July 4
“Ah, William, Gabrielle,” welcomed Mrs. Burroughs from the foyer after Bartholomew opened the front door. “Good morning. You’re prompt—very good. Gabrielle, you look lovely today.”
Darcy hardly heard his cousin’s monologue, for he was too busy scanning the people already assembled in the B&R ranch house for a woman in a blue dress. Mrs. Burroughs noticed his preoccupation and thought she knew the reason.
“William, Anne is still upstairs. She will be coming down… Why, here she is now.”
Darcy’s head jerked around, his gaze steady upon the two ladies descending the staircase. Anne appeared quite pretty in her attractive pink and white dress, and Gaby was delighted for her. But Darcy dismissed his cousin with a nod of the head, his attention captured by the vision behind her.
Darcy was aware that the domineering Cate stood beside him, and he schooled his features to appear as disinterested as possible. Yet, his eyes were locked on Miss Bennet, splendid in a blue and silver gown, her hair up and away from her face. The lady must have felt his stare, for her eyes locked on his and opened wide.
She knows! Darcy thought. His initial impulse was to damn propriety and approach her, but with Cate in attendance, that would never do. He knew he had a part to play in front of his cousin. He would have to wait to enjoy the pleasure of Miss Bennet’s undivided attention.
He stepped forward and correctly took Anne’s hand. “Good morning, Cousin. You look very well today. And, you too, Miss Bennet,” he said as he turned to her.
“Th… thank you, sir.”
Cate began speaking again, drawing Darcy’s notice, so he did not see the confused look in Beth’s eyes.
“Come,” the grand lady commanded, “the opening ceremony is about to begin. Darcy, escort your cousin. Gabrielle, attend me.”
Darcy walked out of the house, Anne’s arm in his, feeling very satisfied. Had he been able to study Beth Bennet longer, he would not have been so pleased with himself.
It was high noon when a deep voice in his best Army dress blues called out, “Hats off!”
The men assembled removed their hats as an honor guard of U.S. Cavalry soldiers raised the flag of the United States on a temporary flagpole. The thirty-seven stars and thirteen stripes floated in the light breeze as it rose, accompanied by a rolling cadence. Beth, standing with the Burroughs and George Whitehead, looked on with pride, her hand over her heart, smiling in the sun. Her eye caught a motion, and to her disgust, she observed Will Darcy staring a hole in the ground, his friend, Richard Fitzwilliam, next to him doing the same. Gaby Darcy looked on impassively, occasionally glancing at her brother.
Beth recalled that George Whitehead once described Darcy as an “unrepentant Rebel.” Yes, he certainly is! There was a sense of disappointment in her musings. She was taken aback by his attentions earlier. The blasted man looked stunning in a dark blue suit, a black tie at his throat. And there was something unusual in his bright blue eyes for a moment, before it was extinguished. For one brief moment, her heart had been in her throat. Beth shook her head, angry that she kept thinking about the annoying man. I will ignore him for the rest of the day, she promised herself.
Once the flag reached the pinnacle, George stepped forward and began reciting from the Declaration of Independence:
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”
Beth noticed that several of those assembled, Darcy being one, rolled their eyes or shuffled their feet during Whitehead’s recital. Whitehead then jumped ahead to the last section of the Declaration:
“We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes, and our sacred Honor.”
A restrained cheer went up, men donned their hats again, and the party commenced, as the band struck up “Hail Columbia” followed by “The Star Spangled Banner.” Gaby approached Beth, who had decided not to shun the girl because of her unpleasant brother. Beth, Anne, and Gaby spent a few minutes in pleasant conversation when the master of ceremonies, Mr. Zimmerman, called out for everyone to form up for the first dance.
George approached the group, and for a moment, Beth thought he was going to request a dance from her, but instead he claimed Anne’s hand. Beth could not decide if she was relieved or envious when she heard a low voice beside her.
“Miss Bennet, you do look lovely today.” She turned to behold Will Darcy. “Forgive me, but I promised this dance to Gaby. May I request another one?” His bright blue eyes discombobulated her.
“I… I…”
“The third one!” hissed Gaby with a twinkle in her eye.
Beth was puzzled. “The third dance?”
Darcy took it as agreement. “The third dance it is—thank you, Miss Beth. Gaby, shall we?”
Consternation gripped the girl, for she had violated her vow of ignoring Will Darcy within fifteen minutes of the start of the dance. “Hateful man!” she hissed to herself.
