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.
Epilogue
“You were right,” Will murmured in Elizabeth’s ear.
“I usually am.” She grinned at him. “About what specifically?”
“There’s nothing like a wedding to win the hearts of the American people.”
“I believe I said, ‘There’s nothing like a love story to win the hearts of the American people.’”
“I think the wedding may be the icing on the cake,” he said. “So to speak.”
She rolled her eyes; it was the third bad pun he had made that day.
As Elizabeth had hoped, their love story had captured the imaginations of the American public. Whispers that Will had coerced Elizabeth had all but disappeared when she proposed to him. Only a few fringe websites continued to flog that old narrative while the rest of the world got caught up in “Willizabeth Fever.” Their engagement and the tale of their romance were the top stories on every newspaper and cable news station for weeks. On-air pundits wondered if there was anyone in the U.S. who hadn’t seen the video of Elizabeth proposing.
And now here they were, greeting guests in what had to be the world’s longest receiving line. Elizabeth turned to greet the next: who was revealed to be Charlotte, with Bill Collins trailing behind her. Elizabeth gave her friend a hug.
“Congratulations!” Charlotte said. “I didn’t think you’d be able to pull off a Rose Garden wedding in two months, but everything is lovely.”
“It helps to have the White House staff behind you,” Elizabeth said. The staff could not have been more enthusiastic in embracing the idea of a Rose Garden wedding. They had transformed it into a beautiful day.
“And the American people,” Charlotte added.
“Yes.” Tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes when she remembered the support they’d received from Americans of all walks of life.
As soon as news of their engagement had been announced, everyone—including the media—had demanded to know when the wedding would take place. The answer had been as soon as possible. Elizabeth hadn’t felt comfortable moving into the president’s home with no official title, but Will had lived without her quite long enough, thank you very much.
The result was an engagement of little less than two months, which, along with Will’s renewed focus and enthusiasm, had greatly boosted the president’s popularity. Legislators who had opposed him suddenly ran the risk of appearing churlish. His renewable energy bill passed easily into law, and his refugee program was on its way to being implemented. The latter was particularly satisfying to Elizabeth, who planned to make immigrant and refugee children the focus of much of her charitable work as first lady.
“The staff certainly did you proud,” Charlotte observed, gazing down the aisle toward the flower-covered canopy where Will and Elizabeth had exchanged vows a few minutes earlier.
They had been blessed with one of D.C.’s rare warm, but not overly humid, June days. The Rose Garden had never looked more beautiful. The aisle was lined with elegant arrangements of white and purple roses, complementing the purple in the bridesmaids’ dresses.
“And Lydia even behaved herself,” Charlotte continued.
“I th
ink she was a bit afraid not to,” Elizabeth said. The Bennet sisters, along with Georgiana, had served as bridesmaids—with Jane as the maid of honor. Elizabeth expected that Jane and Bing would be walking down the aisle themselves sometime next year, but undoubtedly they would plan a much lower key ceremony.
Charlotte gave Elizabeth another hug and continued down the receiving line to congratulate Will. As Bill Collins shook Elizabeth’s hand and murmured congratulations, his eyes focused everywhere but on her. No doubt he was concerned about Mrs. de Bourgh’s opinion; Darcy’s aunt still did not approve of the match, although she had grudgingly attended the wedding.
“Remember us when you’re buying staplers for the White House. We could put the presidential seal on them!” Bill said—as if he would be doing them a favor.
Elizabeth suppressed a smirk. “Do you have a government contract?” From the way Bill’s eyes widened in horror, she guessed the answer was “no.” But before he could reply, Will reached out his hand, and Bill moved along.
The receiving line had snaked down one aisle and wrapped around another, but fortunately it was near the end; Elizabeth was very grateful they had managed to keep the guest list to 150 people.
Elizabeth turned to the next guest, Charlotte’s mother, who was listening to a Fanny Bennet monologue with great forbearance. “What a stroke of luck that Lizzy didn’t find Bill Collins at all attractive,” Elizabeth’s mother was saying. “Or this”—she gestured expansively to encompass the entire venue—“might never have happened!”
Betty Lucas pursed her lips. “Of course. Everything worked out for the best,” she agreed stiffly.
Fanny leaned closer to her friend. “I got to sleep in the Lincoln Bedroom!” she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.
Betty gave a tight smile. “How wonderful.”
Her mother had been sufficiently in awe of her future son-in-law that she had been amenable to nearly everything Elizabeth and the White House staff had suggested for the wedding. But her uncharacteristic amiability was bound to run its course, and it appeared that she was returning to form.
Fanny caught her daughter’s eye. “Lizzy, did you hear? They’re saying there are ten thousand people outside the White House gates!”
Elizabeth nodded. When she had dreamed of her wedding as a girl, she had never imagined it would result in souvenir booklets, postcards, or coffee table books. She had to admit that the stuffed William and Elizabeth dolls were kind of cute, but she couldn’t imagine there would be a big market for the presidential wedding commemorative crock pots.
As soon as they finished with the receiving line, the entire wedding party would visit the Truman Balcony to wave to the onlookers. This was the part of the event Lydia was anticipating most eagerly; hopefully the press photographers wouldn’t catch her sticking out her tongue or dabbing or something equally embarrassing. Fortunately, most of America had embraced the Bennets and their eccentricities. Hilliard’s office had smartly portrayed them as “everyday Americans” despite their wealth, and associating with them had helped make Will seem more down to earth.
After the trip to the Truman Balcony, everyone could let their hair down—figuratively speaking—at a reception in the East Room.
