Section I, Next Section
Chapters One through Eight Revised on September 26, 1998
The Washington Post
12/26/1996.Style Page C3
The Reliable Source
.....Also at the House Christmas party was Fitzwilliam Darcy, former representative from Virginia's Eleventh District. Darcy, who was the front runner in the Democratic primaries for the '96 senate race, abruptly withdrew without explanation in summer. In his absence, Senator John Warner was easily able to defend his seat, and the eleventh district was also captured by the Republicans. Darcy has since retired from public life, but yesterday's appearance has once again prompted rumors that he is planning a come-back. Virginia's other Senate seat, held by Senator Robb, does not come up for reelection until 2000, but the Virginia Gubernatorial term runs out this term, and inside sources are citing Darcy as a possible candidate......
Main Section Page A2Virginia's Gubernatorial Elections an Open Race
by Charlotte Lucas, Washington Post Staff WriterOne of the most anticipated elections of the year is the Gubernatorial race in Virginia. It is being observed closely around the nation as a wind-wane for the shifting mood of the electorate after the Presidential elections this year. Governor Allen, a Republican, cannot seek reelection under state law, so the Democrats are hoping to rally from the scandals that continue to plague the Clinton White House, and capture the office.
The Lieutenant Governor, Don Beyer, has already declared his intention to run, but it is likely that the primaries will not be uncontested. There is a strong possibility of a challenge from Fitzwilliam Darcy. Darcy, a moderate southern Democrat from one of Virginia's premier political families, embodies the clean-cut image the Democratic party is trying to present. Elected to the House from Northern Virginia's Eleventh District at only twenty-nine in 1990, Darcy quickly rose through the ranks of the Democratic party. His moderate stance allowed him to survive the anti-Democratic backlash of '94.
This year, barely thirty-five, he contested the Democratic primaries for the Senate seat, and enjoyed a comfortable lead before withdrawing under mysterious circumstances. He has since retreated from political life, but well-placed sources have suggested that the Gubernatorial election will be his stage for a comeback, and anticipate that he will be a strong Presidential candidate in the future. Sources say that he is likely to be sought after as a running mate by the Democratic candidate for the Presidential elections in 2000; current Vice President, Al Gore, has reportedly approached him already.
The Republican front-runner, James Gilmore,.....
"So, Liz, I hear you were at the House party last night. Anything exciting happen? You didn't get an article out of it, I see."
"Nothing out of the common way. Ted Kennedy crashed and spiked the eggnog beyond the ordinary proportions. It was actually a lot like the stuff they serve at the White House when he was done with it."
"Very funny, Liz. You know what I meant. Fitz Darcy was there."
Elizabeth Bennet looked at her colleague and close friend, Charlotte Lucas, and frowned.
"Yes. For old times' sake, I suppose."
"You don't think he's back?"
"I saw your article, Charlotte. But really, I think it is very hard that a man cannot come to a Christmas party to see old friends without raising such expectations."
"Since when have you been a defender of his?"
"I am no defender, I assure you. But coming to one Christmas party is not resurrection. He's not Michael Jordan; he can't just walk away and expect to be welcomed with open arms when he returns. He's never explained why he just disappeared. Why is everyone so excited about him?"
"I never understood what you had against him. You've always been the reporter who's dogged at his heels. Sometimes I think that all his popularity is because all the other reporters assumed that you were onto something. Why did you always pester him? You're a Democrat."
"Far too liberal for him, I'm afraid. What kind of Democrat goes about voting to cut social security, and supports the balanced budget amendment?"
"Oh, Lizzy, this isn't about that interview you took seven years ago, is it? For heaven's sake, you were just an intern, and it was during the primaries. Everyone knows that a candidate has to change his opinions between the primaries and the elections. You didn't seriously expect him to go through on everything he said?"
"I was eighteen. I thought he stood for something. It was more than that interview. It was my first election, and I voted for him. It doesn't sound like much, but I thought my vote meant something. And the first thing he voted for...."
"It was not Fitz Darcy's fault that your father lost his job. The State department would have downsized regardless. And things did not work out so badly for you. I thought this job was everything you ever wanted."
"Yes, I lucked out, with my scholarship to College, and the internship, which eventually turned into this job. What about the rest of my family? Do you know how hard Jane had to work to stay in school? And the rest of them never even got to go to college. They didn't get scholarships, and the money just wasn't there. And then there's Mom." Lizzy sighed, and shook her head. Then she shook off her gloom, and added, smiling ironically, "But that isn't what this is about. My antipathy with Fitz Darcy is simply because he stands between me and my Pulitzer."
"Not that vendetta again. Seriously, Liz, you can't take it personally that he snapped out at you that day. Everyone was giving him a hard time, including you. You've never stopped looking for what happened, have you?"
"No, I have to give it to him; he covered his tracks well. I haven't found anything."
"And now he's back...."
"If he's back, he had better explain what happened. Because I, for one, won't allow the electorate to forget it. If he wants to be a public figure, he's got to be accountable to the people."
Chapter 2
Darcy looked up at the students he was addressing. They were undergraduates at Georgetown University's School of Foreign Relations, taking a course on the role of the U.S. in the post-Cold War era. Most were still finishing up taking notes, although there were a few in the back who seemed more interested in the fate of the Hoyas than in the short lecture he had just given. Slowly a few hands went up, and Darcy fielded the questions ably, his mind returning to the various press-conferences he had handled while still in office. One in particular featured prominently in his memory though he tried not to think of it.
"...For personal reasons that I would prefer not to elaborate on, I would like to make known that I shall no longer be seeking the office of Senator for the state of Virginia."
"Mr. Darcy, I saw in the Post over winter break that you might be returning to politics, and were planning to run for Governor of Virginia. Is that indeed the case, and if so, what would be your stand on the changes in the High School curriculum that Governor Allen is implementing?"
As he turned towards the girl he was reminded of another young lady at those press conferences who had never allowed him to remain entirely comfortable, always cutting to the difficult questions.
"Mr. Darcy, do you realize that your credibility will be irreparably damaged by your sudden withdrawal? Do you imagine that you'll ever be able to seek public office again?"
That particular question had come after a barrage of others. He still could not quite explain what had snapped inside him. Perhaps it was simply an outbreak of all the pressures that had been building up inside him, but in all honesty, he was forced to admit that his outrage had stemmed at least partly from the fact that it was her.
