Chapter Eighteen
Darcy poured some brandy into the crystal glass. More than he should, but he didn’t care. He set the stopper back in the decanter with a clink. The television was already on. Usually he didn’t get to the Residence until late into the night, but today he’d called it an early day. He couldn’t stand the thought of watching the press conference in the Oval Office with all his staff making surreptitious glances at him. Better to be alone.
The front door opened and closed. Who was that? There weren’t many with a key to the Residence. Fitz was traveling, and Bing was doing damage control in the West Wing.
“Will?” Georgiana’s figure appeared in the doorway to the Treaty Room.
He stood and hurried to give her a hug. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
She bit her lip. “Fitz called and said you might need some company, so I flew down this morning.” Her gaze flicked over the brandy glass in his hand. “He wouldn’t say why.”
Darcy nodded slowly; his head felt ten pounds heavier than usual. Being alone suddenly didn’t seem so appealing. “Thanks for coming.” He and Georgiana had a different relationship than many siblings. Their parents’ untimely death had required Darcy to usher Georgiana into adulthood; but it had also forced his sister to grow up quickly, and she had begun mothering him when she was in high school. Darcy grumbled about it, but secretly loved to know that someone was watching out for him.
He gestured her to the room’s other leather armchair. “I was just sitting down to watch Hilliard’s press briefing.”
She sat, a bemused expression on her face.
“It’ll explain everything.” So I won’t have to. He sipped his brandy and fidgeted with a paperclip as the briefing started, and Hilliard answered a series of policy questions. What was the White House’s reaction to the latest election in Italy? Did the president plan to do anything about the famine in Central Africa? Was the administration concerned about the most recent unemployment report?
Darcy wasn’t even aware of tuning it out, or that he was imagining fine eyes and a dark tumble of curls, until a question jarred him into awareness.
It was a standard question the media asked at every recent briefing. “What is the nature of the president’s relationship with Ms. Elizabeth Bennet?” The question came from Ron Rodriguez, a reporter from The Washington Post.
Hilliard had been giving a curt “no comment” in response to the question for weeks. Today was the day it would change.
Georgiana’s eyes darted to Darcy. He clutched the arm of the chair. Hilliard’s expression didn’t change except for a tightening around the mouth. “The president and Ms. Bennet have discontinued their relationship,” he said matter-of-factly.
Georgiana gasped.
Darcy knew what Hilliard would say; still, the words cut through him like a sword stroke. He’d always harbored the impossible hope that some twist of fate would somehow intervene, but the public announcement was like a shovelful of dirt on the coffin.
“That can’t be true!” Georgiana’s eyes begged him.
Onscreen, the press room broke into a frenzy as reporters disregarded protocol and called out questions, each trying to be louder than the next. Hilliard called on Cara Schultz from ZNN. “When did they break off their relationship? And was it because of the accusations of coercion?”
The press secretary took a deep breath. “The reasons for the breakup, like the relationship itself, are private. The president steadfastly denies any allegations of coercion, as has Ms. Bennet.”
Another reporter: “Will the president continue to socialize with Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Ms. Bennet has accepted an overseas assignment with the Red Cross in Indonesia. In fact, she just landed in Jakarta an hour ago.” That was why they’d waited nearly two weeks for the briefing. Not many news organizations would bother to send reporters halfway around the world. At least Elizabeth would get some peace. “However, the president and Ms. Bennet remain friends,” Hilliard added.
Darcy averted his eyes from his sister’s woebegone expression. “It was her decision, Georgie,” he said.
Other reporters started shouting out questions, some of them frankly intrusive. Since he had been authorized to share very little information, Hilliard repeated “no comment” many times. Finally, he said firmly, “I will not answer any more questions on this topic.” As the briefing moved on to other subjects, Darcy muted the television.
“Why?” Georgiana’s brows knitted together. “You said she was the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Darcy stared down into his empty glass. “She doesn’t want me, Georgie. She doesn’t want a relationship with me.”
“Was it all the press scrutiny?”
“It’s not that simple,” Darcy muttered. “There were a lot of reasons. She thought the relationship was hurting my presidency.”
Georgiana’s expression was heart-wrenching. “So she still loves you?”
Answering that question would break him. He scrubbed his face with both hands. “Hell, I don’t know that I have what it takes to make a long-term relationship work.” During the silence that followed, Georgiana regarded him with a sympathetic tilt to her head.
