Chapter Fifteen
“Cowabunga!”
Elizabeth was startled from a deep sleep by a shout that only gave a second’s warning before someone landed on the bed, sprawling all over her drowsing form.
The bed. Will’s bed. In Will’s bedroom. Where I spent the night. After…
Everything came back to her in a rush. Every detail of the night. Whatever other obstacles she and Will might encounter, a lack of chemistry wasn’t one of them. It had been off the charts.
Pemberley’s master bedroom was enormous, with a vaulted ceiling and huge windows overlooking the ocean. Weak, early morning sunshine peeked in around crisp linen curtains. The enormous canopy bed was of a scale with the room, dwarfing Elizabeth and the bed’s other inhabitant.
I actually slept with the President of the United States.
The thought made her a little lightheaded.
Who just jumped on top of me?
A slight blonde woman squawked at the sight of Elizabeth and quickly scrambled off the end of the bed. Will sat up and brushed hair from his eyes. The sheet fell to his waist, providing such a sufficiently distracting sight that Elizabeth momentarily forgot everything else.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” The young woman’s panicked noises drew Elizabeth’s attention. She had turned pink from her face, down her chest, and onto her arms and legs. “Oh my God, Will! I’m so sorry! I thought you were alone—you never—! I didn’t think—oh my God! I’m so, so sorry!
Will ran a hand through his delightfully disheveled hair and gave a bemused chuckle. “Elizabeth, this is my sister Georgiana. Georgie, this is Elizabeth Bennet.”
Georgiana’s mouth formed a perfect “o.” “I thought you said Elizabeth Bennet would never speak to you again. Although I guess you didn’t do a lot of speaking last night.” She immediately clapped both hands over her mouth. “Oh shit, did I say that out loud?”
Will rolled his eyes but gave his sister a fond smile. “Have I mentioned that there’s a reason Georgie doesn’t speak to the press? She was born without a filter. It’s a genetic condition. So sad. The doctors can’t do anything for her.”
Georgiana stuck out her tongue at Will. “You may be president, but you’re still a jerk.”
“Hey! That’s what I said,” Elizabeth chuckled.
She gave Elizabeth an arch look. “I think you and I will get along very well.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, Georgiana held out her hands imploringly. “That is, if I haven’t blown it all with the way I barged in like that. I got here early, and I thought I would surprise Will and…well, he’s usually alone. So I didn’t think—we have this thing, you know, from when I was little where I’d jump on the bed and yell ‘Cowabunga!’ Not that I do it anymore.”
Will cleared his throat meaningfully.
“Not much anymore. And I thought it would be a funny way to wake him up. But the Secret Service didn’t tell me that you weren’t alone.” She frowned at Will. “Why didn’t they warn me you have company? Anyway, that’s how I ended up sneaking into your room and jumping on you. I’m sorry, Elizabeth, I’m not usually this flaky. Although it’s true that I frequently talk too much.” She stopped to catch her breath.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Georgiana.” Elizabeth gave Will a sidelong glance. “Maybe I should return to my room before the others wake up.” He nodded reluctantly.
“Oh, is it a secret? No wonder the Secret Service didn’t warn me. Ha! The Secret Service isn’t in on the secret!” Georgiana giggled at her own joke. “I won’t say anything, I promise! Not even to Bethany, who is my best friend. We’re both on crew together. Oh Will, did you see the video I sent you of the last regatta? Wasn’t it epic?
“Very epic,” Will said with a smile. “Georgie, why don’t you get settled in your room, and I’ll see you at breakfast.”
Georgiana backed toward the door. “Yeah…I’ll do that…right now…I’m so, so sorry…”
Will rubbed his face with his hands. “Just go.”
“But I want Elizabeth to know that I’m really, really sorry…” Will threw a pillow at her. She fled, closing the door behind her.
Elizabeth and Will exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. “I suppose that gets the morning-after awkwardness out of the way,” Elizabeth said.
“I’m sorry about Georgie,” he said with a rueful grin.
