“Former slaves bought some o’ that bottomland from your cousin, like the rest o’ them.”
Darcy closed his eyes for a moment. “Damn!”
“Yeah,” Fitz took a puff, “don’t know how folks ’round here will cotton to a family of former slaves movin’ in.”
Darcy glanced at his friend and ranch foreman. “You’ve got a point, Fitz, but that’s not what I meant. You’re not from around here. There’s a reason that land’s lay fallow ’til now. It’s low and prone to flooding. I remember back in ’55 when the Long Branch came up from its banks after a heavy storm. It’s been dry ever since, but that won’t last. We get one big rain, those people in the new settlement will have three to four feet of water in their homes.”
“Your cousin, Mrs. Burroughs, must know that. Why’s she sellin’?”
“Oldest reason in the world—money. Whitehead and that fancy-pants bank manager of hers, Collins, talked Cate into it.”
“You could talk her out of it.”
Darcy stared out onto his land, his features set. “Nope. That isn’t my concern anymore. I learned my lesson in the war, Fitz. I worry only about my family, my people, and Pemberley. Everything else can see to itself.”
The two finished their cigars in silence.
“Ah, here you are, Beth,” said her father as he walked into his study.
“Yes, I was reading and keeping Samuel company.” Beth was in an armchair near the bookcase, an oil lamp on the side table, and the precious lone photograph of Samuel that had been taken before his departure with the rest of the Ohio troops lovingly hung on the adjoining wall. Bennet walked up to it, sighing.
“You know, I think Samuel would have liked Texas,” he observed before turning to her. “You’ve certainly changed your mind about the place.”
Beth put down her book. “Texas is a lovely place.” She then smiled impishly. “If only it wasn’t full of Texans!”
Bennet laughed. “Now, that’s not quite true. You’ve made great friends with Miss Charlotte Lucas, the sheriff’s daughter. Reverend Tilney’s a good man.” He paused. “You’re not holding the war against Doc Bingley, are you?”
Beth bit her lip. “No. How can I? He makes Jane so happy—”
“Don’t you like him for himself?”
Beth colored. “I do. It’s just…” she glanced at Samuel’s portrait, “I feel as if I’m betraying Samuel’s memory.”
Bennet laid a hand on her shoulder. “Beth, you’ve got to try to forget about the war.”
“I try, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll forget Samuel.”
Bennet just shook his head. “Well, I’m going to bed, my dear. Don’t stay up too late.” He kissed the top of her head and left. Beth watched him go and then turned her eyes to the photograph.
Softly to herself, she repeated her vow. “I’ll not forget you, Samuel. No matter what the others do, I’ll stay true, just watch. I’ll never forget you.” With that she extinguished the light and left the room for bed.
“I hereby pronounce you man and wife. What God hath joined, let no man tear asunder.” The Reverend Henry Tilney then raised his hands to the congregation. “Friends, let me present to you Dr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley.”
To general applause, the happy couple walked down the aisle, Bingley in his best blue suit and Jane in a store-bought dress ordered direct from St. Louis. Behind them was a slightly less joyous couple: maid of honor Beth Bennet and best man William Darcy.
The newlyweds, their family, and friends proceeded by foot to the only place in Rosings large enough for a reception, Younge’s Saloon. Sally Younge, proprietor and madam of the place, promised that her “working girls” would be gone from the premises for the duration of the festivities, to the relief of the Bennets and the despair of some of the male townsfolk.
True to her word to her sister, Beth had said not a single disparaging word to her escort, although she dearly wished to. She was uncomfortable, and not just because of the words spoken to her a month ago by the man now walking beside her. They still stung, and Beth was loath to either forgive or forget. But what made matters worse was how downright handsome the man was. Darcy was impeccable in his suit, not a hair was out of place— and his smell! A subtle yet wondrous aroma filled her nostrils whenever he stood near, a far finer smell than the
Darcy, too, was in turmoil. To his dismay he realized the tomboy to whom he had been so short was the Bennet girl he was obligated to stand with at Charles’s wedding. She was quite simply the fairest girl he had ever seen. True, Jane Bennet—now Mrs. Bingley—was as lovely as Charles had claimed, but Darcy’s eye would not leave the woman beside him. All the Bennet girls were pretty in their own right, but Darcy was enchanted by the fire in Beth Bennet’s eyes. A man could get lost there, he knew, and he vowed not to allow himself to be tempted.
The party soon reached their destination, and the place was quickly filled, for in as small a town as Rosings, one could not have a wedding and not invite the entire population. The piano player took his seat, and Charles and Jane waltzed for the first time as a married couple. Darcy and Beth watched, in admiration on his part and apprehension on hers, for the last duty of their joint office was to dance the second dance.
Darcy decided to make conversation. “Your sister looks very happy, Miss Beth.”
Beth resolutely stared at the couple dancing. “Yes. When we moved here, I’m sure we had no thought that Jane would meet so agreeable a person as Dr. Bingley.”
“She’s very fortunate. Charles is a good man.”
Beth was glad at his statement, for the implied suggestion that Jane was a husband hunter gave her a reason to let loose her animosity towards Darcy. “Indeed? I’m glad you think so. I know my family feels the same. However, knowing Jane as I do, it is my decided opinion that Charles is getting the best of the bargain. There’s no one so good as my sister.”
Before Darcy could respond, the music ended, and he was occupied applauding the couple. He then reached out for Beth’s hand, and the two of them joined the Bingleys and the Bennets for a dance. Another waltz began, and Darcy took Beth’s left hand in his right, placed his left on her waist, and whispered, “Just follow my lead, Miss Bennet, if you’re unsure of the steps.”
Beth was forced to bite her tongue, for it would not do to make a scene at Jane’s wedding, no matter how insufferable this tall, handsome, pompous ass could be. Not trusting herself, she refused to talk to him during the whole of the dance. She glanced at him occasionally, and for the first time noticed a faint scar on his forehead. Darcy took her silence as evidence of her nervousness and did not press her for conversation. The assembled watched two people perform the figures of the waltz flawlessly, as if they were a machine.
Not too soon for either, the dance ended, and Beth would have made her escape after the requisite bow had not her partner refused to release her hand. He instead deposited it upon his arm, and she was forced to suffer his escort back to her parents.
Darcy bowed slightly to the Bennets. “Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, my congratulations again on your daughter’s marriage.” The Bennets civilly thanked him for his courtesy. Darcy straightened up and made a gesture at a couple nearby. “May I present my sister to you? This is Miss Gabrielle Darcy, and this is the foreman of Pemberley Ranch, Mr. Richard Fitzwilliam. Gabrielle, Fitz, this is Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and their daughter, Miss Beth Bennet.”
Miss Darcy, a black-haired girl dressed in the latest fashion, shyly greeted them. “I’m happy to meet you. I’ve met Miss Jane, now Mrs. Bingley, last week, and I’m glad to make the acquaintance of her family.”
She was tall for her age and had a well-formed figure. She owned the same olive skin tone as her brother, but her eyes were of the deepest black. She had a faint exotic air about her, in spite of the awkwardness common in a girl too old to be a child and too young to be an adult. Beth pitied her, as she well recognized the condition. It had