But Elizabeth was most eagerly anticipating the honeymoon, where they would finally have a modicum of privacy. It turned out that Will’s family owned a Caribbean island, so they would enjoy a week of just Elizabeth and Will—plus a dozen staff members and fifty or so Secret Service agents. But Will had promised they would be discreet.
Elizabeth gratefully shook the hands of the last couple in the receiving line, who shuffled along to congratulate Will. Surveying the crowd, Elizabeth noticed Kitty flirting with Fitz and wondered if she should warn her sister that she was barking up the wrong tree.
Caroline was chatting up Bill Collins with great animation while Charlotte watched with a cynical eye. Apparently Bing’s sister had decided that being stapler queen of the U.S. would be an adequate consolation prize for having lost the opportunity to become first lady. But Bill only had eyes for Charlotte.
Despite her evident disappointment, Caroline had treated Elizabeth with cool courtesy and a minimum of disdain. Will had laughed cynically at this observation and noted that Caroline wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her access to people with wealth and power.
Mary and John Bennet were hovering near the table of On-a-Stick appetizers being distributed to the guests. Of course there were staff members to hand out the treats, but her family members were eagerly touting the virtues of the foodstuffs to anyone who would stand still long enough to listen.
Elizabeth couldn’t hide a smile at the sight of the speaker of the house gamely munching on ravioli on-a-stick while a supreme court justice took delicate bites from a doughnut on-a-stick. Will had been very tolerant in allowing her family to cater the appetizers and very firm in declining her father’s offer to supply dinner as well. The publicity surrounding the wedding had taken her father and various other Bennet family members on a whirlwind of morning talk shows, and On-a-Stick Inc. sales were skyrocketing.
She turned toward her new husband—a word that would take some getting used to—only to find Fitz standing in his place.
“What happened to Will?” Panic struck her. “Not an emergency?”
Fitz grinned. “No. Will just needed a little time to get away. But he said you could join him if you would like ‘A place to clean up’—if that means anything to you.” He gave her an apologetic shrug.
It took Elizabeth a moment to get the reference, then rolled her eyes. The president of the United States really should indulge in better quality puns. “Do I have time to slip away?”
Fitz shrugged. “I think I can cover for both of you for about fifteen minutes,” he added. “But then they’ll expect you at the Truman Balcony.”
Elizabeth gave him an impish grin. “Thank you!” She handed him her bouquet. “I’ll be right back.”
If her new Secret Service escort thought it odd that the first lady was scurrying across the White House lawn in her wedding gown and white designer pumps, they didn’t remark upon it. Fortunately, Elizabeth had become more familiar with the building’s layout and was able to find the East Room without needing to ask for directions. The head of her detail checked out the secret corridor before allowing her to slip through the hidden door, but the agents agreed not to follow her.
The heels of her pumps thumped noisily on the wooden floor as she hurried down the corridor. The door swung open as she neared the broom closet—revealing Will leaning against the doorframe and shamelessly ogling her as she approached. “So this is where you swept me off my feet.” He grinned.
Elizabeth shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me about your thing for bad puns?”
“I couldn’t warn you while you still had a chance to get away.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Now you’re trapped.”
She laughed while Will reached out and put his hands on her hips, pulling her toward his body. “I don’t mind being trapped by you,” she said.
“Have I told you how much I like this dress?” His fingers caressed the bare skin of her upper back.
Elizabeth edged closer to him, grateful that her sheath dress didn’t restrict her maneuverability. “You might have mentioned it,” she murmured.
“It displays every one of your curves to advantage,” he whispered in her ear as his other hand trailed lightly over her hip. “And….” He swung her into the closet. Her back thumped against some shelves while a broom and a mop crashed to the floor. “You fit in here perfectly. A big, poofy skirt would not serve the purpose nearly as well.”
“I must admit that I did not choose this dress with broom closets in mind.”
“You should have known we would end up here.”
“I should have,” she said with a rueful laugh.
There was a long silence as he kissed her thoroughly, producing a surge of desire Elizabeth could feel all the way down to her t
oes. “What a shame we can’t start the honeymoon right now,” she mumbled.
“Mm-hmm.” He was kissing the sensitive skin under her ear and making her shiver. “We’ll have to return here when we have more time and less…restrictive clothing.”
“Regular broom closet inspections are important.” Elizabeth nodded solemnly. “No detail is too small for the president.”
“Or the first lady,” he replied.
Her eyes widened. “Oh! I guess I am first lady now. That’s going to take some getting used to. I never expected to acquire a staff when I married.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “You’re going to be a great first lady.”
“I just hope I can do justice to your presidency.”
“I’m sure you will.” Careful of her tiara and veil, one of his hands skimmed down her cheek. “I am a lucky, lucky man. I still find it hard to believe you proposed to me.”
She shrugged helplessly. “You weren’t going to do it.”
“I thought you were in Jakarta!” Will exclaimed. Elizabeth gave him an apologetic shrug. “I did fantasize about proposing, though.”
“You did?” Elizabeth hadn’t heard that before. “What would you have said?”
Now both his hands were roving around her back while his eyes remained fixed on hers. “I would have told you I wasn’t surviving very well without you, which was true. And that you were the only person I could imagine spending the rest of my life with, also true. And if I proposed now, would you please wait six years until I was out of office?”
Wow. “I would have said yes.”
His smile lit up his whole face. “Really? Yes to a six-year wait?”
Elizabeth blinked back tears that threatened. “I would have waited forever for you, but I’m very happy I didn’t need to.”
Will leaned in for a kiss. “Me, too, Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m ready for the rest of our lives to begin.”
The End
Thank you for purchasing this book. I know you have many entertainment options, and I appreciate that you spent your time with my story.
President Darcy Page 32