Elizabeth waved away the apology. “Georgiana is endearing, and she brought out a different side of you.”
“I’m glad you’re not angry.” He touched his fingers lightly to her cheek. He held her gaze for several long moments until Will lowered his eyes to the bed. “Um…we didn’t…” He cleared his throat. “Last night, we didn’t have much of a chance to talk about this—” He gestured to the space between the two of them.
“We didn’t have much of a chance to talk about anything last night,” Elizabeth observed.
“Is that a complaint Ms. Bennet?” he teased.
“Not at all.” She gave him a quick kiss.
He sighed. “Oh God, Elizabeth, you’ll make me lose my train of thought.” He swallowed hard. “I want to figure this out…establish parameters.”
“Parameters,” she echoed. What a clinical word for a relationship. Was it a relationship? She had assumed…but maybe he just wanted the one night, which would probably be for the best… “What kind?”
“I would like it to be a real relationship. I want to date you, Elizabeth.”
She sucked in her breath. He didn’t deal in small change. “Are you sure? It could be complicated.”
He scowled. “Screw complicated. I don’t have much in my life that’s for me and me alone. I want to grab it with both hands.” He watched her with shining eyes.
Oh. Of course, a real relationship with the president was impossible, but maybe knowing it was doomed would keep it from hurting so much when it ended. It was a theory—or at least an excuse. In any case, she no longer had the willpower to resist him.
His shoulders tightened, and the tendons stood out from his neck as she remained silent. He lowered his head. “If you don’t want to deal with the complications, I could hardly blame you. We might conceal a relationship for a while, but eventually the media will know, and your life will become a zoo.”
She was unable to shake the sensation of preparing to jump into icy water from a great height. “I know…I’ve thought about that…but I’ve tried not dating you”—she swallowed hard—“and I’ve found I don’t enjoy it …I think it’s time to give the other option a try.”
Will’s face lit up like a boy watching fireworks as he stretched out his arms and gathered her to his chest. “Are you sure you want to attempt a relationship with me? It’s not going to be easy.”
She snuggled closer, enjoying the firm hold. At that moment her body was so light and weightless it seemed like it could float off the bed. “I don’t want easy. I want you.”
When she lifted her face, his mouth engulfed hers. Soft velvety lips stroked hers, and her whole body responded; desire raced through her veins. He drew back slightly, meeting her eyes. “If we’re late for breakfast, people might guess the truth.”
Elizabeth smiled against his mouth. “Let’s be late to breakfast…”
***
Darcy swore he could hear birds singing in the shower. At one point, he realized he was whistling. Whistling! He hadn’t even known he could whistle.
All the reasons why he avoided relationships still lurked at the back of his mind, but it was a simple matter to drown such concerns in showers of happiness. Something that felt so right surely couldn’t be wrong. Surely any new obstacles could be overcome. What a fool he had been to resist for so long.
Elizabeth had returned to her room to preserve the illusion that she had spent the night there. Although he would see her at breakfast, it seemed like an eternity—and they would be surrounded by other people.
Unable to stay away, Darcy dressed quickly and stationed himself in the hallway outside Elizabeth’s door. It wasn’t long before she emerged wearing a slim-fitting purple shirt and shorts that had just the right amount of short.
Grabbing her by the hands, he swung her against the wall, pressed his body against hers, and kissed her. She melted…boneless against his body until it was impossible to know where he ended and she began. Their kisses, their bodies were perfectly in sync, partners in an intricate dance—just like the previous night when she had somehow anticipated his every move and reacted with such ardor. Every cell in his body hummed in satisfaction and clamored for more contact.
After a minute he reluctantly pulled back, peering down at her shining eyes and flushed cheeks. I did that to her. Darcy had won the majority of votes throughout the United States, yet having won the affection of this woman felt like his greatest accomplishment.
He didn’t want to let her go down to breakfast without him, let alone leave Pemberley today, but it would be difficult to justify adding days—and nights—to her visit. If only I needed an emergency briefing on Zavene.
