Beginning, Previous Section, Section IV
Jump to new as of November 6, 1999
Chapter 23
Glancing at her watch, Charlotte swore softly to herself before entering Darcy's campaign headquarters. She was impatient of delays in others, and prided herself on her own punctuality, but on this occasion, the slight delay had been unavoidable. It had been Mrs. de Bourgh on the line, and with her litany of instructions on how Charlotte was to maximize the impact of the spots she was scripting on Darcy's campaign, she had very nearly delayed her for the meeting with Darcy itself. Charlotte, though quite impatient by the end of the conversation, had been unable to cut her off. She asked one of the staffers lounging around where she'd find Darcy, and was ushered straight into his office, where she found him in conversation on the telephone. He motioned for her to take a seat, and as he attempted to extricate himself from the call, she was amused to realize that Mrs. de Bourgh was evidently taking no chances at either end.
"Yes, Aunt Catherine,... uh-huh,... sure..... Yeah, that sounds great... Yes, well, I really have to go, Aunt Catherine,... Yes, I'll tell Georgiana that... of course.... Yes, I'll remember! Good-bye!"
Rolling his eyes, he slammed the phone down definitively, and turned to face Charlotte.
"Sorry about that, Mrs. Collins. I'm sure you know what that was all about."
"I believe I can guess, Mr. Darcy. And it's Charlotte, by the way."
"Fitz, in that case. Well, since I don't need to fill you in, we can skip that set of instructions. Where would you like to begin?"
"Well, I started drafting up a few things tentatively. Perhaps you'd like to look them over, and then we can discuss modifications?"
She handed over her drafts, and after he had gone over them, they discussed a few alternatives. Other than one brief interruption, when Caroline Bingley called, requesting an interview which he definitively declined, their meeting was smooth and productive. They were able to reach a consensus quickly, and Charlotte promised to send him the revisions as soon as she had them done. As she rose to leave after the brief meeting, Charlotte decided for once that it wouldn't hurt to give in to a momentary impulse.
"What do you make of that novel, Party Animals, Fitz, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Will you take 'it was a quick read' as an answer?"
"Only if I'm allowed to tell the tabloids you said so."
"And here I thought you wanted my views as an accomplished literary critic!"
"Well, if you're such an accomplished critic, what can you tell me about the author?"
"My crystal ball keeps giving me a busy signal, I'm afraid!"
"Cute, Fitz! I would have taken 'I'd rather not say.'"
"That's what I told the papers, and they keep coming back. I'm starting to keep a list of slightly more interesting answers."
"I wonder what Liz Bennet is making of this circus. I can't believe she's voluntarily missing out!"
She glanced over at him, and saw that he was looking away, with a slightly distant look in his eye. Then he met her eye again for a second, struggling to maintain their light bantering tone.
"Oh, I don't know. I imagine she's feeling a bit cheated that everyone else jumped on her little bandwagon."
Charlotte had expected some kind of reaction at her name-dropping, but she wasn't quite sure what to make of his response. Given the context, she had to wonder whether his preoccupation had to do with the novel, but she couldn't help thinking back to her fanciful notion that Fitz had something to do with Liz's disappearance.
"Maybe I'll call her one of these days."
"I'm sure she'd like to hear from you."
She threw him a pointed look, and hid a smile as he started to equivocate.
"Uhm, I mean, I got the impression you two were pretty close."
"Yeah, you could say that. Well, anyway, I have to run. 'bye, Fitz. I'll see you at the shoot."
"Goodbye, Charlotte."
As she turned away, the smile she had been trying to conceal broke out onto her face. There was definitely something going on between Fitz Darcy and Liz. Now she wondered how much information she would be able to pump out of Liz. She had watched this couple carefully walk around their obvious interest in each other for too long not to feel she had some right to know the final outcome. And she wondered how much would change now, especially after this novel.
Fitz slumped on to his desk, disconcerted at what he had let drop, and even slightly amused that it had come out so naturally. He had liked Charlotte, and he had every reason to think she'd be discreet, if only because she hadn't pursued the matter any further. His mind wandered on to other matters, equally more and less pleasant. Elizabeth was still the object of his most favorite reveries, but increasingly, he could not think of her without other questions coming up. He knew the fact of this novel's existence was preying at the back of his mind; he had not called her in more than a week now, and he felt unspeakably guilty, but he could not also help noticing that she had not called either. He glanced at his watch, mentally calculating the time difference, and reached for the telephone. Then, pausing for a second, he decided that calling her from his own campaign headquarters was not necessarily the best plan. Suddenly, the telephone rang beneath his hand, and with a start, he picked it up.
"Fitz Darcy."
"Fitz, it's Georgiana. How it going?"
"Same as always. And you?"
"Good. Listen, did I leave my purse in your office the other day?"
"And here I thought you wanted to spend some quality telephone time with your big brother."
"You wish! Well, do you have it?"
"Let me look. Oh, here it is. Brown leather, Nine West?"
"That's the one. How many purses do you have lying around that office anyway?"
"Very funny. So are you going to stop by here and pick it up?"
"I'll stop by your place tonight."
"You mean I have to carry it home?"
"You will get married one of these days, Fitz. You'd better get used to carrying purses every once in a while."
"Somehow I don't imagine it's an art form that requires all that much practice."
"I still think you'll thank me for it some day."
"You think that if it gives you comfort, Georgiana."
"Well, lovely as it is tormenting you, I have to go. I'll see you tonight."
"I'll see you then. Oh, listen, is your 'phone in here?"
"It should be."
