Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Chapter 5

Posted on 2014-03-31

HASTERT: Every other candidate on the Democratic side has to be nervous about this.

RAMIREZ: And Zwillick doesn't?

HASTERT: If Zwillick wins tonight, he's going to run the table.

MSNBC, January 2, 2014

Will kissed Lizzy at midnight Tuesday. Thursday night, Iowa caucused and he couldn't bring himself to care.

He snapped at a volunteer coordinator, tore up (literally) Chuck's draft of a speech for that night, and would have yelled at Charlotte in front of the staff if she hadn't dragged him into a room and slammed the door shut. "What is your problem?" she whispered harshly. "We've got eleven hours before we know anything, so will you please get your act together and stop taking out whatever this is on everyone? This is the first time people vote this year, and if you don't calm down right now, I'm sending you to Guam for the remainder of the campaign. Do you understand me?"

"Charlotte..."

She jabbed him in the chest with two fingers. "Guam."

The door opened slowly, and Will was unsurprised to see his cousin come in. "Everything okay?" Richard asked.

Charlotte looked up at Will, waiting for him to answer. He turned away, running his hands through his hair as he stared at the messaging board. "Yeah. Everything's okay."

Charlotte and Richard looked at each other for a few seconds in that weird way they had of silent communication. It was annoying on a good day, and this was definitely not a good day. Charlotte left them alone and shut the door behind her. Richard immediately got into Will's face. "Will, either you get a grip or I'm sending you to Kamchatka."

"Well, between you and Charlotte I'm going to see more of the world than I want to."

"Will, you're a brilliant writer, and the Governor has never sounded better than when you're writing for her. But I can't have you..." He stopped suddenly. "Did something happen, Will? It feels like this has been building for a couple days."

"I kissed her, Richard," Will blurted out.

Richard stared. "Tell me you didn't kiss the Governor."

That was enough to startle Will out of his spiral of overthinking. "What are you... no! I kissed Lizzy!"

"Oh," Richard said in obvious relief. "Look, she's a friendly girl. There's no shame in misinterpreting that as..."

"I didn't misinterpret anything."

"Are you sure? You know you're not great at reading people, and you wouldn't be the first one to think she was into you when she wasn't."

"No, I'm--wait--you..." Richard nodded as Will gaped. "You tried to kiss her?"

"I did kiss her, years ago. She didn't slap me but I thought she was going to."

Will leaned against the desk behind him and let out a long breath. "She didn't stop me. She didn't even seem surprised."

"Well, that's probably a mark in your favor," Richard said. "You're crazy about her, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Will admitted, wondering if he was as transparent to everyone or just his cousin. "Although now I'm feeling weird about this knowing you had a thing for her."

"It was short-lived. I remind her of her stepbrother."

For some reason this struck Will as absurdly funny, and he felt a lot of tension drain out of him as he laughed. "She definitely did not mention her stepbrothers," he said, calming a little.

"Okay. So if I let you back out there, can you promise not to scream at anyone?"

Will stood up straight again. "I didn't scream."

"You made one of our volunteer coordinators cry."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll apologize. Would flowers be too much?"

"Yes. Get her a cup of coffee. You don't want Lizzy thinking you're into someone else."

It was sound advice, loath though he was to admit it.

There was work to do, though, too much work for him to talk to Lizzy. He felt calmer now when he saw her, so at least there was that. She was working the press like a pro when he and Richard emerged from the back room, and Will smiled a little at the sight.

"I'll say this much for you," Richard murmured. "You've got good taste."

"I have excellent taste," he countered, to his cousin's amusement.

They went their separate ways, Will to placate the volunteer coordinator while Richard made some calls. After lunch, he tried to get a minute in private with Lizzy, but Governor Gardiner found him just as he approached Lizzy. "Will, you know how much I love your writing, yes?" Governor Gardiner said.

"Oh dear," Lizzy said under her breath, apparently knowing where this was headed.

Will took a deep breath. "Is there a problem, ma'am?"

"I have no issue with smart writing, but does this speech have to be quite so..."

"Sesquipedalian?" Lizzy suggested. Will cast a quick glance at her, thinking she'd never been so hot before using that word.

"I like big words, Will," the Governor continued, "but I marked all the ones I had to look up. We probably shouldn't use those."

"Yes, ma'am."

The Governor left them alone, Will glancing at Lizzy over the notes he was now reviewing. "Sesquipedalian," he repeated.

"I like that better than polysyllabic."

"It's more colorful, certainly."

He looked up again and their eyes met. She looked like there was something more she wanted to say. Then her gaze dropped to his mouth and she looked like there was something more she wanted to do. The papers suddenly felt very loose in his hands, and he licked his lips quickly without thinking about it.

She swallowed hard and took a step back. "I have to return a call to the Des Moines Register," she said hastily. "I'll, um, I'll talk to you later about TV appearances and everything, okay?"

"Sure," he told her retreating form.

Despite the cold and the tension and the strangeness of the caucuses, Will was finding he rather liked Iowa after all.

"Sesquipedalian," Lizzy said to the gaggle of reporters waiting for her afternoon briefing. "Anyone know what it means?"

"Does it have to do with Sasquatch?" Christa from CNN asked.

The others laughed while Lizzy gave a mock glare. "It means long-winded, right?" Jamie from the Washington Post said.

"That's longiloquent," Kevin from MSNBC told her.

"There is no way you're not making that up," said Jamie.

"Is this a quiz?" asked the other Kevin.

"Yes!" Lizzy said, pointing to him. "That's it! We're doing a daily word quiz now."

"It means 'characterized by long words,'" Rico from ABC read off his phone.

"Hey! No cheating!" Lizzy and half a dozen others said at once.

"So how are you feeling about tonight, Lizzy?" Tara from the Tribune asked.

"We're feeling good. Getting lots of calcium."

"Senator Zwillick is the favorite by five points, according to the latest poll," Christa said.

"And nineteen percent undecided," Lizzy pointed out. "Iowa is special, sometimes even a little magical. People come out in the cold and the dark with open minds, to pick the next President. We've got a lot of enthusiasm on our side. Senator Zwillick has a lot of money, but to paraphrase a great English poet, money can't buy you love."

The reporters laughed, and Lizzy wrapped things up after a couple more questions. She almost immediately found herself confronted by Chuck Bingley, who was shoving a tablet into her hands. "Could you read this?" he asked. "Will sort of destroyed the last draft I showed him."

"Destroyed it?"

"Yeah, he's a little on edge. Apparently he gets stressed when the day of reckoning comes around."

"I assume he called it a day of reckoning. That doesn't really sound like you."

"Yeah. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting him to be this tense. He's normally harder to rattle."

Lizzy just nodded, not wanting to indicate she might know anything about Will's distraction. She probably didn't have to worry, though. Chuck was a sweet guy but tended not to notice things.

Will was distracted. Everyone on the staff, it seemed, wanted to talk to her about him, wanted to know if she possessed any special insight into this turn of character. Lizzy did, of course, but she was more than a little alarmed by the number of people who thought she would. Had they been seen kissing? Had Will told someone about it?

She had difficulty imagining Will telling anyone. She hadn't even told Jane. As for being seen, surely someone would have told her by now she'd been spotted kissing him. Yet everyone seemed to think she would know what was going on in his head.

She couldn't read his mind. He liked to argue, liked picking fights with her, but until New Year's Eve she wasn't sure she'd have called it flirting. If it was, it was the nerdiest flirting in history. He always seemed to know what she needed, and he knew how to push her to do better. He was awkward, blunt, arrogant, and sometimes even rude, but he was intelligent, kind, thoughtful, and sometimes even patient. He was a nightmare to figure out, and Lizzy finally understood how much she wanted to.

But he was her boss. That made it a terrible idea.

In the evening there was nothing to do but wait for the results. The earliest precincts were small and rural. More conservative areas were going for Jones and Hawkley, the least liberal candidates in the field. But when the larger towns and cities started coming in, the field shifted to a race between Zwillick and Gardiner. Lizzy spent a good part of the night on television, talking up the Governor's chances for a strong showing but trying to keep expectations low. It got more and more difficult as more information came in. By eleven, they were in a dead heat.

"Senator Zwillick is already talking about a recount," one of the PBS anchors said to her late that night.

"Hey, if he wants to pay for more lawyers, then bless his heart," she said, which got the two women at the anchor desk laughing.

At eleven-thirty, Lizzy yawned and nearly tripped over a cable when she got up from her last segment. Will was there, catching her by the arm to keep her upright. "You all right?" he said quietly.

His voice did really terrible things to her self-control at this time of night. "Yeah," she said, looking away from him. "Just tired."

"Well, you can probably take a nap between now and the New Hampshire primary."

She looked up at him, caught a hint of a smile, and burst out laughing.

At a quarter to midnight, the Iowa state party called the caucuses for Margaret Gardiner, who managed a surprise victory with a stronger-than-expected showing in the cities. The pundits were already pointing out she was Governor of a neighboring state, but no one in the Gardiner campaign cared about that now. Six months ago she polled in the single digits in Iowa. When the state caucused, she won by two percent.

It was only the first of fifty states, but victory that night was sweet.

