Pemberley Ranch (4 page)

“Yes,” replied Whitehead smoothly, “but I shall certainly take seconds.”

Beth nearly rolled her eyes at their guest’s embroidered gallantry. As much as she liked George Whitehead, he could lay on the compliments a bit too thickly for her taste. But as he meant to compliment her mother, his bit of foolishness was forgiven at once. And the man was devilishly handsome with his dark hair, elegantly styled vandyke, and impeccably tailored clothes. Yes, a person with whom it was very difficult to be exasperated.

As Mr. Bennet preferred to listen rather than lead the conversation about table, it fell to Whitehead to steer the discussion. “Miss Jane, I am sure you are looking forward to next month’s nuptials.”

“I am, George, thank you.” Beth had hoped she would bring up the antipathy between Charles and George, but she was disappointed.

“My best wishes for your felicity. And you, Miss Beth—still enjoy riding all over creation on Thomas?”

Beth hid a smirk. Not only had George failed to understand the hidden joke of her horse’s name—most people did— he had forgotten it completely. “Turner, sir. Yes, I was just riding this afternoon, in fact, and I was most rudely treated by our neighbor.”

That caught Bennet’s attention. “What happened, my dear?”

Whitehead was most solicitous. “I hope you were not mistreated by a B&R employee, Miss Beth.”

“Oh, no, it was a rider from Pemberley! I had not realized that they owned all of the land across the river. While enjoying my ride, I was intercepted, warned off the land, and escorted off. Why, you’d think I was a cattle rustler by the way I was treated.”

“Were you mistreated, Beth?” her father demanded. “I won’t stand for it! Did anyone threaten you?”

Beth realized she had overstated the case and tried to put the company at ease. “Father, I misspoke. I was indeed informed that I was trespassing, but I must admit that I suffered no hurt to my person, only my feelings. I was not mistreated, either by words or actions. Besides receiving a scolding, I have no complaints, save that I must remain on this side of the river.”

“How rude!” cried Mrs. Bennet in maternal solidarity. “To treat any child of mine so! Tom, you should have a talk with Mr. Darcy about the character of his men.”

Whitehead shook his head. “I’m not certain that would have any effect, Mrs. Bennet. Recall that I know the Darcys well, and they do not take kindly to others telling them how to run their business. I, myself, after having extended the hand of friendship to that family, have also been, as Miss Beth so elegantly put it, ‘warned off’ Pemberley. Who was the man who accosted you, Miss Beth?”

“Accosted is a bit strong, George. As I said, my ride was interrupted by a Pemberley rider, but he didn’t offer his name.”

“I’ll wager I can guess the man. Ruddy-faced man on a brown quarter horse? Wearing a black hat with a silver hatband?”

Beth shook her head. “No, he was tall with a tan hat. Dark hair and clean shaven, like you, and his horse was black.”

Whitehead stared at her. “His eyes—did you note the color of his eyes?”

Beth licked her lips. She had left that part out, for they were the most intense eyes she had ever beheld, but she would not be reticent. “Blue—bright blue.”

Whitehead let out a bark of laughter. “Why, Miss Beth, you’ve met the man himself! That was William Darcy, esteemed owner of Pemberley Ranch, Darcy Bank, and half of Long Branch County! Do you not feel fortunate at such a meeting?”

Beth could not help stealing a glance at Jane. Sure enough, her sister was red in the face with mortification. For the sake of
her
feelings, Beth labored to defuse the situation. “I’m always happy to meet new people, George, but I can’t vouch for others. As he said, it’s his land, and I shall respect that.”
No matter how little I respect him!

“Well said, my dear,” injected her father, “we should always respect other people’s property.”

George did not take the hint to change the subject. “It’s not surprising that you didn’t know who he was, for he is a rather peculiar fellow. He’s practically a hermit, and he keeps his sister close to Pemberley with him. Had you never seen him in town?”

“No, none of us have,” Beth replied.

Mary decided to have her share of the conversation. “We certainly have not seen them in church on Sunday, unlike other respectable members of the community.”