Their relationship was so new that he had an intense desire to keep it private—even from those closest to him. The more openly they shared their affection, the more likely word would leak to the media. The Pemberley staff’s complete discretion could not be guaranteed.
And yet…when they returned to Washington, seeing each other would be even more difficult. To hell with it. Darcy refused to live without her for the rest of his vacation; they would find a way to make it work. “Will you stay tonight?” he whispered in her ear.
Her gaze flickered downward. “I thought you wanted to be discreet.”
Praying that none of the other guests happened by, Darcy pressed her against the wall again. “If discretion means I can’t see you tonight, then it’s overrated.”
Her body relaxed under his. “I want to see you tonight, too,” she murmured. “Is there a way to sneak me in without alerting the press?”
Darcy couldn’t prevent the broad grin from spreading over his face. “I’m sure. I’ll talk to Bing and Kinski about it.”
Her fingers curled around the back of his head, and she drew him down for another kiss. “I can’t wait.”
***
The cook had outdone herself with brunch. It was a feast of omelets, French toast, fruit salad, and mimosas. The water outside the windows reflected sunlight into the room, making it bright and cheery. Acting as if they had simply encountered each other on the stairs, Darcy and Elizabeth were the last to arrive. Darcy officially introduced Elizabeth to Georgiana, who did an admirable job of pretending they hadn’t already met under vastly more embarrassing circumstances.
Darcy cadged a seat next to Elizabeth, where he allowed his thigh to rest against hers. Throughout the meal, they often shared a secret smile but said very little. Conversation revolved around the day’s plans. Bing favored a boating excursion to do some fishing while Georgiana and Caroline expressed more interest in a day at the beach. Thomas Gardiner was talking with great animation to Fitz about John’s microbrewery.
Darcy’s thoughts were preoccupied with figuring out when he and Elizabeth could sneak away without anyone noticing—and how he could slip her into Pemberley that evening.
Fitz stared at him with one eyebrow raised, and Caroline glared at Elizabeth. And it was no wonder…Darcy was beaming at Elizabeth like a fool. They couldn’t conceal this relationship from their nearest and dearest for very long. Darcy didn’t mind, as long as they could keep it from the press for now. Media scrutiny at this point might send her running.
When Elizabeth’s hand clasped his knee, Darcy started and then had to stifle a laugh. A corner of her mouth curved upward as well, but she deliberately stared out the window. Slowly he lowered his hand under the table, skimming over the top of her leg and teasing the inside of her thigh with his forefinger. Elizabeth squirmed, murmuring out of the side of her mouth, “You are an evil man.”
Darcy just grinned. There must be some way we can make a relationship work. This is too good to lose without a fight.
Bing cleared his throat, drawing Darcy’s attention. “I’d like to give you the daily briefing after breakfast.” His expression was a bit perplexed as if he noticed Darcy’s distraction.
“Anything urgent?” Darcy asked. Bing shook his head. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Would you like to take a walk after my briefing?”
“I’d love that. I haven’t seen most of the grounds yet.”
Elizabeth’s aunt regarded them warily. Did she worry he would break Elizabeth’s heart?
All conversation ceased at the sound of faint but rapid knocking on the front door.
“Shit,” Fitz swore.
Bing shrugged. “It’s probably just a messenger with papers for Darce to sign. It happens.”
It could also be bad news about some domestic or foreign emergency. That happens, too.
Everyone was silent as the Secret Service agent in the front hall opened the door. The voices were too low to discern any words. Brisk footfalls echoed in the front hallway as the new visitor approached the kitchen and breakfast room.
Hilliard appeared in the doorway, red in the face and out of breath. Darcy’s chest tightened. Shit. The press secretary wouldn’t have made an unannounced trip to Pemberley unless it was serious. Darcy dropped Elizabeth’s hand and stood.
Hilliard’s eyes swept over the breakfast table, and he frowned slightly when he noticed Elizabeth. Damn it! Was Hilliard going to object to their relationship? To hell with him. The man’s gaze focused on Darcy. “Sir, we have a situation.” His expression was grave but revealed nothing.