The next day, New Hampshire greeted them with huge crowds. Every media outlet wanted them. All the down-ticket candidates were clamoring for the Governor's attention. It was unlike anything Lizzy had ever experienced, but she found herself dubious.

She was joined in her doubt only by Will, and sometimes the Governor. "Do you think we're crazy?" Lizzy asked Will as they stood behind the dais at a rally. "Are we just not reading this right?"

"I'm always pessimistic," Will pointed out. "I'd have thought you'd be the first among cheerleaders."

"I think you and I are more alike than most people would imagine. You're not as antisocial as you'd like everyone to believe, and I'm not nearly as fond of humanity as humanity would like to think."

He raised a brow. "That's the most cynical thing I've ever heard you say."

She smiled. "How many people are there in the world you love, Mr. F. William Darcy? And how many of them do you respect?"

"Touché."

She shook her head. "I still can't figure out what name is so terrible you won't use it."

"Maybe it was my father's name and that's how I was differentiated from him."

"Your father's name is George."

He gaped at her. "How do you know that?"

"I've heard your uncle talk about his brother-in-law George. Also Lewis, but he's in jail along with Catherine de Bourgh over the Cencal thing."

He took off his sunglasses and frowned. "Do you remember everything?"

"I don't mean to be insensitive or anything, Will, but the Cencal scandal was huge for me professionally."

He looked away with a slight shrug. "I'm not offended. I was close to my aunt before my parents died, but we drifted apart years ago."

She was quiet for a moment. "I didn't know your parents were dead."

"Car accident, twelve years ago."

He was curt when he spoke, but Lizzy intuited that even after more than a decade, he wasn't comfortable speaking of this. She couldn't blame him, so she let the matter drop.

After the rally Sunday they went back to the Nashua office, where the Governor would be on a conference call with precinct captains. The rest of them were to meet with Mary Benet, who was there to help with the rollout of her mobile apps and the rest of that operation. Lizzy had played with the apps and thought they were going to prove indispensable. They allowed volunteers going door to door to collect all kinds of data about the people they talked to, provided phone bank sheets, and other tools to allow local organizers to operate with some independence from the national organization.

New Hampshire was going to be the big test for it. If the server couldn't keep up with usage, it would kill their get-out-the-vote effort. Lizzy hated putting all their eggs in one basket but they couldn't afford more than one basket.

Lizzy had only seen Mary a couple of times since they graduated. Mary had been to Nashua briefly, but never while the candidate was there. Lizzy imagined Mary would be surprised by how different the circus was now, but at least she wasn't easily distracted.

Her interpreter--or at least the woman Lizzy assumed to be Mary's interpreter--had to tap her shoulder to draw her attention away from a computer screen when Lizzy approached with Will and Chuck. Mary looked up, then followed the woman's indication till she saw Lizzy. Mary smiled and signed hello. Lizzy hurried forward to hug her. "It's so good to see you," she said, making sure she wasn't blocking Mary's view of her interpreter.

"You too," Mary said for herself.

Lizzy pulled back. "Let me introduce you to the others."

She turned to the guys but Will, looking like a deer in the headlights, caught her attention. "What are you doing here?" he said to Mary's interpreter.

"Can't just be glad to see me, Will?" the woman said, going up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

The woman was taller than Lizzy and prettier, and from the startled, vaguely displeased look on Will's face, Lizzy wondered for a moment if this was the mysterious Caroline. She felt an absurd rush of something like jealousy as this person hugged Will and he reluctantly hugged her back.

A minute later she shoved back the irrational voice in her head, realizing the woman couldn't possibly be Will's ex. She was maybe five years younger than Lizzy, and there was more than a passing resemblance between them. "Guys, this is my sister Gigi," Will said, "who didn't bother telling me she has a new job." He turned back to her for a second. "Does Richard know?"

"Of course."

He let out a long-suffering sigh, from which Lizzy bit back a smile. Chuck stepped forward and introduced himself to both women. Lizzy shook Gigi's hand. "Lizzy Bennet. Nice to meet you."

Gigi's whole face lit up, even as she signed for Mary's benefit. "Oh, Lizzy! I've heard about..."

Will suddenly clamped his hand over his sister's mouth. "Georgiana, have we talked lately about your compulsive over-sharing?"

She made a muffled noise behind his hand, which he then removed. "Have we talked lately about what happens when you call me that?" It was remarkable to watch how Gigi kept up with her job even though her brother was physically restraining her.

Will caught Lizzy's eye over Gigi's head as she grinned at him. She couldn't help it. It was incredibly endearing and not at all what Lizzy expected.

He released his sister and they went on with the meeting with Mary, who seemed highly amused by all this. In the back of her mind, though, Lizzy was thinking about the Darcys, and she remembered what Will had told her. His sister must have been very young when their parents died. From the way they interacted now, Lizzy had to think Will had had a hand in raising Gigi. She tried to imagine having that kind of responsibility while she was in grad school and couldn't. It might explain why Will was so serious most of the time. It was probably in his nature but that level of responsibility would cement it.

She was spending too much time thinking about him these days. The surge of jealousy earlier, before she knew who Gigi was, settled into the back of her mind and wasn't letting go. Lizzy wasn't sure when it happened, or even how. One kiss wasn't reason enough to think she had some claim to him. It had been an amazing kiss, but how pathetic was she? Was she actually pining for Will?

There was only one thing to be done, really. She had to talk to someone, so that night she grabbed a bag of goldfish crackers and went to Jane's hotel room, where she made confession and waited for absolution.

"You and Will kissed?" Jane said, startled. "When?"

Lizzy flopped down on Jane's bed and sighed. "New Year's Eve."

Jane frowned. "Was it just a friendly, ring in the New Year thing?"

"There was tongue."

"Oh. Were you drunk?"

"No."

"Was he drunk?"

"No."

"Then I'm not sure how to help."

"I just... It's weird, Jane. Sometimes we're working and it's like nothing happened, and other times he just looks at me, and I don't know what he's thinking."

"Have you asked?"

"How am I supposed to ask that?" Lizzy sat up, cradling her head in her hands. "'Hey, Will, I know you hired me and all, but are you thinking about jumping me?'"

Jane looked properly scandalized by the suggestion. "Lizzy!"

Lizzy shrugged. "You see my problem? At least you're not working for Chuck."

Jane turned bright red. "You know about him?"

"Janie, did you think this was a big secret?" Lizzy asked, finally smiling a little.

Jane swung a pillow at her and they left off the conversation. Still, Lizzy didn't know what to do about Will, and her only consolation was that Will didn't seem to know what to do about her either.

On Tuesday night, Will was resisting the urge to drink alone, even though he'd been right.

As the results started coming in, everyone teased him about his concern--everyone but Lizzy. He spent much of the evening watching her, not looking away even when she noticed his scrutiny. Frequently she would blush and look away, then go back to work.

The adrenaline wore off for the others soon enough, as one county after another reported a Zwillick win. Finally Will left for his hotel room, knowing no one would want his brand of pessimism on television tonight, while they tried to spin the loss into something less negative.

Around midnight, Lizzy showed up at his door. "It's not the end of the world, you know," she said without preamble. There was a bag in her hand and he suspected pie.

He let out a brief, humorless laugh. "Come on in, Lizzy."

He was right about what she'd brought, but unlike the morning with the lemon meringue, she had two slices of French silk. "You found a twenty-four-hour bakery?"

"Diner. I don't think they're normally open this late, just when people like us are here."

She sat in the room's lone chair; he sat on the end of the bed. Their knees bumped as she handed him a styrofoam box and silently both dug in. The slice looked amazing but the first bite told him something was wrong. The filling was gritty and didn't taste much like chocolate. The crust was mush. It didn't occur to him to conceal his distaste, not that he ever did a good job of it.

Lizzy saw his face and laughed. "I guess this isn't worth the risk of salmonella."

He reached to set the remains of the pie on the desk behind her. A whisper of perfume surprised him, as did her sharp intake of breath. He lifted his gaze to hers, and the kiss that followed seemed more inevitable than anything else.

He kissed her slowly, deeply, and wondered how he had managed to hold out for a week. Since the midnight kiss, they'd won in Iowa and lost in New Hampshire, and Will felt like he'd gone through six election cycles in the interim. Now he was feeling her, tasting her again, and it was like the last week had been a dream, and this was really what happened next.

She pulled away before he'd had enough, and it was all he could do not to chase after her. He decided not to push it. "You said it wasn't the end of the world."

She shook her head while his fingers brushed her soft cheek and she stared at his mouth. "Proportional representation," she murmured. She licked her lips and Will barely suppressed a groan. "Zwillick... Zwillick barely won tonight. We weren't that far ahead in the delegate count after Iowa and we're not that far behind now."

"He's from Tennessee," Will said. "We won't win in South Carolina either."

She shook her head, even as his fingers trailed along the deep neckline of her dress. He realized belatedly it was the dress she wore when they met, one that figured into his idle thoughts at whiles. "No," she said in agreement, "but we have two weeks to close the gap. Then another week to Michigan and Florida."

"And then Super Tuesday." He cupped her cheek. "Lizzy."

She took a shaky breath. "Will, I didn't come here for this."