How like Mary to note that!
Beth considered. But it was true. The Darcys did not attend services at the church in town, while Catherine Burroughs and her daughter, Anne, made a very notable procession every Sunday to their reserved pew in the front. Sheriff Lucas, Doctor Bingley, and George
Whitehead were all members in good standing of Reverend Henry Tilney’s congregation.

“Well,” Whitehead grinned, “we are commanded to be faithful, yet we are all poor sinners. But what can you expect from a man who has taken up arms against his country?” Beth winced a little at the latest disparagement of Darcy, knowing how it would give Jane pain, as the same could be said of Charles.

Finally, Mr. Bennet roused himself to take control of his dinner table. “Any news from town, George? We’ve been very busy here with harvest time upon us.”

“Yes, a new family has just moved in east of town in the new settlement—the Washingtons, a former slave family from Louisiana, looking for a better life out here.”

Bennet frowned. “East of town, George? You mean that land near the river?”

“That’s the place.”

Bennet pursed his lips. “It’s a bit low there, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you say that land’s prone to flooding?”

Whitehead stared at Bennet for a moment, his face made of stone. He blinked and a shy grin grew across his face. “Well, I’m no expert about that, Tom. I’m only the recorder of deeds. Mrs. Burroughs sells the land. But I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen any flooding in the new settlements.”

Bennet shrugged his shoulders as he sipped his coffee. “If you say so, George.”

“Well,” cried Mrs. Bennet, “if everyone’s finished—no seconds, Mr. Whitehead? Are you sure? Well then, girls, help me clear the table for dessert. Blackberry cobbler!”

William and Gabrielle Darcy walked the small man in the black cassock to his carriage. “I’m pleased you could join us for dinner, Father.”

Father Joseph smiled as he spoke in a heavy Spanish accent. “No, my son, it is I who should thank you, your sister, and most particularly your cook, Mrs. Reynolds!”

“Oh, Father,” said Gaby, “you’re welcome anytime.” She curtsied as he took first her hand and then her brother’s, before making the Sign of the Cross over them in blessing.

“May Our Father bless you and all here.” The priest climbed into his carriage.

“Go with God, Padre!” Will shouted as the brother and sister waved in farewell.

“That there’s a good man, even if he does wear a dress,” drawled Richard Fitzwilliam, leaning on a column next to the steps leading down from the veranda.

“Maybe you should come to Mass with us sometimes, Fitz,” said Gaby. “It’ll do you good.”

Fitz laughed. “Me? All that kneelin’ an’ bowin’ an’ such? Thank you kindly, Miss Gaby, but that ain’t for me.”

Gaby shook her head in fond resignation as she continued into the house. Will and Fitz sat down in two rocking chairs on the veranda and lit cigars. “Heard ’bout the latest homesteaders come to town?” Fitz began. “Former slaves bought some o’ that bottomland from your cousin, like the rest o’ them.”

Darcy closed his eyes for a moment. “Damn!”

“Yeah,” Fitz took a puff, “don’t know how folks ’round here will cotton to a family of former slaves movin’ in.”

Darcy glanced at his friend and ranch foreman. “You’ve got a point, Fitz, but that’s not what I meant. You’re not from around
here. There’s a reason that land’s lay fallow ’til now. It’s low and prone to flooding. I remember back in ’55 when the Long Branch came up from its banks after a heavy storm. It’s been dry ever since, but that won’t last. We get one big rain, those people in the new settlement will have three to four feet of water in their homes.”

“Your cousin, Mrs. Burroughs, must know that. Why’s she sellin’?”

“Oldest reason in the world—money. Whitehead and that fancy-pants bank manager of hers, Collins, talked Cate into it.”

“You could talk her out of it.”

Darcy stared out onto his land, his features set. “Nope. That isn’t my concern anymore. I learned my lesson in the war, Fitz. I worry only about my family, my people, and Pemberley. Everything else can see to itself.”

The two finished their cigars in silence.

“Ah, here you are, Beth,” said her father as he walked into his study.

“Yes, I was reading and keeping Samuel company.” Beth was in an armchair near the bookcase, an oil lamp on the side table, and the precious lone photograph of Samuel that had been taken before his departure with the rest of the Ohio troops lovingly hung on the adjoining wall. Bennet walked up to it, sighing.

“You know, I think Samuel would have liked Texas,” he observed before turning to her. “You’ve certainly changed your mind about the place.”