“Pardon me?” asked Billy Collins, who had at that moment appeared at her side.
“Oh! Mr. Collins, what can I do for you?” she said automatically. By the time her brain caught up with her mouth it was too late, and Beth took her place for the Grand March with Mr. Collins. The only good thing about it was she finished the dance without injury to her toes.
Another gentleman claimed the second dance, a Virginia reel, which was a favorite of Beth’s. Her joy increased as she saw that Reverend Tilney was still dancing with Mary, and that neither looked to be in any hurry to find other partners. Beth was giggling about the state of Mary’s affairs with Charlotte Lucas when they were approached by Darcy and Fitzwilliam.
“Our dance, I believe, Miss Beth.” His voice held an edge of humor in it, which Beth could not account for, but she could not refuse or turn to Charlotte for assistance. Her friend was already heading to the floor on Fitz’s arm, unmindful of the glare from Sheriff Lucas. Beth sighed and offered her hand to Darcy. It was only as they took their places that she realized the depths of Gaby’s treachery.
“The Viennese Waltz,” Zimmerman called out.
Beth blushed as Darcy took her hand. “I believe I know the steps, Mr. Darcy,” she said.
Darcy grinned, an unsettling sight to Beth. “I don’t doubt it. I remember our last dance very well.”
The music started, and they began to move with the others. Beth tried not to notice, but her body tingled at his touch. She could sense the strength of Darcy’s arms and the warmth of his body as he held her, smelled his cologne as they swirled around the dance floor, and was mesmerized by his good looks as their eyes met. His masculinity flooded her senses. She felt beautiful, as though she were floating in the sky, the music and the man utterly intoxicating her. Feeling lightheaded, she closed her eyes, part of her wishing it were over, another part hoping the dance would never end.
“Miss Beth?”
The spell broken, she looked up into Darcy’s face.
“The dance is done,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Um… I feel a little faint. Perhaps I need to sit down.”
“Of course. Just this way.” With the utmost gentleness, Darcy guided Beth to a chair. After she was seated, he offered to bring her something to drink.
“Oh, no. Rest is all I need. I feel better already.”
“It is a bit warm. You shouldn’t overdo.”
Beth couldn’t decide if he was being polite or overbearing. She settled on the former. “It is a little warm. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Darcy smiled. “I’ll just keep you company until your next dance partner arrives.”
“That would be me,” said a voice behind him. “Thank you for taking care of Miss Beth.”
Darcy lost all expression at the sound of Whitehead’s voice. He turned slowly. “Miss Bennet is tired. She may wish to rest for a while, Whitehead.”
“Oh, no!” the lady cried. “I’m fine. George, give me your hand.” As Whitehead did so, Beth could’ve almost sworn that Darcy flinched. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Darcy.”
“Think nothing of it,” Darcy replied in a bored tone. “Enjoy your dance.” Before Beth’s confused eyes, Darcy turned on his heel and walked away.
“My good friend, Darcy,” George smirked, “charming as ever.” The two began dancing, but Beth was still thinking over Darcy’s abrupt change of countenance. Did it have something to do with George Whitehead?
“What disturbs you, Miss Beth?” George asked.
She looked up at him and blurted out, “Why did you come here?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Beth blinked. “To Rosings, I mean. My family moved here for land and a new start. Why did you come to Texas?”
“Ah. Well, I suppose it was to do good. Help those who had been put down all their lives. Right the injustice that was perpetrated here.”
“Help the former slaves?”
“Yes, you could say that.”
“But, there don’t seem to be any slaves around here—except for the Washingtons, and they moved here recently.”
“Well, when one is a public servant, one goes where one is assigned. But what makes you think there haven’t been slaves around here?”
“I haven’t seen any. You mean there are, or were? Did the Darcys own slaves?”
George sighed. “Most rich people in the South owned hundreds of slaves.”
“But what happened to them?”
“I don’t know. Ran off when they heard of Emancipation, I suppose. Would you want to live near your former owners?”
Beth had to admit she wouldn’t. She finished the dance, her mind in turmoil until George walked her back to her chair, Lily occupying the one next to it.
“Perhaps you are a bit tired,” George said. “May I get you something?”
“Beth, are you unwell?” asked her sister.
“No, no, I’m fine,” she protested.
“All right, then,” said Lily. “George, you promised me a dance!”
“Yes, I did. Please excuse us.”
Beth did not watch them walk away. She had too much on her mind.
