Chapter Nineteen
As he waited at the bottom of the stairs, Fitz bounced on the balls of his feet with impatience. “We don’t want to be late for Hilliard,” he admonished Darcy when he reached the first step. Darcy scowled at him. He was the president. Everyone else could damn well wait on his schedule.
When Darcy reached the bottom, Fitz tried to set a brisk pace for their walk to the limo. In retaliation, Darcy slowed down, making Fitz grimace in frustration, which gave Darcy a little jolt of satisfaction. It shouldn’t. Instead I should be grateful Fitz has been willing to suffer me these last months. Darcy knew he’d been a bastard, but at this hour of the morning he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Impatience got the best of Fitz. “Darce, we need to—”
“I’m going to be late sometimes,” Darcy snapped. “Stuff happens.”
Fitz arched a brow. “Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“It’s seven a.m. for fuck’s sake!” Darcy growled. “Why the hell do I even need to be out of bed at this ungodly hour?”
“You agreed to the interview.”
It was true. Discussing global warming and the need for renewable energy with a ZNN reporter in front of the famous Washington D.C. cherry blossoms had seemed like a no-brainer at the time. But… “That was before I knew it would be at the ass crack of dawn,” Darcy grumbled.
“It’s the only time the Secret Service could manage the traffic,” Fitz reminded him as they walked outside. O’Leary, the head of the morning’s Secret Service detail, was standing by the open door to the presidential limo. They both slid in.
“Hilliard and Bing both think the interview can build support for the bill.” Fitz’s soothing tone irritated Darcy even more.
“Yeah, I know.” Darcy waved his hand impatiently. “But I could just as easily do that in the Oval Office, and then we wouldn’t need to cordon off half the Tidal Basin—”
“Actually, sir,” corrected O’Leary, “it’s all of the Tidal Basin.”
“Is one interview worth causing traffic snarls all over the District?” Darcy asked Fitz as the limo lurched into motion. Darcy fussed with his tie, which had ended up being too long.
Fitz was unapologetic. “Hilliard likes the optics. Talking about spring and global warming in front of a tree burgeoning with cherry blossoms…it’s a striking visual. And the bill needs help.” As he spoke, Fitz batted away Darcy’s hand and deftly undid the knot before retying the tie. Hilliard had insisted on a tie with cherry blossoms on it. Darcy had fussed, although he was forced to concede that it coordinated well with his blue shirt.
“I’m talking about how global warming has hurt the cherry blossoms. Shouldn’t we do the interview in front of a dying cherry tree?” Darcy asked in an acid tone.
Fitz’s brows drew together. “Jeez. I know you aren’t exactly a morning person, but what the hell is your problem?”
Darcy pressed his lips together, averting his gaze to the car window and the sights of D.C. passing by. No way would he reveal the truth about his long, sleepless night. After resisting the urge for months, he had finally surrendered to his desire to Google the latest news about Elizabeth. Not surprisingly, he regretted it.
The first hit had been from a celebrity gossip site: a picture of Elizabeth meeting in some out-of-the-way D.C. coffee shop with an attractive blond guy who’d been identified as Zach Coughlin, an up-and-coming young producer at—coincidentally enough—ZNN. The accompanying caption had speculated that Elizabeth Bennet had finally recovered from her frightful experience with the president’s manipulative ways and was now brave enough to start dating once more.
Darcy hadn’t even known she was in D.C. But Zach Coughlin knew. Damn him.
The next site was even more explicit in describing how fortunate Elizabeth was to escape Darcy’s clutches. Accustomed as he was to aspersions on his character, the implication that he had driven Elizabeth into some other guy’s arms had set Darcy seething all night. I knew this would happen. She’s a great catch. It was a stupid hope that she would wait until the end of my term—or two terms. Still, six months didn’t seem nearly long enough for her to get over a relationship… Well, it wasn’t really a relationship, was it? More like an aborted relationship wanna-be.
“Darcy?” Fitz watched him closely, his forehead creased with worry. Shit, how bad do I look?
“I’m fine.” Darcy yanked at the tie. Fitz had tied the knot too tight, and the damn thing was choking him. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Fitz settled back in his seat, fiddling nervously with his cufflink, but at least he fell silent.
Before long, the limo pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the Jefferson Memorial. The lot was mostly empty except for police vehicles, a ZNN news van, and a few random cars that probably belonged to Hilliard’s staff.
As he waited for the Secret Service agent to open the door, Darcy took a moment to recall his talking points about global warming. If he nailed it in one take, he could return to the White House that much sooner. “I hope this doesn’t take too long,” he grumbled to Fitz.
“I think you’ll find it worth your while,” Fitz said with a smile. What the hell did that mean? Before Darcy could ask, the door opened and he stepped out into the parking lot. Secret Service agents surrounded him as he strolled toward the Memorial.
By now Darcy was accustomed to security swarming around him. D.C. police officers had confined onlookers behind barricades on either side of the Memorial, and the crowds cheered when they saw him. The reaction usually lightened his heart, but today it settled over him like a heavy weight. Everyone expected so much from him. Inevitably he would let some of them down. And some days he just wished they’d leave him alone so he could nap.
