her.
Hope surged through her selfish veins. She ran home, crying out that she had seen the light, was spurning her foolish ways, was determined to devote the rest of her life to helping others, and administered blessings to one and all. Mr Bennet was surprised. Kitty was openmouthed in shock. Lizzy, reading an article on “Sisters of Mercy” in the Daily Telegraph, said that might be the first step of her salvation. Lydia saw Lizzy’s reading that article at that very moment as a sign so clear and bright and shining that within half an hour she had booked herself an interview at the Sisters of Mercy recruiting office in London, which if successful, would see her sent off to build a school for abandoned children in Ecuador for the rest of the summer holidays.
“May the Lord bless you, Lizzy,” cried Lydia in ecstasy.
At that moment, Wickham appeared at the door.
“Ready for the beach?” he asked Lydia cheerfully.
“Not the beach you’re thinking of! But if you think you can be saved, pack a rucksack with your most basic belongings,” replied the transformed Lydia. “I am off to Ecuador on the first step to salvation. Come along if you like—but don’t expect any fun and games from me!” she added, winking conspiratorially at her family.
“Actually, Lydia,” replied Wickham, blushing, “there was something I was going to… I think I…”
Wickham’s voice trailed off. To the Bennets’ surprise, Denny also appeared by the doorway and stood beside Wickham.
“What Wickham is trying to say,” explained Denny, “what he was going to say on the beach but perhaps best be said now is… well, Lydia, Wickham has decided to stay. With me.”
Denny put his arm protectively round Wickham’s shoulder. Wickham stared at the pavement, unable to meet Lydia’s eyes.
“On manoeuvres,” added Denny as if to explain.
“Of course,” said Lydia in a whisper. “God bless you. Both.”
Wickham just managed a smile, and the two young men were gone.
“Well!” said Lydia, trying to take it all in. “Well!” she repeated, recovering herself and regathering her thoughts, “I guess it’s time for me to get going, too!”
So with hugs, kisses, and a profusion of blessings to her mother, father, and sisters, Lydia, her face aglow with The Good News, left, her new life beckoning.
After the shock of Lydia’s transformation, a jubilant Mr Bennet took himself off to Captain Morgan’s for a full slap-up English breakfast of bacon, fried egg, black pudding, beans, sausages, mushrooms, and hash browns, followed by thick slabs of toast spread with thick dollops of butter and marmalade, to celebrate the miracle of his youngest daughter’s redemption.
Mrs Bennet retired to The Wardroom—only to hear gossip that had made her splutter into her cappuccino once more. Mr Bingley was returning to Netherpollock!
Jane nearly choked on her tutti-frutti ice cream when she heard the news, but denied to observers she was at all affected by the rumour. Yet how could she be unaffected? All her hopes and dreams were tied up in that one name. Bingley! How she had fought them, subdued them, pretended to herself that they did not exist, and now all those passions threatened to well up again. It was too much!
A knock on the open door of 3 Island Street early in the evening, however, challenged her strongest powers of composure. Bingley stood there, resplendent in swimming trunks, and towel in hand. The girls were out in the yard at the back, busy making friendship bracelets, so Mrs Bennet welcomed Mr Bingley in. Bingley walked through the little house with a hop, skip, and a jump, and out into the yard. Jane did not dare raise her eyes. She firmly carried on, plaiting yellow over cerise over emerald green, until she became aware of blond hairs tickling her forehead.
“Jane,” said Bingley, leaning over, “are you not going to say hello?”
“But of course,” said Jane, adding her greeting, and she looked up into the bluest, merriest eyes she had ever seen, and hope welled up once more.
“Whom are you making a friendship bracelet for?” enquired Bingley, smiling. “A friend or a lover?”
“I… oh…” Jane was pink with confusion. Who, indeed, was she making the bracelet for? “Mary,” she said for safety. Bingley looked disappointed. “But I could make one for you!” she added hastily, sensing his disappointment. “What are your favourite colours?”
Bingley took the opportunity to sit down beside Jane.
“Cornflower blue, like your eyes.”
“And like your cornflower blue eyes,” said Jane with a giggle, surprised at her own bravery for making a remark of such a personal and intimate nature. But Bingley was clearly delighted at such progress.
“Pink like your lips,” he continued, “and let me see, gold like your hair would be just perfect, more than perfect.”
The young couple felt a shiver as their hands, selecting the coloured embroidery thread, touched.
There was a cough from the front door. The girls peered down the hallway. A figure, also in swimming trunks with a towel slung over broad shoulders, was outlined in the front door frame. Darcy.
“Oh dear,” said Mrs Bennet in a tone quite different from that she had used to greet Bingley.
“It’s that miserable, moody man who always looks as if he’s swallowed a lump of granite,” said Kitty too loudly. “And he’s got a horrible hairy chest. Like a gorilla!”
Lizzy, who had taken such pleasure in observing Jane, was paralysed. Darcy was not invited in by Mrs Bennet, and so his conversation, being conducted from a distance, was restricted, although he did ask Lizzy if she had seen her uncle or aunt of late.
When the time came for the two gentlemen to leave, Mrs Bennet took the opportunity to invite Bingley to join them for a picnic at Starehole Bay the following day.
“Wicked,” replied Bingley, which Mrs Bennet took as a “yes.”
Chapter 54
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.