J Croft - Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

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.

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.”