Tailgating Mr. Darcy
Vignette 1: Darcy functions without Elizabeth for 5 minutes.
Jane Austen’s beloved characters… brought together… in 21st c. Atlanta.
Tailgating Mr. Darcy
Vignette 1
“Elizabeth, don’t wander off when we get there. When you see someone you know, just smile at them. Stand beside me, and let them come to you.”
Elizabeth stopped on the sidewalk milling with fans and took her husband’s hand. “Will,” she said with gravitas, “you sound like a profound snob when you say that. I mean, of course, you are a snob – but it’s important, nevertheless, to pretend that you’re not.”
His lips clamped shut in a stony expression.
“That’s right. There’s nothing to say because it’s true.” She smiled and his expression melted. “Remember the old trick: if you don’t know what to say, ask people about themselves. Everyone loves to talk about themselves. Everyone except you,” she amended, interlacing her fingers with his and pulling him up the sidewalk. “Is God a Georgia fan or a Georgia Tech fan…” she mused as the red and yellow leaves floated down like confetti outside Georgia Tech’s Bobby Dodd Stadium in Atlanta.
“Clearly a Georgia fan,” Will said with bitterness.
“The Saturday-after-Thanksgiving rivalry game is the most pitiable time of the year to be a Tech fan. I commiserate with you.”
“You never know until the game is played.”
“Yes, you do.”
They approached the large party tent on the Tower Lawn adjacent to the stadium where other scholarship donors had queued to receive their name tags and be greeted by the athletics fundraisers.
“Why do we never go to a real tailgate, Elizabeth? ‘Gold and White Tailgate,’” he read on the banner over the entrance, “and not a truck in sight.”
“Take comfort that plenty of people will tail you, sweetheart. And here’s the first one,” she said.
“Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy, what a surprise!” said an elderly man’s voice ahead of them.
“Do not leave me,” breathed Will.
“Mr. Elliot! How nice to see you. How are you enjoying your new home at Canterbury Court?” Elizabeth said as she attached her name tag to her mutton-sleeved jacket and arranged Will’s on his blazer lapel.
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it my home,” Walter Elliot said with a wheeze and a dismissive wave. “Just a short stay while I’m in poor health. I needed some extra help, and the doctor thought it would be best for me to move into one of those… those… ‘senior living communities’ I believe they’re called. It’s only temporary. I’ll be back in our neighborhood as soon as my health has returned.”
“Oh! I thought your home had been purchased by someone else. Have I misunderstood?”
“Yes, entirely! I believe my people have found someone to take the estate for a short time until my return. They’re nobody. No one you need to meet.”
“We have met them several times walking the dogs, and they seem like friendly, down-to-earth people.” Elizabeth said as they all moved under the tent, Mr. Elliot following Will closely.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’d call them – ‘down-to-earth.’ Oh, that’s good. Very good,” he chuckled as if she had uttered some incisive subtlety understood only by them. Darcy directed a penetrating look at Elizabeth to end the conversation.
“Well, my parents love their community at Canterbury Court and said that you’re a… an interesting addition to it.”
Will’s eyebrows peaked.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot your parents lived there, Elizabeth,” Mr. Elliot said as if smelling something unpleasant. “Well, that’s good for them, I’m sure.” Mr. Elliot turned to Will, leaving Elizabeth in barely contained laughter. “Tell me, Fitzwilliam…”
“Lizzieeeeee!” crooned a woman from the bar, and Elizabeth turned to find the still-beautiful Isabella Thorpe gliding towards her.
“Izzieeeeee…” Elizabeth said in her best imitation of their old college greeting, masking her amazement that 35-year-old Isabella would attend an outdoor fundraising party in November dressed more like a Hooters waitress than the beauty queen she was.
Isabella sidled up to her, hugging her arm and walking away with her as if in a three-legged race. “You must introduce me to Tom Bertram. He’s here! Bertram Industries – you know!”
“I know Tom Bertram…” Will heard Elizabeth say as she looked over her shoulder at him before disappearing in the crowd.
“What do you say, Fitzwilliam. Is it a good investment?” Mr. Elliot was still talking, refusing to leave and tout his importance elsewhere.
“Hello, Darcy,” said a familiar woman’s voice on his other side.
“Hello, Caro. Do you know Walter Elliot? Mr. Elliot, this is Caroline Bingley, sister of my closest friend. Does this mean Charles is here, Caro?”
“That’s all that I am, Mr. Elliot. The harbinger of my brother Charles. Yes, he’s here. Where do you live in Atlanta, Mr. Elliot?”
“Well, my home is in Tuxedo Park, but just now I reside…”
“Darcy! Can you believe this weather? It couldn’t be more perfect for the game. Have you gotten a drink yet? No, I see you haven’t. Let me get you one.”
“Don’t leave me, Charles,” Darcy said under his breath, shaking his friend’s hand and nodding fraternally at his sister-in-law Jane.
“How could Lizzie have abandoned you? You hate these things,” Elizabeth’s sister Jane said, scanning the crowd for her.
“She was carried off by Isabella Thorpe in that direction,” he indicated.
“Oh, dear. Who is Izzie trying to meet this time?”
“Tom Bertram.”
“Oh, no. Poor Tom. We can’t. I’ll go find them.” Off she went.
“Thank you, Jane.” To Charles he said, “Isabella’s goods were attractively displayed as usual today.”