"Do you mind if I make a call? It might be kind of expensive."
"Sure, whatever."
"Thanks. 'bye, Georgiana."
"'bye, Fitz."
Hanging up, he picked up for the purse, and opening it, he reached for the sleek cellular telephone. He gazed at it thoughtfully for a second, and then dialed a long string of numbers.
"Four Seasons, Hong Kong."
"Hello, could I speak with Miss Bennet, in room 1305, please?"
"One moment, sir."
They put him through to her room, and she picked it up after a few rings.
"Hello?"
"Elizabeth, it's me. Did I wake you?"
"Yeah, it's kind of early here."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just thinking of you, and..."
"Don't worry about it. It's a gorgeous morning. It would have been a shame to sleep in."
"And that's the only redeeming quality you can think of?"
"Well, it is early, and my brains are a bit addled, Mr. Darcy. But if you are determined to torment me, I believe I might be able to retaliate."
"I'd love to see you try, Ms. Bennet."
"Well, for starters, I might take offence that this is the first time in more than a week that you've thought of me."
"You know that isn't true, Elizabeth. We agreed it wasn't a good idea to telephone that often."
"Speaking of which, where are you calling from?"
"Georgiana's 'phone."
"Oh, well, since you have taken the trouble then, have you anything to say for yourself?"
"Did you have anything specific in mind?"
"A litany of my many incomparable perfections suggests itself, but I leave the choice of subject up to you."
"You'll have to wait for the multi-volume litany of your many incomparable virtues when it's published, bound in limp purple leather."
"Perfections, not virtues."
"Sorry, virtues. It's gone to the publishers already."
"In that case, Mr. Darcy, a sequel seems to be in order."
"I shall hasten to oblige, Ms. Bennet, but I must say the task will be an uphill one without my inspiration before me."
"You have a nice touch at flattery, Mr. Darcy. I'm quite jealous of your constituents. In that case, I'll consider a postponement. How goes Washington, anyway?"
"Washington is always Washington."
"Thanks. And I was so concerned that it had been obliterated by nuclear war. Really, Fitz!"
"Well, you know how it is here..."
"Do I detect a note of weariness? Too many press hounds at your heels?"
"It's actually a particular deficiency in their ranks that's bothering me."
"Yeah, I'll bet you enjoyed me yapping at your heels."
"Well, the image is intriguing, to say the least."
"Don't even go there, Fitz!"
"Well, you started it!"
"In all seriousness, Fitz, how are things going, with that novel and everything?"
"It's just more publicity. The money seems to be pouring in, and so do invitations for events."
"But..."
"Yes, there is a but, obviously. I don't want people getting any ideas."
"Yes, of course." She laughed awkwardly. "For a minute there, you almost had me thinking you wrote it. After all, it is your aunt who published it."
"Well, it wasn't me."
"No, of course not."
"Liz, I don't suppose, that is, you didn't have anything to do with it, did you?"
"No, I would never... I never even mentioned anything to anyone."
"Great. I just, I mean, I don't know who could have..."
"We're not the only ones who know the whole story. And then so much of this is made up, anyway. It was probably an inspired guess."
"I guess. It's just something else we didn't need getting in the way."
"No, we didn't. We'll figure things out once everything blows over."
"I know we will. Liz?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad we got everything cleared up. We should have talked this over much earlier."
"Yes, we should have. I've missed you."
"As have I. I love you, Elizabeth."
"Likewise, Fitz."
"'bye! I'll try and keep you posted on everything."
"I'd appreciate that, Fitz. Goodbye."
Elizabeth hung up, and stared at the telephone thoughtfully. She was glad she had finally been able to bring up the subject that she was sure had been on both of their minds; in fact, although he had been hesitant to get to the point, she was fairly certain that was why he had called. Though she had not seriously thought that he had had anything to do with the novel, she was glad to have his assurance. And she was equally relieved to have been able to give him her own assurance with minimal awkwardness. Still, some part of her could not help thinking that he needn't have been so overt in his relief. Just how seriously had he considered her as the author? But she could hardly blame him for having entertained the notion, especially since she had suspected essentially the same of him. She allowed her relief to remain uppermost in her mind. And he had assured her that he would not keep her in the dark about anything now. They would not have this void of communication as they had had this past week. As long as that was certain, everything would be all right.
Fitz Darcy flicked to CNN, and was absently watching Larry King grill one of Paula Jones's attorneys when the door-bell rang. He answered it, and found that it was Georgiana, as he had expected. She came in, and sat down with him for a bit, chatting excitedly about work. Apparently the firm was remarkably busy all of a sudden; Mary King had approached several prominent senators in the last week or so, and seemed to be getting favorable responses. Excusing himself, he went to retrieve the purse, as Georgiana picked up the remote control, tired beyond words of the whole Jones circus. When Darcy returned, she was staring transfixed at the screen, and barely registered his presence except to silence him and to point at the television.
"....a confidential source revealed to MSNBC that the trust in charge of Pemberley, the Darcy family plantation, received a considerable contribution from a large tobacco corporation. Darcy is currently running another campaign, this time for Governor of Virginia, and again on a vehemently anti-tobacco platform. It remains to be seen whether his campaigns were financed by similarly questionable sources. When we attempted to contact Darcy, he was unavailable for comment. This is Caroline Bingley, reporting for MSNBC. Stay tuned, as we bring you more breaking news on this exclusive story."
