Pemberley Ranch

by Jack Caldwell

  “Oh, no, Anne, I couldn’t!”

  The heiress would not take no for an answer. A few minutes later, Beth was twirling before the mirror, Anne clapping in delight. “Oh, it’s perfect! It’s perfect! Just like he—like I said it would be!”

  Beth did not pay close attention to Anne’s words, for she was mesmerized by the dress. The dark shade set off her pale complexion while complementing her hair. It felt like a dream, and it moved as if it were alive. She felt like a princess.

  Bertha watched with a critical eye. “If I let out the bodice…” She pulled at the top. “Yes, that will do. Lovely!”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Beth said.

  Anne walked over to take her hands. “I have plenty of dresses, and that one looks so well on you. Can we have it ready before the party, Bertha?”

  “Oh, yes, miss. If I start right now, it will be done tonight.”

  Beth tried to resist one last time. “Are you sure it’s no trouble?” Assured it was not, Beth had no other argument. “All right, then.”

  Anne laughed and danced about the room.

  July 3

  Early the next morning, Anne rode her thoroughbred along Rosings Creek towards Rosings. About halfway there, she made her expected rendezvous with a tall, dark-haired man.

  “Hello, Anne,” called out Will Darcy. “And how’s Princess today?”

  Anne reached down to pat her beloved horse’s neck. “She’s fine, Will. And how are you? Looking forward to tomorrow’s party?”

  Darcy sighed. “What’s gotten into your mother, anyway? Having a Fourth of July party, for heaven’s sake! The only reason folks will turn up is for the free vittles and beer.”

  “Is that why you’re coming?” Anne said with a small smile.

  “You know why,” Darcy responded. “Well?”

  “You were right. The blue dress looks beautiful on her.”

  “Does she suspect?”

  “No. Will, are you sure about surprising her?”

  Will nodded. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t know. Are you certain that she likes you? I mean, I think she does, but I can’t tell if she likes you in, well, that way.”

  Will grinned at his innocent little cousin. “Anne, Anne, Anne. Just look at the way she talks to me. She’s always teasing—it’s obvious she’s flirting with me. Time I gave her back a little of her own. It’ll work out, just watch.” At her doubtful expression, he leaned over his saddle horn. “Aren’t I always right?”

  Anne grinned slightly. “I suppose you are.” As the smile slid off her face, Darcy grew concerned.

  “Annie, is everything all right? You’ve been awful quiet lately.”

  Anne wouldn’t meet her cousin’s eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Will.”

  “How are things at home? Cate’s not mistreating you, is she?”

  “Mother’s the same as she always is. I’m fine, really.”

  “Annie, look at me.” The girl raised her face. “You can talk to me. You can trust me, you know that.”

  “I do,” she said quietly.

  “We’ve got a place for you at Pemberley if you want it.”

  Anne’s eyes flew open wide. “No! I’m… I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” She glanced at the rising sun. “I’d better get back to the house. I promised to go riding with Beth, and I better get back, or she’ll think I left without her. Bertha’s been keeping her busy, but she can’t do that much longer, or Beth’ll think something’s wrong. See you tomorrow, Will.”

  Anne turned Princess’s head around and headed back to the house. Darcy watched her go for a few moments, still uneasy over his cousin’s demeanor. Finally, he could remain no longer, or he chanced discovery by Miss Bennet.

  “C’mon, Caesar, let’s get back to the barn, huh?” He put spurs to horse, and the great, black beast shot forward, racing over the plains. Will exulted in the ride, his mind moving from concern over his cousin to anticipation about the entrance of another lady—a very pretty, curly-haired lady in blue.

  Chapter 8

  July 4

  “Ah, William, Gabrielle,” welcomed Mrs. Burroughs from the foyer after Bartholomew opened the front door. “Good morning. You’re prompt—very good. Gabrielle, you look lovely today.”

  Darcy hardly heard his cousin’s monologue, for he was too busy scanning the people already assembled in the B&R ranch house for a woman in a blue dress. Mrs. Burroughs noticed his preoccupation and thought she knew the reason.

  “William, Anne is still upstairs. She will be coming down… Why, here she is now.”

  Darcy’s head jerked around, his gaze steady upon the two ladies descending the staircase. Anne appeared quite pretty in her attractive pink and white dress, and Gaby was delighted for her. But Darcy dismissed his cousin with a nod of the head, his attention captured by the vision behind her.

  Darcy was aware that the domineering Cate stood beside him, and he schooled his features to appear as disinterested as possible. Yet, his eyes were locked on Miss Bennet, splendid in a blue and silver gown, her hair up and away from her face. The lady must have felt his stare, for her eyes locked on his and opened wide.

  She knows! Darcy thought. His initial impulse was to damn propriety and approach her, but with Cate in attendance, that would never do. He knew he had a part to play in front of his cousin. He would have to wait to enjoy the pleasure of Miss Bennet’s undivided attention.