"Miss Bennet, despite your opinions, I think I've established my credibility quite adequately in six years of public office. This has been a difficult day for me, so please excuse me if I'm in no humor to hear you undermine my efforts."
Today he was able to handle his questions in a different vein.
"I'm sure Professor Bingley has explained that I am here to provide some insight on the NAFTA case-study you are examining in class, not to declare my candidacy. As for my political agenda and any platform I may have, you may rest assured that were it my intention to run, I would see to it that the electorate were informed of my positions."
Another voice piped up.
"Mr. Darcy, you never gave your reasons for withdrawing from the Senate race last year. Do you think this will be a liability for you if you run again?"
Darcy grew progressively more uncomfortable as the discussions turned from the relatively neutral topic he had come to discuss to his own political future. He tried to stay calm and civil while remaining tight-lipped about his intentions. He was in fact still undecided as to what he would do, and already this morning he was getting a glimpse of what he would have to face were he formally to return to politics. At the end of the forty-five minute session, as the students piled out of the room, Professor Bingley came up to him, and they headed out for lunch together.
"Fitz, I'm sorry. I didn't expect the kids to bring up your candidacy. I mean, this is a school of Foreign Affairs, and they really shouldn't have been talking about elections in Virginia."
"It's all right, Charles, I'll have to face far worse if I decide to return to the fray. Wretched city, Washington. Politics is on everyone's mind twenty-four hours a day."
"That's what you used to like about it, Fitz. The buzz in the air from the wheels turning in the Capitol."
"Yes, well, that's a very pretty metaphor, but things were never quite that simple. More often than not those wheels were stuck, and it was back-breaking work getting them to move."
"That's not why you quit, though, is it? You never did tell me what happened."
"It's a sordid tale, Charles, and one that I won't pull you into. What have you been up to since I crawled into my lair across the river?"
"In other words, you'd rather keep your secrets. Very well. I won't pry. As for me, things are much the same as usual. Still no tenure in sight."
"It won't be long Charles. I've been reading your papers. They've been getting quite a bit of attention."
"Well, with the Republicans in Congress my plans to tackle the East Asian situation are likely to remain pure conjecture. They'd veto any such scheme in a minute. More's the pity, because I'm sure there's a crisis coming in that part of the world in a year or so."
"And what about your world? Have you met anyone?"
"I... I think so. I asked her to join us for lunch today. She's a Ph.D. candidate. Her thesis is on the impact of the transfer of Hong Kong to the Chinese on the local civil service. Darcy, she's an angel."
Darcy smiled and shook his head, amused at Bingley's expression, when a young lady walked up to them. She was in her mid-twenties, blond and blue-eyed, the personification of beauty in the classical mold. Darcy, however, found himself reminded of a very different face, with features not quite as strikingly regular, framed by dark curls, with a pair of spectacular dark eyes.
"Fitz, this is Jane Bennet. Jane, this Fitzwilliam Darcy. We were at Yale together, although he's gone and made quite a name for himself since then."
They stood and made small talk for some time, but Darcy's mind was elsewhere. Suddenly, he was brought back to reality when Jane addressed him, saying, "Mr. Darcy, I believe you are somewhat acquainted with my sister, Elizabeth. She writes for The Washington Post," she clarified, for Bingley.
"Indeed, I am, although I cannot claim that we are friends," he replied somewhat ruefully. "Your sister is my severest critic." So that was it. She was related to Elizabeth Bennet, the reporter whom he had first met seven years ago, who as an idealistic eighteen year-old had made such an impact on him, and who had never ceased to hound him in the years since because he hadn't been able to follow through naive campaign promises he had made during the primaries running for his first term in Congress, before he had mastered the rules of compromise and negotiation which are essential to survive, and to accomplish anything, in the political rat race.
Chapter 3
Once again, as she had done repeatedly over the last few months, Elizabeth logged on to the on-line archives of the paper and searched for articles on Fitzwilliam Darcy. Again and again she had scouted through this index, and similar ones compiled by other papers, looking for any clues she might have missed. More that six months after the event, Elizabeth had lost none of her determination to discover what exactly had caused Fitz Darcy to drop out of the Senate race. The fact that he might again be entering politics gave her an additional motive. Although she prided herself on her objectivity, Elizabeth had long given up on analyzing her motives as far as Fitz Darcy was concerned. She had been forced to admit to herself that when she had first interviewed him, she had found herself (most unprofessionally) increasingly attracted to him. Although he was reserved and rather introverted, he had a kind of quiet charisma that had won her over, especially when he spoke of subjects that he felt strongly on. And at the time, he had seemed to have an idealism that had almost matched her own. Afterwards she had conceded that he had probably seen her as what she was, an inexperienced intern on her first major assignment. But he had that special gift that characterizes great politicians of being able to forge a connection with other people. After the elections she had watched in dismay as he reevaluated his positions, and she had never been able to forgive him for recanting on words she had taken at face value. Over the years, especially as she had started working full-time, her own opinions had matured and her idealism had waned. But had always held Fitz Darcy up to higher standards than the rest of the world. By those standards, he had failed again and again, and she had never hesitated to point it out. Any indecision had been attacked vehemently; any inconsistency had been magnified a thousand-fold. And she had never been able to justify why she had this double-standard; she failed to acknowledge that it even existed.
Many of the articles that came up were her own; Charlotte was right in that it was almost always she who had dogged Darcy's heels. On a sudden impulse, she went back to the earliest of the entries -- her first feature -- an article on Darcy and an accompanying interview; it had been quite a privilege for her at the time, as a summer intern barely out of High School.
The Washington Post MagazineMay 7, 1989.
Virginia Dreams
by Elizabeth Bennet, Student Intern for The Washington Post
Enthusiastic teenagers in bright T-shirts man the telephone lines while their younger siblings stand outside, handing out bumper stickers to passers-by. In these campaign headquarters, there is a sense of freshness and energy. The very slogan here is "Darcy: for a New Virginia," and the candidate himself, dressed casually in khakis and a denim shirt, seems eager to dispel any notion of politics as the business of old fogies. At twenty-nine, Darcy is significantly older than the majority of his campaign staff, but he owns that it is to his relative youth that he owes his commitment to the involvement of America's youth in the political process. If he is elected, he will be the youngest representative in Congress by almost three years.