Darcy inclined his head toward the hallway. “All right. We can discuss it in my office.” Fitz and Bing had already rushed to their feet.
Hilliard’s eyes found Caroline. “We’ll need you, too.” She nodded and stood immediately.
Darcy surveyed his guests. “Please excuse us.” He met Elizabeth’s eyes, wishing he could give her a goodbye kiss, which was ridiculous; he’d probably return in half an hour.
She gave him a rueful smile. “I’ll see you later.”
Steeling himself against the impulse to kiss her, Darcy turned and led the way to his office. His gut churned, and he made a conscious effort to slow his breathing as he considered the possible problems. It wasn’t a domestic or international crisis because then it would be the National Security Council staff coming to him. This had to be some kind of PR nightmare—the thing he hated most about his job.
The study was usually a refuge for Darcy, but today it felt like a dungeon. The huge stone fireplace yawned empty and cold. Blinds drawn to secure his privacy shut out the sunshine of the beautiful beach day. Darcy settled behind his desk while the others took chairs facing him. “Okay,” he sighed, “what’s the bad news, Bob?”
Hilliard set his laptop up on the desk. “It’s easier if I show you,” he said as everyone crowded around. “This was broadcast early this morning.”
The screen filled with a familiar Grant News frame surrounding the head of one of their anchors. The crawl at the bottom read: “Exclusive Breaking News.” Darcy suppressed a groan.
“We have just learned some disturbing new information about President Darcy and his behavior toward a vulnerable young woman,” the well-coifed blonde said crisply. “I’ll let Grant News reporter Blake Rhodes explain.”
The screen shifted to the fleshy face of Blake Rhodes. “Thank you, Tina. Earlier today I sat down for an interview with Lydia Bennet, the youngest daughter of Thomas Bennet, founder and CEO of On-a-Stick, Inc. Her family has recently been running in elite Democratic circles, and they have met the president numerous times. However, in the interview, she had some rather disturbing things to say.”
Darcy was already grinding his back teeth. He didn’t know what Lydia Bennet could possibly say about him, but Hilliard’s unscheduled trip to Pemberley promised it would be bad. Very bad.
The view on the screen switched to a studio set, with Rhodes and Lydia occupying two of the chairs; the third seated…Wickham. God damn it! The situation had just gone from possibly very bad to possibly catastrophic.
“Also joining us,” Rhodes continued, “is Congressman George Wickham, representing the 12th district of New York. Congressman Wickham first brought Miss Bennet to our attention. Thank you for being here, Congressman.’”
“My pleasure, Blake.” Wickham flashed his cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. If only Darcy could reach into the computer screen and strangle the man.
Rhodes’s eyes focused on Lydia. “You said you were concerned about your sister; can you explain to me why?” He leaned forward, affecting a concerned expression.
The college student’s conservative blouse and skirt lent her an undeserved air of age and maturity. Without a fidget or smirk, her face registered only anxious concern. Idly, Darcy wondered how the producers had managed to wring such solemn behavior from her. “My second oldest sister, Elizabeth, has met the president a number of times…well, we all have.” Lydia giggled, and for a moment, the vain teenager surfaced, but she quickly sobered. “She really doesn’t like him. She said he was”—Lydia used air quotes—“proud, rude, and condescending.’”
Only his awareness of being observed allowed Darcy to control his flinch. Elizabeth might have said such a thing after the Air Force One incident, but he was confident that she had since changed her mind.
Rhodes wasn’t trying very hard to suppress his smile. “I see. Why is this of particular concern now?”
“She hates him, but now all of sudden I find out that she’s staying at his mansion in the Hamptons. It doesn’t make sense.” Lydia bit her lip and knitted her eyebrows together. “Something else is going on. She’d never be happy hanging out with him.”
“You don’t think she simply changed her mind?” Rhodes asked.
Now Lydia’s lower lip was quivering. Damn, she is good at this. “No. Especially not after I saw that picture from yesterday.”