"I didn't let you in for this either."

Despite her obvious misgivings, she leaned forward and kissed him frantically. Will wanted to drag her out of the chair and throw her down on the bed, but he somehow managed to let her control the kiss. He wanted her more than he remembered wanting anyone, but he was terrified of trying too hard, scaring her away.

Lizzy pulled back with a little pained noise and abruptly stood. "Lizzy?" Will said, in a voice he hardly recognized as his own.

"I should go."

"I know," he said, catching her hand, "but stay?" She looked down at their joined hands, and he drew her fingers to his lips. "Please."

She took another deep breath, steadier this time. "Is this because we lost tonight?"

He waited until she met his gaze to shake his head. "This is because of you, darlin'," he said, losing control of his accent as the endearment came out in a drawl.

It was all she needed him to say. Lizzy stepped out of her heels and came closer, lifting one knee to the bed beside him. He touched her tentatively, fingertips trailing up her thigh. She leaned down to kiss him, and Will smiled, for the first time all night.

Lizzy woke very early in the morning, after only a couple hours of sleep. For a little while she listened to Will breathing quietly next to her and wondered again if she'd lost her mind entirely. She'd gone to bed with her boss, so she must have.

But it didn't feel like it. Even now, with a little sleep to clear her head, she didn't feel like she'd done something colossally stupid. Part of her wanted to turn over and lie in his arms until daybreak. There had been some awkwardness, natural and unavoidable, but Will was gentle and... polite, though that was a cold way of putting it. He had a selfish streak, after all; it would be easy to imagine him as inconsiderate in bed. But from the moment she decided to stay, he made her feel as though she was all the world to him.

She should have left hours ago, but he had held her and kissed her and made her forget about discretion. Lizzy could almost feel his kisses still lingering on her skin, hear the endearments that seemed to slip from him so easily. It was incredibly powerful, having that kind of influence over him, even when she was just as helpless in his hands.

She heard the shift in his breathing and turned to see him open his eyes. It was almost funny to see how immediately alert he was. In the dim light she could see his worried frown as he looked at her. "Time is it?" he mumbled.

Lizzy groped for his phone on the bedside table. She flinched from the light when she turned on the screen but she read the time. "Little after four."

Will rolled over too, settling a heavy arm around her. "Hmm. Go back to sleep, Lizzy."

He kissed the back of her neck, then steadily moved lower with his attention until she squirmed. "How do you expect me to sleep while you're doing that?"

"Good point," he said, lips still pressed to her skin.

As good as it felt, Lizzy sighed. "I really ought to go."

He stilled and she looked over her shoulder at him. "Will?"

"You want to sneak out?" he said in a flat voice.

"I didn't say that." Lizzy turned over to face him, laying her hand on his chest. His skin was very warm. "I don't want other people to know about this before we have a chance to really talk about it."

"We could talk now."

She let out a little laugh and rested her forehead against his shoulder for a minute. "I need sleep now."

He swept her hair back from her face and sighed. "Will you stay for a little while? We can talk about something else, but no one's going to be up for an hour."

Lizzy looked at his face, realizing she really didn't want to go. This relationship, or whatever it was, was trouble, but she didn't want to leave his bed, although the rational part of her mind was telling her to run.

She pushed his shoulder gently, urging him to lay on his back, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Mary's stuff?" he suggested.

"I thought it worked pretty well for a trial run," Lizzy replied. "She had a list of problems a mile long, or at least that's what Gigi told me."

"I forgot Gigi's here in Nashua," Will said, freezing.

Lizzy pushed herself onto one elbow. "I should go?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, but I don't trust her not to find out somehow, and you really don't want her knowing before you and I can talk."

Laughing, Lizzy hauled herself out of bed and went looking for her clothes. She thought Will's relationship with his sister was rather sweet, but she could understand. "I figured you wouldn't want her to know at all."

"No, not really," he agreed. Lizzy let her eyes follow him as he got out of bed and pulled on a robe. "I practically raised her after our parents died. There are certain things your baby sister shouldn't know."

"She's a grown woman, Will."

He sighed. "I know."

Lizzy dressed quickly, and at the door she drew him in for a soft kiss. "Are you okay?"

"I am," he replied, seemingly unable to stop touching her. "Are you?"

She nodded. "Have dinner with me tonight. We'll talk."

After one last kiss she slipped from the room and into the deserted hall. Once she was safely in her room again she leaned against the closed door, taking a deep breath. Already, part of her regretted leaving him.

Chapter 6

Posted on 2014-04-07

It's not really a surprise that Republican voters are falling in line behind a candidate, only a little surprising that Mike Connolly is their man. Or maybe it isn't. Senator Connolly is an old-school Southern conservative, in a party that's become increasingly Southern.

The Democrats are probably hoping to avoid a repeat of last week. No matter how Lizzy Bennet and her team spun it, Governor Gardiner's loss in New Hampshire must have been a crushing blow to morale. If they're going to stay alive in this race, they're going to have to prove that they can play in the South, even with Tom Zwillick on the ballot.

Megan Polk, aka SouthernLib, January 14, 2014

"We lost the Keating house," Charlotte announced almost the minute Lizzy arrived in the Charleston office.

"Lost it?" Lizzy asked. "Like, in a sinkhole? Wormhole?"

Charlotte looked at Kelly, Lizzy's new assistant, with something like pity. "My condolences. She's isn't worth it."

Lizzy happened to look at Will across the conference table. "I wouldn't go that far," he said.

"Lizzy just suggested we lost the Keating house in a wormhole, Will."

"I don't even know what the Keating house is."

"For the fundraiser tomorrow night?"

Richard reached across the table for a bottle of water. "How'd we lose Keating?"

"They were fixing a light fixture and found asbestos," Charlotte informed him.

"Well, we probably don't want to cause cancer, so that's reasonable," Lizzy pointed out.

"Will, why weren't we using your house?" Richard asked.

"Probably because I forgot about it."

Lizzy looked at him incredulously. "You forgot about your house?"

"I've only owned it for a couple years," he said, rubbing the back of his neck in a way she now identified as embarrassment. "I've not been there more than twice in the last ten years."

Lizzy shook her head. "Sometimes it's surreal being around you and Richard."

"How'd I get dragged into this?" Richard asked.

"Your family owns a vineyard as a hobby."

"Yeah, but we work for a living."

Lizzy shook her head and caught the water bottle Richard tossed at her. "You think I can't catch, Fitzwilliam?"

"You're Swiss. I don't know what to assume."

"I played softball at Wisconsin. Catcher. I have great hand-eye coordination and amazing thighs."

Will nearly did a spit-take, but so did Charlotte and Lizzy's new assistant.

The Keating house was refunding the campaign's deposit, so the caterer and all the guests were quickly informed of the change of venue. During the meeting it also occurred to them they could save money on hotel rooms if some of them stayed at the Darcy house.

The Gardiners got the privacy of the guest house, while the senior staff stayed in the house proper. When they arrived, the house staff was hard at work getting the huge public rooms on the ground floor ready. "How could you forget about this place?" Lizzy asked Will, staring in wonder at the old Southern grandeur.

"It was my great-aunt's," he explained. "She left it to me when she died a couple years ago. I've pretty much left it as she had it, doing weddings and banquets and such. It pays for itself, but not much more."

Will led the other staffers to the rooms they would occupy for the next three days after showing the Gardiners to the guest house. Most of the rooms were on the second floor and at the end of the south wing of the house. Richard shook his head. "Sometimes I forget the Darcys are worth about ten times more than the Fitzwilliams."

"Well, we were here first and you've got a President in your family tree," Will said dryly.

"Where did the Darcys come from?" Jane asked.

"France. Back then it was spelled with a lowercase D and an apostrophe. They came to the Carolinas in the 1790s."

Chuck frowned. "Why?"

"It was politically expedient."

Chuck was still frowning, but then he got it. "Oh. There's a Château d'Arcy somewhere in the French Alps?"

"The French Pyrenees, but it was either keep the château or keep their heads, so..."

Richard rolled his eyes. "We Fitzwilliams, on the other hand, came from Ireland with naught but our spirits."

"And eventually made your fortune as?" Lizzy prompted, knowing how the story ended.

"Bootleggers," Richard replied with a shrug.

Will commandeered the group again and divided them into their four rooms. "Where are you and Lizzy going?" Richard asked, being nosy.

"There are two more bedrooms on the third floor," Will explained. "I'm taking the master bedroom because technically I'm the master..."

"Despite having forgotten you own the place," Charlotte put in.

"And I figured Lizzy wouldn't mind the extra flight of stairs," Will continued, unperturbed, "since she claims to have amazing thighs."

Lizzy felt her face turn bright red as he threw her words back at her. The others laughed.

With everyone heading into their rooms, Lizzy followed Will up the stairs. He led her through a door into a very pretty room with a four-poster bed, white linens, and an antique quilt with red and blue stars. "This is beautiful, Will," she said, taking in the dark, Federal-style furniture, the stunning artwork, and the marble fireplace on the far wall.

"There's more," he replied, taking her hand. "Used to have a dressing room attached that was converted into a walk-in closet and a bathroom a while back."

