President Darcy

Bing stretched his arm across the space between them to shake her hand. “Good to see you again.”

Her jaw tightened as she shook his hand. Darcy couldn’t help remembering what she had said about her sister.

Kinski returned the purse to her, evidently having failed to discover any pipe bombs or Uzis.

What now?

Darcy hadn’t thought much beyond getting her into the car. To be honest, he hadn’t thought much beyond “Elizabeth. Want. Now.” His lips itched to kiss her silly; they hadn’t done nearly enough kissing. But, he recognized reluctantly, that might not be her plan, particularly in front of an audience.

Now he could conceive a hundred reasons this might be a bad idea. Maybe she’d come to Pemberley because she was still angry. Maybe she hadn’t read Darcy’s letter at all and still believed Wickham’s lies. Maybe she had read Darcy’s letter and still believed Wickham’s lies. Maybe she was dating Wickham. Shudder.

Maybe she was traveling with a friend who wanted to show support for the administration’s environmental policies, and she hadn’t wanted to come to Pemberley at all.

He took a deep breath to slow his racing thoughts. He could only learn her thinking by talking to her. Earlier today I was pining away for an opportunity to apologize to her and set things right. Now is my chance. And damn the audience.

Their eyes locked. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth said simultaneously.

He blinked in confusion while Elizabeth jerked her head back.

“You’re sorry?” he asked. “What are you sorry for?”

“I believed George Wickham’s lies. I misjudged you. I made assumptions that weren’t true,” she said in a simple, matter-of-fact tone.

He shrugged; her sins were nothing compared to his. “I’m sorry I was arrogant and condescending and rude. I was so certain you would leap at the opportunity to date me that I made assumptions and started kissing you without—”

“It’s okay,” Elizabeth said hastily.

Darcy was acutely aware of the limo’s other inhabitants. Staring intently at his phone, Bing was doing a good imitation of someone who wasn’t overhearing a painfully intimate conversation. On the other hand, Fitz was watching them frankly, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. Kinski stared out the window—as his job demanded—but he was clearly fighting a smile.

“You weren’t that bad,” Elizabeth demurred.

“Yes, I was,” Darcy insisted.

“No, really, you weren’t. I wasn’t that offended.”

“Yes, I was.” He wasn’t about to let himself off the hook.

Her eyebrows knit together. “No, you weren’t.”

“Yes, I was.” Why couldn’t she acknowledge it so they could move on?

“No, you weren’t—”

Fitz gave an exasperated sigh. “For crying out loud! Will you two get over it already?”

Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose we’ll have to agree to disagree on that point.”

The limo had stopped in front of Pemberley’s main entrance, but no one had exited the vehicle. They were waiting for Darcy. Perhaps they should continue the conversation in a more private setting. “Elizabeth, can I give you a tour of Pemberley?” he asked.

“I would love that.”

Darcy had won the election as President of the United States. Why was today the day he felt like he’d won the lottery?

***

Nowhere did the gap between Elizabeth’s childhood and Will’s become more evident than in Pemberley. The Bennets were in the upper echelons now, but her upbringing had been solidly middle class. That had never been true for the Darcy family.