Mustering a smile, he waved to the onlookers while the agents hustled him around the Jefferson Memorial and toward the Tidal Basin. The Basin was actually a kind of cove formed by a branch of the Potomac River, but it resembled nothing so much as a manmade lake. Every spring, for a brief period, the cherry trees around the Tidal Basin burst forth in a profusion of blossoms. It was a beautiful sight, which brought massive tourist dollars—and traffic—to D.C. every year.
As Darcy’s group marched around the Memorial to the plaza on the other side, the Tidal Basin, in all its glory, burst into view. Even Darcy’s spirits lifted at the sight. Nobody could have remained unaffected. The sun was barely up, bathing the whole scene in a warm golden light. The water was placid, with hardly a ripple marring its surface. Every tree around the water’s edge was in bloom, a truly breathtaking sight.
Cherry blossoms were a common theme for Washington D.C. souvenirs, but those images always showed the blossoms as pink. They were in fact almost white, with just the palest hint of pink. It was a delicate, almost ethereal, color. Hilliard was right that it would make for good optics.
The press secretary hurried up to Darcy’s side. “Good morning, Mr. President. Deena Driscoll will be interviewing you.” Good. Darcy nodded. A seasoned reporter on science topics, Deena wasn’t likely to spring any unexpected questions on him. He’d grown quite weary of replying “no comment” when asked about Elizabeth.
Hilliard continued, “We picked a spot where you’ll be framed by the blossoms with the Tidal Basin in the background. Deena will ask the questions we agreed on. It should take about five minutes…” He trailed off, squinting at the Memorial.
“Unless we need another take,” Darcy said.
Hilliard licked his lips nervously. “Of course, of course.” The nerves didn’t make any sense; they were old hands at interviews like this. Well, whatever. The whole thing would soon be over. He sighed. “Fine. Let’s do it.” He didn’t miss the worried glance Hilliard exchanged with Fitz, but he was too weary to care about the reason.
Deena Driscoll, a petite African American woman with a bright smile, stood in front of a tree boasting a profusion of cherry blossoms. Her light pink business suit would blend well with Darcy’s tie. Hilliard would be pleased.
Aside from the excited chatter of the crowds, the area was unusually quiet. Normally, traffic zipped along the Independence Avenue bridge, which bisected the far end of the Basin, but today the bridge was deserted. The relative peace was a side effect of the Secret Service’s commitment to presidential safety, and Darcy appreciated it.
Here, too, onlookers crowded up against the security barricades on both sides of the plaza. Early morning visitors to the blossoms were certainly getting more than they had expected. Darcy waved to the people on both sides, receiving enthusiastic roars and waves in response.
Darcy took his place next to Deena, who shook his hand as she thanked him for coming. A production assistant hurried up and attached a small mike to Darcy’s lapel. The morning was warming up, and Darcy was sweating inside his suit. It’ll soon be over. I can’t wait to get back to the Beast and take off my coat. It was difficult to smile when his only impulses were to fidget and scowl.
The producer, a young blond guy who looked vaguely familiar, counted down, and the camera’s green light blinked on, indicating that it was recording. Somehow the police officers managed to quiet the onlookers. Deena positioned her handheld microphone just below her chin. “Mr. President, thank you for joining us on this beautiful spring day.” Her smile was wide and genuine, a nice change from many reporters’ faux newscaster grins. It figures she’d be a morning person.
“It’s my pleasure, Deena,” he replied.
Deena’s eyes darted toward the Memorial. “However, before we start talking about global warming, we have someone here who wanted to address a different topic.”
What? Darcy frowned at Deena and then shot a glare at Hilliard. This wasn’t part of the script; Hilliard should stop the filming immediately. Thank God it wasn’t being broadcast live. Darcy opened his mouth to object, but Hilliard made a rolling motion with his finger, encouraging him to continue. What the hell? Darcy’s eyes followed Deena’s gaze.
When he saw who was exiting the Memorial, all thoughts of objecting evaporated.
Elizabeth, wearing a pale pink sun dress, strode toward him. Her hair cascaded in a glorious tumble of dark waves around her shoulders and blew a little in the breeze. Her mouth curved in a fragile, tentative smile, and her eyes were darkly intent—fixed on Darcy’s face. Stiffness in her gait betrayed her nervousness.
Darcy’s eyes eagerly devoured the glorious sight. Starved of her presence for too long, he felt she might disappear if he glanced away. His fingers twitched with the need to touch her and… Oh God, in a moment she’d be close enough to hear her voice. No doubt he was grinning like a fool, and he didn’t care. He had no idea why she was there; he could only soak up her presence.
Other people emerged from the Memorial, far behind Elizabeth—Bing, Jane…Georgiana? What were they doing here? And why the hell were they smiling so knowingly?
“Will.” The husky way Elizabeth said his voice made Darcy’s knees weak. Two last steps brought her to stand by his side; only then did Darcy realize that Deena was observing them from the side of the blond producer. Now Will recognized him as the guy having coffee with Elizabeth in the pictures on the Internet. However, she wasn’t paying him the least bit of attention, and he appeared to be intent solely on filming them.