He opened a door, which led to a small hallway. Off of it were entrances to the closet and the bathroom, and it opened into another bedroom. "The master bedroom," he said. "Which is the other reason I thought you wouldn't mind being up here."

Lizzy let go of his hand and set her arms loosely around his neck. "I shouldn't have said my thighs were amazing."

"Yeah, but they are," he replied, letting his hands skim down her hips as he drew her closer and kissed her.

They'd hardly had any time alone since their night in Nashua. The following night they had dinner together, but it was hard to make it look like they were eating together casually. Fortunately they were on the same page about this fledgling relationship, or close to it. Things were new and uncertain. They were leading high-stress lives right now. They wanted privacy, and privacy was best maintained by taking things slowly.

Since Nashua they'd only spent one night together, when they were in Florida and Will couldn't get the heater off in his room and came to hers instead. They would have three nights together now, though, and as Will kissed her, Lizzy thought it could never be enough.

Much as she might have wanted to take advantage of their privacy, she knew they had to get back to work. Reluctantly she pulled away, grinning a little at the frustrated noise he made. "Work before pleasure, Fortinbras," she reminded him.

She turned away but he caught her around the waist and pulled her close again. With his free hand, he pulled the collar of her shirt out of his way and placed a lingering kiss at her collarbone. Lizzy reached to thread her fingers through his hair, but after a second she realized what he was trying to do and squirmed away. "I have to go on camera!" she gasped. "You can't give me a hickey!"

"Well, I can," he corrected, in that annoyingly pedantic tone he used when he talked about grammar. "I'm physically capable."

Lizzy rolled her eyes. "If you put a mark on me someone else is going to see, we're never having sex again."

He gaped at her for a minute before realizing she was serious. "We should get back to work, I guess."

"Yes, yes, we should," Lizzy replied with a tiny smirk.

The rest of the first day in Charleston was spent making sure everything was in place for the next night's fundraiser. The senior staff spent a good deal of time prepping the Governor. "She speaks every day," Jane said to Will quietly. "Answers questions most days. Why are you guys prepping so hard on this one?"

"These fundraisers used to be private," Will replied. "But it's too easy for someone to record an event now. A couple weeks ago Frank Muñoz got into some trouble for remarks at a private event. We want the Governor to say what she thinks, but we want to make sure it's not going to come back to haunt us."

"Who gives their opponent $500 to attend an event to hear unscripted remarks?"

"Super PACs have that kind of money. And sometimes they're against one candidate instead of for another, so that type of expenditure is actually part of the agenda."

"And it actually works?"

Will shrugged. "Depends on the candidate."

"Hence the prep."

"Exactly."

They had an evening rally for which there was good local and national coverage. Their hope for South Carolina wasn't a win--that was never going to happen--but a strong second place would solidify their standing in the race as the only real alternative to Zwillick. Iowa gave them a fighting chance, and despite the disappointment of losing, coming in second in New Hampshire wasn't such a bad thing.

That night he fell asleep with Lizzy curled beside him. A night in Nashua and another in Orlando left him craving her more than he would have thought possible. Maybe it was because he saw her every day, but his nights were lonely without her. He was also pretty sure three mornings of waking up with her in his arms would make the next night without her that much more difficult.

Will was always thinking ahead, but for once, the night of the fundraiser, he let himself live in the moment. This event wasn't as formal as some, but the men were in suits and the women in cocktail dresses. Lizzy's was a wine-colored dress with a straight skirt ending at her knees. The waist was very high, around her ribcage, and above it a sheer fabric covered the embroidered bodice and draped over her shoulders, hanging down just past the hem at the back.

He'd been silently thanking God there wasn't going to be dancing. He generally hated it. He might not have minded dancing with Lizzy, but he feared if he got the opportunity, everyone would know about them immediately, and all their attempts for privacy would be for naught. It was difficult enough to keep his eyes from following her everywhere.

She was stunning, though. There were plenty of women at the party wearing far less demure clothes, but Lizzy looked completely comfortable in her skin and in her job. Her sharp wit and sharper mind were always on. She was charming, even beguiling, and Will was frequently very grateful she had seen past his brusqueness enough to want him the way he wanted her.

That night everyone staying in the main house was up late, waiting for the last of the guests to leave. Eventually they gathered in the old library, where Will succumbed to the cliché, pouring a glass of scotch for anyone who wanted it. Chuck had gone to the campaign office for something, and Jane wasn't there either. It was just him, Lizzy, Richard, and Charlotte. That was plenty for entertainment, as Richard told stories about their grandfather's second campaign, when Will was only four and Richard was a very sage nine.

They laughed themselves silly, mostly at Will's expense. Lizzy was the first to leave. Charlotte wasn't far behind, leaving the cousins alone. "So," Richard said, setting his empty glass down, "is there something I should know?"

"About?" Will asked, though he knew the answer.

"You and Lizzy."

Richard wasn't making fun of him, like Will might have expected. For the first time he really felt his cousin was also his employer, and it prompted him to take this more seriously than he might otherwise. "I assume you would have told me back in Iowa if this was really a problem."

"I would have. This isn't going to affect either of you at work, is it?"

Will shrugged. "We're both professionals."

"Then you're fine." Richard got up and yawned. "So are her thighs really as amazing as reported?"

"Go to bed, Richard."

Richard followed instructions for once, and Will went upstairs after taking the glasses to the kitchen. Lizzy was in the bathroom when he entered the suite, and he watched from the doorway as she washed her face. "This is feeling a little domestic," she remarked, while she dried off.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, stepping away from the door jamb to stand behind her.

"Are you going to watch me brush my hair next?"

He ran his hands up her back, under the chiffon layer, and kissed the back of her neck. "I could brush it for you."

"So you can mess it up later?" she said with laughter. "Seems like a waste of time."

Will was distracted. With one hand he traced down her spine, fully expecting to pull the zipper of her dress down, but there was no closure. It was too form-fitting not to have one. "Lizzy?" he said. "I think there's something wrong here."

He saw the look of alarm in the reflection of her face. "What?"

"Shouldn't there be a zipper or something back here?"

She laughed at him. "It's vintage, Will. The zipper's on the side."

"Oh." She turned around and he settled his hands at her hips. "Which side?"

Lizzy put her arms around his neck and pulled him down. Just before kissing him, she said, "Why don't you find out for yourself?"

He grinned, more than willing to take up her challenge.

When he awoke the next morning, Lizzy was already out of bed and dressed. "Hey," he said in a rough voice, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Going to the campaign office," she said, stepping into her shoes. "People are voting today. Lots of work to do."

Will groaned. "Don't remind me."

She laughed and kissed him lightly. "I'll do what I can."

She left the room before he could come up with a protest. He remembered what he'd told Richard the night before. They were professionals. Now he had to act like one.

Lizzy shared a cab with Jane, who was heading to the airport by way of the campaign office. "Our next hire has to be an advance person," Lizzy said, readjusting the straps of her bag on her shoulder while they walked into the building. "That way you can stick to scheduling and let the other person do all this traveling ahead."

Jane gave a tired smile. "We'd probably split the advance work."

"You're entirely too nice, you know?"

Jane didn't argue, and they entered the building in silence. It was too early to expect any but the most dedicated in the office. Not even Richard was there, and his former days in the Marines had trained him to think early was on time, on time was late, and late was grounds for firing. There were a couple voices, though, coming from the break room, so Lizzy and Jane headed back to let those people know they weren't alone.

They were still out of sight when they were close enough to make out what was being said. Lizzy recognized her assistant's voice; the other woman's was unfamiliar. "Oh, so I was here last night to check the wires," Kelly was saying. "You wouldn't believe my boss, really. She's a lunatic."

Lizzy and Jane exchanged a look of surprise and disgust. Lizzy knew she wasn't easy to work for, but she demanded no more from an assistant than she demanded from herself. She never even asked them to bring her coffee. They were there to do real work, not play fetch. But that was only prelude; the worst was coming shortly.

"You'll never believe who came in while I was in here."

Jane froze, grabbing Lizzy's arm. Lizzy frowned but she didn't have to ask. Kelly continued, "Chuck Bingley came waltzing in--and I mean, literally waltzing in--with a girl. I figured it was just some girl he met at the fundraiser, but no, it was Jane Bennett."

"Jane?" the other person said incredulously. "No, you must have been wrong."

"Tall blonde, looks like she could be a supermodel?"

"Yeah, that's Jane."

"I didn't stick around long enough to see what happened, but given the mess on Chuck's desk this morning, I think we can guess. I know I haven't been here very long, but I didn't figure Jane would spread it like that."

Lizzy had had enough of eavesdropping; she stepped into the doorway and said rather loudly, "Good morning!"

The two women jumped, looking guilty. Lizzy was seething. "Kelly, I know you haven't been here long, but go pack your things."

"What?" Kelly spluttered, getting to her feet awkwardly. "You can't..."

"I hired you, so I can fire you. Jane Bennett is a professional. She keeps this campaign running single-handedly. Beyond that, who cares what she does in her spare time?" Lizzy let out an exasperated sigh. "I'd have thought a woman would understand that we're supposed to be past the point where we have to be ashamed. It's bad enough to hear it from Paleolithic men, but what's your excuse?"