Onscreen, Hilliard was still talking. Darcy hated the sight of him. With a quick jab on the remote, he turned the television off and stared at the black screen without seeing it.
It’s not like I have the time to devote to a real relationship. Now nothing would distract him from his legislative priorities. Nothing to focus on except his presidency. It would be business as usual.
It was a good development. An improvement.
It was.
***
“Will? Will!”
Darcy’s head snapped toward Bing. Had his attention drifted off again? How long this time?
“Peter asked your opinion on the Republicans’ proposed changes to the bill.” Darcy hated that too-patient tone, the one that sounded like Bing was coaxing a wild animal into its cage with soft words and a piece of meat. Darcy had been hearing it more and more.
He wanted to rub the bleariness from his eyes, but he couldn’t look like he’d been sleeping. In fact, he’d been daydreaming—imagining a future with Elizabeth in six years. If she’d still talk to him then. If she wasn’t married to someone else. It had been more than five months since he’d seen her in Fitz’s apartment. It seemed like an eternity.
Bing continued to date Jane; Darcy was happy for his friend and only a little jealous. Well, maybe more than a little. Although Bing received some media scrutiny, he didn’t realize what a gift his comparative lack of fame was.
Bing never mentioned anything he learned about Elizabeth from Jane, and Darcy never asked. An old college friend of Darcy’s at the Red Cross gave him occasional updates on Elizabeth’s progress in Indonesia, which wasn’t terribly satisfying. The reports focused on the program she was running and didn’t provide crucial information like whether she was dating someone. The thought made every muscle in his body tense.
With an effort of will, Darcy drew his attention back to the meeting. At least this one was in the small Residence meeting room with senior staff rather than an official West Wing meeting with junior staffers who were prone to gossiping. Darcy took a sip from his glass, grateful he had switched from wine at dinner to scotch. It probably contributed to his tendency to lose focus, but Darcy needed it.
“I’m sorry.” He straightened up in his chair, widening his eyes: the picture of alertness. “Cynthia, could you read the changes off again?”
“Of course, Mr. President.”
As Cynthia read, Darcy tried to focus his attention on the admittedly dry material. It was important, worthy of his concentration, but lately his thoughts were like heavy, sticky mud. They moved slowly and resisted changing direction. He was so, so damn tired all the time. When this odd fatigue had first crept over him around four months ago, Darcy had thought he was getting sick, but no other symptoms had materialized. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but that usually didn’t faze him. Was there a difference because this bout of sleeplessness was brought on by insomnia rather than too much work?
Cynthia had fallen quiet.
“Thank you,” Darcy said automatically, mentally kicking himself when he realized he couldn’t remember what she said. These changes were important; accepting some of the Republican amendments could help them gain the votes they needed to pass the renewable energy bill.
Bing watched him with a stony stare. Yeah, he knew Darcy’s mind had been otherwise occupied.
“What do you think, Mr. President?” Peter regarded him expectantly.
Darcy had been in this position before and knew how to cover for his ignorance. “I’m not sure.” He turned to his director of legislative affairs. “Sarah, what’s your opinion?”
As Sarah launched into a complicated discussion of the advantages and disadvantages of the Republicans’ revisions, Darcy attempted to follow her argument. But he was well aware of the weight of Bing’s gaze: narrowed eyes, thinned lips. Yeah, he wasn’t fooling Bing.
That was the problem with hiring old friends, Darcy thought ruefully. Damn. He would hear about it later.
***
Bing slammed a pile of papers on the end of Darcy’s desk, startling him. “What the hell, Bing?” Darcy glared. Sometimes the best defense was a good offense.
“What the hell were you doing in the meeting today?” Bing demanded as he stalked to the other side of the Oval Office.
“Um…making decisions?”
Bing scoffed as he slid into a chair opposite the desk. “You were out to lunch!”
“Please! Do you know how many meetings I go to every day?” Darcy said with an irritation he didn’t quite feel. “Forgive me if I lose focus in one of them!”
Bing pointed an accusing finger. “It isn’t one, and you know it. You’re spacing out during most of them, and it’s getting worse.”
For God’s sake! It wasn’t that bad. Darcy took a deep breath. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I guess I need more coffee in the morning.”
Bing pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed. “Another cuppa isn’t going to make a difference, Darcy! You’ve seen the approval ratings.”