Rhodes turned to the camera. “Here is the image Miss Bennet is referring to.”
The picture on the screen showed Elizabeth about to climb into the presidential limo as Darcy held her hand, drawing her in. The camera captured her expression at a moment when it seemed almost bleak. Her eyes were downcast, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked like she was being drawn into the limo against her will.
Rhodes’s plummy voice described the picture. “This was taken right outside President Darcy’s estate of Pemberley in the Hamptons. Witnesses say the presidential limo was about to enter the Pemberley gates when it backed up. The door opened, and the president beckoned Ms. Bennet inside. Although she seemed hesitant at first, he took her hand and pulled her into the car.”
Darcy’s hands clenched into fists, but he resisted the urge to punch something.
When the Grant News studio returned to the screen, Wickham was shaking his head slowly as if terribly concerned about Elizabeth’s “plight.” “Lydia and I questioned whether Elizabeth Bennet truly wished to get into the presidential limousine of her own free will, or if she felt she had no choice.” The congressman’s oily insinuation left no doubt which option he believed.
“Elizabeth Bennet has not emerged from Pemberley since,” Rhodes intoned ominously.
“But the thing that got me really worried was the recording,” Lydia said, right on cue.
Nails bit into Darcy’s palms. He knew Lydia was a dupe here, but he still felt betrayed by how readily she had taken to the role of his accuser.
Rhodes nodded sympathetically. “I can understand why.” He turned to the camera. “We have an audio recording that was captured by witnesses a few minutes after Elizabeth Bennet entered the limo. It records a conversation between an older woman and the Secret Service agent at the gate.”
Darcy winced, knowing what they would hear.
A scratchy audio recording played while the transcribed words appeared on the screen. “You need to help me! My niece went into Pemberley with the president and hasn’t come out. We haven’t been able to get in touch with her. Her name is Elizabeth Bennet…”
The muscles in Darcy’s jaw hurt, and he wanted very badly to throw something. They were taking the most wonderful night of his life and portraying it as something tawdry and sinister.
Rhodes appeared onscreen again. “Lydia Bennet has identified the woman on the recording as her aunt, sixty-two-year-old Madeline Gardiner. She and her husband, Thomas Gardiner, had accompanied Ms. Bennet to greet the presidential limo as it arrived at Pemberley. Shortly after that recording was made, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner entered Pemberley and—like their niece—haven’t been seen since.”
Only Rhodes could make a day at the beach sound ominous. Darcy gripped the arms of his chair, fighting the impulse to pound his fists on the desk. They were implying that he was some sort of serial kidnapper. It was a ridiculous suggestion. However, experience had taught Darcy that many people would swallow the insinuations whole.
“You can’t possibly be suggesting that the president kidnapped your sister,” Rhodes said to Lydia.
Lydia shrugged expressively. “I don’t know what’s going on. But I do know that Lizzy doesn’t like the guy. He insulted her at a state dinner a few months ago. It was all over Twitter. And now suddenly, she’s spending the night with him? That doesn’t make sense to me.”
Darcy closed his eyes, wanting to shut out the spectacle of people using his love life for political purposes. It was an excellent strategy on Wickham’s part. He didn’t need to make them believe the kidnapping accusation; he just needed to muddy the waters enough so that the voters didn’t know what to believe. No doubt he hoped to use the subsequent loss of confidence in Darcy to fuel his own political ascendency.
Wickham cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself. “And then there was the information about the Bennet family’s company.”
“Yes.” Rhodes looked at the camera again. “Congressman Wickham brought us some very interesting information.” He turned back to Lydia. “Did you know that your family’s company, On-a-Stick, Inc., recently received a contract from the USDA worth more than $5 million?”
Lydia grinned with every appearance of guilelessness. “Yeah, Dad was so happy about it. The company wasn’t doing so well, so the contract really made a difference.”
Darcy suppressed a groan. Lydia’s filter was even less effective than Georgiana’s.
