Chapter 15 #2
Once the Wright family had arrived, Mr Darcy called for everyone’s attention. “We shall be underway presently. As the person here most familiar with Willow Bourn, its side streams, and the wetland, Mr Baker will lead the way in his own punt, which will carry his sister, his niece, and Miss Althea.”
Far more utilitarian than the two boats from Strandsmere Park, Mr Baker’s sturdy, flat-bottomed punt with its square-cut ends was, Elizabeth had learnt, primarily used to transport not only the apples from his orchard but the resultant cider, too.
“Now, Mr Wright,” Mr Darcy called out, “who will be going in the boat of mine that you will steer?”
“What? Me?” The gentleman looked about him as though thoroughly confused and affronted.
“Surely, Darcy, you cannot expect me to do such a menial, manual task as that. Besides, how could I possibly two-handedly wield a pole while holding an umbrella?” He held up the item in question, which, to Elizabeth’s eye, resembled the parasol Miss Wright had previously carried.
The factotum from Cliff House, who had remained to assist the boating party, cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Mr Darcy sir, I’m capable of taking out one of your punts. After all, I brought over Mr Baker’s boat this morn.”
“Excellent, Tom. And thank you. You will travel in the middle. Take the farthermost punt with Mr Wright, Miss Wright, and Miss Margaret. That leaves the final boat, mine, to bring up the rear where I can spot any problem encountered by the other two. With me will be Miss Bennet, my sister, and”—he gently nudged Hector with the toe of his boot—“this snoring, slobbering beast.” Having been rudely awakened, Hector sat up by Mr Darcy’s side.
“Ladies, if you have no objection, Mr Baker, Tom, and I should remove our coats for ease of movement.”
Having done so, each man folded his coat and stored it in a box on his assigned boat.
Mr Darcy then continued. “For those of you unfamiliar with punts, they are primarily employed by farmers and merchants. However, I could think of no reason why they should not be used for fishing and leisure, especially along the inland waterways of my own property and that of my good neighbour. You might have noticed the decorative design of my uncle’s punts, somewhat akin to the gondolas he saw in Venice during his Grand Tour.
However, neither of these boats has a cabin scandalously used for privacy in bygone days. ”
Behind Elizabeth, someone snickered.
“Uncle Baker, you recently taught me to drive your donkey carriage. Might you also teach me to propel your punt?”
Gasps of horror sounded from the Wright family’s vicinity.
“There is an art to it, Niece. And while it may look leisurely, considerable strength is required to push against the riverbed with the pole, which is called a quant.”
“What my brother is trying to say, my dear Bridget, is that delicate ladies are not strong enough for such a Herculean, manly task.” Miss Baker shook her head, and Elizabeth was convinced the woman would have no trouble propelling a punt.
“It is more difficult than it looks,” said Mr Darcy, stepping aboard and straddling a gunwale of each of his two punts.
“With practice, and once the skill is mastered and one has a good sense of balance, a man can move a heavy load with relatively little effort. So now, gentlemen, shall we help the ladies aboard? For everyone’s comfort, there are blankets as well as squabs on the thwarts—the seats that is. ”
“Aye.” Mr Baker patted his middle. “I wager the only thing more stuffed than those cushions is me.”
“Miss Wright, Miss Margaret, allow me to assist you. You must step over this punt to access the outside one. Hector, move!”
Their father then clumsily followed them aboard.
“Now you, Miss Bennet.” Mr Darcy offered her his hand. Elizabeth considered stubbornly refusing the gentleman’s help, but she did not want to end up in the water. “Thank you, sir.”
“I thank you, madam, for agreeing to appease Georgiana and her overindulged beast. I am afraid we caused a bit of a fuss just so that Hector might paddle about in the stream.” After seeing to Elizabeth’s comfort, Mr Darcy then helped his sister and her dog.
“I concede that Hector may be a little spoilt.” Miss Darcy gracefully sat upon the other cushioned seat and settled the dog at her feet.
“But the dear boy deserves some pampering today. Heiress Tottle scratched his nose yesterday, and now he is petrified of her. Literally terrified. He freezes whenever he sees her. And he is such a good boy. After that traumatic wound, I took him down to the beach so he could s-w-i-m, and he tried to rescue a reluctant grey seal from the Channel. Needless to say, Hector had a bad day yesterday.”
When everyone else had boarded and was safely in place, Tom untied his employer’s boat. Then Mr Baker pushed his quant against the riverbed and set the Cliff House punt in motion. His factotum deftly got the middle boat underway and followed.
Standing at the back—or, as he called it, the ‘till’—of the punt, and with a steady grip on the pole, Mr Darcy pushed the last boat away from the dock.
“If we get a little wet, it is all part of the boating experience. My land steward says that Willow Bourn’s depth varies from a shallow foot to six feet at its deepest. If we decide to branch off into the wetland, I fear that part of the boating experience might involve horseflies, swarms of gnats or midges, and the odd mosquito.
Do not be alarmed, though. If necessary, we have a brazier to produce aromatic smoke, and we shall not linger in such conditions.
This far inland there is not much of a breeze from the Channel. ”
As they floated along, Elizabeth removed her gloves and trailed her fingers in the stream while watching water beetles and pond-skaters scuttle across its surface.
A heron was spotted standing motionless amongst the reeds, waiting for a passing fish.
Remembering that there might, indeed, be toothy pike, snaky eels, or lampreys below, she quickly brought her hand to her lap.
“Miss Bennet,” Miss Darcy whispered, “Mr Wright is lounging across the squabs and using a parasol to protect his face from the sun. Can you picture my brother ever doing such a thing?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Certainly not.”
Then her treacherous mind conjured up an image of Mr Darcy and Miss Wright sprawled across cushions inside a cabin scandalously used for privacy. Botheration! Her stomach grew queasy, and she wondered whether one could become seasick on a punt moving along a slow-moving stream.
Her imagination ran wild with a truly unsettling suspicion.
Good heavens! Is that the reason for their supposed secret understanding?
Were their passions stronger than their virtue?
Is Miss Wright with child? Elizabeth scoffed.
No, of course not! I cannot believe it of her and certainly not of him.
It seems highly improbable that Mr Darcy would behave in such a base and dishonourable manner.
She closed her eyes until the queasiness passed.