Chapter 24
Darcy and Georgiana were up all night, monitoring the TV screen. Caroline Bingley had obviously put in a considerable amount of work into her exclusive story. Initially, Darcy was surprised that she had made so slight of an effort to contact him, but it quickly became very evident that this story was meant to bury his campaign. The one cursory phone call she had made him was in its own way a weapon, allowing her to say that there had been no comment from Darcy's side. He wondered briefly how she would have responded had he granted her an interview, and forced himself to dismiss the thought, knowing quite well that Caroline would not have taken the risk had she not had a shrewd understanding of his reaction to her.
The story quickly spread to other channels as well, and it became clear that it would appear in the morning papers as well, but the actual proof, such as it was, rested solely with Caroline Bingley. It was nearly morning by the time the Darcy's were able to tear themselves away from the television, convinced by the multiple repetitions that they had been able to glean the entire story as it existed to date. Caroline Bingley had documentation that the Pemberley fund had accepted money from Phillip-Morris. She had also obtained a statement from a Phillip-Morris spokesperson, confirming that such a contribution had indeed been made, and noting that Pemberley had been one of Virginia's premier tobacco plantations, and as such, was a monument to one of the nation's original industries. If she knew that the money had subsequently been returned, she did not mention it. And she noted glibly that there had been no response to the allegations from Darcy's side.
As Washington awakened to the news, telephone calls started pouring in. It was Georgiana who started screening them for her brother, saying that a response from his side would shortly be forthcoming. Meanwhile, the campaign staff gathered at Darcy's house, which was far more secluded than his campaign headquarters. The staff themselves were reeling from the revelation, but they helped as best they could with the statement that Darcy eventually produced, and made arrangements for the press conference where it would be presented. The statement itself was short and to the point. Darcy could not deny the facts as they had been presented, but he did add that the money had been returned. Furthermore, he offered to make public any information about the funding of any of his campaigns, including the current one and that which had been aborted. He finally recapitulated his stand on tobacco, mentioning not only his efforts to date, but also the initiative he would be sponsoring if elected as Governor.
None of which did anything to forestall the flood of questions that inevitably followed.
"Mr. Darcy, you didn't comment on the connection between the acceptance of the funds and your decision to retire from the race."
"Mr. Darcy, why were these facts not disclosed earlier?"
"Mr. Darcy, what impact do you expect these disclosures to have upon your constituents?"
"Mr. Darcy, can you comment upon these disclosures as coming upon the heels of the publication of the novel, Party Animals?"
"Mr. Darcy, with this current revelation, the parallels between your situation and the situation described in the novel Party Animals only increase. Are there any further similarities that might emerge later down the line?"
And that was the crux of the matter. Much as he denied it, Darcy was well aware that these further parallels would in fact return to haunt him. Not for anything would he regret his present understanding with Elizabeth, but they had both always had their concerns about the impact that their relationship might have on his political career. Eventually, all would have to be revealed, but having now denied any such thing, Darcy was well aware that he had inevitably delayed the opportunity for the revelation. It was what they had agreed upon, and in some ways it was the less complicated option, but he did not know how long he would be able to cope with leaving matters thus unresolved. The best he could hope for at this juncture, though, was that this was all that he had to worry about. The thought that really terrified him was the possibility of another leak. A second set of belated admittances would surely drown him, and at this point he was by no means certain that the first set had not already done so.
The numbers from the polls, as they started coming in, did nothing to encourage him. Inevitably, he had started losing ground, with most citing concealment as the reason. Darcy's strongest argument, the fact that by retiring from the race he had relinquished any obligation to make public the particulars of his life or his finances, was not an emotional appeal in a way that an accusation of deception was, and if Darcy had the consolation of knowing that the popular reaction was entirely illogical then this knowledge gave him little comfort. His staff fluttered around, doing damage control as best they could, and expressing a grim optimism that the initial severe reaction would fade as people had a chance to reflect on the facts rather than follow their instinctive reaction. In the grand scheme of things, after all, nothing particularly dire had actually been revealed, and surely revelations such as those involving the Savings and Loan fiasco or Senator Packwood left this particular incident relatively toothless. Darcy had in fact been able to combat the principal allegation with incontrovertible proof, and it would only be a matter of time before things began to look up for the campaign. When this projected turnaround would occur was another question entirely. The numbers were singularly unhelpful in providing any such information, as the slow but steady decline continued with more and more people hearing the news.
Darcy himself, however, did not indulge in any speculation on such a subject. If he had any opinion on how matters would turn out he kept it to himself. All that was discernible from his deportment was his quiet determination. This time, Darcy was in for the long haul. For the moment, though, he had more immediate matters to take care of. He went up to Georgiana, who was manning one of the telephones along with his staffers, and waited for a quiet minute.
"Georgie, could you tell Mary that I won't be doing those spots anymore?"
"What! Why?"
"Oh, come on, Georgie. It must be obvious why. Not only is my tobacco plank extremely precarious right now, it would be very awkward to have a series of spots featuring me and obviously not sponsored by my campaign after all these questions about funding. You know I always had my doubts. It would be suicide now. Besides, the way the numbers are sliding now, Mary's probably better off without me in those ads."
"You let her decide about that part. The rest is your decision, although to me it does seem a bit extreme. At any rate, you explain it to her yourself."
"Oh, come on, Georgie!"
"Fitz, I insist. It's the least you owe her. And besides, there was something else she wanted to talk to you about any way. She said she'd stop by today when things calmed down a bit."
"I sincerely doubt that things will calm down any time today, but tell me when she's here, at any rate."
"Will do, Fitz. Now if you'll excuse me, the constituents are beckoning."
