“Surely there’s a way to—”
She shook her head. “I can go on every news show and talk until I’m blue in the face about not being coerced, but your opponents can too easily use the scandal to demonize you.”
Darcy didn’t care that her arguments were almost identical to Hilliard’s. “But—”
“Dating me lowers your approval ratings nearly twenty points,” she said softly.
Darcy cursed under his breath. Bing must have told her the results of the poll they had secretly commissioned. “Bing has enough trouble with his own love life; he should stay out of mine.”
“He’s not worried about your love life,” Elizabeth said. “He’s worried about your political life—which he should be. You need to concentrate all your energy on repairing the damage that Lydia and George created. And so should I.” He opened his mouth to object, but she kept speaking. “I know you don’t hold me responsible, but I want to ameliorate the damage my family caused.”
He scowled but could not meet her eyes.
“There’s damage,” she continued doggedly. “Otherwise this rendezvous wouldn’t have required so much cloak and dagger. If I’m wrong, go ahead and tell me.”
For a moment Darcy couldn’t choke out anything past the lump in his throat. “I don’t care,” he finally said through gritted teeth.
“I do! I believe in your presidency and the things you want to accomplish.” Elizabeth waved her hands around in her enthusiasm. “I know you can make this country a better place. It’s not just the environmental bill. It’s also the refugee program and improving foreign relations—and a hundred other things. I don’t want you to be a one-term president; you have too much to do.”
Darcy closed his eyes and tipped his head against the back of the sofa. “I believe you’re exaggerating the effect that our relationship would have on my presidency.”
“Maybe.” Elizabeth bit off her words. “But can you afford to take the chance?”
Darcy couldn’t help picturing the thousands of people who had helped to get him elected. Who believed in him. The millions of voters who were counting on him to address the problems he had pledged to fix. The hundreds of government workers who had uprooted their jobs and brought their families to Washington to help Darcy build a better tomorrow. If you put them on one side of the scale and Elizabeth on the other, it was no contest. But why did he have to sacrifice her? He’d gladly give up something else. An arm or a leg. Not Elizabeth.
Turning toward her, he smoothed her hair away from her face. “Maybe in a few months this will all have died down and—”
“And we can convince them that I actually love you and that you’re not forcing me to do your evil bidding?” Her lips trembled. “How likely do you think that is? Scandals like this never die. As long as I’m around, it’ll always prompt rumors and innuendo that you have some hold over me. They’re always suggesting I’m secretly visiting the White House. That we had a clandestine wedding. That I’m pregnant. It’ll never stop.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “Which is why”—she took a deep breath as if steeling herself—“I accepted a two-year assignment with the Red Cross in Indonesia.”
A powerful force sucked all the oxygen from Darcy’s lungs. The tiniest inhale caused a stabbing pain in his chest. No. No. No…
Now he could identify that look in her eyes. It was goodbye.
He gaped at her, not wanting to believe the truth in her words. “No!” She nodded slowly, sadly. “No. You can’t!”
“I thought you were finished with telling me what to do,” she teased gently.
Something inside his chest cracked in two. Nothing else could explain the pain. Glancing down at his shirt, he expected to see blood seeping through the front, but there was nothing. “Don’t do this…”
She managed a tremulous smile that quickly disappeared. “It’s a great opportunity. I’ll be helping people…” Evidently alarmed by what she saw in his face, she murmured, “Maybe we can be together after you leave office.”
“In six and half years?” He laughed bitterly. “If you’re not married to someone else then?” He pushed himself off the sofa and stalked to the big picture window. The bright twinkling lights of Washington D.C. mocked him. “God damn it!” He slammed his fist against the window, which vibrated in response.
Why couldn’t I have met her before I ran for office? Despite his initial reservations he knew she’d make an excellent First Lady. Pedigree was nothing compared to her compassion, her intelligence, the light she brought to his life. If the electorate had been presented with her as my wife, they would have loved her.
A hand skimmed down his back. Whirling around, Darcy pulled her into his arms, hugging her as if he would never let her go. If only he could hold her forever. The front of his shirt grew damp with her tears.
He closed his eyes. All his inner clamoring ceased. God damn it! She’s right.
He hated that she was right. Hated that she was more aware of his duty than he was. Hated that she was the first one ready to make the sacrifice. But he owed the country his best. He had to clean up his predecessor’s messes and restore confidence—and he couldn’t do that if he put himself and his needs first.
His shoulders slumped. “All right,” he whispered in her ear. Elizabeth emitted a little sob. “But I’m coming after you in six years. Husband or no husband.” This elicited a little laugh.
Drawing back, he peered at her tear-stained face, still the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, and admitted to himself that this was goodbye. He touched a finger to her lips. The last time he would ever do so.
He peeked at the clock over her shoulder. “It’s eleven thirty, and I don’t want to send you home just yet.” Fitz had told Darcy the condo was his for the night. Barring a national crisis, nobody would disturb them. A new song started playing over the stereo system, something slow and full of longing. “We have tonight.”
She gazed up at him, sorrow and love in her eyes. “You want me to stay?”
“We have tonight,” he repeated. “I don’t want to waste it. Will you dance with me?”
She gave him a tiny smile. “Of course.”
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 Hous
e’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!”
&nbs
p; 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.”
President Darcy Page 29