It was obvious Kelly had none. Lizzy stormed off after a long moment of silence.

Jane followed her into the back room to Lizzy's desk. "Lizzy," Jane said in her gentle voice, "you didn't have to fire her."

"She's clearly not happy working here anyway," Lizzy said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Besides, what right does she..."

When she stopped talking abruptly, Jane looked back to see if Kelly or the other woman followed them. "Lizzy, there's something else, isn't there?"

Lizzy closed her eyes for a moment. "Will and I have been..."

She didn't need to be specific. Jane's jaw dropped. "Really? Since when?"

"Since the night we lost New Hampshire," Lizzy replied, feeling herself blush as she suddenly remembered the look on Will's face as he undressed her that first night. "We haven't been together very often."

"Are you going to try to keep this a secret?" Jane asked.

Lizzy sank down in her chair. "I don't know. Every time I think about it, all I come up with is that he's my boss. No one's going to care about him, but what are they going to think about me? You and I both know what people think about women who sleep with the boss."

"Well," Jane said, sitting across from her, "I'd say Will may be in charge of the campaign's message, and that includes your interaction with the press, but Charlotte and Richard are really the bosses around here."

"That's what the sensible people will say. Sensible people don't wind up in front of cameras."

"Does that mean you're not sensible?" Jane said with a tiny smile. "Lizzy, if he's worth the trouble, you'll figure out how to deal with it. If not, well, hopefully you'll figure that out before you're found out."

It was good advice, but even with good advice Lizzy found it difficult to push away her misgivings.

South Carolina was voting that day, though, which helped. Lizzy was on camera off and on all day. Mary's software was working much more smoothly than in New Hampshire, and Will Darcy was seen smiling before the polls closed. "That's one of the signs of the apocalypse, you know," Richard told Lizzy, smiling at her in a knowing way.

"Richard," she said, sighing, "if you've got something to say..."

"No, I'm just wondering what you see in my cousin that you don't see in me," he whispered. "Is it the money? Or because he's handsome?"

She decided to play along for a second. "It's the way he growls when he doesn't get his way."

Richard laughed so hard they drew half the room's attention.

The polls closed, and the period of real nail-biting began, like waiting to turn over a card already dealt. Nothing more could be done, and Governor Gardiner addressed the staff to remind them that they should be proud of their work, no matter the outcome.

A few rural precincts reported first, swinging heavily toward Zwillick, as was expected. But when the cities started reporting, the game changed. Where there were more Democrats, more of them voted for Gardiner, and before long they were neck-and-neck.

From their perspective, it didn't really matter who won. Coming anywhere close to Zwillick in a Southern state was a win. The rest of the field was in Gardiner and Zwillick's dust, and Lizzy had a feeling the first candidate to drop out would do so in the next couple days. If they could get an endorsement out of it, it'd be a good day's work.

As the campaign was celebrating, Will came to Lizzy's side and touched her hand for a moment. She wanted to hold his hand but she kept herself under control. "Do I need to go on camera?" she asked.

"No, I thought maybe something was wrong," he said. "You fired your assistant."

"Yeah, she wasn't working out."

"Why?"

"Chronic lateness."

She met his eyes, and a moment later he nodded, understanding she couldn't tell him what happened. "Will you tell me later?" he asked very quietly.

"No," she whispered. "There was a problem. I took care of it."

"Lizzy."

"Will, I'm serious," she said. "Leave this one alone."

He looked frustrated and maybe even a little hurt, but he nodded. "All right."

He walked away, and for a little while Lizzy felt much less like celebrating.

Chapter 7

Posted on 2014-04-14

I'm not sure any Presidential candidate in my lifetime has campaigned in Oklahoma. I feel like I've slipped into an alternate reality.

Colin Blackwell, aka The Native Advocate, February 15, 2014

Will had never been to Oklahoma. It wasn't quite what he expected, not that he ever expected to be campaigning there.

They were three days to Super Tuesday. Michigan, two weeks ago, was a solid win for Gardiner; Florida was more of a wash. In the delegate count they were still neck and neck. The last weekend in January, Will and Richard hunkered down with a pile of polls and analysis trying to find anyplace where they could wrangle an advantage. There was a huge roster of states voting at the same time, and there was only so much time and money to spend.

Normally a place like Oklahoma wouldn't have hit their radar. It was too conservative, so conservative even Zwillick wasn't bothering. But every vote and every delegate was looking critical, so the Gardiner campaign took an afternoon out of its Missouri trip to swing through northeastern Oklahoma. They spent the first hour on the Osage reservation, where the Governor talked about her experience with the Native American tribes in Wisconsin. The tribes were hardly identical, but there were similar problems of poverty and addiction and violence against women. The town hall was sufficiently unusual that CNN carried nearly the entire thing live.

Now they were in a tallgrass prairie preserve, one of the things that surprised Will. His image of Oklahoma must have been formed by pictures of the Dust Bowl. There probably were parts of the state that were flat and relatively dry, but Osage County was hilly and green with winter wheat. He was walking through a field with grass more than a foot above his head, like wandering through the yard of a giant dollhouse. The grass was even taller than the bison living on the prairie.

The Governor was talking with conservancy activists while reporters trailed along. Will and Lizzy fell behind the others on this little nature walk, checking reaction to the town hall. "Zwillick just posted a response," Lizzy said, showing Will the Facebook page.

"Yeah?" he asked, silently cursing Twitter while he waited for it to load.

"He says, and I quote, 'Tribal matters deserve thoughtful study.'"

"Seriously?" Will came to a halt, Lizzy beside him, and he plucked her phone from her hand. "Wow. I really thought Tom Zwillick was a better politician than that."

"Well, he did want me," Lizzy said, in a low, teasing voice.

"Don't we all," he deadpanned, and she laughed and took her phone back.

The voices of the Governor's group faded while they stood there, staring at small screens in the middle of a field with bison not too far away. Will reflected for a moment that his life had changed drastically since Richard came to him with the crazy idea of this campaign.

"So what did you think of the speech at the town hall?" he asked, while they were both waiting for sites to load.

"I thought it was fine."

"Fine?"

"You do not need me to puff up your ego, Darcy," Lizzy said, suddenly sounding irritated.

Will frowned. "I wasn't asking..."

"Will, you've got fourteen people to tell you your writing is amazing."

"So it's your job to what, keep me grounded?"

"No, I'm just not going to say you wrote the Gettysburg Address when it wasn't much above average."

Will's jaw tightened as he looked at his phone, which still wasn't loading Twitter. "Wasn't much above average."

Lizzy covered her face for a second. "You're right. It was worse than usual for you."

"Then why didn't you say something?" he asked, trying not to raise his voice.

"I didn't see the text before things got started."

"Okay, so what was your problem?"

But Lizzy was no longer listening. Instead, she was looking down the path through the tallgrass. "Lizzy? What was your..."

"Hang on."

He started to speak again, but she hurried ahead. Suppressing the urge to curse, Will followed after.

He didn't have to ask what the problem was. From the top of the hill and around the next bend, they could see the rest of the path and the parking lot beyond.

Where the bus was nowhere in sight.

"Oh, Lizzy, I am so sorry, but we're almost to Missouri," Jane said over a very bad connection. "We can't turn around to get you. It'd put us two hours late for the rally in Springfield."

Lizzy got off the phone and sighed. "Why does Jane have to be so reasonable? And, you know, efficient?"

"She's not the one who had to walk all the way back here," Will pointed out.

Lizzy sat down on a bench and kicked her shoes off. "Now you're being reasonable and irritating."

It had been a long walk, too. Initially they were just wandering around trying to find signal again on either of their phones, but eventually they arrived at the headquarters for the prairie preserve's conservation staff. They used the landline, and it took calling four different people to get someone who would answer an unknown number. Lizzy wasn't really surprised Jane picked up. They should have tried her to begin with.

"So what's our next move?" Will asked, sitting down next to her.

"I suppose we call the state office and see if they can find a volunteer within, I don't know, fifty miles who can come get us and take us to an airport."

"We have a state office?"

"Where do you think the signs at the town hall came from?"

"Ma'am," said a woman who was filing a few feet away, "I'm going to be off work in a few minutes. I can take you into town. You can get something to eat, wait somewhere more comfortable."

"That'd be great," Lizzy said, getting up. "Wait, what town?"

Half an hour later, they were in the middle of a small town that had seen better days. What was once a charming little downtown was mostly full of empty shop fronts and decaying façades. The woman from the prairie preserve dropped them at a small café, where they ordered sandwiches and soup and waited for their ride.

When the waitress brought their food, she hung back for a minute and asked, "So what brings y'all here?"

"We're with the Gardiner campaign," Lizzy said. "We had an event on the reservation, and then at the tallgrass prairie, and we got left behind by the campaign bus."

"Gardiner," the girl said. "Is that the guy who wears all the weird bow ties?"

"That's Graham, on the Republican side. Mrs. Gardiner is the Governor of Wisconsin."

"Oh, y'all are Democrats."

"Yes, ma'am," Will said. Lizzy was surprised to hear his Southern accent as he spoke. "I know we're not really in friendly territory here."