As Georgiana returned to her ringing telephone, Fitz watched his younger sister for a few minutes, wondering at how much she had matured in the past year. Despite her considerable talent and long years of training, her extreme shyness had dissuaded her from a performance career, and Fitz, who had always been convinced that his musically inclined sister would have the associated talent for numbers, had encouraged her to involve herself in the business aspects of their family holdings. But after the unfortunate consequences of her naivete in dealing with people, and the fiasco of the accepted funds, he had feared that she would retreat even from that sphere. Instead, while he had retreated almost into reclusivity, it had been his sister who had emerged, eventually finding herself in a sphere that might essentially have been regarded as public life. Fitz had watched in amazement as she had grown in increasingly able and confident in her dealings with the world. The explanation, of course, was simple: Georgiana did was unwilling ever again to be caught in a situation where her judgment would be compromised by her inexperience in dealing with the world. And after having spent most of his life sheltering and reassuring his little sister, Fitz could only stand back and admire the determination with which she had overcome a condition that he, despite his profession, had never entirely put behind him. He watched now and Georgiana and his staffers handled the current situation as best as possible, reluctant to handle any phone calls himself but feeling oddly superfluous for so doing.
In another corner of the office, one of the television screens was showing a replay of the afternoon's press conference, and Darcy walked over, to attempt to objectively evaluate his performance. The line of questioning, however, inevitably sent his mind wandering back to thoughts of Elizabeth, and he wondered what he would tell her about this latest development. He did not know what she had heard already, but it was imperative under the circumstances that she have his reassurances. By the time he focussed back, the press conference was nearing its end, and Darcy searched for the remote, intending to eliminate what was obviously a distraction for his staffers. All of a sudden, however, his attention was caught, and he turned back to the TV screen, instinctively fearing the worst.
"...And now, one of the former representative's oldest friends shares his views on this latest chapter in the Darcy saga. Stay tuned as MSNBC returns with George Wikham, bringing you more up-to-the-minute coverage on this breaking story."
Chapter 25
As Darcy's face was replaced by that of the newscaster, Elizabeth turned of the TV, and stared blankly at the screen, lost in thought. Where this latest blow had come from she had no idea, but she could not doubt why Caroline Bingley had jumped on the story. Given her own interest in Fitz Darcy over the last several years, she could hardly have missed Caroline's. From what she had gathered from Fitz, Elizabeth was aware that she had been eager that he alter his political affiliation. Her own intuition suggested to her that a more personal interest played a role as well. At any rate, Fitz, with his reluctance on either front, had evidently managed to alienate her for once and for all. But where she could have come up with her information remained a mystery. Elizabeth realized in dismay that being one of the very few people privy to the information, she herself could well be considered a potential source for the leak. Thinking rationally she told herself that their last conversation on the telephone had been all the reassurance that either of them needed, but nevertheless she could not but consider the possibility that Fitz thought her responsible for circumstances as they stood. She thought back to the press conference, trying to decipher what he had had on his mind. The well concealed haggard look in his eyes that was nevertheless all too obvious to her was easily explained away by the stress he was under. And his denial of any further similarities with the book, an obvious falsehood given their relationship, was a mutual choice she rationally accepted despite her heart. Yet there was that slightly excessive shade of urgency in his denial which she hoped was anything but regret. Despite the complications surrounding their relationship she would not have traded their present understanding for anything in the world, but she could only hope that he had not now come to the conclusion that their rapprochement was too costly. She could not blame him for a choice that she herself had considered, and she was certainly aware that there were now any number of reasons why a situation always fraught with complications had now become more severely dire. And after years of never quite knowing her own heart, she could not now deny that it would in fact be broken if he were to choose such a course.
But she reassured herself that her doubts were little more than paranoia. She had every reason to believe that he was as committed to their budding relationship as she herself was, that he was simply attempting to make the best of a difficult situation, to which she was simply adding another layer of complexity by thinking as she was. She had no cause to be vexing him with her own insecurities in a time in which she was unable to be of any aid to him. And circumstances would only be further aggravated were she to contemplate a return to Washington. However much they might personally find the proximity comforting, the complications that would inevitably ensue were any exposés to be made did not bear thinking about. No, the thing for her to do was to stay out of the picture, and help him as best she could from a distance. She had no further reason to be staying in Hong Kong, but she could easily delay her return. It had been years since she had taken any time off, and she was long overdue for a vacation. In another week were the primaries -- by then they would know something, at any rate. And then she could review her situation, as need be. For the moment, she would stay put. And he would keep her posted, just as he had promised he would.
George Wikham was charming. Smiling bashfully into the camera, he flirted mildly with Caroline Bingley, as between the two of them, they presented a revised version of his personal history, live on cable TV.
The son of Senator Darcy's campaign manager, George had grown up amidst the political lore of the Darcys. The Senator had been like a mentor and a friend to him, and George was not ashamed to admit to an immense debt to a man who, as much in private as in public life, had been the very epitome of integrity. And of course, growing up in such close quarters with the Darcys, George had been a childhood friend of Fitz Darcy's. Fitz Darcy -- well, it was impossible to really look upon someone with whom he had played with as a boy with the same awe in which he had held his very dignified father, but despite the memory of the childhood escapades they had shared, Fitz had earned his respect as a responsible figure of public life. Family tradition had always been very important for Fitz, and in politics he was as much fulfilling his own vocation as he was carrying forward his father's legacy. Of course, it was impossible that he and Fitz should have remained as close as they had been as boys, but although they had grown apart he had always made the effort to stay at least nominally in touch. And of course, through his own career (he dabbled in lobbying, although he was currently considering switching over into media) he had had an opportunity to keep tabs on his old friend.
