Bartholomew dashed into the room, arms filled with cloths and towels. “What is it? What is the matter—Oh, my God!” He stood stock-still at the foot of the bed.
Anne’s eyes filled with tears. “What happened to William? Who did this?”
Beth could not answer; her attention was fixed on Darcy’s back—a back completely covered in angry, white scars.
Chapter 10
July 5
When Beth came down for breakfast the next morning, she was not surprised to learn that Dr. Bingley had been sent for. She didn’t need to ask who Charles was there to see. Indeed, she was hard-pressed to get the man out of her head.
Anne glanced sheepishly at Beth, but with her mother in attendance, she refrained from speaking. It wasn’t until Mrs. Burroughs retired to her study to work on ranch matters that Anne moved to the seat next to Beth.
“Beth, about the dress, I’m so sorry. It was Will’s idea to surprise you—”
Beth cut her off. “Please, the less said about yesterday, the better.”
Anne, chastised, stared at her plate. “I hope you’re still my friend.”
Beth sighed. “I am. But friends don’t deceive each other.” Beth instantly regretted her words as Anne’s eyes filled with tears. But before she could console her, Charles came into the room.
“Well, he’ll live, but I can’t say he’ll enjoy it.” His jovial manner dissipated with one look at Anne’s unhappy face. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t be joking,” he said, misunderstanding Anne’s concern. “Will’ll be fine. He just needs a day o’ rest. He’ll be fit as a fiddle come tomorrow morning.”
Anne smiled her thanks to Dr. Bingley, and Beth realized she was relieved, too. Anne offered Charles some breakfast, and he sat down.
“Thank you, Miss Anne,” Charles said. “Beth? We’ll leave right afterwards, if you’re ready.”
Beth waited until Charles’s surrey was well out of earshot of the ranch house before she turned to her brother-in-law.
“Charles, I’ve recently learned some disturbing things about the war.”
“Is that so?” A puzzled Charles turned to her. “What brings this up?”
Beth had no answer but the truth. “Will Darcy and I were… talking yesterday, and it just came up.”
“Talking about the war? At a party?” Charles was flabbergasted.
Beth turned away to hide the flush on her face. “All right— we had an argument. He said George Whitehead ran one of the prisons you and Mr. Darcy were in. Is that true?”
“Yeah. Will doesn’t usually talk about those days.”
“Nobody does!” Beth cried. “It’s like it’s a great big secret!”
“Beth, war is a thing a man wants to forget.”
“Have you talked about it to Jane?”
Charles ignored the impertinence of her question. “A little. Where’s all this leading?”
“Last night, when Mr. Darcy got… himself injured, Miss Burroughs and I helped Mr. Bartholomew get him to his room. In the course of caring for him we… we saw his back.” Charles’s eyes grew wide. “Charles, where did those scars come from? Was Mr. Darcy whipped in prison?”
It took a moment for an astonished Dr. Bingley to say, “That’s not my story to tell.”
“Then he was. Charles, you can tell me. Mr. Darcy himself told us stories about horrible mistreatment in the camps, so you wouldn’t be telling me something I haven’t heard. He said George liked to have people whipped. Was it George who had Mr. Darcy whipped?”
Charles stared straight ahead. “Yes,” he admitted in a low voice.
“Why?”
“Because of me.”
“You?”
“Beth, this ain’t easy for me to talk about.” He took a breath. “Will and I were at Vicksburg, but instead of being paroled after the surrender like the others, we were arrested by Whitehead on false charges.”
“What were the charges?”
“Resistin’ the surrender, but that wasn’t the real reason. We knew too much. You see, we saw Whitehead and his men stealin’ from my patients. I complained, but instead of punishing Whitehead, his commanders placed him in charge of bringing us to prison.” Charles went on to talk of their trip to Camp Campbell in Missouri—how the transfer point-turned-prison was totally insufficient for the purpose intended, and how Captain Whitehead essentially became the commander of the place.