“Sorry I missed that. I love window shopping, but when is she going to wake up? After two affairs and two failed marriages, can’t she see that nobody wants his wife’s… goods… on display like she’s available for everyone? ‘On sale! Buy one, get one free!’ Did I get lost in that metaphor? Are we still talking about b–”
“It’s a truth universally acknowledged that any single man in possession of a grain of sense does not want a wife who’ll cost him a fortune in divorce lawyers.”
“Well said. That’s what I meant.”
“Mr. Darcy, I knew I’d find you!” An eager twenty-something young man with dark curls approached looking vaguely familiar.
I used to be an independent man, Darcy thought to himself. How did I manage all of this without Elizabeth?
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please remind me of your name.”
“No, sir, we’ve never met before. But you know my sister Catherine. I’m Zach Morland.”
“Ah. I thought I recognized you. You look just like her.”
“Yes, people always say so. I wonder if I could ask you about a fundraiser I’m doing for my fraternity…”
“Certainly.” Darcy took a card from his wallet and handed it to Zach. “Call the Foundation at that number and tell my secretary you spoke to me at the… the tailgate,” he said with disappointment. “Make an appointment to see me. You can tell me about it there.”
Zach’s face shone. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy! I knew you’d come through. Catherine always said you were really generous.”
“Oh. That’s… It’s nothing. OK… How did you get into this party?”
“I snuck in the back through the bushes! One of my pledge brothers bet me fifty bucks that I wouldn’t get to talk to you, but now I have your card to prove it! I’ll call you, Mr. Darcy, thanks!”
“He really does look like Catherine,” Charles said.
“Oh? Did that occur to you before? You can be helpful any time, you know. Where is Elizabeth?”
“Mr. Darcy, what a pleasure to see you again!” Fanny Dashwood wormed through the crowd with her husband and teenage son in tow. The profusion of ruffles on her shirt captured Darcy’s attention.
“Fanny Dashwood,” Charles murmured.
“Mrs. Dashwood, how are you?” Darcy said, shaking one of her extended hands to forestall an embrace.
“You have the most extraordinary memory for names, Mr. Darcy. You must meet hundreds of people, every one of them asking you for money, and yet you still care about the little people.”
As the Dashwood family were rather tall, Darcy failed to respond. Charles showed his worth again.
“Mrs. Dashwood, I believe the last time we saw you was at the Atlanta Opera Gala. Do you also take an interest in football?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name, young man.”
“Excuse me – my closest friend, Charles Bingley,” Darcy said, glancing around for Elizabeth.
“Oh! Any friend of yours must be… You were at the Opera Gala, you said? I don’t recall seeing you there. Perhaps your table was further back?”
“Darcy! Give me a call and let’s play a round. We’ll meet out at the country club!” A convivial man with fat fingers passed a card over Mrs. Dashwood’s shoulder. She recoiled as if the man were diseased and looked for sympathy from Darcy who took the card and began to look for the exits.
“Mrs. Dashwood, I didn’t know you were interested in football!” Elizabeth swept back into the circle, and Darcy’s shoulders relaxed. She handed him a flute of champagne, and he winced as if to say, At a tailgate? She shrugged and continued. “My sister Jane enjoyed working with you on the last Decorator’s Showhouse. You really saved the day with your eye for flower arranging.”
“Oh, did she say that? How perceptive of her.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, if you’ll turn this way. Smile, and…” A shutter clicked. “Thank you.”
“Mr. Darcy, it’s about time to head to your seats. If you’ll follow me, we have you seated in the President’s Box…” An intern bobbed close by.
“Thank you, but I’d like to use my own tickets and just sit in the stands.”
“Oh, sir!” The intern’s voice became operatic. “The University President was particularly looking forward to hosting you this afternoon!”
“Before you go, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Dashwood interrupted, “I’d like to ask you about my fundraiser for the Speech School. I hope you’ll consent to being our guest speaker; your foundation has done such important work in mitigating the effects of –”
“Sir, I hope you’ll come with me to sit with the president…” The intern visibly began to sweat as his one job threatened to implode.
“Of course, it would be an honor to sit with Dr. Cabrera,” Elizabeth said with a wink at her husband. “We’ll be right with you.” Turning to Mrs. Dashwood, she said, “Mrs. Dashwood, what a flattering invitation. Could you please send me the date of your fundraiser, and we’ll see if we’re available?” Elizabeth handed her a card. “Please excuse us, we must run. Charles, try to rescue Jane. She’s protecting Tom. See you at dinner.” Turning to the grateful intern, she said, “Shall we?” as they left the tailgaters behind.
Next story:
Find Jane Austen’s characters in her novels:
Elizabeth and Jane Bennet, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and Charles and Caroline Bingley in Pride and Prejudice
Walter Elliot in Persuasion
Isabella Thorpe and the Morland family in Northanger Abbey
Fanny Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility
Tom Bertram in Mansfield Park
I've arrived late at this tailgate, and now I'm eager to read more vignettes. This really had me laughing. Darcy in modern Atlanta would indeed be swarmed by every grifter looking for a handout. Very imaginative, Kate. Loved the dialogue. Well done.
Ha! Darcy and Elizabeth tailgating is incredible 😂 and bringing in Fanny Dashwood was such a fun choice! I lived in Georgia for three years and so this came to life for me easily.