Beth put down her book. “Texas is a lovely place.” She then smiled impishly. “If only it wasn’t full of Texans!”

Bennet laughed. “Now, that’s not quite true. You’ve made great friends with Miss Charlotte Lucas, the sheriff’s daughter. Reverend Tilney’s a good man.” He paused. “You’re not holding the war against Doc Bingley, are you?”

Beth bit her lip. “No. How can I? He makes Jane so happy—”

“Don’t you like him for himself?”

Beth colored. “I do. It’s just…” she glanced at Samuel’s portrait, “I feel as if I’m betraying Samuel’s memory.”

Bennet laid a hand on her shoulder. “Beth, you’ve got to try to forget about the war.”

“I try, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll forget Samuel.”

Bennet just shook his head. “Well, I’m going to bed, my dear. Don’t stay up too late.” He kissed the top of her head and left. Beth watched him go and then turned her eyes to the photograph.

Softly to herself, she repeated her vow. “I’ll not forget you, Samuel. No matter what the others do, I’ll stay true, just watch. I’ll never forget you.” With that she extinguished the light and left the room for bed.

October, 1870

“I
HEREBY PRONOUNCE YOU
man and wife. What God hath joined, let no man tear asunder.” The Reverend Henry Tilney then raised his hands to the congregation. “Friends, let me present to you Dr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley.”

To general applause, the happy couple walked down the aisle, Bingley in his best blue suit and Jane in a store-bought dress ordered direct from St. Louis. Behind them was a slightly less joyous couple: maid of honor Beth Bennet and best man William Darcy.

The newlyweds, their family, and friends proceeded by foot to the only place in Rosings large enough for a reception, Younge’s Saloon. Sally Younge, proprietor and madam of the place, promised that her “working girls” would be gone from the premises for the duration of the festivities, to the relief of the Bennets and the despair of some of the male townsfolk.

True to her word to her sister, Beth had said not a single disparaging word to her escort, although she dearly wished to. She was uncomfortable, and not just because of the words spoken
to her a month ago by the man now walking beside her. They still stung, and Beth was loath to either forgive or forget. But what made matters worse was how downright handsome the man was. Darcy was impeccable in his suit, not a hair was out of place— and his smell! A subtle yet wondrous aroma filled her nostrils whenever he stood near, a far finer smell than the
eau de cologne
favored by George Whitehead. Beth tried valiantly not to look into his face, for a man with his blue eyes was far too dangerous.

Darcy, too, was in turmoil. To his dismay he realized the tomboy to whom he had been so short was the Bennet girl he was obligated to stand with at Charles’s wedding. She was quite simply the fairest girl he had ever seen. True, Jane Bennet—now Mrs. Bingley—was as lovely as Charles had claimed, but Darcy’s eye would not leave the woman beside him. All the Bennet girls were pretty in their own right, but Darcy was enchanted by the fire in Beth Bennet’s eyes. A man could get lost there, he knew, and he vowed not to allow himself to be tempted.

The party soon reached their destination, and the place was quickly filled, for in as small a town as Rosings, one could not have a wedding and not invite the entire population. The piano player took his seat, and Charles and Jane waltzed for the first time as a married couple. Darcy and Beth watched, in admiration on his part and apprehension on hers, for the last duty of their joint office was to dance the second dance.

Darcy decided to make conversation. “Your sister looks very happy, Miss Beth.”

Beth resolutely stared at the couple dancing. “Yes. When we moved here, I’m sure we had no thought that Jane would meet so agreeable a person as Dr. Bingley.”

“She’s very fortunate. Charles is a good man.”

Beth was glad at his statement, for the implied suggestion that Jane was a husband hunter gave her a reason to let loose her animosity towards Darcy. “Indeed? I’m glad you think so. I know my family feels the same. However, knowing Jane as I do, it is my decided opinion that Charles is getting the best of the bargain. There’s no one so good as my sister.”

Before Darcy could respond, the music ended, and he was occupied applauding the couple. He then reached out for Beth’s hand, and the two of them joined the Bingleys and the Bennets for a dance. Another waltz began, and Darcy took Beth’s left hand in his right, placed his left on her waist, and whispered, “Just follow my lead, Miss Bennet, if you’re unsure of the steps.”