And what did he make of this whole ruckus about this book, Party Animals? -- well, it was rather amusing, considering that if the book was about Fitz Darcy, that would basically make him the narrator, wouldn't it? So was it Fitz then? Was there something he knew that the rest of the world didn't? -- Only what the whole world did know now. He had personally played a role in the money that had been given to Pemberley; after all, it was like a childhood home to him, and he did take a strong interest in its proper upkeep. And the money had been entirely unrelated to Darcy's campaign; he hadn't thought there would be any conflict, and it was only later that he learnt that he had inadvertently crashed Darcy's campaign. Darcy's integrity was to be praised -- most figures in public life would never have been phased by so tangential a conflict of interest, but the Darcys had always held themselves to a different sort of standard. And had he been the only one who had known about this entire set of circumstances? -- Well, no, there had been one other person. She was a reporter, but he had told her most of the story, strictly off the record, of course. It wouldn't have been particularly difficult for her to figure out whom he had been talking about: she had always been extremely interested in Darcy herself, but he had shared the story in a personal capacity, and he had seen no reason not to trust her discretion. Of course, he was fully conscious now what poor judgment he had exercised in so doing. In retrospect, did he think that it was through her that the story had leaked, because she (Caroline) had had her information anonymously? -- Well, it was possible, although it was strange that she hadn't published it as a scoop in her own name. So he had no regrets about having shared this highly confidential information with her? -- No, he wouldn't say that. He certainly regretted having put his childhood friend in a potentially compromising position, and he had his own theory about what might have happened. Really, and what was that? -- Well, this reporter hadn't published the story under her own name, but his pet theory was that she might have published it anonymously. After all, if you thought about it, not that many people knew of a character like him, an old childhood friend, and such a character was the narrator. The portrayal of Darcy had been scathingly critical, and her antagonism for Darcy was well known. As for that character in the book who had that self-destructive affair with the Darcy character, well, there's a thin line between love and hate, and he didn't have to go too far with his pop psychology to hypothesize that her frustration with Darcy, and her inability to make the exposé in real life had thus manifested itself in fiction. There was no one more equipped than an astute political analyst to have sketched all those cameos in the novel. And at the current moment, and since before the publication of the novel, she had conveniently disappeared from the Washington scene. All things considered, he was quite convinced that Elizabeth Bennet had authored Party Animals, and he was ashamed to have put his old friend in a position to be thus compromised by an antagonistic reporter.
Chapter 26
Darcy's presence in the Virginia race had already made it national news, and the entrance of a charismatic stranger into all the strange turns the story had taken recently made it the day's biggest news. Excerpts of the Wikham interview made it on to Nightly News, and the interview in its entirety, as well as some older footage of Darcy himself on tobacco, and of Elizabeth on Darcy, became a featured story on Dateline that night. Caroline Bingley, ecstatic to be getting so much network coverage, pulled an almost complete turnaround, and voiced in her commentary the view that was quickly to become public opinion. Darcy, as far as she was concerned, stood completely vindicated. He had, after all, provided convincing evidence that the money had been returned once he had traced its source. He had withdrawn from a race about which he had been an odds-on winner. This was all corroborated by someone who not only knew him intimately, but also had been closely involved with the transaction itself. And on top of this a petty journalist, having dogged at his heels for years, had finally found a way to effectively slander him without facing any consequences for her actions. Surely Darcy had suffered enough, and deserved to be completely vindicated.
Poll after poll came in, confirming this very opinion. The talking heads who had been unanimous in burying Darcy now resurrected him, calling his chances stronger than ever after this most recent bout of publicity. The primaries, now just two weeks away, were pronounced a shoo-in, and it became the fashionable opinion that it would only be Darcy himself who could ruin his chances for the election itself, for there was at this point nothing that his opposition could throw his way. The Republicans were especially discredited for having jumped on the tail of this recent scandal, for indeed the front-runner, Gilmore, had obliquely cited corruption in his opponent's ranks following Caroline Bingley's exposé, and his staff had been considerably more direct. Now that Darcy stood absolved of any possible guilt, his opponents were left looking opportunistic at best and complicit at worst.
There was along with this turnaround another current of opinion not entirely unrelated to the Darcy campaign. Wikham's much-hyped testimony became the grounds for the conviction in most politically savvy circles that Elizabeth Bennet was indeed the author of the novel, Party Animals. Those who had suspected her before were complacent at their insight, and those who had offered up other suggestions conceded that the latest information made it impossible to consider any other view of the matter. It became slowly known that Elizabeth was no longer covering an overseas desk for the Post; rather, she was on an extended leave of absence. This reluctance to be in Washington was taken as further corroboration, should any more have been necessary at this point. She became the center of a fierce polemic about whether journalists were irresponsibly overstepping the bounds of their profession, and was castigated for having maliciously vilified Darcy in an indirect and hence irrefutable matter. It was generally agreed that she had misused confidential information in creating a twisted caricature of Darcy, and that the rest of the plot stemmed from a bizarre accusatory fantasy on her part. Even the Post cautiously printed an editorial outlining what it considered optimal journalistic restraint, and without saying it in so many words, managed to criticize Elizabeth for a breach of this implicit ethical code. Mrs. de Bourgh's statement that her firm remained wholeheartedly behind the novel on literary grounds, despite the controversy surrounding its author and involving her own nephew, only increased a certain notorious glamour that Elizabeth had recently acquired, and most critics revised their opinions of the work, drawing attention to a certain twisted ethos that they claimed lay behind what was now called an extremely precisely crafted historical document.
