Darcy and Deception

There were only a few women, perhaps a dozen in all, who dared to experience the sea without the assistance of a bathing machine—and five were merely wading. However, a few women swam in earnest, including two who appeared to be naked.

Elizabeth waded deeper, gradually acclimating herself to the cooler temperature. It was most refreshing. When the water was deep enough, Elizabeth completely submerged herself, gasping slightly at the cold. The waves were mild; perfect conditions for swimming. Elizabeth swam back and forth, parallel to the shore, with strong, swift strokes. How refreshing! I have passed far too much of my time recently in drawing rooms. Already she was wondering when she would be able to return to the beach for a swim. How could such an outing be arranged?

Ultimately her muscles tired of the unaccustomed exercise, and Elizabeth returned to the shallower water. She stood in water to her waist as she caught her breath.

She had kept an eye on the bathing machine containing Lydia and Mrs. Forster. Now she noticed as it was pulled into deeper water by a weary horse.

Once the machine’s back ramp was level with the water, one of the attendants freed the horse from its harness, walked it to the machine’s other end, and attached it there. Clever. Such a system allowed them to return to shore without needing to turn the vehicle in a circle.

Mrs. Forster, dressed in her shift, emerged from the small door at the machine’s end and sat on the protruding ramp, dangling her feet in the water. Without ceremony, Mrs. Gunn reached over and plucked the woman from the ramp. Goodness, she was strong! The dipper waded a little distance into deeper water and then dunked Mrs. Forster—one, two, three times—all the way into the water, carefully ensuring that even the top of her head and her feet were thoroughly soaked.

I suppose only a complete dunking will benefit the glands, Elizabeth thought.

Mrs. Forster emerged spluttering after each dunking, appearing quite bedraggled and miserable by the time Mrs. Gunn set her back on the machine’s platform. I wonder how much the colonel’s wife paid for the privilege of being treated like a biscuit in a cup of tea? Elizabeth found herself hoping that dipping did indeed have medicinal properties because the activity itself appeared to provide no obvious pleasure.

When it was Lydia’s turn, Elizabeth’s sister twitched and jerked. She searched the area as if seeking an escape, but there was nowhere to go. Noticing Lydia’s disposition, Mrs. Gunn enlisted the help of the other attendant so that they formed a kind of chair with their arms to carry Lydia. But the youngest Miss Bennet screeched as though they were about to feed her to a wild animal. Completely ignoring Lydia’s antics, the two women hastily dunked the squirming girl three times before depositing her again on the ramp.

As the machine rolled back to the beach, both women retreated into the interior where they would change their clothes.

After a few more minutes of swimming, Elizabeth emerged from the water. Lydia and Mrs. Forster had arrayed themselves on a blanket near the back of the beach—quite safe from hungry fish or whales. Although her hair was in disarra

y, Mrs. Forster was rosy-cheeked and animated. Perhaps her glands had improved.

However, Lydia was pale and unusually still. Elizabeth seated herself beside her sister. “Are you quite all right?”

Lydia made a disgusted face. “I swallowed some sea water. It tastes vile, but Mrs. Forster assures me it is quite healthful.”

“Drinking sea water is healthful?” Elizabeth exclaimed. “I had not heard that. I do not like the taste either, and I give you permission not to consume it if you dislike it.” Lydia’s shoulders slumped in relief.

Several minutes passed while the ladies lounged on the blanket, enjoying the sunshine while Lydia recovered from her “ordeal.” But soon Mrs. Forster jumped up to greet a passing friend. Quickly she was chatting with a constant stream of visitors—mostly wives of militia officers—who were walking along the beach or recuperating from their own sea bathing experiences. Lydia must have swallowed a great deal of sea water, for she made no effort to join the gossipers despite casting them some longing glances.

Lydia grimaced when one woman spoke particularly loudly; Elizabeth frowned at her quizzically. “I don’t like that Mrs. Morton,” Lydia said in a low voice. “She is always flirting with Wicky.”

“Wicky?” Elizabeth repeated blankly.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Wickham. She flirts shamelessly, but anyone can see he doesn’t care for her at all.”

Elizabeth had been awaiting an opportunity to discuss Mr. Wickham with her sister. “Lydia, I do not believe Mr. Wickham is an entirely respectable companion for a girl of your age. You should exercise caution in his presence.”

Lydia lifted her chin. “That would suit you, wouldn’t it? When you are trying to steal him away from me.”

Elizabeth gaped. “Steal him away? He has never demonstrated any partiality for you.”

Lydia made an undignified squawk. “He danced two dances with me at the last ball, and the other day he said my bonnet was quite becoming!”

Good grief! Mr. Wickham would flirt with a dog—at least a female dog. “Mr. Denny danced two dances with you as well, and he was very complimentary about your gown.” Perhaps Elizabeth could direct Lydia’s attention in a safer direction; Wickham’s friend at least was not a traitor to the crown—as far as Elizabeth knew.

Lydia made a little moue of disgust. “Denny is nice enough, I suppose. But he isn’t a gentleman. Not like Wickham.”

I must be more direct. “Mr. Wickham is not a gentleman either. He has gambling debts—serious debts. He told us many untruths about his relationship with Mr. Darcy, who never treated him unfairly at all. Quite the contrary.”

“Lizzy!” Lydia squeaked. “I thought you liked Wicky! I cannot believe you would devise such falsehoods about him.”

“I am telling you the truth.” Elizabeth spoke through gritted teeth.

Lydia put her hands on her hips. “Then why do you flirt with him?”

Elizabeth would not have described her actions as flirting, but it was unsurprising Lydia viewed them in that light. “I am not flirting; I am simply being friendly.”