The Cumberland Plateau

by Mary K. Baxley

  “Well, I’m glad you did! I’ve been dying to see you, and now that you’re here, I want us to ride out together, especially when Jane comes home. We’ll go camping and swimming. I cleaned the cabin a few weeks back. It’ll be fun.”

  “Yes, we will. I’m looking forward to going to the cove and just relaxing. I’d like to get a little bit of a tan before school starts.”

  Kat laughed. “You always did like to lay in the sun.”

  Lizzy smiled and then furrowed her brow. “Tell me something, Kat.”

  “Yes, what do you want to know?”

  “Liddy’s not serious about Jackie Lee, is she?” Although she wasn’t one to pay much heed to gossip, this about their cousin did bother her.

  Kat gave her sister a pointed look. “Well, I certainly hope not. The Nunleys are white trash with money. Jackie Lee is nothing but trouble waiting to happen, but let’s not waste our breath talking about our cousin. She hasn’t a lick of sense, and she’s gonna do what she’s gonna do,” Kat said. “You need to go inside and see Grace and Aunt Lori and Uncle Henry. Grace in particular has been asking about you for hours. Your delay in town was nearly more than she could bear,” Kat said as the two sisters walked hand in hand up the graveled walkway.

  As they approached the back porch, Kat released Elizabeth’s hand. “I’ll leave you here, Lizzy. I need to go and see about Callie. She had a new litter of kittens last night. They’re as cute as a button. One’s a calico like Callie. Would you like to see it? You can come to the tool shed after you’ve seen everybody. I can wait for you, if you like.”

  “Umm, maybe later, but not right now. After I’ve seen Grace and Aunt Lori and Uncle Henry, I want to go see my dogs.”

  “Okay, Lizzy. I’ll see you later, then.”

  “See you later, Kat,” Elizabeth said as she bounded up the back steps to the kitchen door while Kat turned and skipped in the direction of the tool shed.

  “Miss Lizzy! Miss Lizzy! It’s so good to see you!” exclaimed Grace. The moment Elizabeth stepped through the door the older woman grabbed Elizabeth, kissing her soundly before enveloping her in a tight embrace. Grace had been the Bennett’s housekeeper ever since Elizabeth was a child. The memories were fond and lasting.

  “Oh, Grace, it’s so good to see you. Are you keeping everybody in line?” Elizabeth laughed, giving her a hug back.

  “Oh, Kat is fine and Daniel is still a mess, but he’ll be fine now with both you and Jane to watch over him. He starts university this fall, you know.” The housekeeper beamed. “He’s going to be a civil engineer, he says. He wants to build bridges. Kat will be graduating this year and will move away. Whatever will I do? José is at war and Maria dances all over Europe. My niños are growing up and going away,” the older woman lamented, raising her hands as tears brimmed in her eyes.

  Elizabeth could only smile. Grace, originally from northern Peru, still carried a heavy Spanish accent, though now mixed with Southern inflections.

  “Grace, don’t cry. Jane and I are here, and we’re not going anywhere. Daniel will be here at least four more years, and you know Mary Beth will come home someday to at least visit us,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “However, I do worry about Joseph, though. Every time I hear of some explosion or a kidnapping in Iraq, I go crazy. I want this war over soon. I know he’s doing what he’s always wanted,” Elizabeth sighed, “but I just can’t help but worry.” Elizabeth shook her head and dispelled the thought. “So Grace, tell me how things have gone since I was here last?”

  “Oh, things have been good.” The old woman nodded. “The chickens are laying well, and the milk cow is still milking, although there have been some problems with the cows. Henry will tell you about it when he and Lori come in from the barn, but there is no need to worry. Yesterday, I saw a pair of white doves. I believe it to be a good sign. God is surely watching over us to have sent them.”

  “Grace,” Elizabeth softly laughed, “I don’t believe in old wives’ tales. Albino doves are a fluke of nature, nothing more.”

  “No, Lizzy,” Grace said as she tilted her head, “they are a sign from God. He will keep José safe. I am sure God hears an old woman’s prayers.”

