A while back I had posted about a story of mine that got rejected. People said they wanted to read it and I said I would post it. Someone reminded me that I never did, so here it is.
Finding Mr. Darcy
by Kate Willoughby
Gillian wished that gloves weren’t part of
her costume. She was nervous and her hands were sweaty.
“I’ll never find him,” she said to her
friend Sue.
“Yes, you will. He’s already checked in. Look
for a top hat.”
Sue was an up and coming party planner.
This Valentine’s Day costumed mixer was her promotional brainchild, a
brainchild that had gone viral within the singles community of Woodland Hills. The
rules were simple. If you wanted to go, you paid the fee and RSVP’d online. The
catch was that you had to come as one half of a famous pair—Antony and
Cleopatra, Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, Bonnie and Clyde, etc. When you
arrived at the party, you were supposed to find and dance with your other half.
Gillian had always loved Jane Austen’s
work. Pride and Prejudice was her
favorite, so she wanted to go as Elizabeth Bennett, but although she’d posted
her character/costume choice early, no one signed up as Mr. Darcy. Finally, on February
thirteenth, Sue called—a Mr. Darcy was coming.
“Thank goodness!” Gillian had exclaimed.
Even though Sue had planned other ways for people to mix and meet besides destiny,
Gillian had imagined how romantic it would be to interact with a man in Regency
clothing and who probably liked Austen as well. She speculated about the type
of man he was. Tall, hopefully. Funny. Humble. Not living with his mother.
Now at last, the moment of truth had
arrived. Gillian tried not to be obvious as she made her way around the room,
searching, but although she spotted Romeo, Superman, and Indiana Jones, she saw
neither hide nor hair of Mr. Darcy. Until...
“Pardon me,” a voice said behind her.
Turning, she saw a man magnificently dressed
in a cut-away coat, brocade waistcoat and boots. No top hat, but a nicely tied
cravat that looked like it might have been a wedding veil in another life.
“Elizabeth Bennett?”
She curtsied and managed to stammer, “Y-yes.”
His smile was warm and his bow, utterly
romantic. “I came especially to meet you, Miss Bennett. Would you care to
dance?”
She focused for the first time on the
music, a techno club song that didn’t lend itself to the gentility of their
costumes. “I’d actually rather talk if you don’t mind,” she said.
Offering his arm, he suggested they venture
outside. The night air felt refreshing as they exchanged real names. She
discovered that Thomas had been born and raised in Los Angeles, like she was.
He managed a pub not to far from where she lived. She told him about her job as
a pre-school teacher.
“So, let me get this straight. You make a
conscious choice to spend the day with small uncivilized children?”
She laughed. “It’s my job to civilize them.
Besides, you make the choice to spend
the evenings with intoxicated adults...”
“Touché,” he said with a wry, Darcy-like
smile. “You’re absolutely right.”
They spent an hour there, away from the
party, discussing Jane Austen’s work, more recent fiction (they were both avid
readers), and their mutual wish to visit England someday. Just as they were
about to go inside, his phone rang.
After glancing at the screen, he
apologized, checked his watch, and texted a reply.
“I’m sorry,” he said afterward. “My mom
wanted to know what time I’d be getting home.”
Oh,
no! Gillian blanched and her heart sank. He did live with his mother. This was a disaster. He was such a mama’s
boy he even had a curfew.
She must have let her emotions show on her
face because he frowned. “What’s wrong?” Then it dawned on him. “Oh, it’s not
like that. I have my own place. Mom’s recovering from a hernia operation and
since Dad passed away and I’m an only child, I’ve been helping her out since
she got released from the hospital. In fact, that’s the reason I waited so long
to RSVP for this dance. I wanted to make sure she was healing up all right.”
Smiling in relief, she said, “I think it’s
wonderful that you take care of your mother like that. I’m afraid I jumped to
the wrong conclusion.”
“No harm done,” Thomas said, laughing.
“Say, my house may not be as grand as Darcy’s, but maybe you could come over
next Friday for dinner. Mom should be fine by then and I’d like to show you
that book I was talking about.”
Gillian was happy to accept his invitation.
In fact, a few months later, she accepted another of Thomas’ invitations—this
time not for dinner, but for a lifetime. The next Valentine’s Day at Jane
Austen’s house in Chawton, she and Thomas got married, dressed in the very
costumes they’d worn when they first met.