Beth was forced to bite her tongue, for it would not do to make a scene at Jane’s wedding, no matter how insufferable this tall, handsome, pompous ass could be. Not trusting herself, she refused to talk to him during the whole of the dance. She glanced at him occasionally, and for the first time noticed a faint scar on his forehead. Darcy took her silence as evidence of her nervousness and did not press her for conversation. The assembled watched two people perform the figures of the waltz flawlessly, as if they were a machine.

Not too soon for either, the dance ended, and Beth would have made her escape after the requisite bow had not her partner refused to release her hand. He instead deposited it upon his arm, and she was forced to suffer his escort back to her parents.

Darcy bowed slightly to the Bennets. “Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, my congratulations again on your daughter’s marriage.” The Bennets civilly thanked him for his courtesy. Darcy straightened up and made a gesture at a couple nearby. “May I present my sister to you? This is Miss Gabrielle Darcy, and this
is the foreman of Pemberley Ranch, Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam. Gabrielle, Fitz, this is Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and their daughter, Miss Beth Bennet.”

Miss Darcy, a black-haired girl dressed in the latest fashion, shyly greeted them. “I’m happy to meet you. I’ve met Miss Jane, now Mrs. Bingley, last week, and I’m glad to make the acquaintance of her family.”

She was tall for her age and had a well-formed figure. She owned the same olive skin tone as her brother, but her eyes were of the deepest black. She had a faint exotic air about her, in spite of the awkwardness common in a girl too old to be a child and too young to be an adult. Beth pitied her, as she well recognized the condition. It had bedeviled both her and Mary, and Kathy was suffering it even now. Only Jane and Lily, the beauties of the Bennet girls, seemed to escape the gawkiness that most women experienced.

“As am I,” Fitz added with a grin. “Always happy to meet two such lovely ladies!” A slim man in his late twenties of middling height, Richard Fitzwilliam had a ruddy complexion and fair hair. His suit was not nearly as fine as his employer’s, but his greeting was all that it should be in sincerity and friendliness. Beth could not but like him at once.

Mrs. Bennet giggled at his flattery, and her husband was amused. “Is that so, sir? Shall I need to call you out in defense of my wife’s honor?”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet—how you go on!” cried his wife. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fitzwilliam. And you, too, Miss Darcy. What a lovely girl you are and such a fine figure to go with such a pretty dress! I am sure you got that in St. Louis. My brother, you see, owns a shop in St. Louis, and the dresses—oh my! Nothing but
the best from Gardiner’s—but I’m sure you know about that. How old are you, my dear?”

Beth was mortified at her mother’s monologue, and her embarrassment grew at Darcy’s dark look. Miss Darcy took a half-step back in response to the outburst but answered, “Sixteen, ma’am.”

“Sixteen! My, my—you’re of an age with my Lily! You must meet her and my other daughters! Here’s Mary, but where’s Lily and Kathy? Oh, Tom, do you see them?”

“Umm, perhaps another time, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy coldly said as he took Gaby’s elbow. He quickly made their farewells and strode off, his sister’s arm still grasped in his hand. Fitz watched in some confusion, quickly bowed, and followed. Mrs. Bennet, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention, was insensitive to their abrupt departure, but the action fueled Beth’s displeasure with Darcy. Her father was more sanguine.

“So, that is our neighbor. Tall sort of fellow, isn’t he?”

“All the better to look down his nose at others,” added his daughter spitefully, in a low voice.

He gave her an unreadable look. “Do you think so? Hmm.”

Beth had no opportunity to ask his meaning, as she was happily met by her friend, Charlotte Lucas.

Darcy made his escape from the ridiculous Mrs. Bennet, but he was at a loss to know what to do. Deciding to forward the acquaintance between Gaby and the new Mrs. Bingley, the pair found themselves in the newlyweds’ company, Fitz having deserted his employer to wet his whistle at the bar. He correctly surmised that the exceedingly kind Jane would bring Gaby out of
her shyness. It was just a moment’s work to have the two talking together like old friends.

“I want to thank you again, Will, for everything you’ve done,” Charles said earnestly.