“The sanitary conditions were awful,” Charles continued. “The latrine wasn’t suitable for even a third of the men we had there. I was workin’ in the camp hospital—there was a shortage of Yankee doctors—so I went to the Yankee colonel to get permission to have a new latrine dug. The drunkard turned me down flat—said his engineers told him what we had would be more than adequate. Beth, he was wrong. That thing was dysentery waitin’ to happen.
“Food was always scarce, so Whitehead had the idea of us makin’ a vegetable garden for the guards. Each day, a team of men would be issued hoes and tools to work the ground. I saw my opportunity and went to Will with my idea. If the men spent an extra ten minutes a day at the end of their shift diggin’ a new latrine, we’d have it done in less than a week. Will told me to go ahead, as long as the guards knew what we were doin’. I didn’t have any trouble with them, ’cause I had pulled a tooth for the head of the detail, and he took a likin’ to me.
“Everything was goin’ along fine until, in an unexpected fit of sobriety, the colonel decided to hold an inspection. He took one look at the nearly-finished latrine and started yellin’, accusing us of diggin’ an escape tunnel. Guns were being pointed every which-way, so I stepped up and told him what it was. I was immediately taken in hand and dragged to a court of inquiry.
“There I was, standin’ afore the colonel with a nervous Whitehead at his side. Now, you see, it was ole George’s idea to have us prisoners make a garden an’ put tools in our hands, so he was ultimately responsible. I figure he was there to make sure I took the blame, not him. So Whitehead said nothing when his commanding officer accused me of organizing a mass escape, until the colonel started talking about havin’ me shot. I guess that was too much even for Whitehead—that, or else he was afraid of an investigation from higher authorities. That’s when he suggested that shootin’ a doctor would be bad for morale and flogging would be enough of a punishment.
“Just before sentence was read, there was a disruption at the tent entrance. I turned around to see Will walking in like he was a commanding general, surrounded by two guards. He was yelling that this hearing was illegal, a violation of the Articles of War. The colonel got mad, I can tell you, and demanded an explanation. Will said that they couldn’t punish a man following a lawful order, and that he, as commanding officer of the Confederate prisoners, had ordered me to build that latrine.
“I was shocked to see him, Beth, and not just because of his words, which was stretchin’ the truth a bit. That he was allowed anywhere near the tent was amazing. But I noted that one of his guards was the same sergeant whose tooth I pulled, so I guess he was repayin’ the favor by bringin’ Darcy to the hearing so that he could object.
“The colonel was spittin’ mad—screaming that he ought to shoot us both. Whitehead put a hand on his shoulder to quiet him down. He said, ‘Colonel, the captain is correct—we can’t punish a man for following a legal order.’ He then turned to Will, and Beth, I swear the man actually smiled as he said, ‘But we can punish an officer who encouraged insurrection against the lawful authority. Since Captain Darcy issued the order, let him be punished.’”
Beth’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, Charles!”
“Beth, I tried to stop it—I objected at the top o’ my lungs—but Darcy rode me down. Ordered me to be silent and obey. Whitehead had the guards take Will out immediately and execute the sentence.” He passed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t at the flogging, but since they didn’t revoke my hospital privileges, I was there when they brought him in afterwards. I’ll never forget that sight for as long as I live.
They almost beat him to death—I feared for his life for nearly a week.”
Charles paused in his recount. “When Will was able to talk, I asked the damn fool why he did it. He told me, ‘Charles, I’m expendable—you’re not.’” He looked at Beth, his chin trembling. “And that’s Will Darcy for you.”
Beth blinked as her tears flowed freely.
Bingley pulled himself together. “As Will got better, we got the word that there had been a surprise inspection from the War Department and that the camp had received a commendation for the new latrine. It seemed Whitehead didn’t have the time to have it filled in, but it worked out to his advantage. He took credit for it, from what the guards told me. Helped lead to his promotion.”
It took awhile for Beth to compose herself. “Does Jane know this?”
“Not the details, but enough to know that Whitehead’s not the man he seems.”
“But why not tell her everything? Why not tell the whole town? They need to know how ruthless George is.”