Although Darcy's campaign focuses on the future, his background is very strongly grounded in America's, and especially Virginia's, past. Although the Darcys were not among the very earliest immigrants to America, their timing was impeccable. The first Darcy in the New World, a second son by the name of William, arrived with John Rolfe, who holds the twin distinctions of smuggling tobacco plants into Virginia, thus securing its economic future, and marrying Pocahontas, the Native American princess who famously saved the life of another Englishman, John Smith. William was destined to fall victim to disease at a young age, but he did acquire a grant of land that was to become Pemberley, one of the most prominent plantations in Virginia.
The grief-stricken widow named her son Fitzwilliam, which has remained the traditional name for the first-born males in the family. This first Fitzwilliam sat in the House of Burgesses which convened in 1619, setting the precedent for self-government in the United States. Another bearer of the same name voted for the ratification of the Declaration of Independence in the Virginia House, although he was absent at its signing. And some thirteen years later, it was he, along with Madison, who promoted the adoption of the new constitution in Virginia, going against such patriots as George Mason and Patrick Henry. Since then, there have been several members of the family who have had distinguished records of public service, in both Houses of Congress as well as in Virginia local government.
Although their loyalties have always been to the Democratic party in the Jeffersonian tradition, the Darcys are among the few southern political families whose representatives have been widely trusted in the North, even in the ante-bellum period, and they were invaluable in forging the various compromises that tenuously held the country together until the Civil War. The Darcys have historically had strong ties with the Northern states; the present Mr. Darcy is a legacy of several generations at Yale (although he did go to law school at the University of Virginia), and many Darcy wives have hailed from the North. Pemberley was among the first plantations in Virginia to free its slaves and hire these former slaves back as wage laborers, in a more dignified working environment. This was accomplished in the 1840s, under the influence of one Elizabeth Darcy, god-daughter of the Reverend Beecher, and a childhood friend of Harriet Beecher Stowe. The situation she described at the conclusion of Uncle Tom's Cabin was based on her real-life observations of Pemberley.
Though the Darcys tenaciously opposed Virginia's secession in the years leading up to the Civil War, when, after Fort Sumter, Virginia did in fact break from the Union, loyalty to the state obliged the Darcys to follow suit. A Fitzwilliam Darcy fought under General Lee in the Army of Northern Virginia, and was decorated for his outstanding service. After the war, in the Reconstruction period, the Darcys were blocked from political office because of the supposed treachery of secession, but the next generation saw another representative of the Darcy family in Washington, this time as a Justice on the Supreme Court. Since then, the Darcys have continued to be one of the nation's premier political families, and they have been involved in almost every major initiative of the Democratic party, from the New Deal to the Great Society, and from the reform of the nomination process to the Civil Rights movement. The current Mr. Darcy's father, a prominent Senator before his untimely demise in 1979, was a close personal friend of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.
Over the years, Darcys have served in many public capacities in both the state and the national level. Several generations of Darcys have served in Congress, and other members of the family have held cabinet positions. However, no Darcy has to this day held the nation's premier political office. Senator Darcy, at the time of his death, had been contemplating a campaign, and although the present Mr. Darcy is unwilling to commit himself, he does not discount the possibility. He speaks of caution, and reminds me that he is running only for Congress, that he has no previous record of public service, and that even the Democratic nomination is far from secure. But enthusiasm of the volunteers in this office is infectious, and it is easy to believe that anything is possible.....
Elizabeth logged off, suddenly appalled. It was hard to believe that those had been her words. Was it possible that she had been so naive? She had been right about one thing at least; he had gone on from strength to strength, and there had been several campaigns after that one -- until last year. But to have written in such a manner, when she had considered herself an impartial observer; why, she had even allowed a personal voice to intrude into the article! She wondered why the piece had ever been printed; it was so obvious that its writer was entirely unschooled in journalistic technique. She continued to chastise herself, ostensibly on the writing, but subconsciously because she was unwilling to accept her own evaluation of the man who was so frequently on her mind. And in the process, she completely ignored the transparent optimism and youthful vigor of her writing -- the very qualities that had so endeared her to the jaded sensibilities of the experienced journalists and editors of the Post, who had welcomed her among them, but in the process had accelerated her transformation into a creature as disillusioned as themselves.
Chapter 4
Both of them, of course, were familiar with the story that the building had once housed the Washington-Moscow hotline and had been converted to a mall at the end of the Cold War, and they joked around, each assigning to the other the responsibility for that event, with Bingley pointing out that it could hardly be coincidental that Darcy had entered Congress as a freshman in 1989 and joined the House Foreign Relations Committee, while Darcy noted that Bingley had joined the faculty of Georgetown's School of Foreign Relations that very year, and that his Ph.D. dissertation several years earlier had predicted that very event. It had been some time ago that they had spent so much time uninhibitedly enjoying themselves together, and they felt almost as though they were undergraduates together in New Haven again. And soon enough, the conversation turned around to a topic that had frequently come up between them in those days. As had generally been the case then, it was Bingley who broached the subject.
"I say, Fitz, what did you think of Jane Bennet?"
"I noticed that you seem to approve of her a great deal," the other replied, guardedly.
"I think she's an angel, but I seem to recall having mentioned that earlier. I asked you for your opinion."
"Isn't she a little old to still be working on her Master's degree?" Darcy still evaded the other's inquiry.
"She's a Ph.D. candidate, but I suppose she is a little bit older than the average student in her position. She's paying her own way through school, and she had to take a few years off after graduating. She taught government in High School. It makes me think how lucky you and I were. We never had to worry about that sort of thing."
"No, I suppose we didn't."
Bingley, who often boasted that his mind always jumped from subject to subject with alacrity, without noting that this was a somewhat unfortunate tendency for an academic who was called upon to provide detailed explanations for his assertions, had gone off on another tangent entirely.
"How long has it been since you've gone out with anyone, Fitz? Years, as far as I can tell. You've practically become a hermit."
"No such thing, I assure you, although I admit that it has been a while since I dated someone."
"Well, you can't stay single forever. Especially not in politics. Americans like their politicians respectably married, or they start asking difficult questions. That's why I study foreign countries. Much more fun."
"Entering the married state does not preclude difficult questions, Charles, as we have daily proof from the Special Prosecutor, although respectability might, I suppose. And I'm not in politics. In fact, if you must know, politics was the main reason for my celibacy, such as it was."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It's very simple. Working on the Hill didn't really leave me much of an opportunity for a social life. I only ever met people in the line of work. Getting involved with anyone was not an option; it would have constituted a conflict of duty."