In all of this hullabaloo, it was hardly apparent that no statement had actually been forthcoming from the Darcy campaign itself. Darcy continued his series of appearances, but though he was no longer hesitant to speak of the circumstances of his withdrawal from the previous race, he was yet to mention George Wikham, and his role in the entire process. And when asked about the novel, Party Animals, Darcy refused to acknowledge that any part of it was grounded in the events surrounding his campaign, claiming that to his mind the similarities could be attributed purely to coincidence. The reason for this had to do with a schism which had developed in the Darcy camp itself. While most of his staffers encouraged him to put his differences with George behind him, and take advantage at this inexplicable change of heart, Darcy himself remained staunchly adamant in his refusal. In fact, he was of the opinion that Wikham ought to be discredited and exposed for the dishonest manipulator that he was, despite the fact that his testimony had single-handedly bolstered Darcy's flagging campaign. He cited as the reason for his distrust the fact that Wikham had exploited his sister's guilelessness, but Georgiana's own view was that he ought to take advantage of this sudden windfall, and she was attempting even now to reason with him on this issue, when their conference was interrupted by the entrance of Mary King. Fitz heaved a sigh of relief at the momentary reprieve and opened with a conciliatory greeting, although he knew that his interview with Mary was no more likely to be pleasant.
"Hi, Mary. It's good to see you again."
"I wish I could say the same, Fitz. I'm out of town for two days and I come back to find that the city is buzzing with the excitement surrounding your campaign, and a message on my answering machine saying that you won't do those spots for me. We had a deal, remember!"
"Mary, things are different! I was just caught up in a scandal involving tobacco money. I can't suddenly go around doing anti-tobacco spots which aren't funded by my campaign. You know I was uncomfortable with the idea to start with. Now it looks entirely too much like I'm using you to get around the restrictions on soft money, and playing both sides of the game, to boot."
"Nonsense, Fitz. You were completely vindicated! No one thinks you did anything unethical with the tobacco money!"
"All the more reason for them to think I'm doing something unethical with the anti-tobacco money then. I just can't afford to take any risks with the campaign now."
"Fitz, have you seen those numbers? You can do no wrong in the eyes of the public! And frankly, it wouldn't hurt if some of that popularity were behind this anti-underage smoking initiative of mine. Fitz, I realize you probably don't need these spots for the campaign anymore. But I do!"
"Mary, you know you have my whole-hearted support. This initiative is a big plank for my campaign. But why are you so determined on a television campaign anyway? Wouldn't your money be better spent wooing the votes of the representatives concerned instead of supporting a state government campaign?"
"You know where I'm coming from. It's always the same in Congress -- I know exactly who is likely to vote which way on a clear-cut issue like this. The thing for me to do is to try and win grass-roots support -- have people write in to their representatives, maybe eventually to get it on the ballot as a referendum. This shouldn't look like business as usual in Washington. This is one case where the legislation is meaningless unless people are involved! And we can afford this ad campaign, if that's what you're getting at."
Darcy studied her impassioned features, but being unconvinced at least as far as his own involvement was concerned, continued to press her on the point on which his curiosity remained incompletely fulfilled.
"Where is all this money coming from anyway?"
For the first time, it seemed to him that Mary missed a beat in answering him.
"Oh, the usual places, just more of it. I must have gotten more persuasive, or maybe it's that charming sister of yours. Your Aunt Catherine's chipped in with rather a lot of it recently."
"Georgiana mentioned that. However did you get her involved?"
"I have you to thank for that! She took it as the highest recommendation that you and I had worked together. Anyway, she sent over Charlotte Lucas, one of her editors, when she found out about these ads, and I must say she's been invaluable, but..."
"Charlotte Lucas? I thought she worked in television."
"She has TV experience, of course, which is one of the reasons Mrs. de Bourgh chose her. But no, she's an editor in your aunt's publishing concern now. But as I was saying, none of that means anything if you're going to be so adamant about not doing these spots. There isn't anyone else nearly as suitable as you..."
She continued, but Darcy had tuned out, his mind caught on what she had just disclosed. Charlotte Lucas worked in his aunt's publishing firm. She had always been a particular friend of Elizabeth's, and he knew she was well aware of a good part of the history between them. It had occurred to him from information she had let slip, deliberately or otherwise, that she had suspicions about their present relationship. If she was so perceptive on that front she could very easily have inferred a great deal more. And now he learnt that she was intimately involved with the publishing firm that had published that infernal novel. He wondered how much she had had to do with the work in question, and how he could possibly find out whether or not his suspicions were correct.
But for the moment, his ruminations were interrupted. Mary King had marked his distraction, and though she did not comment on it, her words were designed to attract his straying attention.
"Fitz, this is about Wikham, isn't it? Why don't you just endorse what he's saying?"
"Mary, really, you of all people should know he isn't to be trusted."
"No thanks to you, Fitz. Why did you send me to get Liz Bennet's opinion on him anyway? We both know the story I gave her of Wikham having used her as a reference wasn't true. And it didn't take a genius to figure out that most of what she told me came from you."
"I would have told you if she hadn't."
"In other words, you wanted to know what she was thinking. Is there something going on there that I should know about? And why did you never make any of the Wikham saga public anyway?"
"That," he replied grimly, "is one mistake I shall correct, at any rate. Wikham shall be exposed as the villain he is."