  “I’m sure he does.” Elizabeth smiled. “Now, is there anything else?”

  “Well, there is also the problem with Old Dan, but Henry will tell you about that, too.”

  “Old Dan! Where are Henry and Lori?” Elizabeth’s face paled in concern.

  “They are in the barn with Old Dan, but please, Lizzy, don’t worry…”

  Before Grace could finish her statement, Elizabeth was out the back door in a full run to the barn. Dan was one of her Black and Tans that she had raised and trained from a pup, but that was years ago. With the exception of short vacations, she’d been away for eight years, and he and Lady Beth had grown old in her absence. As she reached the barn door, she saw Henry and Lori leaning over Dan’s form.

  “Henry, what happened? Is he okay? He’s not going to die, is he?”

  “All these questions, Lizzy,” the older man smiled warmly as he and his wife came forward to greet her.

  “Lizzy, it’s so good to see you,” Aunt Lori said, pulling her into a hug.

  Elizabeth embraced her aunt, kissing her cheek, and then turned a questioning look to her uncle.

  “Lizzy, Dan and Beth got into a fight with a pack of coyotes three nights ago. Coyotes have been attackin’ the calves in the far pasture almost every night for, oh, about a month now,” Henry said, scratching his chin. “I’d try and sit out there waitin’ for ‘em to come, but they always knew I was there. I don’t know how many of ‘em there were, but Old Dan and Lady Beth must have caught their scent and went out on a hunt. You know this breed of dog, Lizzy.” He shook head, casting a glance at the Black and Tan lying on a heap of straw. “The Red Bones and Walkers followed, makin’ the most God-awfulest racket I’ve ever heard. I was sittin’ in the study readin’ the evening paper when the ruckus started. I grabbed a rifle and didn’t even have time to saddle a horse, so I went out on bareback with Lori following in the Land Rover.”

  Placing a hand on the rail, he leaned against the stall. “It must have been Dan and Beth there first from the looks of things when I finally arrived.” Henry hesitated. “Lizzy, what I’m about to say ain’t easy. Do you really want to hear this?”

  Elizabeth cringed and squeezed her eyes shut as she nodded her head.

  “All right, then. When I got there, the coyotes were all over him, tearing him apart,” Henry said, looking thoughtfully at Dan. “Beth was in trouble, too, but she ain’t hurt near as bad as Dan. The other four hounds were there, too. I could see ‘em by the light of the moon. It was a clash of force like I ain’t never seen before—rippin’ and tearin’, standin’ on hind legs in a vicious fight. The hounds were outnumbered, but coyotes are cowards, and hounds will fight to the death. I fired a round, and when the coyotes took off from the hounds, I managed to get in several shots, killin’ two of ‘em, but Dan lay in a pool of blood and skin. I thought he was dead, but then he looked up at me and whined.

  “We wrapped him up in a blanket we keep in the Rover and loaded him and Beth up to bring ‘em home. I called Doc Bryant straightaway, and he and his son came out as quick as they could.” Henry shook his head. “He’s in a bad way, Lizzy.”

  “Will he live?” she asked, choking back tears.

  “I don’t know. Doc put him back together as best he could, and he’s on antibiotics. That’s what I was doin’ when you came in—givin’ him his medicine. Lizzy, he’s old. We need to think about puttin’ him down.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “No, I won’t hear of it. I’ll stay out here tonight. If he’s going to die, then he’ll die in my arms. I raised him from a pup. I can’t let him go.” She swallowed a sob.

  “Somehow I figured you’d say that. Doc says if he makes it for a week, he has a real good chance of pullin’ through, but he’ll never be the same, Lizzy. His back is broken. He’ll be a cripple.”<
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  “I don’t care,” Elizabeth said through her tears.

  “All right, then. I’m goin’ out tonight with some of the neighbors. We ain’t the only ones havin’ problems. I’ll be takin’ the high-powered rifle with the night scope. In their prime, Dan and Beth would have whooped those coyotes.” He sighed and took Lori’s hand before turning to walk toward the barn door, leaving Elizabeth alone with her dogs.

