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.
Chapter 2
October, 1870
“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 eau de cologne favored by George Whitehead. Beth tried valiantly not to look into his face, for a man with his blue eyes was far too dangerous.
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 bedeviled both her and Mary, and Kathy was suffering it even now. Only Jane and Lily, the beauties of the Bennet girls, seemed to escape the gawkiness that most women experienced.
“As am I,” Fitz added with a grin. “Always happy to meet two such lovely ladies!” A slim man in his late twenties of middling height, Richard Fitzwilliam had a ruddy complexion and fair hair. His suit was not nearly as fine as his employer’s, but his greeting was all that it should be in sincerity and friendliness. Beth could not but like him at once.
Mrs. Bennet giggled at his flattery, and her husband was amused. “Is that so, sir? Shall I need to call you out in defense of my wife’s honor?”
“Oh, Mr. Bennet—how you go on!” cried his wife. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fitzwilliam. And you, too, Miss Darcy. What a lovely girl you are and such a fine figure to go with such a pretty dress! I am sure you got that in St. Louis. My brother, you see, owns a shop in St. Louis, and the dresses—oh my! Nothing but the best from Gardiner’s—but I’m sure you know about that. How old are you, my dear?”
Beth was mortified at her mother’s monologue, and
her embarrassment grew at Darcy’s dark look. Miss Darcy took a half-step back in response to the outburst but answered, “Sixteen, ma’am.”
“Sixteen! My, my—you’re of an age with my Lily! You must meet her and my other daughters! Here’s Mary, but where’s Lily and Kathy? Oh, Tom, do you see them?”
“Umm, perhaps another time, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy coldly said as he took Gaby’s elbow. He quickly made their farewells and strode off, his sister’s arm still grasped in his hand. Fitz watched in some confusion, quickly bowed, and followed. Mrs. Bennet, still a bit overwhelmed by the attention, was insensitive to their abrupt departure, but the action fueled Beth’s displeasure with Darcy. Her father was more sanguine.
“So, that is our neighbor. Tall sort of fellow, isn’t he?”
“All the better to look down his nose at others,” added his daughter spitefully, in a low voice.
He gave her an unreadable look. “Do you think so? Hmm.”
Beth had no opportunity to ask his meaning, as she was happily met by her friend, Charlotte Lucas.
Darcy made his escape from the ridiculous Mrs. Bennet, but he was at a loss to know what to do. Deciding to forward the acquaintance between Gaby and the new Mrs. Bingley, the pair found themselves in the newlyweds’ company, Fitz having deserted his employer to wet his whistle at the bar. He correctly surmised that the exceedingly kind Jane would bring Gaby out of her shyness. It was just a moment’s work to have the two talking together like old friends.
“I want to thank you again, Will, for everything you’ve done,” Charles said earnestly.
Darcy blanched, his eyes darting about. He took Bingley by the arm and moved to an unoccupied wall. “Say nothing of it, Charles. Consider it a wedding present.”
“Ha! More like a present to my father-in-law! He doesn’t know that he’s only payin’ a fraction of what this soirée is costing, thanks to you. From what Younge’s charging, there’s no way he could’ve afforded it.”
“Will you keep your voice down?” Darcy said irritably.
“Why? Jane knows.” At Darcy’s horrified expression, he added, “She’s agreed to keep it a secret. But why? Why don’t you want Mr. Bennet to know of your generosity?”
Darcy stared out into the crowd, his hands stiffly behind his back. “To tell him would be boasting, Charles, and I can’t abide a braggart. When a man does a kindness, it should be for kindness’ sake alone. I couldn’t allow Sally to take advantage of the man, but he doesn’t need to know about it. Expecting gratitude for a gift is… unseemly.”
Bingley sighed at his friend’s intransigence. The man’s moral code was a bit over-the-top at times. “Like your cousin, Catherine Burroughs?”
Darcy’s grim demeanor cracked a bit as his lips twitched. “Exactly.”
“Where is she, anyway?”
“You didn’t really expect her here?” Darcy was amused. “The wedding of a doctor to a farmer’s daughter? She’d sooner go to a rodeo. And she keeps Anne away, too. A shame—she has few friends, and it would do her good to know somebody like your wife.”
“You’ve been very good to Jane.”
“We enjoyed her company at Pemberley last week. She’s kind and charming. Gaby likes her very well.”
Bingley smiled. “Her sisters are fine girls, too.” He was surprised Darcy lost his smile. “Will, you don’t disapprove of them, do you?”
Darcy grunted. “Charles, I can say nothing against Mrs. Bingley, but the rest of her family? You’re not blind, man. Look at them! The two youngest are incorrigible flirts, the middle one is a bluestocking if ever I’ve seen one, and the mother is impossible. Why, you should have heard the impudent questions she put to Gaby, all within a minute of meeting her! I barely held my composure.”
“I’m sure you did,” Bingley laughed. “They’re very nice people, Will; they’re just a bit… boisterous. There’s not a mean bone in their bodies. Once you get to know ’em, you’ll see.”
“And why should I do that?”
Charles frowned. “They’re my family now, Will. You’ll be in their company in the future if you’re goin’ to be in mine. I won’t throw off my wife’s family.”
Darcy had the good manners to look abashed. “You’re right, Charles. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I know Miz Bennet can talk a blue streak, but she don’t mean anything by it. It’s just her way. ’Sides, you can’t say anything bad about Mr. Bennet, or Beth.”