"I don't know. We've got Democrats running the county here. Usually do. Surprised to see y'all in Oklahoma, though."

"Seems a little quixotic?"

The waitress laughed. "Yeah." There was a call from the back, and she smiled at them. "Enjoy your meal. I hope you get back to your people soon."

She walked away, and Lizzy stirred her soup to cool it. "So did you go into that accent intentionally, or is this some sort of immersion thing?"

Will shrugged. "Little of both, I guess."

"I thought disguise of every sort was your abhorrence."

"I don't remember saying that," he said, frowning, "but it sounds like me."

She rolled her eyes. "So why'd you lose the accent to begin with?"

"Because I didn't want to work in North Carolina all my life, and there are people who think white and Southern is synonymous with racist. And some of them are in our very own party."

Lizzy nodded, wondering if her next question was remotely appropriate. "Richard says the Darcys are old money. How old does he mean?"

"I grew up on an antebellum plantation, Elizabeth," he said quietly. He didn't usually use her full name anymore. "There's nothing I can do to change what my ancestors did. I can denounce it, but that's it."

She remembered more that Richard told her, though. Mostly she remembered the Darcys had not approved of Anne Fitzwilliam, largely because of the Fitzwilliams' politics.

Lizzy changed the subject to something far more trivial and Will didn't object. They were done eating several minutes before their ride arrived, so they sat on a bench outside to continue waiting. Across the street, in the windows of a long-empty shop were signs for an upcoming tribal election, "Vote Standingbear Chief" and "Red Eagle for Minerals Council." Lizzy had never thought about modern tribes having democratic elections, but of course it made sense.

Their waitress brought them hot chocolate in paper cups and waved them off when they tried to pay for it. "No, no, y'all are going to be cold if you're out in this wind much longer," she said. "It's on me."

"That was nice of her," Lizzy said when they were alone again.

Will put his arm across the back of the bench. "Thank you for not saying that it's not cold out here."

"Well, it's not, but we've been outside longer than I expected."

He rolled his eyes and sipped his hot chocolate. For a couple minutes they sat in silence until he cleared his throat. "So you never told me what was wrong with the Governor's remarks."

Lizzy went still, staring at the antique store across the street. "Will, can you please just accept that it wasn't your best work? Your worst work is still better than ninety-nine percent of the world."

"Yes, but there's a reason you didn't think it was good and I'd like to understand it."

"You know, I was on speech team in high school, and you're worse than all of them!" she burst out. "It's not always easy to figure out what's wrong."

"Oh, please. You're really going to tell me you can't tell me why you didn't like it?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

A silver Jeep pulled up in front of them before Will could answer. The driver, a young woman, rolled down the window and said, "Hey, are you from the Gardiner campaign?"

"That's us," Lizzy said, standing up and grabbing her bag. "I take it you're our ride?"

"Yeah, I'm Katie. Let's get you to Tulsa."

Despite the fact that they were in the middle of an argument, Will opened the front door of the car for Lizzy before getting into the back seat. While Lizzy adjusted the seat to give him more leg room, she said, "I'm Lizzy Bennet, by the way, and that's Will Darcy."

Katie laughed a little. "Yeah, I know who you are. You're a very good writer, Mr. Darcy."

"Thanks," he said. "You're in college, I imagine?"

"Yeah, I'm a sophomore at Oklahoma State," the girl replied. "They asked me to pick y'all up because I was heading this direction anyway to go home for the weekend."

"I hope we're not taking you too far out of your way," Lizzy said.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm not on a schedule or anything."

They were out of town shortly and heading southeast, roughly. The first leg of the trip was through hilly ranch land, but as they got closer to Tulsa, the land flattened out and the road wound through wooded areas. "Pecan groves, mostly," Katie told them. "This whole area used to be so thick with cross timbers that the first white people who came here gave up trying to cut their way through."

"Too bad they didn't give up entirely," Will said from the back seat.

"Well, there was no Teddy Roosevelt or John Muir protecting those forests when they were cut down," Katie replied.

"You interested in the National Parks?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm a forestry major. I'd like to be a park ranger when I graduate."

"So how'd you get interested in politics?" Lizzy asked.

"Through my DNA," the girl said with a smile. "My grandfather was a county commissioner here when I was a kid. But not one of the ones who went to jail."

"Some of them went to jail?" said Will.

"Yeah, something like two thirds of all the county commissioners in the state went to jail in the seventies. Kickbacks. Not Oklahoma's finest hour."

"Yeah, but you've got a great state song," Lizzy pointed out. "Although Will back there hates a good musical."

Katie laughed. "My high school's auditorium was built to get a Conestoga wagon on the stage. Probably half the high schools in the state were."

Will changed the subject. "So did you see our event on the Osage reservation, Katie?"

Lizzy's smile fell as Katie answered. "Yeah, I saw probably the last twenty minutes, after I got out of calculus. Governor Gardiner was really good."

"What did you think of the closing remarks?"

"Will," Lizzy warned.

Katie cast a concerned glance at her before answering. "I thought it was good."

"Please ignore him," Lizzy said to her. "He's having a nervous breakdown or something."

"You thought the remarks were bad and you won't tell me why," he said sourly.

"First of all, I never said the remarks were bad. Second, can we not have this argument in front of the nice volunteer who's taking time to help us?"

He changed tack. "Katie, aren't you curious to know why Lizzy thought the remarks were bad?"

Before Katie could answer, Lizzy let out a high-pitched noise of frustration. "Will, did you show those remarks to anyone before the Governor went on stage?"

"There wasn't time."

"And that's my problem."

"Since when do you--"

Lizzy twisted around to face him. "Did you not notice how the Governor tripped when she got to the part about crimes against women? It was a man's opinion and it sounded like it. You wrote about violence against women and didn't have an actual woman read it before the Governor was supposed to read it out loud."

"Well, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Her jaw dropped and she huffed out a sigh as she turned around again. Beside her, Katie laughed nervously. "You two are worse than an old married couple."

They spent almost the rest of the drive to Tulsa International in silence.

At the airport they found Jane booked them on a flight to St. Louis, and Will used his credit card and bumped them up to first class. Lizzy murmured her thanks, but otherwise she sat silently next to him in the terminal while they waited for their flight.

He couldn't understand why they were fighting in the first place. He'd have thought this was just the stress of getting left behind, but no, it started before that. She wouldn't answer a simple question and it irritated him. Now he didn't want to bring it up for fear of another fight.

When they boarded the plane and got to their seats, Will took her bag and stowed it overhead. "What have you got in there?" he asked, settling down next to her. "I wish I'd known it was so heavy. I would have helped before."

"Laptop, some memos, couple water bottles, the new book on Lincoln's foreign policy... Oh, and the shoes I was wearing this morning."

"Shoes?"

"I always have extra shoes."

"I suppose that explains the size of the bag."

She didn't answer. She rubbed her temple for a minute before resting her head on his shoulder. "We shouldn't do this again."

The seats across the aisle were empty and the flight attendants were otherwise occupied, so Will kissed the top of her head. "Spend an afternoon in rural Oklahoma?"

"That too. I meant the fighting."

With a rueful smile, he took her hand in his. "You know we're going to."

"I know. I just... It was different before this," she replied, squeezing his hand. "I don't know how to explain it."

"I know what you mean."

She turned her head and kissed his shoulder, looking up at him with her big brown eyes, those eyes that held him captive from their first meeting. "I'm willing to agree to a truce, though."

"What are your terms?" Will asked.

"That the bus never leaves us behind again."

As the pilot began to run through the preflight announcements, Will chuckled. "I'll do what I can, sweetheart."

They got to St. Louis and found a room at a hotel that could dry clean their clothes overnight. The campaign was staying in Springfield and would be in St. Louis the next day for a noon rally. They plugged in phones and he read the news to her from her laptop. She leaned against him and he remembered her remark from the fundraiser night in South Carolina--this felt domestic. It made him want more.

Less than a year ago he'd never heard of Elizabeth Bennet. Now he was having difficulty imagining what it would be like to be without her.

Eventually he closed up the laptop and set it aside. "Considering we didn't work much after about two this afternoon, I'm exhausted."

Still wrapped in hotel bathrobes, they settled under the covers and turned off the lights. "Yeah, but how many people get abandoned in a tallgrass prairie?" Lizzy said, snuggling up to him. "It'll be a great story to tell your kids."

Our kids, his mind immediately supplied, somewhat to his surprise.

It was hard to keep the thought at bay, now that it had surfaced. As Lizzy fell asleep, Will remembered the quiet Christmas he and Gigi had spent in Pemberley, their hometown, this last year, and he wondered what it would be like with the woman in his arms. She had a strange way of making him feel at home no matter where he was. As he drifted off to sleep, it occurred to him that this was what falling in love was like.

It had been years since Will felt this way. He was a different man now than the last time he let down his defenses so completely. More mature, he hoped, and more resilient.

In the morning, though, those idle thoughts were forgotten, in part because he woke up alone. With the curtains drawn it was hard to tell what time it was. They didn't have to be downstairs before ten o'clock, though. Lizzy was an early riser, but this was just silly.