  He stepped forward and correctly took Anne’s hand. “Good morning, Cousin. You look very well today. And, you too, Miss Bennet,” he said as he turned to her.

  “Th… thank you, sir.”

  Cate began speaking again, drawing Darcy’s notice, so he did not see the confused look in Beth’s eyes.

  “Come,” the grand lady commanded, “the opening ceremony is about to begin. Darcy, escort your cousin. Gabrielle, attend me.”

  Darcy walked out of the house, Anne’s arm in his, feeling very satisfied. Had he been able to study Beth Bennet longer, he would not have been so pleased with himself.

  It was high noon when a deep voice in his best Army dress blues called out, “Hats off!”

  The men assembled removed their hats as an honor guard of U.S. Cavalry soldiers raised the flag of the United States on a temporary flagpole. The thirty-seven stars and thirteen stripes floated in the light breeze as it rose, accompanied by a rolling cadence. Beth, standing with the Burroughs and George Whitehead, looked on with pride, her hand over her heart, smiling in the sun. Her eye caught a motion, and to her disgust, she observed Will Darcy staring a hole in the ground, his friend, Richard Fitzwilliam, next to him doing the same. Gaby Darcy looked on impassively, occasionally glancing at her brother.

  Beth recalled that George Whitehead once described Darcy as an “unrepentant Rebel.” Yes, he certainly is! There was a sense of disappointment in her musings. She was taken aback by his attentions earlier. The blasted man looked stunning in a dark blue suit, a black tie at his throat. And there was something unusual in his bright blue eyes for a moment, before it was extinguished. For one brief moment, her heart had been in her throat. Beth shook her head, angry that she kept thinking about the annoying man. I will ignore him for the rest of the day, she promised herself.

  Once the flag reached the pinnacle, George stepped forward and began reciting from the Declaration of Independence:

  “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indee
d, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”

  Beth noticed that several of those assembled, Darcy being one, rolled their eyes or shuffled their feet during Whitehead’s recital. Whitehead then jumped ahead to the last section of the Declaration:

  “We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.”

  A restrained cheer went up, men donned their hats again, and the party commenced, as the band struck up “Hail Columbia” followed by “The Star Spangled Banner.” Gaby approached Beth, who had decided not to shun the girl because of her unpleasant brother. Beth, Anne, and Gaby spent a few minutes in pleasant conversation when the master of ceremonies, Mr. Zimmerman, called out for everyone to form up for the first dance.

  George approached the group, and for a moment, Beth thought he was going to request a dance from her, but instead he claimed Anne’s hand. Beth could not decide if she was relieved or envious when she heard a low voice beside her.

  “Miss Bennet, you do look lovely today.” She turned to behold Will Darcy. “Forgive me, but I promised this dance to Gaby. May I request another one?” His bright blue eyes discombobulated her.

  “I… I…”

  “The third one!” hissed Gaby with a twinkle in her eye.

  Beth was puzzled. “The third dance?”

  Darcy took it as agreement. “The third dance it is—thank you, Miss Beth. Gaby, shall we?”

  Consternation gripped the girl, for she had violated her vow of ignoring Will Darcy within fifteen minutes of the start of the dance. “Hateful man!” she hissed to herself.

  “Pardon me?” asked Billy Collins, who had at that moment appeared at her side.

  “Oh! Mr. Collins, what can I do for you?” she said automatically. By the time her brain caught up with her mouth it was too late, and Beth took her place for the Grand March with Mr. Collins. The only good thing about it was she finished the dance without injury to her toes.

  Another gentleman claimed the second dance, a Virginia reel, which was a favorite of Beth’s. Her joy increased as she saw that Reverend Tilney was still dancing with Mary, and that neither looked to be in any hurry to find other partners. Beth was giggling about the state of Mary’s affairs with Charlotte Lucas when they were approached by Darcy and Fitzwilliam.

  “Our dance, I believe, Miss Beth.” His voice held an edge of humor in it, which Beth could not account for, but she could not refuse or turn to Charlotte for assistance. Her friend was already heading to the floor on Fitz’s arm, unmindful of the glare from Sheriff Lucas. Beth sighed and offered her hand to Darcy. It was only as they took their places that she realized the depths of Gaby’s treachery.

  “The Viennese Waltz,” Zimmerman called out.

  Beth blushed as Darcy took her hand. “I believe I know the steps, Mr. Darcy,” she said.

  Darcy grinned, an unsettling sight to Beth. “I don’t doubt it. I remember our last dance very well.”

  The music started, and they began to move with the others. Beth tried not to notice, but her body tingled at his touch. She could sense the strength of Darcy’s arms and the warmth of his body as he held her, smelled his cologne as they swirled around the dance floor, and was mesmerized by his good looks as their eyes met. His masculinity flooded her senses. She felt beautiful, as though she were floating in the sky, the music and the man utterly intoxicating her. Feeling lightheaded, she closed her eyes, part of her wishing it were over, another part hoping the dance would never end.