“She’s a bit of a tomboy, isn’t she?”
Bingley shrugged. “She grew up on a farm, Will. What did you expect?” He elbowed his friend with a grin. “She sure cleaned up nice, though. Almost as pretty as my Jane.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. Yes, Beth Bennet looked very pretty in a proper lady’s dress. But he couldn’t get out of his mind the way her dungarees showed her backside to advantage in the saddle…
Bingley’s low voice cut in. “Uhh, Will, don’t look now, but Whitehead’s talking to Gaby.”
Darcy’s eyes flew to his sister. Halfway across the room, George Whitehead had engaged Jane Bingley and Gaby Darcy in conversation. Jane was as polite as ever, but Gaby wore a slightly panicked expression.
“God dammit!” growled Darcy under his breath.
Bingley was grim. “I didn’t want to invite that son-of-a-bitch, but he’s a friend of Mr. Bennet’s. I couldn’t say no without causin’ a ruckus, and then I’d have to explain—”
“I understand, Charles. Nothing you could do. You’d think that no-good dog would stay away from her, after the last time.”
Bingley glanced at Darcy. “You’re not goin’ to cause trouble, are you? Whitehead’s pretty popular ’round here.”
“Then folks need to make better friends.” Darcy took a breath and slowly and resolutely walked over to his sister, Bingley trailing behind. His stare would have burned a hole into George Whitehead’s face. His target was aware of the scrutiny, the sardonic look he returned an obvious challenge. Fists clenched, Darcy stopped a couple of feet away.
“Good afternoon, Darcy,” said Whitehead with seeming affability. “I see you managed to tear yourself away from your ranch and grace us with your presence. We’ve greatly missed you and your sister, who I can say is lovelier than ever. Wonderful day for a wedding, wouldn’t you say?”
Stone-faced, Darcy gestured at his sister, who quickly came to his side. “Mrs. Bingley, I beg your pardon.” He then turned his attention to the smirking man before him. In a low, calm voice, he said, “Whitehead, I told you to stay away from my family.”
Whitehead indicated the room. “But this is not Pemberley Ranch, this is Rosings. Your power doesn’t extend here. I’m appointed by Governor Davis, and last I heard, you are not he. I have legal authority in this county.”
“As recorder of deeds—a clerk—as long as General Reynolds’s puppet remains in office, which won’t be forever, from what I’ve heard. We’ve been readmitted to the Union, and all of us Texans now have the right to vote, as you’ll find out in a couple of years. Your army won’t be able to steal the election then. I’ll tell you one last time, Whitehead—stay away from my family. This is my final warning.”
“That sounds like a threat, Darcy.”
“A promise, Whitehead. Mrs. Bingley, again forgive me. C’mon, Gaby—we’re leaving.” Darcy took his sister lightly by the arm and turned away.
“I can have you arrested for threatening me,” Whitehead claimed, causing Darcy to look sideways at him.
“You can try. You come on by Pemberley, and you’ll learn my boys will be waiting for you. You and your hired killers.” He gestured at the bar with his head before walking to the door, the crowd parting before him.
It may have been a Baptist wedding, but the bar was still open, and Fitz was enjoying a beer when he noted his boss across the room staring at someone. Instantly coming alert, he saw George Whitehead talking to Gaby Darcy. Fitz turned around, leaning his back against the bar, watching the action as Darcy walked ove
r to his enemy. He noted a movement by a man down a ways from him.
From the corner of his eye he saw it was Kid Denny, a gunfighter supposedly working at the B&R Ranch, but Fitz knew better. The man was so intently watching the confrontation he didn’t notice at first Fitz moving towards him.
“Afternoon, Denny.” Fitz stopped next to him.
“Whatta ya want, Fitzwilliam?” the gunman demanded.
“Just bein’ neighborly. Nice day for a weddin’, ain’t it?”
“Get lost.” Denny turned back to the quiet confrontation, his hand slipping off the bar towards his gun belt.
In a deceptively friendly tone, Fitz said, “I wouldn’t do that, if’n I was you.”
Denny half turned back, his eyes quickly taking stock of Fitzwilliam. “Yeah? Big talk, mister, seein’ as you ain’t wearin’ your gun.”
Fitz chuckled. “Yeah, well, packin’ a gun seemed a rather unnecessary embellishment for a weddin’, at least for honest folks.”
“You better shut up, Fitzwilliam,” Denny snarled, “or I’ll shut ya up fur good.”
Fitz shook his head. “Tsk, tsk—ain’t no cause for being unsociable, Denny. Is there, José?”
“No, señor,” came a voice from Denny’s blind side. “We is all friends here, today.”
Denny whipped his head to see a large man grinning just behind him.
“You know José Estrada, don’t you, Denny?” Fitz smiled as he leaned on the bar. “No? He’s my Number Two at Pemberley. José, this here’s Kid Denny, ranch boss from the B&R. He considers himself to be some kinda gunfighter, which is why he’s got the lack o’ manners to bring a six-shooter into a weddin’ reception. Now, José here don’t need no gun, as he can pull your arm clear off without tryin’. Can’t you, José?”
José showed his teeth. “Sí, I can do that, Fitz, no problema. But I can shoot, too, you bet.”
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