Yeah, he had, but he’d been trying not to think about them. “We’ll bounce back.”
“Not without a major legislative success we won’t.”
“The renewable energy bill—”
Bing interrupted. “Is toast unless we can get more legislators on board, and we haven’t.”
Darcy surged to his feet. “I’ve been trying! I’ve been talking to them.” If only his voice didn’t shake so much…
Bing shook his head wearily. “They won’t listen until these congressional hearings are over.”
“There’s not much I can do about that,” Darcy said. “There’s this thing called separation of powers that prevents me from interfering in the legislative—”
“Bullshit.” The word rumbled out of Bing. Darcy’s eyebrows rose; his friend rarely used foul language. “You know there’s no evidence. They can’t find anything that shows you had any contact with anyone at the USDA about that contract. They’ve hauled everyone from Mr. Bennet to the Secretary of Agriculture in front of the committee, and the story is the same.”
Darcy regarded Bing sardonically. “Yes, thank you. I know I didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t need to remind me.” Bing rolled his eyes, stoking Darcy’s anger. “You and I both know they’re just dragging the hearings out so they can do the maximum political damage. They’re aware there’s no evidence.”
Bing folded his arms over his chest. “So what are you going to do about it?” When Darcy didn’t respond, Bing flung his arms up in the air. “Five months ago, you would have been racing around this office figuring out what kind of leverage we could use on those guys and how we could get the media on board with the story of what actually happened. You’d be organizing the staff, inspiring them. Instead you’re just sitting there like—like a lump of cold mashed potatoes.”
Darcy blinked. “Mashed potatoes?”
“Don’t laugh. It was the best analogy I could think of on the spur of the moment.”
Slumping down into his desk chair, Darcy let his head sink to his chest. Maybe there were ways he could have put pressure on some legislators to finish the damn hearings. He’d been avoiding the whole subject, which inevitably brought back reminders of Elizabeth and how she was no longer on this continent. Of course, she was never far from his thoughts anyway.
“A lot of the Republicans will listen to reason, particularly since they want to work with you on the infrastructure plan. Their biggest problem is Wickham, and we can—”
“Actually, I received some news today,” Darcy said, searching through the piles on his desk for a specific folder. “A few weeks ago, the SEC found some irregularities in the venture capital firm Wickham and his uncle run. They pursued an investigation.” Darcy found the right folder and showed it to Bing. “They found evidence of insider trading in seventeen deals Wickham’s firm made.”
Bing rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Awesome! When are they going to nail the guy and send him to prison?”
“They’re about to.”
“Why aren’t you thrilled about this?” Bing frowned at Darcy.
“I’m worried about Lydia Bennet. She’s living with Wickham. When the SEC raids his New York condo, she’ll get caught up in the whole thing, maybe even arrested. She probably doesn’t even know what insider trading is.”
Bing scratched the back of his neck. “Forgive me, but isn’t this the woman who accused you—on television—of kidnapping her sister?”
Darcy stared down at the damning papers. “Yeah, but she’s a kid. I don’t even think she’s twenty yet. Wickham used her. You know how he is.”
“You’re too nice.”
Darcy couldn’t meet Bing’s eyes. “It would kill her.”
“Lydia?” Bing raised an eyebrow.
“Elizabeth. She…and her family have suffered enough because of me.”
Bing shook his head and then blew out a breath. “Okay, let me talk to Jane.” He held out a hand to forestall Darcy’s objection. “I won’t say anything about the SEC, obviously. But maybe the family can get Lydia to come home without making her suspicious.”
Darcy considered for a minute. “Okay. She’s probably sick of Wickham by now. It might not take much of an incentive to get her to leave.”
Bing grimaced in agreement.
“Good.” Darcy nodded briskly. I’ll have Peter set up calls with McCray and Ramirez. They must be unhappy about the hearings and searching for a way out.”
Bing smiled as he stood. “That’s the Darcy I’d like to see more often.”
Darcy sat up straighter in his chair. “I try…but it’s hard.”
Bing pivoted to leave the room but turned back before he reached the door. “I think you should call her.”
“Lydia?” Darcy said, deliberately misunderstanding.
Bing’s eyes narrowed. “You know who I mean.”
“Need I remind you that she’s in Indonesia?”
“They have phone service there.”
Darcy gave his friend a cold look. “Not all of my problems have a ready solution. She made her decision, and it was probably the right one for her. I’m not going to second-guess her.”
