Darcy | Karen Doornebos

Valentine’s Day… ahhhh… the most romantic day of the year… better than Christmas AND my birthday!

I just know I’m going to get showered with the usual array of flowers, candy, and handmade, heartfelt valentines. I’ll be serenaded. lauded with compliments and proclamations of undying love and …

(For those of you old enough to understand this reference:

Insert *record needle scratching across the record sound effect here.*)

So, what I’m going to be doing instead is this:

1. Taking a cold shower.

2. Treating myself to a venti decaf non-fat latte at Starbucks

(and yes, they have really cool Valentine’s Day cups now, see below)

3. Imagining my day as if I were surrounded by Mr. Darcy and a few other usual suspects…

Coffee in hand, I’m going to pretend as if I’m as smart as Elizabeth Bennet, but as gorgeous as her sister Jane. While I’m at it, I’ll make myself as rich as Emma Woodhouse, as passionate as Marianne Dashwood, yet as steadfast as Elinor. I may as well be as young as Catherine Morland and yet as clear-headed in a crisis as the mature Anne Elliot.

I’ll start my day with Colonel Brandon…

…who, being the eldest hero of the bunch (yet, at 35, he’s still deliciously younger than me!) has his people drive the kids to school for me. After fighting (and winning) a duel on my behalf, he will then come back here and have his servants make us a wonderful romantic breakfast of fresh fruit, mimosas and … is that a flannel waistcoat hanging on my leopard-print lampshade?

Moving on to about the eleven o’clock in the morning hour, I have found that the combined intelligence of Elizabeth, Elinor and Anne has allowed me to finish my day’s work in one hour’s time, leaving the rest of the day free for debauchery of all kinds.

So, naturally, when Mr. Willoughby knocks on the door…

…I’m happy to invite him in. (What? You wouldn’t let him in? Yes, you would!) He proceeds to read me all of my favorite poems and he passionately says all of the right things at the right time. He sets out a picnic lunch of strawberries, artichokes, oysters on the half-shell and chilled white wine. He swoops me up off my feet and carries me to the picnic blanket. I sure enjoy his bad-boy ways but when he tells me my eyes shine brighter than the stars in the sky, I can’t help but laugh and show him the door.

Not long after a letter arrives in the mail, and it’s from none other than Captain Wentworth…

…I can’t disclose the contents of the letter, but we all know the man can write. Let’s put it this way: I now understand why Anne waited seven years for this guy. But alas, the Captain’s off at sea and nowhere near the Chicagoland area …

A footman arrives to tell me that Mr. Darcy…

…has kindly arranged for my kids to be chauffeured to their myriad of after-school activities by someone other than me, and this would’ve made my day right there! However, the footman also announces that the kids will be well taken care of for the duration of the evening. They will be fed and homework will be done and checked over! Mr. Darcy’s French chef will be providing a six-course romantic dinner for the two of us. That Mr. Darcy thinks of everything. But what’s a lady to do once her work is done and her children are away for the next six hours—on Valentine’s Day? Well, it seems Mr. Darcy has taken care of that little issue by making a grand, personal appearance. * Fade to black here, for about six hours. *

Around 9:30 pm Mr. Tilney…

…the most charming Austen hero of all, with hands down the best sense of humor, arrives with my kids in tow. He’s laughing and joking with them, and ha, ha, off they go to bed! Mr. Tilney, having a certain flair for fashion himself, requests a fashion show of my new spring outfits and I oblige, of course, catwalking as best I can! He advises me on the outfits that look best, showering me with compliments, champagne, and lovely writing journals all along the way. Wait! He notices a bit of lint on my top, and would I come closer? He flashes that mischievous Mr. Tilney smirk. Closer? Closer …

Suddenly there’s a loud knocking on my office door. I’m holding a cold cup of coffee and my laptop screen blinks a blank page at me.

“Mom?! Mom?!” It’s my daughter knocking. I look at my watch. It’s 8:30 in the morning on February 14^th. “Are you going to drive us to school or what?!”

Do you think if I look in the mirror I’ll still be as gorgeous as Jane Bennet?

Just another day in the idyllic life of a Jane Austen-inspired fiction writer…