  “Miss Beth?”

  The spell broken, she looked up into Darcy’s face.

  “The dance is done,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  “Um… I feel a little faint. Perhaps I need to sit down.”

  “Of course. Just this way.” With the utmost gentleness, Darcy guided Beth to a chair. After she was seated, he offered to bring her something to drink.

  “Oh, no. Rest is all I need. I feel better already.”

  “It is a bit warm. You shouldn’t overdo.”

  Beth couldn’t decide if he was being polite or overbearing. She settled on the former. “It is a little warm. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Darcy smiled. “I’ll just keep you company until your next dance partner arrives.”

  “That would be me,” said a voice behind him. “Thank you for taking care of Miss Beth.”

  Darcy lost all expression at the sound of Whitehead’s voice. He turned slowly. “Miss Bennet is tired. She may wish to rest for a while, Whitehead.”

  “Oh, no!” the lady cried. “I’m fine. George, give me your hand.” As Whitehead did so, Beth could’ve almost sworn that Darcy flinched. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Darcy replied in a bored tone. “Enjoy your dance.” Before Beth’s confused eyes, Darcy turned on his heel and walked away.

  “My good friend, Darcy,” George smirked, “charming as ever.” The two began dancing, but Beth was still thinking over Darcy’s abrupt change of countenance. Did it have something to do with George Whitehead?

  “What disturbs you, Miss Beth?” George asked.

  She looked up at him and blurted out, “Why did you come here?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Beth blinked. “To Rosings, I mean. My family moved here for land and a new start. Why did you come to Texas?”

  “Ah. Well, I suppose it was to do good. Help those who had been put down all their lives. Right the injustice that was perpetrated here.”

  “Help the former slaves?”

  “Yes, you could say that.”

  “But, there don’t seem to be any slaves around here—except for the Washingtons, and they moved here recently.”

  “Well, when one is a public servant, one goes where one is assigned. But what makes you think there haven’t been slaves around here?”

  “I haven’t seen any. You mean there are, or were? Did the Darcys own slaves?”

  George sighed. “Most rich people in the South owned hundreds of slaves.”

  “But what happened to them?”

  “I don’t know. Ran off when they heard of Emancipation, I suppose. Would you want to live near your former owners?”

  Beth had to admit she wouldn’t. She finished the dance, her mind in turmoil until George walked her back to her chair, Lily occupying the one next to it.

  “Perhaps you are a bit tired,” George said. “May I get you something?”

  “Beth, are you unwell?” asked her sister.

  “No, no, I’m fine,” she protested.

  “All right, then,” said Lily. “George, you promised me a dance!”

  “Yes, I did. Please excuse us.”

  Beth did not watch them walk away. She had too much on her mind.

  Darcy was furious watch
ing Beth dance with Whitehead. The only reason he didn’t explode was the expression on Beth’s face. It was apparent she wasn’t enjoying herself. Perhaps, he thought, she sees Whitehead for the snake he is. He knew he would have to explain to her why he feigned disinterest in her. It wouldn’t be good for Whitehead to suspect that Darcy had feelings for Beth until it was too late for him to do anything about it.

  “Hey, Will, come over here an’ meet my newest friend.”

  Darcy turned, his lips curling into a smile. “That will be a first, as you don’t have any friends.” He saw Fitz leaning against the makeshift bar with an Army officer, both with beers in their hands.

  Fitz grinned. “This here’s Captain John Buford of the United States Cavalry, stationed at Fort Richardson. He’s here to protect our bacon from the savage natives that infest these here parts.”

  Darcy extended his hand. “William Darcy.”

  The officer, tall and dark, shook his hand with a firm grip. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Darcy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  Fitz laughed. “Nothin’ good, I assume.”

  Buford smiled. “Like I’ll get the straight story out of you.”

  Darcy leaned on the bar, signaling for a beer. “You sound like you know each other.”

  “Yes and no,” Fitz said. “Buford here was a blue-belly colonel chasin’ my ass all over the Shenandoah Valley during the late unpleasantness.”

  “And a slippery man you were, Major.” Buford turned to Darcy. “I rode with Custer.”

  “You stayed in the army,” Darcy observed.

  “It’s my profession. I resumed my permanent rank after the war.” He looked Darcy right in the eye. “And you, sir?”

  “Texas Legion, Vicksburg. I’ve seen the elephant.[3]”

  Buford nodded. “Thought so. I’ve got a few ex-Confederates in my company. Good men. Ex-officers, although they’re enlisted now. Regulations,” he shrugged.

  “And you’re at Fort Richardson. Not with Custer and the Seventh Cavalry,” Darcy observed.