Darcy was furious watching Beth dance with Whitehead. The only reason he didn’t explode was the expression on Beth’s face. It was apparent she wasn’t enjoying herself. Perhaps, he thought, she sees Whitehead for the snake he is. He knew he would have to explain to her why he feigned disinterest in her. It wouldn’t be good for Whitehead to suspect that Darcy had feelings for Beth until it was too late for him to do anything about it.
“Hey, Will, come over here an’ meet my newest friend.”
Darcy turned, his lips curling into a smile. “That will be a first, as you don’t have any friends.” He saw Fitz leaning against the makeshift bar with an Army officer, both with beers in their hands.
Fitz grinned. “This here’s Captain John Buford of the United States Cavalry, stationed at Fort Richardson. He’s here to protect our bacon from the savage natives that infest these here parts.”
Darcy extended his hand. “William Darcy.”
The officer, tall and dark, shook his hand with a firm grip. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Darcy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Fitz laughed. “Nothin’ good, I assume.”
Buford smiled. “Like I’ll get the straight story out of you.”
Darcy leaned on the bar, signaling for a beer. “You sound like you know each other.”
“Yes and no,” Fitz said. “Buford here was a blue-belly colonel chasin’ my ass all over the Shenandoah Valley during the late unpleasantness.”
“And a slippery man you were, Major.” Buford turned to Darcy. “I rode with Custer.”
“You stayed in the army,” Darcy observed.
“It’s my profession. I resumed my permanent rank after the war.” He looked Darcy right in the eye. “And you, sir?”
“Texas Legion, Vicksburg. I’ve seen the elephant.[3]”
Buford nodded. “Thought so. I’ve got a few ex-Confederates in my company. Good men. Ex-officers, although they’re enlisted now. Regulations,” he shrugged.
“And you’re at Fort Richardson. Not with Custer and the Seventh Cavalry,” Darcy observed.
Buford lost a bit of his good cheer. “No, I’m no longer with Colonel Custer. I find my current assignment much more to my liking.” What was left unsaid hung over the room.
Fitz tried to change the subject. “Such as raising flags at parties?”
Buford smiled again. “One of my more pleasant duties, I assure you. My colonel assigned me to a detail to do the honors.” He looked around. “Although I’ll probably catch the devil from my wife, Deborah, when I get back. She dearly loves a dance.”
“She’s at post with you?”
“Yes, and expecting another addition to our family in about a month. It’ll be our third, but you worry every time.”
“I expect so.” Darcy took a sip. “How are things otherwise?”
A knowing look crept into Buford’s eyes. “It’s quiet down here, but up along the Red River, it’s another story.”
“I thought I heard something along those lines. Tell me, is the army planning anything soon?”
Buford looked away, considering. “Are you planning on driving any cattle north?”
“Fitz here just got back from Kansas, delivering a herd.”
“Good, good. Let me say this—it’s a wise decision you made, going early. Very wise.”
Darcy and Fitzwilliam nodded, getting the message. The army was planning a major operation against the tribes. Just then, Caroline Bingley walked up.
“There you are, Mr. Darcy. I do believe it’s time for our dance… oh.” She noticed the army officer.
Darcy did the honors. “Miss Caroline Bingley, this is Captain John Buford.” Buford bowed slightly, but to the gentlemen’s surprise, Miss Bingley turned away from him without a word, delivering the cut direct. Darcy did not know the root cause of the woman’s behavior and decided the best way to quell any further incident was to offer the lady his arm for the dance, and they moved away. Fitz was mortified.
“Sorry about that, Buford.”
The officer took a swig of his beer. “Am I supposed to know her? Have I done something to warrant that?”
“Umm… she’s from Georgia.”
“Ohhh… I see. I understand now. The March to the Sea?”
“Yeah.”
Buford cursed. “Damn that war.”
Anne finally escaped the smothering attentions of George Whitehead and went to look for her friend, Beth. Anne wished her mother would believe her when she told her about Whitehead, but she would only dismiss her. “Nonsense,” she would say. “Mr. Whitehead knows his place. He would not look so high as you—he knows better. Enjoy the attention, and who knows— maybe it will finally make Darcy jealous.”
Anne saw Beth standing off to one corner of the tent away from the dance floor, looking in the other direction. Anne walked over to her, catching her attention, but before she could say anything over the low rumble of the crowd, a loud voice was heard.
“I must say I’m amused by what the rustics here about call a ball, Mr. Darcy.”