Bing shook his head sharply. “I don’t think Elizabeth knows what’s best any more than you do.” Before Darcy could reply, Bing had exited the room, closing the door smartly behind him.
***
“So then Lydia decided she did want the hat after all, and she tried to grab it. Of course, Kitty ran away,” Jane said with a tolerant smile on her face. “Around and around the kitchen, living room, dining room. All the time Kitty is shrieking, ‘She’ll ruin it! She’ll ruin it for sure, Mom! Someone stop her!’”
Jane set down her tea cup, laughing a bit self-consciously. Elizabeth managed some convincing chuckles and then took a sip of tea to cover her absent enthusiasm.
Of course, she was pleased that Lydia had returned home. For five months, the youngest Bennet had refused all pleas from the family. Convinced that George Wickham was in love with her, she had dropped out of school and lived in his New York condo, no doubt expecting to become a kept woman.
However, it became apparent that most, if not all, of George’s wealth was illusory. Under the pretext of inviting Lydia to their father’s birthday party, Jane, Kitty, and their mother had gotten on the phone to declare their inability to live a Lydia-free life any longer. Lydia had agreed to return “for their sake,” but once she’d slunk back to their parents’ house, she’d proclaimed herself to be very ill-used and deceived by her one-time boyfriend. Hearing the saga long distance through emails from Jane, Elizabeth had breathed a huge sigh of relief. Their mother had supplied all the pampering Lydia believed to be her right, which soon renewed her previous state of extreme shallowness.
The timing had proved fortuitous; two days later it was revealed that George and his uncle were under investigation by the SEC for insider trading and other shady business practices. Thankfully Lydia had departed before the SEC raided George’s condo and carried away boxes of papers.
The congressional investigation into the USDA contract, which had already been faltering due to lack of evidence, had been dealt an additional blow by the arrest of a principal committee member. Although the hearings had not been formally disbanded, On-a-Stick’s lawyer seemed confident that it was only a matter of time before the contract was restored.
Elizabeth had welcomed the news, not only because she wouldn’t be forced to testify but also because Will’s approval numbers were finally rising.
However, not all voters’ opinions of him had improved; many still believed he had coerced Elizabeth despite her repeated denials. He still walked on thin ice politically, and it was by no means certain he would win the passage of his renewable energy bill. She hated that she was still being used as a weapon against him; however, there was no way she could help except to stay far away from him.
Nobody except her family and Charlotte had known she would arrive home for a month-long vacation, and Elizabeth planned to keep a low profile. The media had mostly left her alone in Indonesia, and she was happy to avoid their scrutiny.
Elizabeth had seen Lydia only once for an awkward dinner at their parents’ house. Although she loved her sister, she still found it difficult to forgive her. It had been easier to avoid Lydia by staying at Jane’s apartment during her visit.
Lifting her eyes from her tea cup, she met Jane’s knowing look. “Lydia does regret her actions, you know,” Jane said.
Elizabeth snorted. “She regrets that George Wickham didn’t turn out to be the Prince Charming she expected, not the damage she did to my life or Will’s.”
Jane leaned forward, regarding Elizabeth earnestly from across the coffee table. “I do think that deep down she’s sorry.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Maybe. But she never apologized to me or said anything to indicate regret.”
“Yeah, she’s infuriating,” Jane conceded.
Elizabeth took another sip of her tea, wishing it was late enough that she could retire for the night, but they hadn’t even had dinner yet.
“Are you happy in Indonesia?” Jane asked suddenly.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Jane had asked this question in one way or another every day over the past week. “The work I’m doing is very valuable,” Elizabeth answered carefully.
Jane sighed. “You always say that.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It’s true.”
“You don’t look happy.” This was the most direct observation Jane had made so far.
Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair. “What do you want me to say? It’s only been about six months, Jane. I miss him, but I’m fine.” Her words weren’t even convincing to her own ears. “I don’t know if I’ll sign up for another overseas assignment when my two years are finished. It’s—maybe I’m getting too old for constant travel.”
Jane gave her a level look. “There’s this guy at work who’s cute and single—”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “Gah! No. I am so not ready for that.”
“Didn’t think so.” Jane’s smile was smug.
Elizabeth gave her sister a poisonous glare. They both knew she was hanging on by a thread, but it was what she needed to do. Why did Jane need to rub it in? Before Elizabeth could say something cutting, Jane’s phone chirped. She pulled it out to scrutinize a text. “Oh, Bing’s in the area and wants to stop by.” Instantly Jane began tapping back a message.