"Fitz, are you crazy? You can't expose Wikham now! The public loves him. And they love you all the more because of him. What possible reason could you have? Is this something to do with Elizabeth Bennet again?"
"No! Leave her out of this! It's... it's because he isn't to be trusted. You know that. Any day now, he'll turn around and stab me in the back again, and if I leave him be now, there won't be anything I can do about it."
"Fitz, be reasonable. You'll only hurt yourself if you unwarrantedly contradict him now, and give rise to all sorts of speculation. You haven't endorsed him, fine. Just leave it at that. It leaves you plenty of room to distance yourself from him later if your fears are realized, and with any luck, it gets you at least through the primaries for now. I don't know if even your campaign could follow another shake-up following so soon on the heels of everything that's happened."
Darcy sighed, admitting to himself that she was right.
"Thanks, Mary. I should have had you come aboard my campaign when I had the chance."
"Don't mention it. But you never did have the chance. I like my job. Speaking of which, am I correct in inferring that you're still adamant about not helping me out?"
"I'm sorry, Mary. I can't help it."
"It's okay. Just let me know if you chance your mind anytime soon."
He nodded, smiling at her relentlessness.
"So should I send Georgiana in on my way out?"
He smiled again.
"Don't actually. I could use a minute or two off without being lectured at!"
"Just trying to keep you sane, Fitz. Goodbye."
"'bye, Mary. I'll see you around."
He sat down again at his desk, thinking about what Mary, and his sister before her had been saying. They were right; condemning Wikham right now was quite possibly suicidal as far as his campaign was concerned. And yet he could not shake off the feeling that he was making a mistake by doing otherwise. He had cited as the reason for his distrust the fact that George was fundamentally vengeful and hence unreliable, and given the way he had exploited his sister's guilelessness, this was an utterly plausible reason, but the fact was that he could not admit to his true feelings. George Wikham excited in him a sort of visceral antipathy, all the more so because he had apparently selected Elizabeth as his latest victim. None of the latest publicity had convinced him that she was indeed the author of the novel; her word to the contrary was sufficient for him. And yet he remained hesitant to attempt to contact her in any way, despite his promise that he would keep her posted under all circumstances. But what circumstances were there to acquaint her with? The fact that he was sitting idly by allowing Wikham to slander her because it bolstered his own campaign -- that his famously scrupulous sense of justice had now stooped to self-advantage, and to enjoying the short-term benefits of the inexplicable bounty of a man whose motives he well knew never to trust? The developments in question were such that they could not pass her by, especially given her own close involvement in the matter, but even as he could not shake off his guilt, feeling that he was taking advantage of the self-righteous tide of opinion that had turned against her, he knew that he was paralyzed when it came to rectifying affairs as they stood. And that he was paralyzed was indisputable fact. Convinced as he was that Elizabeth had played no part in the writing of that novel, he could hardly go before the world and assert that she could not have written the book because he had her solemn word that she had not. Such a pronouncement could only excite speculation as to the reason behind his vindication of her, and without hard proof, it would be a meaningless denial. The other option open before him was to publicly discredit George Wikham, and this course he had just now been deterred from taking. But though he chose inaction, Fitz Darcy could not help feeling that he had betrayed his love on the altar of self-interest.
Chapter 27
Elizabeth waited by the phone, very conscious of the cliché in her actions. It was only two days since she had had the always-anticipated phone-call, but in those two days already the entire world had changed. Fitz had promised to keep her posted, but it was not information she lacked; rather, she needed some way of coping with the wealth of information that bombarded her from every direction, information that inevitably invited creeping doubts and exacerbated her uncertainties. But the phone would not ring. She rationalized around it, knowing that these exposés, coming so shortly before the primaries, would occupy so much of his attention. But that he would be so seemingly inconsiderate in her situation could not but injure him to her, despite all of her rationalization. And he could not be unaware of her situation. If once she had been inquisitor, and more recently an apparently disinterested onlooker, it was now her turn to squarely occupy center-stage. But he could not be unaware of the contempt in which the establishment held her, for his own popularity was ensured by that contempt. He had to know that as of now she was on an extended leave of absence from the Post, and in ever-greater danger of losing her job. She did not blame him for failing to rescue her, because the hand behind her unfortunate state was all too clear, and she would not have wanted him to gain his point. But she was troubled that he would fail to honor his promise to her, that she did not have even the empty reassurance that would mean so much. If she only knew where matters stood, even now a happy conclusion was no less inevitable than it had ever been. Her eyes bored into the telephone, and if she had believed she could will it to ring, she would have.
It did.
She started, never really having expected her silent entreaties to work. She told herself she had no way of knowing who it was, and she did not allow herself to imagine that it was he.
"Hello?"
"Hi Liz, it's Charlotte."
It would be too much to say that she was not disappointed, but for the moment she quite forgot her disappointment in her surprise.
"Charlotte!"
"Yes, I know, it's been ages, hasn't it?"
"You can say that again! What are you up to nowadays?"
"Oh, this and that. I keep busy. How's Hong Kong treating you?"
"Hong Kong is treating me well enough."
""I take it the whole mess in Washington has filtered down to you."
"Well, let's see. I've had Crossfire, the Maclaughlin Group, the Caroline Bingley news hour, not to mention the Times and even the Post screaming bloody murder, and Jay Leno deciding to take pot-shots at me instead of Paula Jones. Tell me, what've I missed?"
"Oh, Liz, I am sorry. I know it's been hard on you. Why don't you just come back and clear things up?"
"What good is that going to do? There's no reason for anyone to believe me."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Oh, I don't know. Just stay here and wait for things to blow over, I suppose. Charlotte, you don't think I'll actually lose my job, do you?"