  Elizabeth sat in the barn alone with Old Dan for three nights and two days, and on the third day he died. Lady Beth, perhaps sensing that Old Dan was dying, refused to eat, no matter how much the family tried to entice her. Three days after Old Dan passed, she died, too. They were buried together behind the barn on the creek bank that flowed through the farm. Elizabeth planted pansies over the site.

  The coyotes didn’t return to Longbourn, but instead chose another nearby farm. The neighboring families assembled together and decided the best course of action would be to mix mules and burros within the herds, and though costly to acquire, Elizabeth had located four mules and two burros in Columbia, Tennessee, about 150 miles away. With those necessary arrangements behind her, Elizabeth was ready to begin the fall semester.

  Chapter Two

  …ten years had passed, and he was still alone…

  London, England

  One month had passed since Dickens had offered him the chance of his lifetime—the chance to follow his dream. Now, Fitzwilliam Darcy sat in the small sitting room adjoining his bedchamber with a cigar and brandy, contemplating his life and future.

  In his undergraduate years, he’d read Greats at Wadham College, Oxford and graduated with the rare distinction of a congratulatory First-Class Honors Degree. He then went on to do a Master of Studies in Greek and Latin Languages before continuing to the D.Phil. program. After that, he applied and was accepted for a fellowship, studying ancient history and philosophy. Fitzwilliam could read and write Latin and classical Greek and spoke four modern languages fluently. Twelve years of his life had been consumed with academia.

  At the age of thirty, he’d finally left school, but if he’d had his way, he would have stayed. He wanted to teach, but as the first son and heir to Pemberley, PLC, a multinational conglomerate, that seemed impossible. He took a long draw on his cigar.

  He, along with his brother David, worked for their father and sat on the board of directors of Pemberley, and since taking control of Pemberley was what his father expected of him, he felt an obligation. Still, he wanted this one last chance to pursue his dream before reality took him. Fitzwilliam sighed heavily as he lifted his glass to his lips.

  All things considered, he knew his father would not be pleased with his decision, but that didn’t matter. Fitzwilliam had made up his mind. His father had dominated all of his children from birth, making choices for them, even trying to arrange a marriage for him. But this choice Fitzwilliam was determined to make for himself.

  He took a sip of brandy then swirled the contents in his glass as his mind turned from his overbearing father to his brother. David, while a good and decent man, did not hold women in high regard, nor did he desire a family of his own, as Fitzwilliam did. He played the field, never dating the same woman on a regular basis. Yet, it wasn’t so much the frequency of David’s changing partners that concerned Fitzwilliam, but rather the type of women in his brother’s life. They were not the kind one would bring home to meet the family or marry, and David possessed no real respect for them. He simply used them for his pleasure while they used him for theirs—for an opportunity to be seen on the arm of one of the most sought-after and desired bachelors in all of Britain.

  Although Fitzwilliam was certain many of them held aspirations for something more, he knew his brother. The something more would never be a reality for any woman David dated, for when it came to love and affection, David Darcy was as cold as ice. Fitzwilliam sighed and shook his head. Their father was to blame for that, too.

  Blowing a ring of smoke, Fitzwilliam contemplated further. He and his brother were diametrically different sides of the same coin—alike, and yet not. David, as touted by the tabloids on an almost daily basis, was flashy, sexy, self-confident, and extremely good- looking, with a smile that turned heads. He was also considered outgoing and fun, with a reputation of being a good lover and a proclivity to live life on the wild side.

  Fitzwilliam, in contrast, was considered shy, reserved, somewhat introverted, and rarely seen in society. And yet, in physical appearance, he and his brother were similar. Both were six-foot-two with the same deep, dark brown eyes and dark hair. They were very similar in build and facial features, except Fitzwilliam’s eyes, or so he’d been told, had a sparkle of intelligence and deep thought, while David’s had a twinkle of mischief.

  Fitzwilliam took a deep breath and puffed his cigar as his thoughts turned from his brother to his sister, Georgiana—the baby, no longer a girl, but a young woman, and a very beautiful and accomplished woman at that—one of whom he was very proud. She had just completed her BA from Cambridge in music with a classical emphasis and would soon begin touring with the London Philharmonic Orchestra. Always shy, Fitzwilliam could tell she had strength of character awaiting only the space and freedom to flourish. She, too, fell under the dominance of their overbearing father.