Rhodes had a concerned expression on his face, but no doubt he was jumping with glee inside. “Do you think your sister’s sudden interest in the president might have something to do with the contract?”
Lydia’s mouth dropped open; she was an excellent actress. “You mean President Darcy gave my family’s company the contract in exchange for her—?” She clapped both hands over her mouth. “OMG! That would be terrible.”
Darcy hadn’t thought it was possible for his muscles to grow tenser, but he felt like a tautly stretched rubber band ready to snap. While the rational part of his brain dispassionately observed the clever political maneuvering behind the scheme, the rest of him seethed at the insinuations and insults. He had an uncharacteristic desire to wrap his hands around Wickham’s neck—and squeeze.
Wickham shook his head in a grotesque parody of reluctant concern. “I didn’t want to believe it either, Blake, when I first made the connection, but the evidence is hard to deny.”
What evidence? It’s two pieces of unrelated information.
“Indeed,” Rhodes intoned, “but I’m afraid we have some more disturbing footage to add to it. We were looking through our archives and found this footage shot by Grant News outside President Darcy’s private quarters on Air Force One.”
The screen shifted to grainy footage of the door to the presidential suite. It opened with a jerk. The image of Elizabeth stumbling out was a little blurry, but Darcy could see that her hair was disordered and her expression was distraught. She slammed the door behind her, rushing down the hallway and out of the camera frame.
A news cameraman would never have been allowed in that location; the network must have hidden a camera outside the presidential suite. “Shit,” Darcy breathed, fear was beginning to crowd out his annoyance. That shot did appear pretty damning.
“What the fuck?” Caroline squawked from behind him.
The screen shifted back to Rhodes. “The woman has been identified as Elizabeth Bennet. This incident occurred on Air Force One two months ago when the president was returning from Paris.” He turned back to Lydia. “Her behavior in that footage certainly supports the idea that she doesn’t like the president.”
Lydia tossed her head. “Of course, she doesn’t like him. He said she was ugly and stupid!”
If Darcy never heard those two words again, he would be a very happy man.
“We have confirmed that Ms. Bennet was alone with the president in the suite and that he had requested a bottle of white wine,” Rhodes told the camera. “However, she was only in the suite about fifteen minutes before she exited looking, as you can see, rather disheveled. Afterward she escaped to the press area of Air Force One, where she spent the night. That isn’t the usual protocol for guests of the president’s; customarily they stay in a separate guest area.”
Wickham’s eyes widened with faux outrage. “What did he do to that poor girl?”
Lydia slapped her thigh. “I thought the president made a pass at her! She denied it, but the way she acted—”
Darcy rubbed his chest as if that would somehow ease the iron bands constricting his breathing. He couldn’t imagine what Elizabeth might have said to Lydia after that fateful encounter. It was a minor miracle Darcy had quelled that anger after bungling the scene on Air Force One—and now his job was about to plunge her into a very public spectacle.
Rhodes shook his head. “Terrible, taking advantage of a defenseless young woman like that.”
Despite his anger, Darcy snorted. “Defenseless” was not the way to describe the Elizabeth he had encountered on Air Force One.
“What did he do to make her change her mind about him so suddenly?” Lydia asked in a horrified whisper.
Wickham took Lydia’s hand in a comforting manner. “It may be that he used the USDA contract to ‘persuade’ her.” Lydia shuddered. Darcy winced, knowing that some voters would buy this scandalmongering.
“We will continue to investigate,” Rhodes promised Lydia. He arranged his features into an expression of grave concern as he faced the camera. “We’ve contacted the White House to inquire about the incident but have received no reply. We’ll keep you informed as we receive more information.”
As Hilliard switched off the recording, he glared at Darcy. “What the hell have you been up to?” Bing cradled his head in his hands while Fitz cursed colorfully and continuously. Caroline stared at Darcy with icy disdain.
“Nothing, Bob,” Darcy growled. “I haven’t hurt or abducted the woman. She’s out there having French toast.” He gestured to the kitchen.