"An adult relationship is no conflict of duty. You're responsible enough to keep your job separate from your private life, and you can trust most people in the city to do the same. Otherwise no one here would ever have any fun at all. I wouldn't be as fastidious as you for a kingdom."
"Perhaps you'd better start."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Are you serious about this Jane Bennet, Charles?"
"Of course I am. Did you look at her, Fitz?"
"This isn't about her looks, Charles. She's a student; you're a professor. It's not going to work out."
"She's only a year away from getting her Ph.D. And it's not like I'm her thesis advisor. There's no conflict of interest."
"Are you sure she feels about this as strongly as you do?"
"Of course!" was Bingley's indignant reply, but he added, more hesitantly, "why, didn't you think so?"
Darcy chose his words carefully. "I noticed that she was certainly flattered by your attentions, Charles, and she seemed to like you. More than that I would not venture to say."
"You think she humors me just because of my position?"
"You've known her longer than I have, Charles. I cannot be the one to judge. But don't let your interest in her blind you. But you cannot let this go much further unless you are sure that she is as committed to a relationship as you are."
"You've certainly given me something to think about, Darcy, but I do not know if I can thank you for it. I never imagined that I might be taking advantage of her. How am I ever to know? You have to help me, Fitz."
"It is your decision to make, Charles. For heaven's sake, I should think you were old enough."
"You're the one who's thrust this dilemma upon me. You have to help me figure things out. And besides, you know I trust your opinion. I even took an apartment in your constituency to vote for you. Anyway, I'm having dinner with her this weekend. Come with us and tell me what you think."
"If you insist, Charles, but you're the one who has to make the decision."
As he drove home after his conversation with Bingley about one Bennet sister, Darcy was unable to get the other off his mind. Indeed, her persistent presence had rarely allowed him that luxury over the six years he had been in Congress, but ever since he had dropped out of the race last year, he had hoped that her image would cease to haunt him. He had thought that he had succeeded, but today, after his encounter with her sister, she was once more prominent in his thoughts.
Heading home to his suburban Maclean residence, he decided to take the Chain Bridge to cross into Virginia, and got on the George Washington Parkway. Although it was only three, the afternoon rush hour had already started, and traffic was moving slowly. Darcy found time hanging rather heavily on his hands. He turned to AM 630, hoping to find Bob Levey, or even Rush Limbaugh, whose partisan tirades he found unfailingly amusing. Instead, he was greeted by Dr. Laura Schlesinger's strident tones. Snorting, he turned to an FM station, 101 Rock. They were playing Sting, one of his favorite performers. He sat back, allowing himself to relax, and get drawn in to the song's ambient smoky bar-room feel, powerful even on a painfully sunny, though slightly chilly, Washington afternoon.
"You're not the easiest person I ever got to know
And it's hard for us both to let our feelings show
Some would say, I should let you go your way
You'll only make me cry"
Somehow, it was impossible to exorcise Elizabeth's image from his mind. Almost reluctantly, he succumbed to the temptation, and throwing his mind back, he dwelt over their long acquaintance. When they had first met, he had seen nothing more than a promising teenager, whose idealistic enthusiasm he had found infectious. When he had seen the first of her diatribes against him on the Op-Ed pages, he had been a little surprised and somewhat irritated. Looking back, he realized that he had greatly underestimated her drive. Over the years, she had surprised him repeatedly with her dogged tenacity and the vehemence of her attacks on him. By the time he had finally called it quits, she had been on his mind almost constantly. The war they had waged through her editorials and his letters had become to him one of the landmarks of his career, and he had ceased to see her as a challenge, but rather, had welcomed her attacks as a forum for him to present and clarify his own views. And her passion for her work had evoked in him a range of emotions, starting at a kind of grudging respect and developing slowly to feelings so precious that he had failed even to recognize them, until today.
"If there's one guy, just one guy
Who'd lay down his life for you and die
It's hard to say it
It's hard to say it, but it's probably me."
He loved her. Why had it been so hard to say it? In retrospect, it seemed almost obvious. Of course, that had to be the reason he had never dated anyone in the last six years. He had not told Charles the entire truth. Opportunities had presented themselves more than once; he had been reluctant to pursue any of them. And a relationship with Elizabeth, of course, had been entirely out of the question. As a member of the press corps, she had been, to his strict ethical code, entirely out of bounds. But now, there was nothing to stop them. He loved her. And she would requite him.
Even six years ago, he had known that she had found him attractive. At the time, he had been mildly flattered, but also a little embarrassed; he had thought of it as little more than a schoolgirl crush. But she was much older now; it was entirely acceptable for them to get involved. And there could be no doubt that he had been on her mind as much as she had been on his over the years; their volley of exchanges, fully documented in the Post, was proof to the contrary.
There was just one thing that gave him pause. If they were to get involved, there could be no return to politics for him. She would hardly agree to quit journalism, and by his principles, for him to seek public office would constitute a conflict of interest. But he could endure that for her sake. He had thought that politics was his whole life, but half a year had gone by, and he had survived. If it worked out between them, he would sacrifice his political aspirations. He nodded, decisively. He would talk to her soon. He wondered if he could get her number from Jane Bennet. Or actually, he would be going to the Clinton's Second Inaugural in just a few days. She would undoubtedly be there. Yes, it would be best to talk to her face to face. For the remainder of his journey, Darcy set about determining the perfect way to approach Elizabeth Bennet.
Chapter 5
"Don't you tire of that stuff, Lizzy? You work at it all day, and then you come home and watch other people do the same thing."
"Television journalism is a whole different ball game. And I just like being on top of things, that's all. Besides, you're the one who constantly brings home work. How's the thesis going, Big Sis?"
"It's going well enough. In a few weeks I'll stop going to the University and start researching full-time at the Library of Congress. And if my grant comes through, I may end up actually doing my research in Hong Kong, ideally before they turn it back to China."
"I didn't realize you were seriously thinking of going there. And so soon? It will revert to China in July."
"It is by no means certain, Lizzy. I can't afford to go on my own money, and even if the grant comes through, I may find everything I need here. It will mean an almost certain delay if I do go...."
"Jane, if it's about the money, you know I'd be happy to help out. I've saved a decent amount over the last few years, and I know all your money's going towards school. And besides, I have contacts there at the CNN bureau; I'm sure Bill and his wife would be happy to put you up."
"Lizzy, don't worry about it. If I don't get the grant it means that the University feels that it isn't necessary for me to go there for my research. I have quite a bit of material already, and then I will be using the Library of Congress here. And besides, I'm not sure I really want to go...."
