Pemberley Ranch

by Jack Caldwell

  Charles lowered his paper. “I believe you’re being a little hard on Rosings, Caroline.”

  His sister went on smugly as if he had said nothing. “The dresses did nothing to improve the ambiance, what little it could accomplish. I declare, I’ve never seen so much gingham and calico in my life.”

  Beth seethed, as she remembered how proud Mary had been of her beautiful blue calico dress. She had had enough of Caroline’s snide remarks and superior ways. In her sweetest, most insincere voice, Beth observed, “Georgia sounds lovely, Miss Caroline. With your descriptions of what a paradise it is, I’m surprised you don’t return to Netherfield.”

  The reaction to her comment was electric. Caroline paled, and even Bingley blanched. Jane sat up, the darning forgotten, and cried, “Beth, please! You don’t understand—”

  “I understand that Georgia is apparently heaven on earth,” Beth went on heedlessly, in her annoyance dismissing the warning in her sister’s voice. “I’m astonished that Miss Caroline left home, the way she carries on about it.”

  Charles put down his paper. “Beth!”

  Beth was surprised to receive an uncharacteristic reprimand from her placid brother-in-law. The man was plainly mortified. With a nagging feeling that she had once again spoken without thinking, Beth’s eyes returned to Caroline. It was as if a mask had slipped from the woman’s face; her complexion had gone from white to red, her eyes wide. Her usual careless expression was replaced by one of pure anger and pure torment.

  “I have no home!” Caroline cried. “My home is gone— destroyed by your precious Yankees!”

  Beth’s eyebrows rose at the ridiculous accusation. “Are you saying that Union soldiers did something to Netherfield?”

  “Did something? Oh, yes! They burned it to the ground is all—right before my eyes!”

  Beth’s jaw dropped. “What? But… why?”

  “Ask General Sherman!”

  “Sherman?” Beth thought about what the papers had said about Sherman in Georgia. “I remember reading about the March to the Sea, freeing the slaves—”

  “And destroying everything in his path!” Caroline was livid as she relived the event. “A damned host of fifty thousand Federals marched three hundred miles from Atlanta to Savannah, burning a swath sixty miles wide! They stole food, grain, livestock—anything they could carry. And what they couldn’t take, they burned.” She lifted her eyes from Beth and stared into the distance, as if she could see something far away, both precious and lost forever. “Farms, plantations, towns—just for spite. Sherman boasted he would make Georgia howl, and we did howl—in anguish!”

  Beth was dizzy as her preconceived notions took yet another blow. First Will Darcy, then Charles, and now Miss Bingley. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “But… but the papers said… the slaves. Sherman was freeing the slaves and attacking the means of war. Railroads, arms factories—”

  “Lies! I was there!”

  Caroline had leapt to her feet, her eyes so wide the white around the irises could be seen. Charles, too, had risen from his chair and attempted to soothe his sister.

  “Caroline, please, calm yourself—”

  “No!” the woman shouted, pointing at Beth. “I will not be silenced! She needs to know just what her damnable countrymen did!”

  Her outburst had silenced the house—everyone was transfixed. Caroline paused, breathing in and out in a shuddering manner, before pacing about the room like a cornered animal, her hand jerkily accenting the words that spit out of her mouth.

  “When the hordes came, all our slaves ran away to join them. All but my maid, Maybel. She alone stood by me as they ransacked my home. What those god-forsaken blue bellies couldn’t take, they destroyed. For a time, we were terrified that one or more of those animals might try and take me!

  “But, no—they didn’t so much as touch a hair on my head. Instead they ripped my heart from my breast! We watched those monsters turn our beautiful Netherfield into ashes. Everything I owned was burned. Everything. All I had left was literally the clothes on my back!” By now, tears were running down her hard features.