“Yes, I saw her.” Hilliard stood and started pacing. “I’m sure you’ve guessed how quickly the rest of the media has picked up on this. Reporters are gathering at Pemberley’s gates. Lydia Bennet and Wickham are making appearances on other cable news shows. Mainstream newspapers are calling me for comments. And do you know what’s trending on Twitter now? #Investigate PemberleyNow. #WhereIsElizabethBennet. #FreeElizabethBennet.
Darcy slumped back in his chair. “Shit.”
“You really screwed the pooch this time, Will,” Caroline said, her expression far more vindicated than concerned.
Bing’s head jerked up. “It’s not Darcy’s fault. Wickham has always sought ways to use him to advance his political career.”
Fitz sighed. “He knew he couldn’t make that old story about the inheritance stand up to scrutiny.”
“So what’s our next move?” Bing asked.
“Can’t we just have Elizabeth go out there and make a statement?” Fitz asked.
Hilliard sighed. “It’s not that simple. She hasn’t had media training. You know how easy it is for the media to trip you up and twist your words. She might say something that’s construed the wrong way and make the whole situation worse.”
“I wouldn’t ask her to do it anyway,” Darcy asserted. “She didn’t create this mess, and she wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me.” His shoulders drooped as he imagined her reaction to this news. Not only has she been dragged into this farce but so has her family. She’ll probably never speak to me again.
Fitz drummed his fingers on his desk while he thought. “Can’t she at least tell everyone she wasn’t kidnapped?”
“That wouldn’t do anything to address the rumors of coercion,” Hilliard said. “If everyone believes she’s sleeping with the president to preserve her family’s USDA contract, they’ll think the president told her what to say.”
Bing bounced from one foot to the other as he stood with his back to the fireplace. “At the very least Elizabeth and her relatives need to leave Pemberley. When the media films them buying groceries and eating dinner, it’ll restore a sense of normalcy.”
“Yeah, except…” Hilliard ran both hands through his sparse hair.
“What?” Darcy snapped, his patience at low ebb.
“Do we know what Elizabeth will say if she’s questioned?”
“She’s not going to throw me under the bus!” Darcy exclaimed.
“Are we sure of that?”
“Yes,” Darcy growled.
Hilliard’s dubious expression irritated Darcy even more. “Do we know how the company got the USDA contract?” he asked.
“I didn’t even know they had such a contract until five minutes ago!” Darcy yelled.
“Chances are that they were awarded it through the regular bidding process,” Fitz said soothingly. “I’ll investigate.”
Caroline smiled sourly. “Even if it was all above board, a lot of people won’t believe it.”
Bing put his head in his hands. “This sucks! We’ve tried so hard to avoid this kind of thing.”
“Yeah,” Darcy sighed. After his predecessor’s attempts to use the office of president to enrich himself and his family, Darcy had made a special point of ensuring his administration avoided any hint of impropriety. An incident like this could paint him as hypocritical—a bandwagon the press would jump onto very quickly.
Bing slammed his fist on the fireplace mantel. “This is crazy! They’re just friends. Her aunt and uncle were with her, and she spent the night in her own guest room alone. We can at least get those facts out there, even if a lot of people won’t believe it.”
Hilliard gave Darcy a sharp look. “Is that true?”
Darcy rubbed his face with his hands, wishing for just a moment that he could issue such a denial. But then he wouldn’t wish away the previous night for the world. Nor was he about to start lying to the American people. “No,” he said to Hilliard.
Bing’s head jerked back. “But she went to her room, and you went to—!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Fitz said with a sympathetic glance at Darcy. “If Darcy can’t deny they slept together, then the details are irrelevant to you and me and the American people. That’s between Darcy and Elizabeth.”
Bing nodded, but Caroline looked like she had smelled something disgusting.
Hilliard sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s not. Not when you’re president.”
Darcy stared at the nautical painting over the fireplace. How had things gone so wrong so quickly? “It was one night,” he said to himself. “Just one night.” Couldn’t the universe grant him one night to call his own with a woman he cared about? “Was that too much to ask?”