“Beth, it’s not that easy. For one thing, it’s not just my story; it’s Will’s, too. Just by tellin’ you, I’m going against Will’s wishes.” He sighed. “You see, there’s a code out here—what’s in the past stays in the past. A lot of folks came out west to escape the past, so people in these parts aren’t ones to bring it up. A man’s judged by what he is and not by what he was.
“For another, Whitehead’s close to the government in Austin, and he can make a lot of trouble for any that get in his way. He’s got Mrs. Burroughs on his side and a private army in Kid Denny and his gang. A lot of people just want to put the war in the past, and Whitehead’s made friends here—your daddy, for instance.
“Darcy just wants to let it go. He’s afraid if he starts up something, people will get hurt, and there’s no guarantee that if we drive Whitehead out of town, the army or the government wouldn’t come in and make things worse.”
By now, the surrey had reached the outskirts of the town, passing the cemetery on the hill. “Beth, I reckon we just let things go on as they have. Sooner or later, this occupation by the army will be over, Whitehead will show his true stripes, the town will turn on him, and that will be the end of him. ’Til then, we’ll just keep our heads down and look out for our own, just like Will says.”
“But what about Father?”
Charles nodded. “I’ll talk to him again—make certain he’s not gettin’ in over his head in his dealings with Whitehead.”
“Again? You’ve talked to him before?”
“Yeah.”
Beth wasn’t sure that was enough, but she kept her concern to herself.
Darcy didn’t return to Pemberley until the next day. Everyone was concerned over his absence, Gaby most of all, and she asked for an explanation. Darcy declined to answer fully, mumbling something about an “indisposition,” and he immediately claimed a desire to see to the paperwork awaiting him in his study.
Once he locked the door and seated himself behind his desk, Darcy simply stared out the widow, ignoring the papers on his desk. Ever since he woke up the day before with a pounding head and sickly belly, he had been obsessed in reviewing what had happened—how things had gone so wrong and how he could have misjudged things so badly.
He raised one hand to his forehead. He still suffered from a headache brought on by his excessive drinking and his injury. He had no recollection of how he had hurt himself. He had awakened with a bandage wrapped around his head and a chamber pot close by, which he used to empty the contents of his stomach. It had been a full day since Charles had tended to him, and he still refused to rest. Darcy well remembered everything prior to falling down, and it was those memories that haunted him. He accepted his pain as penance for his arrogant behavior.
It had taken all of the day and most of the night before Darcy allowed himself to see past his pain, both physical and emotional, and accept the truth. Beth Bennet hated him, and he had no one to blame but himself.
The study door opened. “Will,” Gaby stated without preamble, “I’m going for a ride, and you’re going with me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I’m getting Buckskin and Caesar saddled right now.” Without another word, she left the room.
A few minutes later, Darcy was astride his black steed with his sister next to him on her palomino, riding towards Pemberley Lake. Darcy had to admit the hot sun felt good against his face and the movement of his horse settled his emotions, if not his head. He wondered when his sister had grown so wise.
The two stopped at a shady willow overlooking the lake, and they dismounted. Brother and sister took their ease sitting at the base of the tree as the horses drank from the water.
Darcy was thankful for the quiet; it allowed him to set his thoughts in order. The water before him reminded Darcy of Beth’s clandestine swim, and he finally came to the realization that he had confused his lust for Beth Bennet with love. It was the only reason he could think of that would so blind him to the truth.
Heck, even Anne saw that Beth wasn’t in love with me. But did I listen? Naw—I had to go my own way and make a damned fool of myself. No wonder she thought I was making some kind of improper request of her. In a way, I was. The only reason I wanted to marry her was to get her in my bed. And now, thanks to my drunken performance, there’s no way she’ll ever give me the time of day again.
“Will, is something wrong?” asked Gaby.
Darcy looked at the water for a while, thinking. Damn, I probably ruined Gaby’s friendship with Beth. Anne’s, too. What the hell was I thinking with that dress? That’s just it, I wasn’t thinking. I was treating her as if she was mine already. And all I accomplished was to drive her off and hurt Gaby and Anne.