Lizzy smiled as Jane blushed slightly and turned back to the stove, ostensibly to check on the pasta.
"Jane, how goes it with the handsome Professor Bingley?"
"Charles is very well."
Resolutely refusing to meet Lizzy's eye, she pulled out a strand from the boiling water and put it in her mouth a little too hastily, wincing as it burnt her tongue.
"So it is Charles now, is it? Oh come on, Jane. You don't have to blush like a teenager."
"Lizzy, you're drawing conclusions again. I will not deny that Charles is the most agreeable man I have encountered in some time now, but until he says something positive I must assume that his interest in me is merely friendship and professional support. Anyway, guess whom I met today?"
"Very well, Jane, you may change the subject. I cannot imagine of whom you speak."
"An old friend of yours. Fitz Darcy."
"Fitz Darcy and I are not friends. Practically any copy of the Washington Post over the last six years will provide ample proof to the contrary."
"Except one. Come, Lizzy. It has not been so long since you were gushing over him and plastering your dorm room with his campaign posters. And I proof-read that article for you."
"Then you might have pointed out what an amateurish farce it was. I was reading it again today; I can't believe how unprofessional it was."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. For one thing, you certainly weren't a professional at the time. And besides, considering how handily he won, I wouldn't be surprised if you won him quite a few supporters."
"I doubt that a Darcy running in Virginia needed any help from me. I was certainly unsuccessful in convincing them to vote against him for six years. How did you run into him anyway?"
"He came in to talk to Charles' class, and then we all had lunch together. He is really quite agreeable, Lizzy, and I begin to see what you were raving about back then."
"Don't remind me what I said then. It makes me feel like Lydia to even think of it!"
Jane smiled. Lydia was their youngest sister, a determined flirt who professed undying devotion to a different celebrity each week.
"No, you had considerably superior taste."
"I suppose it is my turn to deflect your assumptions. Very well. Six years ago a teenager had a crush on the local Congressman. End of story."
"Not quite. She became a reporter and dogged at his heels for six years."
"It was my job. I had point out how he was shortchanging his constituents."
"Shortchanging? Lizzy, I may be a student of foreign relations, but I did teach U.S. Government for three years. Fitz Darcy got through more legislation in his first three terms in Congress than many prominent Congressmen have been able to over lengthy careers. So he had to make a few compromises along the way. You know as well as I do that that is how things work on the Hill. You can't hold a grudge for six years. You're the one who always wants to be professional about these kinds of things."
"Very well, then, I am not allowed to hold a grudge. But you must permit me the right to keep my professional distance. Suffice it to say that six years is a long time, and a lot of things have changed drastically, not the least of which is how I feel about Fitz Darcy. And in any case, he is out of politics now; he will no longer be in my sphere. I dare say he hasn't given me a moment's thought since he got me out of his hair last summer, and you must allow me to return the favor."
"Lizzy, did you really think I didn't know that you've been ferreting through all his private affairs at length since then?" Lizzy glanced at her through narrowed eyes, and Jane playfully defended herself from the imaginary onslaught. "All right, so it is just professional interest on your part. Allow me to correct your misapprehension, though. Fitz Darcy has not forgotten you. He called you his severest critic."
"I am impressed; he seems to know me better than my own sister."
"Then perhaps you do have something in common."
This time Jane did run to protect herself from Lizzy, who playfully brandished a saucepan. As she put it away and laid the table for dinner, her eye returned to the television set. Caroline Bingley was on. reporting on a charity ball funded by the NRA. She groaned instinctively, repelled by the overtly partisan rhetoric which was quite out of place under the circumstances. Elizabeth herself was firmly entrenched in the Democratic camp, but she prided herself on curbing the expression of her own point of view except in editorial columns.
"Isn't she your Mr. Bingley's sister? From what I hear of the gentleman he might very well be an admirable creature, but I cannot envy him his relations, or his friends."
Chapter 6
"How many times do you think we'll here about that wretched bridge to the twenty-first century today?"
"We can hardly escape it; it is the theme for the day. Did you know that they've actually erected a bridge outside the Smithsonian?"
Elizabeth groaned.
"Oh no. What a tourist trap!"
"It's not all bad; the fireworks are nice. And besides, this is one of the few days in the year when the men in this wretched city are actually expected to dance. You will be going to some of the Balls, right?"
"Yeah, I don't know how I let myself be dragged into it."
"You know you'll enjoy it. Besides, it's not like you'll have to meet normal people or anything; it's just the same political crowd you see everyday."
Elizabeth smiled, but did not retort. It was true; she had allowed herself to get too sucked into the power game. It was time she took a step back and started thinking about a life. And the balls tonight would be a good place to start, especially since they wouldn't really be too far out of her comfort zone. It was amazing how one grew into the inside-the-beltway loop. When all was said and done, it was a very small group of people among whom the decisions were made, and they were surrounded by the media ring that served as a conduit to the world at large. But the media was generally looking inward, and it was easy enough to begin to neglect the people outside for whose benefit the entire circus was staged.
She turned back to the main entrance, where the various political figures were pulling up in limousines. She saw John Warner arrive with Barbara Walters. He was to be the Master of Ceremonies today. Although she had long been aware of his involvement with Walters (another symptom of her membership in the Washington clique, she noted wryly), she was a little surprised at their arriving together at the ceremony, and quite shocked when she saw that Miss Walters would be covering the ceremony for ABC. Elizabeth, who firmly believed in separating her personal and private lives, could not condone Walters' decision to mingle the two roles. Another arrival, however, distracted her. Fitz Darcy's limo had just pulled up, and she saw the cameras crowding round to get a shot of him. This was his first public appearance since the press conference when he had withdrawn his candidacy, and she knew that it would further fuel the rumors that he would be running for Governor of Virginia this year. Once again, she promised herself that she would investigate the matter further. He went up and spoke to Senator Warner, and it occurred to her that had he not withdrawn from the race against that gentleman he might very well have been performing Warner's role today. He greeted Miss Walters as well, but she noted that he pursed his lips slightly, as if in disapproval. She smiled; evidently he agreed with her opinion on mixing personal and professional roles.
She turned to the podium as Warner went up and the ceremonies commenced. Clinton was sworn in by Chief Justice Rehnquist, and then Justice Ginsburg administered the oath to Vice President Gore. As President Clinton started speaking, she found herself drawn to his words despite her reservations about the man himself. This was what she loved about Washington, and politics. The grime and the filth were there, but sometimes, a person would come along whom one could believe in.