Both girls saw Caroline Bingley standing close to Will Darcy a few feet away. As they were both behind the pair, they were unnoticed. Anne saw Beth trying to restrain a giggle, holding one finger across her lips. They could clearly overhear the conversation.
“It’s true we don’t have the facilities found in the city, Miss Bingley, but we’re able to manage,” Darcy said dryly.
“And the dresses! Certainly not up to St. Charles Avenue standards, bless their hearts. Except Miss Darcy, of course. No one can disparage her.”
“Of course not.”
Beth threatened to laugh out loud, and Anne had to admit she was amused as well by the pretentious debutant.
Caroline sighed dramatically. “But—oh! Poor Charles! What a waste!”
“I beg your pardon?” Darcy said.
“What Charles could be, given the proper situation! I assume he’s a very good doctor.”
“I believe so.”
“Then he must be. I know several physicians in New Orleans, and all are of the highest circles. There’s great demand not just for their talents but for their society as well. They’re accepted everywhere. By the houses they live in, they’re all rich, or will soon be so.
“But here, in the middle of nowhere! There’s no chance for advancement or fortune, I declare. Only caring for farmers and cowboys—and their animals, I suppose. What kind of life is that for Charles, who grew up at Netherfield? He isn’t what he should be.”
Beth lost all mirth and listened intently.
“And what should he be?” Caroline’s companion asked.
“He should be a prestigious physician in a great city like New Orleans, his name on everyone’s lips, not wasting his life here in the wilderness.”
Darcy drew a breath. “He could leave if he wanted to.”
“Don’t think I haven’t dropped a few hints, but no—he’ll never leave. It’s the fault of that wife of his.”
“Mrs. Bingley?”
“Yes. She’ll never leave her family. She’s trapped him here. He shouldn’t have married her. Don’t you agree?”
Darcy was silent for a terrible moment. Anne could see Beth’s anger grow.
Darcy began to speak. “I can’t deny that Charles has certainly limited his opportunities by moving to Rosings. He’ll never be rich here, and by marrying Jane Bennet, he’ll never leave. In my opinion, Jane would never be happy away from her family, and I think Charles knows that. So, I suppose you’re right, Miss Bingley—by his marriage, Charles has forever doomed himself to be poor.”
Beth turned white, spun on her heel, and left the tent. Anne, aghast at what she had overheard, waited a moment and then followed her friend.
Beth quietly left the ballroom tent for the house porch to seek relief from the sweltering heat and to settle her own jumbled emotions. She fanned herself as she stewed. It was bad enough that Will Darcy disrespected the flag that her beloved Samuel died defending, learning that he disapproved of Jane was more than she could stand. How, she thought, could a sweet girl like Gaby have such a detestable brother? How could Anne or Charles or Fitz stand to be in his company?
And yet, she could not erase from her treacherous mind the image of Darcy, tall and dark and enormously handsome, approaching her for their dance. How intoxicating it felt to be in his arms! Never had Beth experienced such a reaction from just being in a man’s presence. Could Charlotte be right? Could she be attracted to him? She couldn’t be, it was impossible… and yet—
“Miss Beth?”
Beth closed her eyes in anger. The very last man she wished to speak to had somehow found her—was now standing behind her, invading her privacy. It took all the control she had not to turn on the cousin of her hostess and lash out at him. Instead, she resolutely stared out at the rolling countryside, one hand on the porch railing, not favoring Mr. Darcy with so much as an acknowledgment of his presence. She hoped her slight rudeness would put the man off.
She was disappointed. Darcy moved to her side, just far enough away to meet propriety. He, too, gazed at the expanse of the range. “I don’t blame you for seeking the quiet of the veranda. It’s very close inside,” he said softy. He half-turned his face to her. “Would you care for a lemonade? A glass of wine, perhaps? You must be parched.”
Beth could not help but turn to him. “Thank you, no. I require nothing but solitude.”
“You and I are alike, then,” he said with the ghost of a smile, which raised Beth’s ire. How dare he compare himself to her!
“You look very lovely tonight.”
That got Beth’s attention. Her head whipped around of its own accord to behold Darcy looking at her in that familiar, intense, unexplainable manner. One corner of his mouth still twisted up.
“Yes, blue is your color. I’m glad Anne took my suggestion. That dress favors you very well.”
“What?” she cried. “You… you spoke to Anne about my choice of dress?”