I’m definitely getting punked in some way. But he didn’t care. With Elizabeth there, everything was right with the world. He said the first thing that came into his mind. “You’re not in Indonesia.” Duh.
“No.” She watched him through the screen of her lashes. “I’m…not planning to go back.”
Reeeallly? Excitement bubbled up inside him like carbonation. Still, this was too good, too fortuitous. It was beginning to play out like some great dream that fulfilled all his wishes. Was she really there? When he took her hand in his, their fingers curled together, deliciously warm. Yeah, she was real.
For a long moment each basked in the glow of the other’s presence. Darcy could have stared into her vibrant, mossy green eyes for the rest of the day and never grown bored. But eventually Elizabeth’s smile developed an anxious edge, and her brows tangled together. “Uh…Will…?”
Darcy’s nerves spiked, and his breath hitched in his chest when he spoke. “Eliz-Elizabeth, what are you doing here? Why are you—? What’s going on?”
Elizabeth reached out to grasp his other hand in hers so they faced each other like a couple at an altar. Her hands trembled nervously in his. When he gave her a reassuring squeeze, she returned a faint smile.
It dawned on him—finally—why he had been brought to the Tidal Basin. “There isn’t any interview, is there?” he asked.
“No.” Her cheeks reddened as she stared down at her sandaled feet. “I needed a way to talk to you.”
“You could have called me.” All around them the crowd laughed. Darcy couldn’t imagine what they needed to discuss in such a public forum, but Elizabeth, Bing, and Fitz wouldn’t have arranged all this without a damn good reason. “Okay.” He laughed nervously. “Talk.”
She took a deep breath. “Will, when I first met you, I didn’t think I would like you.” Another ripple of laughter from the onlookers. “In fact, we irritated each other, but eventually I realized our mutual irritation concealed a very powerful attraction. The truth is that I’ve never met someone who I have found so easy to talk to. So at home with. So instantly a part of me. When w-we br-broke up”—her voice cracked—“I realized that you had become a vital part of my world, even after such a short time. Without you, a big chunk of my soul was suddenly missing.”
Darcy couldn’t breathe; he knew that sensation exactly.
The onlookers were absolutely still, but Darcy heard several sighs. Elizabeth continued, blinking back tears. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past six months, it’s that without you in my life I’m not actually living….I’m just existing, going through the motions. And I don’t want that anymore. I want to be with you.”
Her voice was thick with emotion, and she swallowed, never taking her eyes from his. “I know you think it’s impossible to date while in office, so I’m not going suggest that.”
Darcy’s heart gave a funny twist. She doesn’t want to date? But, but… He opened his mouth to object.
“Instead I would like to suggest…” Her eyes sought and held his as if she could see all the way into his soul. “I would like to ask…if you, William Darcy, will marry me?”
Several onlookers gasped, and it sounded like a few were crying. Behind Elizabeth, Georgiana, Bing, Jane, and Fitz were smiling so widely that their faces might crack. Georgiana mouthed “say yes” to her brother.
Darcy blinked rapidly, reminding himself this was not a dream, even though it seemed to fulfill every fantasy he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge over the past six months.
It took a full second for her words to sink in and then another second for Darcy to reassure himself that he had heard them correctly. For another second, he could only stare at her, slack-jawed.
She resumed talking, perhaps because his silence worried her. “As you said, presidents don’t usually date in office, but of course, most of them were married when they were elected. So I thought maybe marriage would…” Her words petered out, and she bit her lip as if she’d said too much.
He was stunned into speechlessness. I should say something. I should respond.
Her expression morphed from hopeful to worried. “But if you don’t want—”
Those words released his tongue. “Yes!” he said quickly. “Oh God, yes! A thousand times yes! You’re not getting away from me now.” He rested both his hands on her perfectly curved shoulders. “When do you want to do it? Let’s do it now. You look lovely. I like this dress! It’s a great dress to get married in.”
She laughed as he drew her in for a kiss. She’s mine now, and nobody can take her from me. The applause around them was deafening. Darcy’s body was so light he could have floated away—taking Elizabeth with him into the clouds.
Elizabeth hugged him tightly and murmured in his ear, “I love you, and you’re mine now. Mine.”
He smiled at how similar their thoughts were.
In an instant, he understood Elizabeth’s strategy, why she had made her proposal public and in front of television news cameras. With such evidence of her initiative and heartfelt sincerity—and so many witnesses—nobody could credibly claim that Darcy had coerced her.
He rested his forehead against hers. “My darling. My beautiful, devious darling.”
“You don’t mind being ambushed?”
He laughed. “No. Although I am regretting the audience right now.”
“Oh?” Her eyes widened with anxiety.
“It makes it impossible for me to do what I really want to do,” he whispered suggestively in her ear.
She shivered. “Maybe doing it in public was a bad idea.”
“What the hell. You only get engaged once.” He grabbed her, swung her into a dip, and kissed her like the world was ending.