“Great,” Elizabeth said with absolutely no inflection. The one good result of her disastrous near love affair with the president had been that Jane and Bing had come into contact again, talked about their misunderstanding, and decided to try dating once more. Elizabeth was not surprised that they had already reached the drop-by-your-apartment stage. If any couple was meant to be, it was Jane and Bing. And Elizabeth was happy for her sister.
She was.
But she was just as happy to avoid Bing. Besides Jane, they only had one thing in common, and Elizabeth didn’t want to even think about him. “Maybe I should go to a coffee shop or something.” Elizabeth stood, collecting her tea cup.
“There’s no need for that!” Jane admonished.
“You should have some privacy.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we’ll fall into bed the moment he arrives. You’ve been AWOL every time he’s come over, and I know he wants to see you before you escape back to Indonesia.”
“Sure.” Elizabeth mustered a bright smile to hide her gritted teeth. Maybe she could keep it short by suddenly remembering she needed to watch her favorite reality show about rich bachelors living on a deserted island and forced to compete for a recording contract. She picked up Jane’s cup and fled to the kitchen where she didn’t need to guard her expression.
Elizabeth put the floral cups in the sink under the window with the yellow floral curtains while standing on the blue floral rug. Jane had good taste; everything went together beautifully, but the apartment was almost aggressively cheerful. Some days Elizabeth couldn’t get outside fast enough.
Her gaze was caught by Jane’s small countertop television. Even in Indonesia Elizabeth couldn’t leave her television off all the time, but she’d been fairly successful at avoiding images of Will there. How did he manage to be on every screen of every television in Jane’s apartment all the time?
Now she couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight of him shaking hands with the president of South Korea. They waved as pictures were taken, and then Will escorted the woman and her husband into the White House. Did he have a little gray at the temples? Had he lost some weight? Elizabeth scrutinized the image. His eyes were ringed with dark circles. Damn his staff! Weren’t they feeding him and making sure he slept? Wasn’t anyone paying attention?
It’s not your business, Elizabeth.
Jabbing savagely at the remote, she turned off the television and directed her gaze out the window toward the apartment building across the street. How long would it be until she stopped flinching at the sight of him? It had been almost six months. Maybe she should return to Indonesia early. There she was usually too busy to notice the hollowness in her chest cavity—except in the evening and at night and in the morning. And sometimes the afternoon.
And Jane thinks I might be ready to meet another guy. I have nothing left inside me to give someone new. Her knees were suddenly weak; Elizabeth braced herself on the sink, staring out the window to stave off tears. Her mind repeated the mantra from the past six months: It will get better. Elizabeth still believed it, but she was beginning to despair about when “better” would arrive.
Out in the living room, the front door opened and closed. Bing. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and finger-combed her hair, hoping her face wasn’t too haggard. She ground her teeth, suddenly angry with herself for letting Jane guilt her into staying.
I should have begged off with an emergency meeting at work or claimed a sudden need to go to Mom and Dad’s to feed Mary’s parakeet while she’s out of town. I could stop on the way there to buy Mary a parakeet. Maybe I can chat with Bing for a minute or two and then fake an attack of gout or sudden-onset deafness.
Peals of laughter and the sounds of kissing emanated from the living room. Maybe an intense round of tonsil hockey would allow Elizabeth to slip out of the apartment unnoticed.
“Lizzy!” Jane called. “Bing’s here!”
Or maybe not. Elizabeth took a deep breath. I can do this. Sit and chat for five minutes and then notice a sudden urgent craving for tapioca pudding from 7-Eleven.
Somehow she slapped on a smile as she trudged into the living room. Bing’s blond surfer looks and easy smile hadn’t changed. She offered her hand, but he entrapped her in a hug instead.
“Elizabeth. It’s so good to see you.”
She merely nodded. Yes, and if I had my way it would be a long time before I saw you again. After an awkward pause, they all sat, Bing and Jane side by side on the sofa with their hands comfortably intertwined while Elizabeth took the stiff-backed wooden rocking chair. And then…
Crickets.
Surely there was some innocuous topic of conversation she could initiate, but Elizabeth’s mind was blank except for the incessant drumbeat of Will, Will, Will. “Great weather we’ve been having,” she finally blurted out.