“Yes. I’m very glad I did. You look quite beautiful, Beth. Much better than in dungarees. You were born to wear that dress. I’m glad I bought it.” He took a step forward, almost touching her. Beth could not move, so surprised was she at his statements.
His half-smile faded as he seemed to struggle with himself. Finally, he blurted out, “It won’t do. It won’t do anymore. I must tell you that I have quite lost my heart to you. I can’t go on, can’t see myself without you.” He suddenly took her hands, his thumbs running over the calluses on her fingers. “So rough,” he said sadly, looking at them. “Living on a farm, doing chores.” He raised his eyes to hers. “No more. Let me take you from all that. Let me take care of you. Come with me—you’ll never have to work again. Whatever you want, you’ll have. Dresses, books, music—anything.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “I’ll give you everything if you’ll only say you’ll be mine—”
“No!” Beth’s astonished mind had finally regained control of her voice. She yanked her hands from Darcy’s grasp. “How dare you! Are you insane? How dare you touch me!”
Darcy colored and took a half-step back. “I’m… I’m sorry. I only meant—”
“I know what you meant, and I won’t be one of your conquests!” She reached back, ready to slap him, only to stop at his confused expression.
“Conquests? What are you talking about?”
“Are you playing me for a fool? I won’t be your mistress!”
Darcy gaped. “Is that what you thought I was talking about? Beth, I’m asking you to marry me!”
Beth’s hand dropped. “Marry you?”
“Yes! I love you! How could you think I would ask something dishonorable of you? What kind of man do you think I am?”
Darcy’s question seemed to break the dam of resentment Beth was holding against the man. “I know exactly what kind of man you are, Will Darcy. You say you’ll give me anything if I go with you. Am I for sale? Do you think you can buy me like one of your slaves?”
“No—I didn’t mean—I’ve never—I’ve never had slaves.”
“Don’t lie to me! George told me all about the slaves you’ve bought. Just like all of you Southerners—you’ve all owned slaves. How can you live with yourself?”
Darcy drew his mouth into a thin line. “You think that, do you? And what about Charles? Do you feel the same about him?”
“You dare bring up Charles? I heard what you said about him and Jane to Caroline. About how he could have done better had he not come to Rosings—that his marriage to Jane must always doom him to be poor. And you call him your friend! And Jane, who has always defended you—what has she done to earn such scorn?”
Darcy’s face went white. “If you overheard that, didn’t you hear the rest of the conversation?”
Beth ranted on, heedless of his rejoinder. “You sit in your big house, unwilling to take any notice of anything that’s going on. People are losing their homes, and your bank does nothing! You make sure no one unsuitable even touches one inch of your precious Pemberley. But, oh, if your sister shows the least interest in doing something that may broaden her horizons, like going to town and meeting other people, well, then, you shadow her like a mother hen! Making sure we’re all worthy of her acquaintance. Insulting fine, upstanding people like George Whitehead. You’re as proud and unpleasant as Mrs. Burroughs and with less reason. She’s old and set in her ways. What’s your excuse, except you think you’re better than the rest of us?”
Beth could almost hear Darcy grind his teeth as his face turned red. “If you believe George Whitehead to be a fine, upstanding person, then you’re a fool, Miss Bennet. Whitehead’s the biggest piece of scum in the county.”
“George Whitehead is a war hero! And what are you? A traitor to the country of your birth! My brother went to fight to save the union, not break it apart. He fought to end slavery, not defend it. And he died doing it. You killed him—you and any who took up arms against the United States. If it weren’t for people like you, Samuel would still be alive! Marry you? I hate you!”
Darcy recoiled as if struck. He said nothing; he only stared at her wide-eyed, as the music from the ball filled the silence. Beth, tears running down her face, refused to break eye contact with him. After a moment, the man seemed to deflate.
“I see. It seems I was under the impression you enjoyed my company. I now see I was wrong. Please excuse me for bothering you.” He gave her a quick nod. “I’ll leave you now, as my presence is understandably unwanted. My… my best wishes to you and your family.” His voice almost broke at his final words, and he walked swiftly away down the veranda. Beth did not move until he turned the corner of the house and she could flee to the sanity of her guest room upstairs, hoping her passage would go unnoticed.
In that, she failed, for out of the shadows at the other end of the veranda stepped a distraught Anne Burroughs.
“I’ve seen the elephant” was a term used by Civil War soldiers in letters and diaries to describe the experiences of undergoing battle during wartime.