"When our founders boldly declared America's independence to the world, and our purposes to the Almighty, they knew that America, to endure, would have to change."Not change for change sake, but change to preserve America's ideals: life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. Today, a generation raised in the shadows of the Cold War assumes new responsibilities in a world warmed by the sunshine of freedom, but threatened still by ancient hatreds and new plagues."
But was Clinton such a person? Had he ever been? Elizabeth, like so many Democratic stalwarts, had been very disappointed in how poorly he had delivered on his campaign promises over the first term. For the first time in over a quarter century the Democrats had lost control of both the House and the Senate, and this was almost directly attributable to Clinton. And then there were the unresolved issues about Whitewater and Paula Jones.
"This new world has already enriched the lives of millions of Americans who are able to compete and win in it. Americans deserve better, and in this city today there are people who want to do better, and so I say to all of you here, let us resolve to reform our politics, so that power and privilege no longer shout down the voice of the people."
Was there really anyone in Washington who was really any better? Was the whole game an illusion, driven entirely by self interest? Sometimes she did begin to think so, but she knew that she could not really believe it. Otherwise, there was no way that she would have stuck it out in this city for so long.
"While America rebuilds at home, we will not shrink from the challenges nor fail to seize the opportunities of this new world. The American people have summoned the change we celebrate today."Today, we do more than celebrate America, we rededicate ourselves to the very idea of America."
"Not a bridge in sight!" Charlotte leaned over and whispered.
Elizabeth smiled and nodded. For someone who prided herself on her cynicism, she was entirely too idealistic, and she knew it.
As the ceremony continued, Elizabeth found herself getting increasingly weary of the tired sentiments that were being repeated. Less than impressed by Arkansas poet Miller Williams, she allowed her eyes to wander to the various stands, observing those who were attending, and making a mental note of the conspicuous absentees. As her eye fell on Fitz Darcy, she momentarily got the impression that he was staring at her fixedly. She immediately dismissed the notion. It was impossible that she should have attracted his undivided attraction; it was obviously simply a coincidental meeting of their eyes. But though she did not turn back to him again, she was all the more distracted through the rest of the ceremony.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, of course, had been staring at Elizabeth fixedly. He had barely attended to any of the ceremony, but almost from the first had been seeking her out with his eyes. His position gave him a very good view of the proceedings, but he was more appreciative of the fact that he was practically facing the press galleries, and could enjoy an uninterrupted view of Elizabeth's features. He had seen the introspective look with which she had attended to the President's address, and had noted the wry smile she exchanged with Charlotte at its conclusion. And when she had grown as inattentive of the ceremony as he himself was, he had met her eyes, and held her gaze for just a second, before she turned away. He smiled at her coyness; she was evidently determined not to allow him another glance.
He would have to approach her soon; now that he knew that he needed her for his life to be complete, any delay was irksome. He wondered briefly if he could be mistaken in his belief of her interest; after all, their exchanges had been entirely in the public sphere, and in six years, they had never spoken on a personal basis. No, her feelings had been quite obvious six years ago, and though they had become less marked as she had grown into a sophisticated young lady and a very professional journalist, he knew that he had retained her interest, if not her teenage adulation. But it would not do for him to declare his feelings without warning; she certainly was not expecting a declaration. And he did not want her to think he wanted to use her to ease his way back into politics; he knew her professional ethics would override her feelings if she perceived him in such a manner. No, he would have to court her, and convince her that his attentions were disinterested.
If she would have him, his ambitions would be put on hold. He had learnt in the last few months that there was quite enough to occupy him outside of the political arena; Pemberley and its upkeep and restoration had taken up much of his energy, and he had devoted himself also to a number of charities. Perhaps there was no replacement for the thrill that politics had given him, but his six years in Congress had been draining as well. He knew that to return to such a life and remain lonely would be insupportable, especially now that he had allowed himself to fall in love. In spite of the wrench it would be, he knew that he would choose Elizabeth over his political career.
As the ceremonies ended and the crowds started milling out, he tried to make his way towards the press stands. His approach was rudely interrupted by Caroline Bingley, who thrust a microphone into his hands and motioned for her camera-man to join her.
"Fitz, what a pleasure to see you again. So, does this mean that you've officially thrown your hat back in the ring?"
"I can't imagine what you mean, Caroline. It is the President's day, not mine. I came merely out of a patriotic interest in the nation's governance."
"But this is your first public appearance since you withdrew from the Senate race last summer. How do you feel about the speculation it will generate?"
"There is nothing to speculate on. I have not announced my candidacy; I am not declaring it now, and I refuse to comment on whether or not I will declare it in the future."
Caroline told her camera-man to shut, sensing that she would get little more out of Darcy. She moved towards him, and spoke in an ingratiatingly confidential tone.
"Thanks for the interview, Fitz, and smart move, by the way. I don't blame you for reconsidering about the Democrats. It's obvious that their day is past."
"Caroline, I thought I said that politics was out for me. But I will take the liberty of pointing out that it was a Democratic president whose Inauguration we just observed."
"Oh, this is just an aberration. I suppose it was a little silly to have Dole run at his age; we should have known we'd never make it. But look at Congress. Look at what's happening all over the country. You did the right thing, getting out while you could. I would really start talking to the Republican leadership soon, if I were you. You don't want to become completely invisible, and it's not like you need to lie low too long. Your positions were always pretty moderate; I'm sure they'll welcome you to the fold."
"Caroline, we've had this chat too many times. I have no intention of turning Republican. Now if you will excuse me, I must speak with someone."
He continued to make his way towards the press stands, but he saw Elizabeth Bennet leaving, and he knew he would not be able to catch up with her. Mentally, he swore at Caroline for holding him up. It occurred to him that he could contrive a meeting tonight; the press would swarm at the Inaugural Balls. He had not thought to attend any of them; now he had no choice in the matter. Having finally come to the realization of his affections, he was in no humor to wait. He would have to see her tonight.
Chapter 7
"Don't worry, Liz. You look fabulous."
"You won't be saying that when I fall flat on my face. My only comfort is that I'll be able to keep the pictures out of the Post, and I'm not special enough for the tabloids to bother. With any luck, I'll be able to live it down in about ten years. How come you get to wear flats, anyway?"
"Liz, if I had your legs, I'd make the most of them. Don't worry. And if you start getting nervous, tell yourself that you're at work. Knowing you, that'll calm you down better than anything else."