  A stunned Beth turned to Charles, who nodded, verifying his sister’s account. Beth’s insides roiled in mortification at her earlier thoughtless words. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Sorry… sorry. Is that all you Yankees have to say—that you’re sorry?” Caroline continued to rage. “After the war, the carpetbaggers and their scallywag friends stole what was left of Netherfield when we couldn’t pay the taxes!” She stopped her pacing and turned to Beth. “You tell me you’re sorry? Prove it! Give me back my home! Give me back Netherfield! Then, I’ll accept your apology.” Her tearful eyes gleamed with malice. “Until then, allow me to hate y’all as much as I can.”

  “Caroline, that’s enough!” Charles thundered. “Beth, please excuse me. I need to talk to my sister.”

  A weeping Beth made her way into her borrowed bedroom, her pregnant sister close behind. Once she closed the door, Jane joined Beth on her bed, taking her hands.

  “Are you all right, Beth?”

  Beth shook her head. “I’m… I’m shocked. I can hardly believe what she said. But Charles’s face… oh Jane!” She held her face in her hands. “Is everything I know about the war wrong?”

  Jane rubbed her sister’s back. “Beth, do you remember how scared we were back in ’63 when we heard of Morgan’s Raid[5]? How the Rebels were riding along the Ohio River, stealing from folks? We were afraid they would show up at our door any minute. Father always said not to put too much stock into what the papers wrote. People are people, and you can’t expect Northern troops to act any differently than the Southerners.”

  Beth looked at Jane and saw only concern, not surprise or censure. “Did you know about this?”

  “Yes. Charles told me what happened to his family’s home some time ago.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Charles and I decided not to. What good would it have done to tell you that our Union soldiers took everything away from the Bingleys? It would have only made things uncomfortable for everyone. Charles has made his peace with the war. Mother and Father have more than accepted Charles; they love him as a son. What’s in the past is in the past. We both want to make a new start here in Texas.”

  “You still should have told us, but I understand your reasons. Poor Caroline.” Beth made a sound between a sob and a nervous laugh. “I never thought I would ever say that. Oh, my God, what that poor girl has gone through.”

  “I know, but I don’t excuse what Caroline said. She’s a very bitter woman.” Jane sighed. “I’m not blind. I know she doesn’t like me, and she’s disappointed that Charles married me. I know she wants him to move to New Orleans. But the war has deeply damaged her. She’s been forced to live with the Hursts, far away from a home she loved. It’s driven out most of her tender feelings, leaving only pain and anger and false pride to hide behind. Do you know that as pretty as she is, she has no beaux in New Orleans? It’s because it’s written on her face that she can’t love anymore.”

  “If you believe she dislikes you, why do you put up with her?”

  “Because she’s my sister.” Jane stroked Beth’s hair. “If you came down sick, I would nurse you, you know that. Caroline’s sick, but in a different way. She’s sick in her heart, and we’re trying to help. Perhaps one day, Caroline will allow herself to love again.”

  “You’re a better person than I am, Jane,” Beth said in awe.

  Jane smiled. “No, I’m not. You’re special in your own way.”

  They sat quietly for a moment. “Has Charles told you anything else about the war?”

  “Some. What are you asking?”

  “Has he told you about George Whitehead?”

  “He told me Whitehead did some wicked things in the war, if that’s what you mean.”

  Jane’s use of George’s last name told Beth that her sister was deeply angered by the man. “I’ve heard some
things, too. I think we should tell Father.”

  Jane glanced away. “Charles has tried to warn Father, but…” she shook her head, “he dismissed him. He thanked Charles for his concern but said that things were different now.” She turned to Beth, confusion written over her face. “I don’t understand.”

  Neither did Beth, but before she could say so, the bedroom door opened to reveal a grim Charles with Caroline behind him. Miss Bingley once again wore an expression of supreme indifference.

  “Beth, Caroline would like to say something to you.” He gestured for his sister to proceed.

  A stone-faced Caroline stared at a point above Beth’s head. “I hope you will pardon my strong words earlier, Miss Bennet. If, by my honest account of the misfortunes that have befallen my family, you’ve taken offense, I am sorry.”