"Lizzy," he said, turning to his back to see her hanging something in the closet.

"I was just getting our clothes," she whispered.

"Come back to bed, darlin'."

"Well, when you put it that way."

She crawled onto the bed, hovering over him, long brown hair hanging down in his face. Slowly she began to kiss his forehead, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, lips at his ear.

Will hummed in contentment. "I did."

"Good," Lizzy replied, sitting back and pulling away the sheets. "Time to get up. It's almost eight o'clock, and I know how long it takes you to shave."

"Tease," he grumbled.

"I can't really argue that."

An hour later, they were both ready to go, and they went downstairs for a relaxed breakfast before the Gardiner bus arrived. The staffers and even the press made fun of them for having been left behind, but Will was already forgetting how much of the day they'd spent bickering. He'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

Chapter 8

Posted on 2014-04-21

As an aside, I should note that anyone who claims to know with any certainty what's going to happen today is at best an idiot.

Hal Preston, TwoSeventy-dot-com, February 18, 2014

Wisconsin was one of many states voting on Super Tuesday, so Gardiner for America camped in Madison for the day. Lizzy got to the campaign office early to do satellite interviews for all the morning shows and some local stations. The Governor and Dr. Gardiner were busy doing the same, although they were done with theirs first. By the time Lizzy finished her California spots, she was ready for lunch.

Back at the Gardiner home--not the executive mansion, but their house--she found Will alone in the kitchen, chopping a mountain of vegetables. "Hi," he said. "You any good with a knife?"

"Well, not as good as you," she replied, watching him dice an onion like a pro. "But I'm not a danger to society."

He smiled and waved her over. "Come break down this broccoli. I've got to get the macaroni in the oven."

The macaroni was for the kids. For the adults Will was throwing together a stir fry. "There won't be time to eat tonight. I figured a big lunch was a better idea."

"Yeah, I'm just wondering when you learned to cook."

"When I was a teenager," he said. "I thought it'd help me pick up girls."

She put down her knife for a minute as she laughed. Will smiled, and he leaned in to kiss her.

They'd hardly had a moment alone since St. Louis, so Lizzy wasn't surprised when a quick kiss lingered. In the month since New Hampshire, Will had learned exactly how to kiss her to drive her out of her mind. His lips moved slowly against hers and his hands went to her hips. He turned to press her against the cabinet, while his thumbs slipped up under her shirt, seeking bare skin and making her whimper.

As she buried her fingers in his hair, a high squeal startled them both. Will stepped back abruptly; Lizzy straightened her shirt and turned to see who had come in.

"Hannah," she said in relief, finding only the Gardiners' two-year-old. "Do you need something, peanut?"

Hannah waved her sippy cup. "Empty."

Lizzy refilled the cup with water, and Hannah was gone as quickly as she'd barged in. Will blew out a sigh. "At least it wasn't Jack."

She let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah. Jack would have to be bribed."

Will was quiet as they got back to cooking. Too quiet, really, and she had to ask. "Is something wrong?"

There was tension around his mouth, and he slowed his knife. "Would it be so bad?" he asked.

"Would what be so bad?"

"If people found out. About us."

Suddenly Lizzy felt cold. "What--what do you mean?"

He set down the knife and looked at her skeptically. "You're not tired of trying to hide this?"

"Will..."

"I mean, what are we going to do if we win? We go work at the White House and what?" he asked. "Four years of sneaking around? I have a hard time believing that's what you want."

"It's not," she replied, "but it's not that simple."

"Yes, it is, Lizzy. We're adults. Do you want to be with me or not?"

For a minute Lizzy couldn't speak. She couldn't look away from him either, and she saw the way his expression closed off as she failed to answer him. "Will," she pleaded.

"Lizzy, I told you that night in Nashua," he said tersely. "This isn't because you're convenient, or so I can work off stress, or whatever excuses people come up with. I've wanted you for so long I can't even remember when it started. I want to be with you, Lizzy, and not just in bed. I'm not made for--for half-measures."

It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her; it was a pity he looked so angry while he said it. "Neither am I, Will, but..."

"No," he snapped. "No, there's no 'but' after that."

"Will," she warned, her own temper rising. "Do you think I'm ashamed of this? Embarrassed to be seen with you?"

"Well, since I can't imagine why you refuse to be seen with me..."

"Will! I work for you! I know you're not forcing me into this and I'm not trying to take advantage of you, but do you know how this looks to other people?"

"Who cares how it looks?"

"I do!" she all but shouted. "I'm the face of this campaign, Will. More than that, I'm a woman doing a man's job, working for the first woman who's actually got a shot at breaking the last glass ceiling."

He looked stunned. "Are you kidding me? You're sneaking around like this because of what some narrow-minded idiots on television are going to say?"

Lizzy shook her head. "It's not just them. Do you know what people said about Jane when she and Chuck were found out?"

"Then they were narrow-minded idiots too. Lizzy, do you not hear how crazy this is?"

"How crazy this is," she repeated, her face flushing. "I have to say, Will, sometimes your lack of communication skills is so far beyond ironic that it's just sad."

"Lizzy, I didn't..."

She wasn't in a mood to give him a chance to talk his way around her. He called after her as she stormed out of the kitchen, but she didn't want to hear any more. Will always drove her crazy; he'd never made her quite so angry as this.

The worst part was that she thought he'd understood. After Nashua, they talked about keeping private lives private. These jobs were once-in-a-lifetime and more important than personal considerations. Or at least Lizzy thought so. Beyond that, if they lost, who would hire her after she'd slept with her boss?

Knowing she needed to calm down before anyone saw her, Lizzy stepped out the front door and stayed on the porch for a while. There was a tremendous amount of snow on the ground and the air was cold but she wanted to be in it. The chill would help her get control of herself before she had to face people.

Before that could happen, her phone rang. She half-expected it to be Will, but instead she saw her stepfather's picture on the screen. He hardly ever called.

"Hi, David," she said when she answered. "What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Lizzy," he replied. "Listen, Princess, have you got a minute?"

Something bad was happening. She could hear it in his voice. "David, what's wrong?"

Margaret Gardiner had run for office plenty of times, but nothing had prepared her for a Presidential campaign. She strongly suspected nothing could. It was often exhausting, thrusting her all day into the company of people she had never met, would probably never meet again, but were her closest friends for the sixty seconds they were in her presence. She couldn't turn on the television without seeing an image of herself. She'd always been conscious of how she dressed, but now she felt as though she was growing obsessed.

And of course, her kids missed her and she missed them desperately. Ed was great through everything, but Margaret missed him too, and only hoped the results would be worth the sacrifices they were making in their personal lives.

Coming to Wisconsin for Super Tuesday was a nice change of pace, a return to normality, if only for a day. After finishing the satellite interviews that morning, she went to the state house without the Gardiner for America staff, wanting to thank those who had run the state government in her absence and those who went out campaigning for her. As a result, it was nearly lunchtime when she got back to the house.

Wondering what was for lunch, she got out of her car and headed up to the front door, but she stopped short when she saw Lizzy Bennet sitting on the porch steps, sobbing.

"Lizzy?" Margaret said, hurrying as fast as she dared on the slushy walkway. "Lizzy, what's wrong?"

The young woman looked up from her phone, face red and tear-streaked. "My mom," she said, struggling to get her voice under control. "She was sick a couple years ago but it went into remission."

"I know," Margaret replied, sitting next to her. "Cancer."

Lizzy nodded. "My stepfather called. She went in for tests last week. The cancer has come back. They found out today there's nothing they can do. She's got a couple months, on the outside."

"Oh, Lizzy," Margaret said, while the younger woman succumbed to tears again.

Margaret wrapped her arms around her, letting her cry on her shoulder for several minutes. Her own mother died a few years ago, and she couldn't help but wonder if the suddenness of that death had been a blessing. It hadn't seemed so at the time, but she couldn't imagine what Lizzy was about to go through.

Lizzy took a few deep, shuddering breaths and pulled away. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Margaret shook her head. "Please, don't apologize."

"No, I mean--I need to take some time soon," she said. "After today we've got a couple weeks before the next primaries and I... I need to see my mom."

"Lizzy, you need to go home now," Margaret told her gently. "And you should stay there for as long as you need to."

Lizzy looked startled. "Governor, I made a commitment here."

"And I'm telling you, this is more important than me. Is your mom still in the Chicago area?" Lizzy nodded, so Margaret continued, "Jane's driving down to O'Hare this afternoon for her next advance trip. She can take you to your family."

"Ma'am, are you sure?"

"I appreciate your commitment, Lizzy, but someone else can handle the media for a while. Your mother only has one daughter." Lizzy agreed to it, and together they stood. "I'll send Jane out, okay?"

"Oh!" Lizzy cried. "Please, don't... don't tell everyone. I know Richard probably needs to know, but I just... I'm sorry. I just don't think I can handle all of..."

She trailed off in tears again, and Margaret couldn't offer an objection. "I won't. It's not my business to tell everyone."

She left Lizzy alone on the porch, leaning against one of the posts, and found Jane as quickly as she could. Jane looked alarmed as Margaret told her to get ready to leave earlier than planned, but she followed instructions, gathered her things and Lizzy's, and headed outside. Meanwhile, Margaret quietly pulled Richard into Hannah's bedroom and shut the door.