As they spoke, the President and Mrs. Clinton entered, and a hush fell over the room as they went up to the podium. Elizabeth recognized Senator Dodd (She immediately mentally added the tag D-CT, and then smiled, recognizing the journalistic habit.) who was representing the Democratic National Committee, as he made a toast to the Clintons. As he spoke, she scanned the room, making a note of those who were in attendance. As the toast concluded, the red, white, and blue balloons decorating the room were released, and they rose to the ceiling. As her eyes followed the balloons upward, she saw Fitz Darcy, standing on the upper balcony, looking down onto the ballroom. He was scanning the room as well, and just then, his eyes met hers, and held them, for just a moment. Then the President and the First Lady, following tradition, opened the first dance, and Elizabeth turned her eyes away. Looking on, she wondered how long they had been practicing for this moment; they certainly acquitted themselves quite well. She herself had never had any lessons in dancing, and was slightly envious of the graceful bearing of those who had descended to the dance floor. She stayed by the side, exchanging greetings with her many acquaintances, and finally fell into conversation with a group of Freshmen in Congress, who were speculating as to the composition of Clinton's second term cabinet.
Darcy, who had determined that he would scan every Inaugural Ball in the city if need be, to locate Elizabeth, had arrived at this one as the toasts were being made, and once again, as all eyes in the room gravitated towards the President, he had sought out another figure, choosing to avoid the main floor so that he might have a better view. As he located her in the swarm of people around the podium, he drew in his breath sharply. He realized that in the six years they had known each other he had always seen her dressed for the job; he had never so much as allowed himself to imagine what she might look like in evening attire. Now she was before him, and there was no need for such imaginings.
She had come in green; he noticed that she was one of very few women wearing anything other than black. The dress was of a deep rich color that complemented her curls, which had been allowed to tumble down unpretentiously. He watched her as she navigated the crowd, apparently perfectly at ease, and welcomed the opportunity it gave him of admiring her figure, which was light and pleasing. She was not dancing. For the first time it occurred to him that he knew nothing of her private life; she might very well have gotten married sometime in the last six years, and he would never have known about it. But she was not dancing tonight. It was not much, but such as it was it gave him hope that it was not all in vain. As she joined the group of the new initiates in Congress this term, he decided it was time to go up and greet her, and made his way down.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Miss Bennet."
"Mr. Darcy." She appeared a bit surprised at his approach, but recovering quickly, she gave him a small smile. "It's been a while since we've seen you in this part of town."
"I'm glad to see I haven't been forgotten."
"That would be impossible, sir. I think I may safely speak for my entire profession when I vouch for the length of our collective memory. But do you desire our notice? I thought you would have us shun you."
"I admit that the notice of the entire press corps can be somewhat trying. But I hope that does not preclude the possibility of normalized relations on a individual basis."
"Normalized relations? I hope you don't think that we make war on you. Do not judge us too harshly; we live by your words, and we must gather around that we may pick up any crumbs you might happen to drop. And might I ask why a gentleman of your standing should find it trying to interact with the members of our humble profession?"
"I have not that easy facility with words that some men have. I hope my actions speak for themselves."
"I do not walk so steadily on these heels as I might, but I have always supposed it to be a fault of mine, that I would not persevere in the effort."
He smiled, thinking of how he had been admiring her easy movements and remarked, "You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of seeing you could think anything wanting."
Elizabeth did not know what to make of his compliment. Her own response took another tack. "And what have you been up to in the meantime, Mr. Darcy? I did not think you lacking eloquence six years ago, and now you say you cannot interact with the press. Am I to interpret it as a propensity to detest our profession? I must protest, for we are unfairly maligned."
"In that case, you must allow me to point out your inclination willfully to misunderstand me," he returned, still smiling slightly, "Far be it for me to defame members of your profession. Indeed my experience has generally been to the contrary."
"Then we frighten you?"
"There you go again. You cannot deny that journalists have been known to cross the bounds between the public and the private spheres. It's not a trend I approve of, but I have no reason to fear it."
At any other time, Lizzy would vociferously defended the distinction between the mainstream press and the tabloids, but as she started to speak, the recollection of her own researches struck her.
"We report what the public has a right to know."
"And who is to be the judge? Forgive me for saying so, but such irresponsible journalism is more frequently motivated by a desire for personal notoriety than by a perceived duty to the public."
"Personal notoriety is more characteristic of your profession than it is of mine."
"True enough, but I am no longer in the profession. I am a private citizen, and I would prefer that the press would not construe me in any other light. Indeed, I do not see on what grounds I generate any interest at all."
The freshmen Congressmen had walked away, seeing that there were no votes to be garnered here. They assembled back around again, however, and Elizabeth and Darcy, seeing them straightening their ties almost unconsciously, turned to see that the President had come up behind them.
"Fitz Darcy! Good to see you in Washington again!"
"May I offer my congratulations, Mr. President?"
"Thank you, Fitz. And this young lady is..."
"May I introduce you to Ms. Bennet, sir. Ms. Bennet is with The Washington Post."
"The celebrated Elizabeth Bennet, we meet at last! Are you here to search out some new victim now that Fitz here has called it quits, or will you talk him in to coming back? I, for one, would thank you for it. He's been ignoring all of my people."
Elizabeth had to admit that she was very impressed with the President's easy manner, and his careful recollection. It became quite obvious to her why he had been so successful in his career. Unlike a lot of the Washington stalwarts she was used to interacting with, he exuded affability rather than dignity, and already she felt quite comfortable with him. She ventured, therefore, upon one of her characteristic repartees.
"I could not presume to speak for Mr. Darcy. His ways are a mystery to us all, and his words are scarcely less obscure."
"That's a fine thing to say about any politician! We are all trying to say as little as we can in as many words as we may. Fitz, my man, you heard the lady; it's time you came back into business."
Darcy, who had been attending closely to this exchange, smiled. Much as he had enjoyed the display of Elizabeth's quick wit in their earlier conversation, he had been wondering whether he had allowed it to stray too far into difficult waters, but her present light-heartedness convinced him that she had taken it in the spirit he had intended it. His own rejoinder to the President was along the same lines.
"I must watch my tongue, sir. Miss Bennet would have you disbelieve every word I say."
One of the freshmen, who were still standing by observing them, cleared his throat nervously, and Darcy perceiving his cue, undertook the introductions. He stood around as the President stayed and talked to them; Elizabeth, in the meantime, made her escape, and went up to Charlotte.
