Her voice was so shrill that Elizabeth winced. “I posted it on Twitter and Instagram. It’s been retweeted 243 times already!” She tossed her head. “No one at school can top that!”
During this monologue, Elizabeth dutifully viewed all the pictures she had witnessed being taken only five minutes ago. When Lydia started hyperventilating from lack of oxygen, Maria had a brief opportunity to speak. “You are soooo lucky!” she enthused to Lydia. “I haven’t even met President Darcy yet, and he and my dad are, like, best buds. It’s so unfair!”
“You know what’s unfair?” Lydia cried, regarding herself in the mirror. “Have you seen my hair?” She alternately fluffed and scrunched a curl on the side of her face. “I’m like, hello? I’m meeting the president and everything—and now I have to have a bad hair day?”
“That sucks!” Maria chimed in.
Lydia adjusted the hot pink monstrosity on her head. “And after everything I spent on this hat! People won’t even see it.” Elizabeth thought that would be an improvement. “All they’ll notice is disaster hair!” Maria knew her lines in this play and rushed to reassure Lydia that her hair was the best in the whole ballroom. After what seemed like an eternity of watching Lydia preen in the mirror, they were finally ready to leave.
The bathroom door had just closed behind them when Elizabeth threw out her arm to stop the other women—as if they were heading into heavy traffic. She pointed emphatically down the hall. President Darcy, his back to them, was consulting with Bob Hilliard. They were surrounded by a small knot of Secret Service agents. Nobody had noticed the three women yet, so Elizabeth crowded them back into the alcove created for the restroom door where they wouldn’t be visible.
They couldn’t go anywhere without pushing past the president and his agents. Awkward, to say the least, and Elizabeth had no desire to remind President Darcy of her existence. If only they could return to the restroom! But the men in the hallway—who obviously believed they were alone—might hear the door open. They were trapped.
From her hiding place, Elizabeth could glimpse only a slice of the president’s back, but his words were quite clear. “No, I won’t!” he said to Hilliard.
“Okay, then someone else.” The press secretary’s tone was half pleading and half I’m-trying-to-be-reasonable. “This is the perfect opportunity.”
She would have paid good money to be anywhere else. How had she managed to eavesdrop on the president twice in one evening?
“Damn it!” President Darcy shifted from one leg to the other and then back as if preparing to sprint out of the hallway. “Bob, I have important things to do. The transportation plan—”
“Your public image is important long-term,” Hilliard said in a low, soothing tone. “The presidency is a marathon, not a sprint—”
“Yes, I know,” the president interrupted. “But how will any of your ideas advance my agenda—?”
Lydia and Maria stifled giggles behind their hands, amused to be eavesdropping on the president. I should feel guiltier about it than I do, Elizabeth thought. But his arrogance hadn’t made her charitably inclined toward him. Hopefully he wouldn’t reveal any classified information. Elizabeth wasn’t at all confident she could prevent Lydia from tweeting it.
Lips pressed tightly together, Hilliard consulted his iPad. “Mr. President, you saw your latest poll results. People see you as unapproachable and proud.” Elizabeth smothered a snort; that was putting it mildly. Hilliard continued, “We discussed finding opportunities to soften your image. Dancing with a woman at an event like this will show you can loosen up and have fun. If the press picks up on it, the optics are good. Particularly if she appears to be an ordinary American.”
Lydia listened with her hand over her mouth as though she might burst with excitement at any moment. This certainly was more interesting than hearing about the transportation bill.
&
nbsp; The president’s hand rubbed the back of his neck. “Bob…”
“Just a dance or two. Nothing more.”
“No.”
“The rumors are getting bad again,” Hilliard said in a warning tone.
The president exhaled forcefully. “Who did you have in mind?”
Hilliard scanned his iPad. “How about one of the Bennet girls you just met? Elizabeth Bennet? Her father donated to your campaign. She’s pretty, and you seemed taken with her when you shook her hand.”
Elizabeth froze in horror while Lydia and Maria shot her amazed looks. Would he tell Hilliard about the broom closet?
President Darcy snorted. “Ha! I don’t think so. You didn’t have to speak with her. I don’t think there’s anything going on upstairs.” He tapped the side of his head. “Intellectual lightweight. And she’s not that pretty.”
Elizabeth stumbled further into the alcove until she couldn’t see the men anymore. Lydia convulsed in silent laughter, her hand stuffed in her mouth to muffle the sounds, while Maria gaped at Elizabeth, wide-eyed. Elizabeth reviewed the words in her head, but they remained the same. Yes, the president—the president!—thought she was ugly and stupid and had voiced the sentiment out loud.
She heard President Darcy blow out an exasperated breath. “Bob, I know you have my best interests at heart, but would a few dances with some wallflower from a nouveau riche family make much of a difference to your average voter?”
Elizabeth peeked around the corner again in time to see Hilliard sigh and tuck the iPad under his arm. “Will you at least dance with someone? Pretend you’re having a good time for a few minutes?”
“Fine,” the other man muttered. “I’ll dance with Caroline again, okay?”
“Caroline is not an ordinary Amer—”