  Charles was not happy about the halfhearted apology. “Caroline…”

  Beth stood up, intending to end this disagreement. She was not fooled into thinking Caroline was in any way sincere. Her use of “Miss Bennet” rather than the more familiar “Miss Beth” was ample evidence of that. But that was neither here nor there. Caroline deserved her pity and forbearance, and she intended to make amends as best she could.

  “Thank you, Miss Bingley. May I say how sorry I am about the hardships you have been forced to endure? I thank you for telling me, and I hope there are better days ahead.”

  Caroline’s eyes flicked to hers, and Beth was shaken by the resentment she beheld there. For the first time in her life, Beth was truly hated by another person—not for who she was, but for what she was. She realized that Caroline Bingley would never forgive or forget; she would nurse this hatred for the rest of her days. It was a disconcerting experience for Beth, especially as in essence she had sworn to do the same.

  Still, Caroline extended her hand, which Beth took gingerly. “Thank you. I trust we will get along just fine in the weeks we have left together.” Her smile was devoid of any warmth.

  “I… I believe we shall.” Beth was shaken again. Never before had any apology she offered been so effectively dismissed. Matters were hopeless.

  Caroline sighed. “It’s your usual time to retire, I believe.”

  “It is. Good night, Miss Bingley.”

  The lady nodded again and swept out of the room, Charles following in her wake, still unhappy. Jane kissed Beth good night and left for her own room.

  Beth shook her head sadly as she prepared for bed. It was going to be a long month.

  Darcy and Gaby stood outside the Baptist church until they finally spied their quarry. Gaby gave her brother’s hand a squeeze before waving at the two ladies approaching.

  “Miss Caroline! I’m so glad you came today. There’s something I’d like to get your advice on.”

  Miss Bingley, who heretofore had simply been walking to the meeting of the Musical Society with Miss Bennet and had been concentrating on following Charles’s unexpectedly harsh command to be polite to the woman, looked up in surprise. “Of course, Miss Darcy. How may I help you?”

  Gaby threaded her arm through Caroline’s. “I, uhh, wanted to discuss my musical selection with you. I need your help to pick the right piece. Your taste is so fine; I know you can choose the proper one.”

  Caroline looked between Darcy and the girl. Her desire to spend time with the handsome rancher was overcome by the combination of the appeal to her vanity and the opportunity to prove useful to Darcy’s sister, thereby impressing the man. “Certainly, Miss Darcy.”

  Gaby practically dragged her into the church. “My music is inside.” Caroline looked back helplessly as the doors closed behind her.

  Darcy’s thoughts changed from the reward Gaby was sure to demand for this piece of theater—perhaps a new saddle for her horse, Buckskin—to the half-confused, half-amused lady before him. Just as she began to follow the others, Darcy stopped her.

  “Miss Bennet, may I have a moment of your time?”

  Beth turned to him warily, an unfamiliar expression on her face. “Yes?”

  Darcy removed his hat and steeled himself. “I’m sorry for the unease our meeting must give you. I’m very aware that my presence is a trial to you. But I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to apologize for my reprehensible behavior during our last meeting. I’m heartily ashamed of myself, and I offer no excuse. I don’t ask for your forgiveness—indeed, I don’t deserve it. This charade,” he waved his hand, “wouldn’t be necessary and I’d never presume to disturb you again if not for the sake of my sister and cousin. I beg you—do not end your friendship with them because of me.”

  He watched with anxious eyes as Beth stood before him, blinking. She seemed astonished, but Darcy would not trust his observations. Too many times in their acquaintance had his instincts been very wrong about this girl.

  “Mr. Darcy, I… I thank you. I would never throw off Miss Darcy or Miss Burroughs, even though we’ve had our… disagreements.”

  “Then, may I tell them that you still welcome their company?”

  “Oh, yes, indeed! I’m… I’m only surprised.”

  “Surprised about what?”

  She glanced away. “Surprised that you still think me a suitable companion for your sister and cousin, given my mistaken opinions about you.”

  “Miss Bennet, I can think of few people I would entrust my sister to, other than you.” Beth blushed, and Darcy cursed himself for being too forward.