Hilliard stared at him blankly. “You’re the president,” he said as if that answered the question.
Darcy muttered curses under his breath. He’d been right all along. He couldn’t date in the White House. Only a fool would think otherwise.
“Can we release some kind of statement in response?” Bing asked.
Hilliard settled back into his chair. “We’ll have to eventually, but I don’t think we’re quite ready. I’ve got Preston back at the White House monitoring the press coverage. We’ll see what the other networks and papers say.” He turned to Darcy. “And, sir, you’ll need to sit down with me and give me the history of your interactions with Ms. Bennet.”
Darcy massaged his forehead, wondering how much detail he would have to go into. “Yeah, okay.”
Hilliard nodded briskly. “And we’ll need to fly more staff out here, unless you’d like to return to Washington…?”
“No.” He’d just arrived at Pemberley!
“All right. We can set up a crisis team in the guest house.” He glanced down to scribble in a notebook.
A crisis team. I need a crisis team to handle my love life. Kind of an apt metaphor, actually.
Caroline was examining her nails. “What you really need is a team to take out the trash.” Everyone ignored her.
“How bad do you think it’ll get?” Fitz asked.
Hilliard scrunched up his face. “It’s hard to say. We’ll try to spin it; hopefully the press will pick up on our version of events. But with the allegations of an improperly awarded contract and coercion…” He shook his head. “That’s the kind of juicy story the media loves. Even if they don’t think all the allegations are credible, they’ll hop on the bandwagon because those headlines bring in viewers.” He blew out a breath. “We really won’t know the extent of the damage until the weekly approval polls.”
Bing continued to pace, twisting his watch on his wrist. “We’ve been able to turn other attacks to our advantage. There’s got to be a bright side to this.”
There was a long silence before Hilliard cleared his throat. “Well, fewer people will think the president is gay.” Darcy glared at him. “Okay, it’s a dim bright side, but still…”
“At least being seen as cold and aloof will no longer be your biggest public perception issue.” Fitz gave a sour smile.
“They won’t still be asking ‘What’s wrong with the president?’” Caroline said with a sneer. “Now they’ll know.”
Bing gave his sister a quelling look before turning to Darcy. “I hate to state the obvious again, but we need to get Elizabeth and her relatives out of Pemberley.”
Darcy climbed to his feet on legs that were suddenly shaky. He didn’t know how he would break such awful news. It would devastate her. What could he possibly say to her that would comfort her at such a time? He inhaled deeply, but it did nothing to calm him. “I’ll go talk to her—”
Hilliard grabbed his arm. “No. I need you. First, you need to explain to me what you did with her, and then we need to make some decisions.”
“But—”
“It’s best if you aren’t seen with her—even here. Someone will talk.” The look in Hilliard’s eyes was uncompromising.
Damn it. Hilliard was right. An unscrupulous staff member could have taken pictures of them at dinner or brunch or at the beach—or an “unnamed source” could leak information about anything they did. But, still…Elizabeth would need him when she got this news.
He pulled his arm away. “No, I—”
“Mr. President, you need to concentrate on your job. If you want to be an effective president, there’s a lot of clean up to be done; you need to focus on that.”
His presidency came first; the country came first. Darcy had never resented that fact more than at that moment. He sagged back into his chair, rubbing his eyes. “All right.”
“I’ll go escort Elizabeth and the Gardiners out,” Bing volunteered.
Elizabeth would leave Pemberley without another chance to talk with her. Their first night would be their only night. As Bing strode toward the door, he took Darcy’s heart with him.
“Bing,” he called. His friend stopped and glanced back. “Tell her…” What the hell could Darcy say to compensate for unceremoniously booting her from his home? Or for the way she would be hounded by the media? How did you apologize for destroying someone’s life? He didn’t have the words. “Tell her…I’m sorry.” He grimaced at the woeful inadequacy of his words.
Bing nodded sympathetically and continued out the door. Darcy did nothing to stop him.