A woman as fine as Beth Bennet deserves to be wooed, courted. Not just ridden down and lassoed like I was roping a calf—tossed, tied down, and branded. I haven’t the faintest idea how to earn the good opinion of a proper lady. I am the biggest idiot in Long Branch County.
“Will?”
Darcy sighed. “Gaby, I’ve made a mistake—a very, very big mistake—and I don’t know how I can ever make things right.” He tossed a twig towards the water’s edge.
Gaby looked at Will in surprise. It never occurred to her that her perfect brother could ever err. “What happened?”
“Hurt somebody I thought I loved.”
Gaby thought for a moment. “Beth?” she gasped. “What did you do?”
“I’m embarrassed to talk about it. Let’s just say that after what I did, she’d be the last person on earth to go get help if I was drowning in the lake there.”
“That’s hard to believe with George Whitehead in town.”
“He’s part of the problem.”
“What do you mean? Oh, you don’t think Beth’s in love with him, do you? Because if you do, I can assure you she’s not.”
“No, she told me she wasn’t.” Will, to his shame, remembered almost everything from the late-night discussion in the Burroughses’ library, except how he managed to earn a knot on his head. Before Anne told him what had happened, he half-figured that Beth had taken an empty whiskey bottle to him. “But he’s been telling stories.” He turned to Gaby. “How do you know she doesn’t love Whitehead?”
“A woman can tell these things.” She played with the grass beside her. “Will, when I… when Whitehead tried to… court me, I suppose… you made me talk about it. I didn’t want to, but you said it would make me feel better. And it did. Will, I think you need to talk to me now.”
“And it’ll make me feel better?”
“I don’t know. It worked for me. At least you’ll know you won’t be alone.”
Darcy thought about that for a minute. “Well, I can’t feel worse.” And so he told Gaby almost everything. Seventeen-year-old girls didn’t need to know about spying on naked people swimming, after all.
The Bingley household took their ease in the front parlor after supper. Charles read from a week-old newspaper,
while Jane mended one of his shirts. Beth attempted to concentrate on a book of poetry, trying to keep her thoughts away from the mystery of Will Darcy, but Caroline defeated her by holding forth on the Burroughses’ ball.
“It was certainly not up to Netherfield standards,” she told her brother. “The food, in particular, was the usual primitive cooking so prevalent in these parts. ‘Barbeque,’ I believe it’s called. Do you remember the last party we held at Netherfield?” She turned to her sister-in-law, a faraway look in her eye. “Jane, the food was so elegantly presented and was as delicious as it looked.”
“I’m sure it was, Caroline,” Jane replied, never taking her eyes off her task, in a tone of voice that told Beth her sister had heard these tales before. Charles kept his face in the paper.
Caroline was insensitive to it. “And the dresses! Yes, they spanned the colors of the rainbow, I’m sure. Silk and taffeta and all good things. A far cry from what I saw here.” She turned to Beth, interrupting her reminiscing, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Your dress, however, was very fine, Miss Beth. May I ask where you got it?”
Mention of the blue dress brought Darcy—and his reaction to it—to Beth’s mind, and she hoped she didn’t blush as she told a small lie. “It belonged to Anne Burroughs, and she was kind enough to insist I wear it. It was very pretty.”
Caroline seemed relieved at the intelligence. “I see. It did favor you, though—much better than it would have done for Miss Burroughs.”
“Caroline! That is not very kind,” Jane mildly scolded her.
“Oh, Jane, you know it’s true,” Caroline cried. “I hope she’s been blessed with a substantial dowry, because she’ll never attract a suitor with her looks, bless her heart.”
“Anne has been my friend. She’s been very kind to me,” Beth said pointedly, irate at the slight to her friend.
“I say nothing about her personality,” Caroline protested, “but you must admit that there is a lack of beauty in Rosings. Why, if it weren’t for the Darcys and our family, well… the dance would have been a challenge to behold, I’m afraid. Nothing like our Georgia peaches, eh, Charles?”
Pemberley Ranch Page 15