"Governor, is something wrong?" he asked, frowning.

"Lizzy's mother is sick, and it's terminal," Margaret told him. "She's going home."

"Today?" Richard said, looking startled. "I'm sorry, that was...I'm sorry."

She decided to let it slide. "She wouldn't be any good to us right now anyway, Rick."

"I know. I wish I didn't have to think like this, but do you know when she's coming back?"

"I don't know, but if it's as dire as reported, I don't think she should come back while her mother is still alive."

"Of course," he replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Charlotte can deal with the reporters for now. She's pretty good with them anyway."

Margaret nodded. "Lizzy doesn't want everyone knowing about this, so let's try to respect her privacy. Charlotte can know, but we shouldn't tell many more people."

"What are we going to tell the press when they ask why Lizzy isn't around?"

"That she has some personal matters to attend to. Hopefully they'll decide to write about other things."

"We can only hope."

Richard went back out. Margaret hung back in her daughter's bedroom, picking up yesterday's socks and enjoying the moment alone.

Lizzy had been around for about eight months, she thought, and her coming to the campaign was a miracle. It wasn't an exaggeration to think that without Lizzy to manage the press, they never would have survived the summer, let alone positioned themselves to win the nomination. Richard had been an advisor on a failed primary bid four years ago, Will had been on the failed general election staff a few months later, and that was the extent of Margaret's staff's experience on the national stage. Lizzy had the instincts they'd needed.

Richard was a born strategist; Charlotte was a brilliant tactician. Will and Chuck were both great writers on their own, and a force to be reckoned with together. Jane could organize an unruly mob, and had an amazing ability to manage people without them noticing they were being managed. They were an incredible team, and Margaret felt very fortunate to have them.

She was hopeful they had their sea legs now and wouldn't run into too much trouble without their spokeswoman, but Lizzy would still be missed.

No one reported on Lizzy's sudden absence that night, which led Margaret to hope political reporters were going to spend their time on Super Tuesday reporting on politics. She was going to win Wisconsin handily, of course, along with the other Midwestern states going to the polls today. Zwillick would take the South, New Jersey, and probably Arizona. California was looking closer than she liked, but Jim Fitzwilliam's endorsement was carefully timed for late in the game, to give them a free media boost. Washington and Idaho would be a draw.

Later than usual, Margaret and Ed took their sleeping kids back to their bedrooms. "They're not going to wake up later, are they?" she asked.

"I doubt it. They both fell asleep in the middle of that racket downstairs," Ed replied.

Closing Jack's door behind him, he stopped her with a hand on her arm while they stood at the end of the dark hallway. With his other hand, he drew her in for a long, slow kiss. They got to kiss all the time when they were together, she thought in distraction, but never like this. Pecks on the cheek, acceptably brief kisses on the mouth, but never anything that reflected the reality of their marriage. That was all right, though. Ed was her partner in every sense of the word, but the public didn't need to know just how much she still wanted him.

"Good to have you back, Meg," he said when he drew back. "Missed you."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hanging on to the moment as much as to him. He rubbed her back and kissed her cheek. "Hey, I don't know if you've noticed," he said quietly, "but does Will seem off to you tonight?"

He had, actually, not so much quieter than usual, but more distant. "Now that you mention it."

"That's not about Lizzy, is it?"

Margaret sighed. "To be honest? Probably." In her admittedly limited spare time, she wondered occasionally about those two. They were both so intelligent and passionate, and it seemed like they'd rather fight with each other than live peaceably with anyone else. Margaret wasn't sure either of them would be willing to cross professional boundaries, but sometimes the attraction between them was electric, and impossible to miss.

A cheer went up from the living room below, and Ed tugged her hand. "Come on," he said, grinning. "Let's go see who else was smart enough to vote for you."

With a smile, Margaret led the way.

Sometime after two in the morning, Will stumbled into his hotel room and into bed, still stunned by the disaster of the day.

Since St. Louis, he found himself thinking more often than not about Lizzy and their relationship. There was some impropriety in it, but it wasn't so egregious it couldn't be overcome if they wanted to. And he wanted to, desperately.

Once before he'd told a woman he loved her, and there had been a moment in the aftermath of that horror story when he thought he would never say it again. But he wanted to now. He'd thought tonight, after everything was over, he would tell her how he felt. He'd spent his nights alone imagining how she would react, with sweet, eager kisses, with quiet, urgent intimacy, and maybe even a confession of her own.

He'd misplaced all his optimism for today. The campaign was doing better than he expected, yet his own plans were moot. He still couldn't believe Lizzy simply left. This argument was worse than others, but had she really left because of him? Was she so insecure, or arrogant, or hurt, that she would leave not only him but her job? It didn't make any sense, but why else would she go?

Will slept poorly, his mind too wrapped up in memory and anger. In the morning, he dragged himself out of bed early--when Lizzy would have been up--and slowly started getting ready. He sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes before he remembered where they were going today. Colorado. Denver, he thought. As he finally got up and headed for the bathroom, he thought it was remarkable he could still function with all the time zone hopping he was doing.

He went through his morning routine focusing on the individual acts, trying not to think. At work he thought he'd be all right, despite the vacuum Lizzy left. He'd have things to do. When he was alone, it would be too easy to think of her and indulge in pity. His father chastised him once for feeling sorry for himself, and since then he'd done what he could not to wallow. Even when his parents died, he'd done everything in his power to keep it together.

He almost made it, too. He almost got through his routine without stopping to think, then he brought his razor to his face and paused, looking at himself in the mirror. Lizzy teased him about this that last morning they were together. Then she'd joined him in the bathroom and watched him shave. It made him self-conscious, but at the same time he loved it. He loved her, and loved that she wanted to be around him.

He set the razor down and leaned heavily on the cheap countertop. He hardly recognized the face in the mirror. Dark circles under his eyes, lines new from a year before. More than that, he looked defeated, maybe because this wasn't raw betrayal he was dealing with. There was no George Wickham to hit in the face, no Caroline to throw out of his life. Lizzy simply left him, and he felt more alone now than before he knew she existed.

He picked up the razor again, shaving slowly and carefully, knowing people would talk if he arrived looking any different than usual. He dressed, put on cuff links, a tie, armor to keep the world at bay.

It nearly worked. On the plane to Colorado, no one approached him with anything but business. He spent his time reviewing remarks, reading polls, and studying Zwillick's latest events. Only in the evening did Richard stop by to talk about personal things. Pushing aside the memory of Lizzy bringing pie for these conversations, he glanced up from his laptop, waiting for his cousin to speak.

After an awkward minute, Richard said, "You all right, man?"

Will held his gaze briefly before turning back to his work. "Of course I am."

"Somehow I don't believe you. Have you talked to her since..."

"Richard."

Richard held up his hands in surrender. "It's not my business. But you should talk to her. You of all people..."

With a heavy sigh, Will snapped his laptop closed and walked away. He didn't stop walking until he was outside, where it had been snowing for a while. For a long time he stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the gathering flurries.

He would get over this. If Lizzy could walk away, so could he. He would do his job, forget the hurt, forget the anger, and forget her.

It was a two-hour drive from Madison to Geneva. Jane hardly said a word while she took Lizzy back to her mother's house. When they got there, Jane helped get her bags out of the trunk, then embraced her. They stood in the street with Lizzy crying again, until Jane could stay no longer. "Call me, okay?" Jane said. "Doesn't matter when. If you just need to talk or scream or hear someone else for a while..."

"Thank you, Janie," Lizzy replied, impulsively kissing her friend's cheek.

"It's what friends do, Lizzy."

Lizzy gathered her things and walked up the snow-covered drive to the house, where someone was peeking through the curtains in the front room. Jane waited until Lizzy was inside to drive away.

The family was there to greet her, just like Thanksgiving and Christmas, but Lizzy was startled by the change in mood. Only little Julie was acting like herself, although once she moderated her voice and said, "An'Liz, Grandma's sick. We have to be quiet."

"You do not," Fran said from the other side of the room. "Come here, sweetheart."

Julie ran off to her grandmother's indulgence and Lizzy followed. Her mother looked so, so sick, so weak, and Lizzy blinked back fresh tears.

"None of that," Fran said to her when Lizzy sat beside her. "How long will you be here? I'm surprised you could come at all today."

"As long as I need to be, Mom," Lizzy replied, taking her mother's hand and not letting go for a long time.

There was no call from Will that night, but she didn't expect one just yet. She knew he could be stubborn when he was angry, and even she wanted him to cool off before talking with her again. But he didn't call the second night, or the third, and soon a week had gone by with nothing.

Lizzy didn't understand it. She knew parts of his past, knew his parents died in a car accident years ago. And he knew about her mother, knew she had given up a job she loved in order to help when her mother was sick the first time. Was there no empathy in him after all? She wanted to slap him for the things he'd said about her concerns over their relationship, but was he really so angry with her he couldn't say he was sorry about her mother?

After a couple weeks she stopped expecting to hear from him. After a month, she stopped hoping. And in a couple months, maybe she could stop being angry too.