"I wish I could say you couldn't possibly, Liz, but... I don't know. Why don't you just say something?"
"I suppose I will, eventually."
"If it's any comfort, the campaign is going like a house on fire. Fitz Darcy's, I mean."
"Charlotte, what're you getting at?"
"Why must I be getting at something all the time? If you're still the lovesick puppy I remember from just a few months ago you might get some comfort out of your martyrdom. If there's more to it than that then you suggested it, not I!"
"I was not a love-sick puppy! And even if I was..."
"Then what does that make you now?"
"I was going to say that martyrdom has never been my style."
"Lovely as it's been talking around the subject, Liz, what's going on with you and Fitz Darcy?"
"You never were one to beat around the bush, were you? Well, maybe I was in love with him, and maybe I still am."
"That, my dear, was never in any doubt, although I'm glad to see you've finally admitted it. I was wondering about him."
"Look, can we just drop the subject? This whole thing is a big enough mess without dragging that into it."
"All right, although I do reserve the right to draw my own conclusions. Very well, then. Have you thought at all about what you're going to do, then?"
"What, when I'm finally and irrevocably unemployed? Well, it was suggested to me that I go into politics."
"Very funny! Realistically speaking, though, I'm sure I could get you something over here."
"Charlotte, I don't think your husband will be particularly pleased to offer me a job again."
"I wasn't talking about that. I was talking about with Mrs. de Bourgh. She's taken me on as an editor, and I'm sure she'll be happy to have a talented writer like you."
"You're in her publishing firm now? I suppose there's some kind of poetic justice in working for the firm that started this whole mess by putting out that book."
"Oh, come on, Liz. It's a very well respected publishing empire. That's not the only sort of thing we published. I personally generally handle the non-fiction side of things. Like that brother of Caroline Bingley's - he's got a new book coming out about post-cold war Russian politics."
"Charles? I figured Georgetown University Press handled his stuff."
"Oh, no. We do a lot of that kind of academic thing, and then there's a lot of popular interest in a subject like that nowadays. But how do you know him? Wait, I was forgetting. He's that friend of Jane's, isn't he? That's how this whole Hong Kong thing started in the first place. How's that going, anyway?"
"Jane couldn't be happier."
"I'm glad to hear it. But you know what, I just had the greatest idea. This would be the perfect opportunity for you to sit down and write that book you've been meaning to for years. I'm sure you wouldn't have a problem getting published."
"Pull an O.J.Simpson, you mean? I might as well cash in on my fifteen minutes of fame, I suppose."
"That isn't what I meant, and you know it. We both know what you're capable of. Knock 'em down, Liz. Show them what you'd really write, instead of that kind of trash."
"I will think about it. It's definitely one idea. And Charlotte, thanks for assuming I didn't write it."
"Oops, I shouldn't have let that slip. It would have served you right for not telling me all the intimate details of your passionate tryst with Fitz Darcy."
"You keep thinking what gives you comfort, Charlotte. Although I do wonder what you can tell me about that book. I think we might be able to come to some kind of understanding."
"The mouth waters, Liz, but I think I'll pass. You'll find out in your own sweet time."
"Well, thanks for calling, Charlotte. It was great to hear from you again."
"You take care, Liz. Good luck with everything. And think about that book, will you?"
"I will. Goodbye!"
"'bye, Liz."
Hanging up, she stared at the telephone for a few more minutes. Then jerking herself into action, she pulled out her laptop, and started typing. After a few lines she went back to look over what she had.
"I think she might be on to something."
The words were mumbled to herself, as she continued to type, gaining speed as she went on. Yes, a book would do quite well. If nothing else, it would keep her busy, and besides, this was something she had been planning for some time now. Not fiction - she could hardly think of it, under the circumstances, and besides, she wanted to do what she did best - analysis. Her thesis as an undergraduate at Wellesley had been about the evolution of commercial print media in the United States. She would carry that topic further, and write about the commercialization of the media, transforming it into channel of popular entertainment. It was a point that had often struck her, and that she regarded with some alarm. Now she thought bitterly that she had seen it in her own case taken to its logical conclusion, by the creation of a news item out of someone whose role it had been to report the news. Working rapidly, she drew out the bare bones of her outline. She would probably need to have someone take a look at this. Perhaps Charles, since he had so much experience with non-fiction publishing, would be the right person... She stopped typing suddenly as a strange thought occurred to her. Could Charles have possibly had anything to do with that novel? Apart from Wikham, it was Charles who fitted most closely the profile of the narrator, who was drawn as a close personal friend of Darcy's. In his capacity of friend he had probably known a good deal about the events surrounding Darcy's withdrawal from the Senate race. By this own admission, he had without any outside assistance figured out the particulars of her involvement with Darcy before having it corroborated by his friend. It was his sister who had made the recent exposé about the financing irregularities of the campaign. The book had come out through the same publishers who handled his non-fiction output. And as a Washington-based expert on international politics, an insightful analysis of the domestic situation was certainly within his capabilities. To imagine him as the author did not even necessarily require her to question his sincerity as a friend and ally. Hundreds of such books offering thinly veiled versions of current events were published every year. There was no way the author could have guessed that it would be this particular one that would make such a stir. If he had written and had the book published on a whim, he could hardly be held responsible for the whirlwind of controversy surrounding it now. In some ways the hypothesis was a comforting one. If she could expose Charles Bingley as the author of Party Animals, with or without his cooperation, she had the neatest possible way out of her own predicament.