"So is he back for real?"
Charlotte had been observing her friend from a distance, and was eager to know what had happened.
"How in heaven's name would I know? Why did he come up to me, of all people?"
"For one thing, you've always been the easiest route for him to get back into the papers."
"But he kept saying he was a private citizen now; I don't know if he wants to get back in."
"Maybe he wants you on his side this time around."
"That's ridiculous! You know what I've written about him."
"You never wrote anything that wasn't true, and he was always able to clarify himself in the letters. The important thing was that he was in the public eye, and it was entirely your doing. Most congressmen don't have press hounds following their every move."
"I am not a press hound!"
"Anyway, he paid you quite a compliment, singling you out like that. And an intro to the President; that was smooth. You know, maybe it's not about his career. I think he likes you."
"Charlotte, that's crazy!"
"Why? You thought he was cute."
"I should never have told you anything about that. Do you realize how long it's been?"
"He's not that different, and besides, this time he's interested. That alone makes any guy significantly more attractive."
"That's so silly, and besides, you're jumping to conclusions, just like Jane was the other night."
"Jane too? I'm telling you, Liz, he's practically staring at you right now. Don't turn around! This could be really great for you. He may not be in politics, but do you realize what kind of access he still has around here? It would make your career!"
"What kind of reasoning is that? You wouldn't enter a relationship for more "access," would you?"
"It's as good a reason as any, and you know as well as I that it happens quite a bit around here. And what's so enlightening about a "normal" relationship? It's not like you really get to know a person any better by having dinner together at fancy restaurants a couple of times."
"I know Fitz Darcy quite as well as I want to, thank you very much, and I'm not interested."
At which juncture, Charlotte cleared her throat, and Elizabeth, looking up, saw that the gentleman himself had approached once again. She blushed, wondering how much he had overheard, but seeing that he looked relatively unselfconscious, she relaxed slightly.
"Miss Bennet, Miss .... uh Lucas, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said, seeing the color on their faces.
"Not at all," they chimed in unison. Darcy smiled, realizing that he had probably been the topic of conversation, none of which had carried to him in the rather noisy ballroom.
Seeing that the conversation was floundering, Charlotte spoke up. Despite Elizabeth's disclaimers, she had decided that Fitz Darcy was a perfect match for her, and his interest was imprinted quite clearly on his face. She was determined to forward encourage him, having no doubt that Liz would soon come to her senses and realize what was good for her. It simply wasn't healthy that she hadn't had any kind of a relationship since college; she would work herself to death at this rate.
"You are not dancing tonight, Mr. Darcy?"
"No, I rarely dance," he said, wondering whether this was an opening for him to ask Elizabeth, or whether Charlotte was fishing for an invitation herself.
"I do so envy those who can dance with such ease. I was born with two left feet."
Charlotte's eyes were clearly instructing him to utilize the opening she had provided, but Darcy was still hesitant, and she had to be less subtle.
"Don't let me hold you two up. Liz, you don't have to stay by the side just to keep me company."
And with that, she walked away.
"Ms. Bennet, if I might...."
Elizabeth had been watching Charlotte's rather obvious maneuvering with a mixture of alarm and amusement. Unlike her perceptive friend, she had not detected in Darcy any particular attachment, and his perceived indifference reinforced hers and allowed her to keep up a polite facade as she watched him forced into what she thought was a difficult predicament. "I'm afraid, Mr. Darcy, that Charlotte misrepresented me," she smiled, thinking of the rather broad hints, so uncharacteristic of Charlotte, that had brought about this particular situation. "It is not altruism that keeps me away from the floor. I have no inclination to embarrass myself. If you will excuse me...."
She too, turned away, and sought out old acquaintances and new faces, determined to avoid Darcy for the remainder of the evening.
Darcy stood there watching her, by no means dissatisfied with his progress. Any real conversation would have been an advance, considering that for the last six years they had seen each other only at press conferences, and then on antagonistic terms. And their little chat, while hardly in the mold of a conventional courtship, proved that their minds were engaged as well as their hearts. He looked forward to many debates in the years to follow. That she had refused to dance with him could not count as a fault either. At a place like this, with so much of the Washington Establishment as well as the media present, it would be bound to excite comment. He could not blame her for choosing to stay out of the gossip columns; it was his own intention as well. And moreover, she needed to ensure that he wasn't using her to gain visibility and ease his way back in. He would need to convince her that such was not his intention. As his reverie gave way to the admiration of her features, Caroline Bingley came up to him.
She had been stopping off at almost every ball in the city, looking for people she could interview who would support her own point of view that Clinton in his second term was headed for impeachment. She had intended to give this one, a strictly Democratic Party affair, a miss, but had come in on an impulse, to see Fitz Darcy talking to that impertinent little Liz Bennet. As she approached him he greeted her somewhat reluctantly, and she noted his absence of mind and said in an overly familiar manner.
"I bet I know what you're thinking. How appalling it's going to be having all those two-bit tree-hugging print journalists fluttering around when you get back into politics. I see they were hovering already."
He grimaced slightly, thinking of her own questionable tactics. "Afraid not, Caroline, I'm not the pessimist you make me out to be. And I'm not coming back to politics. I was merely noting that a pair of bright eyes adds so much to a beautiful face."
"And whose eyes were you meditating on?" asked she, fluttering the lids on her own raccoon-like pools of mascara.
"Elizabeth Bennet's," he said, well aware of the answer she wanted to hear.
"That's a bit of a surprise. I'm glad I didn't have to see an engagement announced in the papers. I'm sure she'd see to it that it got pride of place."
"How did I guess you'd say that? Why do women jump so quickly to marriage?"
Caroline, a little relieved at his response, proceeded to entertain him with her account of a wedding in the finest flower-child tradition, noting that Liz Bennet was a crazy liberal and probably a card-carrying member of the ACLU. Darcy listened, reminded slightly of Rush Limbaugh on his sillier tirades. His eyes, for the most part, continued to follow Elizabeth, and after Caroline left him, on an impulse he pulled out his wallet and reached for his own ACLU membership card, which he had been carrying since his college days. He and Elizabeth would do very well together.
As Elizabeth mingled with the various dignitaries who came in her way, another young man, who unbeknown to her, had been observing her all evening, came up to her.
"Ms. Bennet, I presume? I have been reading your columns for many years now. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm George Wikham. May I give you my card?"