  In fact, George Darcy kept all of his children under his tight regulation, using whatever means he could to control them, but Fitzwilliam Darcy was about to challenge that. His decision was made and his resolve was firm. Tonight, after dinner, he would talk to his father.

  After finishing his cigar and brandy, Fitzwilliam left his bedchamber in a leisurely manner. Dinner was at seven o’clock sharp, and he knew better than to be late.

  ~*~

  During the meal, silence reigned as usual, with nothing but the sound of clanking silverware scraping against plates and the tinkling of cups returning to their saucers. As they finished the last course, Fitzwilliam took a sobering breath and spoke.

  “Father, I would like to have a word with you.”

  His father met his gaze. “Let us go to my study, then,” George said as he rose from his seat and placed his neatly folded napkin on the table.

  As they walked the long corridor, Fitzwilliam glanced towards his father, studying him. While some men shriveled with age, George Darcy, at nearly sixty-two, remained distinguished in looks. He stood tall at six-foot-three with coal black hair streaked with silver along the temples. He also shared the same deep chocolate eyes as his sons, except George’s eyes were more intense and piercing when he cast his gaze. George was a powerful and dignified man who displayed an air of confidence and strength many found intimidating, and he was a man not to be defied, especially by his sons. Fitzwilliam knew he would have to rise to this challenge as they walked along in silence.

  Entering the study, his father closed the door with a resounding click. Fitzwilliam took a seat on the sofa while his father poured two glasses of port. “What can I do for you?” Mr. Darcy asked flatly as he took his seat.

  “Father, I’ve decided to take a position as a classics professor at a university in America—Tennessee to be more specific,” he said as he held his father’s gaze. “I leave in one week.”

  George raised an eyebrow. “This is rather sudden, don’t you think? I don’t believe we’ve discussed this.”

  Fitzwilliam ignored his father’s last remark. He had no intention of discussing it. “No, actually, it is not. I have thought about it since completing my studies, but I’ve only recently accepted a position.” Never breaking his father’s intense stare, he added cautiously, “It’s with a five-year contract.”

  George’s gaze bore into his son’s, his anger slowly rising, but Fitzwilliam had anticipated this, and before his father could speak, he interjected, “Father, I’ve made up my mind on this. It’s very important to me, and if I must, I will leave Pemberley permanently, though that is not my desire.” He breathed deeply. “I do have my own money. I’m not entirely dependent upon you.”<
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  “You would give up a fortune of over £4 billion for a mere fifteen million?” George Darcy roared, astonished by his son’s defiance. The two had clashed before, but this was the first time Fitzwilliam had directly challenged his father’s will.

  “If I must, then, yes. I’m willing to honor my family duty, but I want a chance to accomplish my dream of teaching first. Besides, Father, you appear to be in good health, and David is more than qualified for the position. He would make a much better heir than I, and he has the desire.”

  “That’s enough, Fitzwilliam! David is an embarrassment to me, the board on which he sits, and our family. The only way he will ever take your place is if you are dead!”

  His father rose from his seat and paced back and forth, observing his son. From his expression, Fitzwilliam knew what his father was thinking. He’d heard it all before. He probably would give Fitzwilliam the time he wanted to explore his options, sow his wild oats, if need be, as long as Pemberley was not compromised, but in the end, he expected his son to bend to his will. Fitzwilliam drew in a deep, steadying breath, preparing himself for the lecture on duty and responsibility that would inevitably follow. He didn’t have long to wait.

  “Damn it, Fitzwilliam, go if you must! As always with you—your nose stuck in a damn book like some sort of idealistic philosopher.” With white-hot anger, George Darcy turned and pinned his son with a piercing gaze. “But when you return, mark… my… words, Fitzwilliam Alexander, I will have you married and an heir produced. Do you understand me?”

  “Perfectly,” Fitzwilliam sneered in disgust.