Bing glanced at the overcast skies outside the window. “Er, it does make a change from all that sunshine.”
Well, that killed two seconds.
Elizabeth wracked her brain. Surely there was another topic that might not lead back to Will. Say something! Anything! She opened her mouth, unsure what would emerge. “How do you feel about tapioca pudding and parakeets?”
Jane’s eyes widened comically.
“How is your job going?” Bing asked at the same time.
Elizabeth latched onto the subject, pretending she hadn’t spoken. “Good. It’s good,” she said quickly. “I’m doing good work. Making a difference.”
“That’s good.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, it is. It’s good.” Okay, this was possibly the stupidest conversation in the history of humankind.
Silence stretched between them again. Ugh, so awkward. It was like there was a huge hole in the middle of the living room floor, and yet they were all determined not to talk about it.
There had to be something to discuss besides pudding and parakeets. Elizabeth had stored away some interesting anecdotes about Indonesia, but she couldn’t recall any at this moment. “Did you know that Jane got a promotion at work?” Elizabeth said rather desperately.
“I did.” Bing squeezed Jane’s hand affectionately. “I’m so proud of you.” Jane gave him a fond smile that somehow hollowed out Elizabeth’s chest even more.
“Well, somebody will need to take charge of the USDA contract once we get it,” Jane said modestly.
“I’m sure it’ll be soon.” Bing’s tone suggested he had more to say on the topic. Dangerous territory.
“I hear you two have a hot date this weekend,” Elizabeth inserted quickly. Jane had already told her all about it, but she didn’t mind hearing about it again.
“Yeah,” Bing drawled, relaxing as he put his arm around Jane’s shoulders. “I secured a reservation at Le Reynard for Saturday. They say Chef Pierre Bessette is a genius…” He quoted a review about the restaurant, but Elizabeth was only half listening. Her mind was occupied with concocting escape plans.
Bing’s soliloquy petered out. Elizabeth wracked her brain for another safe topic. Taking a deep breath, Bing leaned forward, and Elizabeth had the bizarre sensation she was about to be subjected to a sales pitch. “Could you meet with Darcy while you’re here?”
I guess we’re going to talk about the hole after all.
The mention of his name was akin to a mild electric charge through her body. She bolted upright, noticing at the back of her mind that all her extremities were tingling. “That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Bing jumped up from the sofa and started pacing around Jane’s sparsely furnished living room. “He doesn’t have enough votes for the renewable energy bill.”
Her stomach lurched; that was not good news, but how did apply to her? “Non-sequitur much?”
He waved irritably at her as he stalked past the windows. “We’ve been working on this for almost a year. We’re so close, but it’s in danger of going down in flames. He could get a couple more votes on board if he just tried harder—if he spent more time working with the staff, inspiring them. But he’s…not bringing his A game.”
Elizabeth’s whole body was hot. “That’s not my fault,” she bit out.
“No. Of course not.” Bing shook his head vigorously. “I…” He rubbed his forehead. “I just thought you might help him get back on track.”
The anger abruptly drained out of her body. Oh. “I-I can’t. Nothing has changed….”
Bing ran both hands through his hair, making it stand on end. “I know, I know. If you started dating him, the press would be all over you again. It’s inevitable, but—”
What?
“Wait!” Elizabeth held up a hand. “Do you think I broke it off because of the press?” Her voice soared into the upper registers.
“Lizzy, ” Jane said in a patient tone usually reserved for someone about to have a breakdown, “you never actually explained why you did it. You just came to my apartment and cried on my shoulder.”
Bing blinked at her. “Why else would you have—?”
Didn’t anyone understand? Elizabeth was suddenly on her feet. “Being associated with me and the rumors of coercion were hurting his presidency. You know this!” She waved her arm at Bing. “You showed me the secret poll.”
Bing put both hands on the mantelpiece as if to steady himself. “Maybe I shouldn’t have….” His gaze turned pleading. “But that scandal is over. Congress will drop the investigation soon, and the SEC has indicted Wickham.”
Elizabeth rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. He just doesn’t understand. “Bing, I’m still a member of the Bennet family, and Lydia started this whole thing. He could never forgive her.”
Bing opened his mouth, closed it, and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then opened it again. “Never forgive her?” Bing echoed. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Will knew Wickham and his uncle were about to be indicted, and he asked if Jane could lure Lydia home before she became caught up in it.”