  “I’ll accept your apology only if you’ll accept mine. I’ve been blind and ignorant about many things, especially about you—”

  “Misled, I would say!”

  Beth allowed a small smile. “Perhaps, but I thought myself to be a good judge of character. I now know I’m not. Thank you for teaching me that lesson. I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

  “I don’t think you need to apologize to me, but I’ll accept it, if that means you’ll remain friends with Gaby and Anne.”

  She nodded. “You mentioned a charade. Do you mean that Miss Gaby wasn’t as interested in Miss Bingley’s company as she appeared?”

  “No.” An embarrassed Darcy allowed himself a smile. “I figured you might be coming to the meeting together, and I had to find a way of speaking to you privately. This,” he gestured as before, “was Gaby’s idea.”

  Beth giggled a bit, and then looked around. “Is Anne here? I didn’t see her with you.”

  The rancher grew serious. “No. She was unsure of her reception. She’s afraid you wouldn’t want her company anymore.”

  He saw Beth become distressed. “Oh, no! That’s not true. Please tell her she’s still my friend.”

  “I will.”

  Beth looked down. “I hope Miss Darcy still thinks kindly of me, as little as I deserve it.”

  “She likes you very much.”

  “As I do her.” She sighed. “I wish I could be friends with her brother.”

  At that, Darcy’s heart sank even lower than it had been.

  Beth continued, “But how can I, when it’s apparent I don’t even know him? I’ve been very foolish.”

  For the first time since the party, Darcy dared to hope. Carefully he said, “Perhaps you could get to know him. Start over.”

  She glanced up at him. “Will he be willing to give me that chance?”

  “He seems to be a nice enough fellow. I’m sure he will, if it was welcome.”

  Beth blushed again. “Thank you,” she whispered. Darcy nodded and the two stood in awkward silence for a moment.

  “Excuse me,” Beth said. “I must be going inside. The meeting’s about to start.”

  Darcy put his hat back on. “And I have a meeting as well— at the bank. Good day, Miss Bennet.”

  “You, too, Mr. Darcy.”

  He watched Beth enter the church before turning and crossing the street to the Darcy Bank in a better frame of mind than he had expected a half-hour before. He waved at the teller, Mr. Rushworth, in his cage before knocking on the manager’s door.

  “Bertr
am, got a few minutes?”

  Edmund Bertram got up from his desk. “Certainly, Mr. Darcy. Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?” Two mugs were quickly prepared, and Bertram returned to his desk, facing his employer. “What brings you to town, sir? It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long, Bertram. I’ve been away too long.” Darcy took a sip as Bertram raised an eyebrow. “I want you to tell me everything that’s been going on around town.”

  “Everything? That’s going to take some time.”

  “I have the time, if you do.”

  “Then I’d better tell Rushworth to put on another pot. We’ll be here awhile.”

  Chapter 11

  August

  The new month saw the end of Jane’s confinement, and Beth and Caroline were able to put aside their mutual loathing long enough to help Mrs. Bennet and Charles bring Susan Jane Bingley into the world. Beth thought the little girl was the prettiest thing she had ever seen. Caroline’s only comment was, “Susan—Susanna—was my mother’s name. That’ll do.” Beth wasn’t sure if she saw a gleam in Caroline’s eye, so swiftly did the other woman excuse herself to rest.

  Jane recovered quickly from her ordeal, so only two weeks later, Charles helped his sister to board the stagecoach back to Louisiana. Caroline made one last attempt to convince Charles to move to New Orleans before taking her leave of Jane. The party waved as the stage left town, Beth feeling guilty relief that the woman was out of Jane’s life.

  Beth, too, found her help was no longer needed and returned the next day to the farm. She was content to fall back into the routine of chores and was happy in the familiarity of her family. She was pleased to see that Kathy continued to mature and take more responsibility around the house, but Lily was still Lily—young and lazy.

  The only other change was with her father; he seemed to spend more time than usual closed up in his study. When he was with the family, mostly at table, his face carried lines never seen before. There was a slight air of worry about the man, but when Beth asked him about it, he dismissed her concerns with a smile.