President Darcy

Darcy’s heart went into overdrive, crashing against his ribs like it was trying to escape. His mouth opened, but no words emerged. What will Elizabeth say? Is she angry? Vindictive?

“Do we think it’s authentic?” Bing asked.

“I’m assuming ZNN vetted the statement. It’s coming from Walter Lucas’s PR firm.” Hilliard’s expression was grim.

Bing nodded. “The Lucases are family friends of the Bennets.”

Hilliard focused on Darcy with laser-like intensity. “What did Ms. Bennet say when you spoke to her? What was her frame of mind?”

Darcy hesitated. “Darce?” Bing asked.

“I…um…didn’t call her yet,” he mumbled, suddenly finding the carpet very interesting.

“I told her you would!” Bing said sharply.

Darcy didn’t meet his friend’s eyes. “I didn’t know what to say.” He’d lain awake nights staring at the canopy of his bed and trying to find words to apologize for having her unceremoniously removed from Pemberley. To express his regret for throwing her life into chaos. Wondering if she could forgive him for ruining her life after just one night…

Then he’d chastise himself for not calling her earlier. Of course, the longer he delayed, the more he had to apologize for and the harder it was to imagine facing her.

“You didn’t call her?” Hilliard gasped. “After she experienced the world’s worst morning after, you didn’t even call?”

Things were bad when Hilliard was lecturing him on how to treat a woman. Of course, he was right; Darcy should have called Elizabeth. But what if she said she never wanted to see him again? She’d said that once; Darcy was certain that she was capable of saying it again.

And then there was the fact that he was responsible for bringing Wickham into her family’s life. The man was probably debauching Elizabeth’s youngest sister and had brought media scrutiny to every corner of the Bennet family’s lives. They’d even interviewed Elizabeth’s senior prom date. He massaged the back of his neck. They must hate him. And to think he’d once been convinced that he was such a better person than the Bennets.

“Are you trying to make me lose my remaining hair?” A muscle twitched under Hilliard’s eye.

“This isn’t about you, Bob,” Darcy growled.

Hilliard ignored him. “So we have no insight into Ms. Bennet’s state of mind except that she’s been ghosted by the guy who thrust her life into complete chaos?”

“The guy who spent one night with her and then didn’t call her,” Bing added helpfully.

Darcy flopped onto one of the sofas, making himself as small as possible as though it could keep him from becoming a target. “When you put it that way, it doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not good!” Hilliard hissed. “We don’t have a fucking clue what this statement will say. What if Elizabeth supports her sister’s account? She might say that from spite alone. The Republicans are speculating that you used government funds to get a woman in your bed. That’s an impeachable offense!”

What is wrong with me? Darcy wondered. Hilliard is right. I could be impeached, and all I can think about is Elizabeth—and whether she’ll forgive me. Why the hell didn’t I call her?

He pushed away the persistent fear that she did feel coerced by him. She had turned him down once. What had prompted her change of heart? Undoubtedly, she knew about the USDA deal. Maybe she’d believed he expected a quid pro quo? Such thoughts gnawed at him in the dark and the silence of the empty Residence.

With his eyes riveted to the television, Bing shushed them. “It’s on!” Darcy clutched the arm of the sofa until his fingers turned white. In the still moments before the press conference started, his own ragged breaths were inordinately loud.

A woman Darcy vaguely recognized as Charlotte Lucas was walking to a podium in a small room crammed with reporters and photographers. There must have been at least one hundred people pressed together in the space. When she reached the podium, a hush fell over the room like a cloak.

Darcy was accustomed to his life’s frequent ventures into the surreal, but a press conference about his love life was a level of grotesque he had never reached before. Anxiety prickled all over his body. The next few minutes would determine his fate.

Although Ms. Lucas couldn’t be much older than Elizabeth, she was quite self-possessed, wearing a high-end designer suit as she gazed unflinchingly at the reporters. “I will read a prepared statement from Elizabeth Bennet,” she said crisply. “I will take no questions afterward.” Opening a piece of paper, she placed it on the podium.

Realizing he was holding his breath, Darcy released it, reeling with sudden dizziness.

Ms. Lucas read, “‘I am aware that there have been many rumors circulating regarding my relationship with President Darcy and the contract given to my family’s business. I would like to lay out the facts as I know them.

“‘My family received the USDA contract through the regular bidding process. I am not part of the family business and played no part in procuring the contract. I do not believe the president knew that On-a-Stick, Inc. was bidding for the contract, but at no time did he discuss the matter with me or with any member of my family.

“‘At no time did the president state or imply that the contract or any other matter relied on a romantic or sexual relationship with him. We were and are friends—a relationship based on similar interests and mutual admiration. The time I have spent with him has been solely for the purpose of enjoying his company.

“‘I ask that the media respect my privacy and the privacy of my family during this time. I have nothing further to add. Signed, Elizabeth Bennet.’”