Jane’s head jerked back. “That’s why you suggested—!”
Bing nodded as he continued, “If the press discovered he’d done that with advance knowledge…it wouldn’t look good. But he thought she deserved a chance to escape Wickham’s scandal.”
Elizabeth fell into the nearest available seat. He had forgiven Lydia. “I…can’t believe he did that for her…”
Bing gave her a level look. “He didn’t do it for her.”
It took Elizabeth a moment to grasp his meaning, and then she flushed.
“Can’t you at least talk with him?” Bing asked softly. “He’s not sleeping well. He doesn’t concentrate at all.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, unable to forget the image of Will on television. “Can’t you get him to eat more?” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.
“I’ve tried.” Bing’s hands clenched into fists. “If you talk to him, it might help with that…and other things…”
“You know it’s not that easy. I bet you’ve done polling on whether voters still think he’s coerced me.” Bing winced. “You have, haven’t you?” When Bing said nothing, Elizabeth plowed ahead. “And it probably shows that the majority of voters still think he might have coerced me—even though Congress didn’t find any evidence.”
Bing sighed. “Yeah. Fifty-two percent. But it’s going down.”
“And if the press thinks I’m in his life again, that percentage will shoot right back up.”
Bing didn’t deny it.
“There’s must be some way to convince them that you truly love him!” Jane, ever the optimist, exclaimed.
Bing shook his head. “I don’t see how. She can be a guest on every talk show in the country, but her own sister claimed the president was forcing her. As long as your family has that contract, people will be suspicious.”
“I’m not asking my family to give up that contract. It saved the business,” Elizabeth said fiercely.
Bing held up placating hands. “Of course not.”
“There must be something you can do!” Jane wailed.
How many times have I said that to myself? “I don’t know what, short of visiting every house in America to explain how I really feel.”
“Just talk to him.” Bing reached out a beseeching hand to Elizabeth.
Damn. It was as if he was offering her the forbidden fruit. She wanted it so badly but knew she couldn’t have it.
“Please,” Bing said.
Elizabeth was standing again, her eyes searching the room for her purse. There it was by the door. “I can’t. I just…can’t,” she murmured, stumbling toward the door. Grabbing her purse, she yanked the door open with one hand. She paused on the threshold, not looking back at Bing or Jane. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”
Elizabeth closed the door quickly so she wouldn’t hear their response.
***
For a few seconds after she woke, Elizabeth didn’t know where she was. Then it came back to her. Charlotte’s sofa. After wandering around D.C. in a daze for several hours, Elizabeth had called Charlotte with a pathetically transparent lie about having fought with Jane. Charlotte hadn’t questioned it, merely offering to leave a key at the building’s front desk for her.
Fortunately for Elizabeth, Charlotte had spent the night at Bill’s. Elizabeth wasn’t in the mood to hear moans from Charlotte’s bedroom and cries of “That’s it, Big Boy! Staple me so hard!”
She rubbed the back of her neck, rotating her head slowly. Elizabeth hadn’t had a drop of alcohol, but she still felt hungover. How was that fair?
Leveraging her body into an upright position, she stared out the window as pieces of her conversation with Bing replayed themselves in her mind. His words had pinged through her head like errant pinballs all night, preventing her from falling asleep until the wee hours of the morning.
I’m miserable without him. She had finally admitted the truth to herself at around three a.m. One of the few things that made her self-imposed exile bearable was knowing that it was the best thing for Will. But Bing had suggested that Will was miserable without her. Elizabeth swallowed hard as her eyes burned with unshed tears. You cried over Will last night; how about we try something productive for a change?
At around four a.m., a nascent plan had begun to coalesce in the back of her mind. But seriously contemplating it provoked sweaty palms and a racing heart. What if she was wrong? What if Bing was wrong? What if Will hated her too much to forgive her?
No. She needed more information before she could decide. Elizabeth stared at her cell phone; the number she’d texted Bing for late last night glowed on the screen, demanding her attention. She wrapped one arm around her knees and tapped the number with the other hand. Closing her eyes, she focused on what she was planning to say.
“Hello?” said a female voice.
“Hi, Georgiana.” Elizabeth swallowed past the thickness in her throat. “This is Elizabeth Bennet.”
There was a pause. “What do you want?” The tone was cool but not hostile.
Her pulse pounded in her ears like a smith working a forge. “I need to ask you a question…about Will…”