held to account for their actions. Wasn’t his father the best man he had ever known? Yet he looted a helpless city. His uncles were church elders. His cousins would walk miles in the snow to help a neighbor. Should he shun them for what they felt they had to do while wearing a uniform?
Yes, Bennet believed the stories told to him by Charles and Beth. War was awful enough for such things to occur. Besides, he was a born cynic. He took the propaganda in the newspapers with a grain of salt. He knew the South wasn’t the only side to commit atrocities. He knew of men—good men—who had been thrown in prison and had their
If Tom Bennet could forgive his relations and his neighbors, he had to do the same for George Whitehead and Will Darcy. It was only fair. It was why he could so quickly put the war behind him. It was why he could happily accept Charles Bingley into his family. Why couldn’t Beth see that?
Bennet rubbed his neck. He was happy that Beth finally seemed to put aside her dislike of all things Southern, but this new loathing for Whitehead was troubling. It seemed to him that his daughter had to dislike someone. If so, it was a character flaw he was incapable of fixing.
Tom Bennet was determined to stand by his own unique principles. Until Whitehead, Darcy, or anyone else proved a threat to what he had built, he would act as he saw best for the future of his family.
Beth attended the next meeting of the Musical Society with far less trepidation than the month before. She was eager to go, for she wanted to see Gaby and Anne and prove to herself that she could love them for who they were, not in spite of where they came from. In the back of her mind, she admitted to herself that she’d be disappointed if Will Darcy didn’t take up his old habit of observing the gathering from the back pew. She no longer feared Darcy’s ill opinion of her, although memories of their confrontation still invaded her dreams.
Beth and Mary drove into town in the wagon a bit early at Mary’s insistence. To their surprise, the Darcy coach was already there. Darcy and his relations were talking with Reverend Tilney outside the church doors. Tilney gestured at the approaching wagon, and Darcy turned to stare at Beth. For a moment, the two were in a silent battle, neither willing to take their eyes off the other, but Beth was the first to surrender. She busied herself climbing off the wagon as Darcy and Tilney secured the horses. Therefore, she didn’t see the rancher approach until he was almost on top of her.
“Miss Beth,” Darcy touched his hat, “Miss Mary. Good afternoon. I hope y’all are doing well.”
Mary returned the greeting before turning her attention to Henry, who was more than happy to escort her into the building. Beth could not help but smile at the pair’s obvious affection.
Will, too, was grinning. “Am I to offer someone congratulations?”
“No, Mr. Darcy—except to my sister, Jane.”
“Of course, and I would hold myself lax in not expressing my happiness at the Bingleys’ joyful event, had Gaby and I not already paid them a call last week. But allow me to tell you that we hold the opinion that Miss Susan is one right pretty girl, and we wish Jane and Charles all the best.”
Darcy’s compliments to Susan could not but please Beth, and she favored the man with a dazzling smile. “I thank you, sir, on behalf of my family.”
Darcy swallowed and his face became serious. “Miss Beth, before you go in, I have a request from my sister. She’s wanted to show you Pemberley for some time. Would you be available to be her guest this weekend?”
Beth could not hide her surprise at the invitation, and Darcy grew uneasy. “I… I thank you, but…” Beth managed, “but are you sure? I mean,” her face flushed, “I don’t want to cause anyone unease.”
Darcy grew grim. “I understand. Please don’t worry yourself over that. I have plenty of work to do. You would hardly know I was there—”
“You misunderstand!” Beth cried. “I was concerned on your behalf, not mine! I would never drive you out of your own house.”
Darcy stared at her, his face more unreadable than ever. He seemed to mull his response. “Miss Bennet,” he said slowly, “
The anxious look in his face delighted Beth. Her relief that the man didn’t hate her made her bold. “Very well, sir. I will ask my father—on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“My name to my friends is Beth.”
Darcy blinked, and a slow smile grew on his face. “Beth, will you come to Pemberley?”
“Yes, Will.”
Beth had had no idea that Will’s eyes sparkled when he smiled. “With your father’s permission, I’ll send a carriage to your farm Friday afternoon. Will that suit you?”
“That would be very nice, but I don’t need a carriage. I can come on my own.”
“Nevertheless, one will be sent, so don’t bother arguing,” he teased before he offered his arm. “May I escort you in before I take my leave of you?”
“Oh! But aren’t you staying to listen?”
“Wouldn’t like anything better, Beth,” his voice seemed to caress the letters of her name, “but I have business in town to see to. It’s my loss, I assure you.”
“We’ll be sorry to lose our audience, but I understand. Thank you for the invitation, Will.” She felt slightly giddy, enjoying using his Christian name. Beth took her leave of him and entered the church, where she was immediately besieged by an excited Gaby, demanding to know if Beth was to visit Pemberley. Beth was able to assure her that was her intention, and the next ninety minutes flew by in a happy manner.
Angry voices were being raised at the B&R a few nights later.
“Mr. Whitehead,” said Catherine Burroughs in a manner that would brook no opposition, “I want to know what is being done to secure the last of the deeds in the new settlements.”
Whitehead carefully set down his coffee cup, knowing Collins’s worried eyes were upon him. “We have that all under control, Mrs. Burroughs. All but a couple are already in our possession. We’ve moved slowly so as not to invite suspicion. It should only be a matter of time before we have the rest of that land.”
“Who is left?”
Collins spoke up. “The McDaniels and the Washingtons.”
“Will there be any trouble?”
“Umm,” Collins pulled at his shirt collar, “the McDaniels have run up a few debts in town, so we can foreclose on them at any time. As for the Washingtons… umm… they present a bit of difficulty.”
“Why?”
“They put down more money when they bought their homestead, and they haven’t been behind in their mortgage payment, not even once. We’ll be hard-pressed to justify an expulsion.”
Denny, leaning against a wall, smoked a hand-rolled cigarette. “I’ll take care o’ them. Just leave things to me.” Whitehead and Pyke exchanged looks.
Judge Phillips blanched. “No violence! You said there’d be no violence!”
“And there won’t be, Alton, if everyone’s reasonable,” Whitehead said smoothly.
“I want my land back.” Mrs. Burroughs’s voice was ice cold. “Spare me the details, but do whatever needs to be done.”
Denny’s sneer faded, and he stood up straight. “What’s that?” One hand on his pistol, he moved towards the door and threw it open. There in the doorway was Bartholomew holding a tray. “What th’ hell do ya think you’re doin’, partner?” Denny snarled as he jammed his pistol barrel into the surprised butler’s stomach.
The man looked down at the gun, and then raised his eyes to his employers. “I was about to knock, ma’am, to see if you desired more coffee. Apparently, I’ve disturbed something.”