Darcy blanched, his eyes darting about. He took Bingley by the arm and moved to an unoccupied wall. “Say nothing of it, Charles. Consider it a wedding present.”

“Ha! More like a present to my father-in-law! He doesn’t know that he’s only payin’ a fraction of what this soirée is costing, thanks to you. From what Younge’s charging, there’s no way he could’ve afforded it.”

“Will you keep your voice down?” Darcy said irritably.

“Why? Jane knows.” At Darcy’s horrified expression, he added, “She’s agreed to keep it a secret. But why? Why don’t you want Mr. Bennet to know of your generosity?”

Darcy stared out into the crowd, his hands stiffly behind his back. “To tell him would be boasting, Charles, and I can’t abide a braggart. When a man does a kindness, it should be for kindness’ sake alone. I couldn’t allow Sally to take advantage of the man, but he doesn’t need to know about it. Expecting gratitude for a gift is… unseemly.”

Bingley sighed at his friend’s intransigence. The man’s moral code was a bit over-the-top at times. “Like your cousin, Catherine Burroughs?”

Darcy’s grim demeanor cracked a bit as his lips twitched. “Exactly.”

“Where is she, anyway?”

“You didn’t really expect her here?” Darcy was amused. “The wedding of a doctor to a farmer’s daughter? She’d sooner go to a rodeo. And she keeps Anne away, too. A shame—she
has few friends, and it would do her good to know somebody like your wife.”

“You’ve been very good to Jane.”

“We enjoyed her company at Pemberley last week. She’s kind and charming. Gaby likes her very well.”

Bingley smiled. “Her sisters are fine girls, too.” He was surprised Darcy lost his smile. “Will, you don’t disapprove of them, do you?”

Darcy grunted. “Charles, I can say nothing against Mrs. Bingley, but the rest of her family? You’re not blind, man. Look at them! The two youngest are incorrigible flirts, the middle one is a bluestocking if ever I’ve seen one, and the mother is impossible. Why, you should have heard the impudent questions she put to Gaby, all within a minute of meeting her! I barely held my composure.”

“I’m sure you did,” Bingley laughed. “They’re very nice people, Will; they’re just a bit… boisterous. There’s not a mean bone in their bodies. Once you get to know ’em, you’ll see.”

“And why should I do that?”

Charles frowned. “They’re my family now, Will. You’ll be in their company in the future if you’re goin’ to be in mine. I won’t throw off my wife’s family.”

Darcy had the good manners to look abashed. “You’re right, Charles. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I know Miz Bennet can talk a blue streak, but she don’t mean anything by it. It’s just her way. ’Sides, you can’t say anything bad about Mr. Bennet, or Beth.”

“She’s a bit of a tomboy, isn’t she?”

Bingley shrugged. “She grew up on a farm, Will. What did you expect?” He elbowed his friend with a grin. “She sure cleaned up nice, though. Almost as pretty as my Jane.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. Yes, Beth Bennet looked very pretty in a proper lady’s dress. But he couldn’t get out of his mind the way her dungarees showed her backside to advantage in the saddle…

Bingley’s low voice cut in. “Uhh, Will, don’t look now, but Whitehead’s talking to Gaby.”

Darcy’s eyes flew to his sister. Halfway across the room, George Whitehead had engaged Jane Bingley and Gaby Darcy in conversation. Jane was as polite as ever, but Gaby wore a slightly panicked expression.

“God dammit!”
growled Darcy under his breath.

Bingley was grim. “I didn’t want to invite that son-of-a-bitch, but he’s a friend of Mr. Bennet’s. I couldn’t say no without causin’ a ruckus, and then I’d have to explain—”

“I understand, Charles. Nothing you could do. You’d think that no-good dog would stay away from her, after the last time.”

Bingley glanced at Darcy. “You’re not goin’ to cause trouble, are you? Whitehead’s pretty popular ’round here.”

“Then folks need to make better friends.” Darcy took a breath and slowly and resolutely walked over to his sister, Bingley trailing behind. His stare would have burned a hole into George Whitehead’s face. His target was aware of the scrutiny, the sardonic look he returned an obvious challenge. Fists clenched, Darcy stopped a couple of feet away.