July 5
When Beth came down for breakfast the next morning, she was not surprised to learn that Dr. Bingley had been sent for. She didn’t need to ask who Charles was there to see. Indeed, she was hard-pressed to get the man out of her head.
Anne glanced sheepishly at Beth, but with her mother in attendance, she refrained from speaking. It wasn’t until Mrs. Burroughs retired to her study to work on ranch matters that Anne moved to the seat next to Beth.
“Beth, about the dress, I’m so sorry. It was Will’s idea to surprise you—”
Beth cut her off. “Please, the less said about yesterday, the better.”
Anne, chastised, stared at her plate. “I hope you’re still my friend.”
Beth sighed. “I am. But friends don’t deceive each other.” Beth instantly regretted her words as Anne’s eyes filled with tears. But before she could console her, Charles came into the room.
“Well, he’ll live, but I can’t say he’ll enjoy it.” His jovial manner dissipated with one look at Anne’s unhappy face. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t be joking,” he said, misunderstanding Anne’s concern. “Will’ll be fine. He just needs a day o’ rest. He’ll be fit as a fiddle come tomorrow morning.”
Anne smiled her thanks to Dr. Bingley, and Beth realized she was relieved, too. Anne offered Charles some breakfast, and he sat down.
“Thank you, Miss Anne,” Charles said. “Beth? We’ll leave right afterwards, if you’re ready.”
Beth waited until Charles’s surrey was well out of earshot of the ranch house before she turned to her brother-in-law.
“Charles, I’ve recently learned some disturbing things about the war.”
“Is that so?” A puzzled Charles turned to her. “What brings this up?”
Beth had no answer but the truth. “Will Darcy and I were… talking yesterday, and it just came up.”
“Talking about the war? At a party?” Charles was flabbergasted.
Beth turned away to hide the flush on her face. “All right— we had an argument. He said George Whitehead ran one of the prisons you and Mr. Darcy were in. Is that true?”
“Yeah. Will doesn’t usually talk about those days.”
“Nobody does!” Beth cried. “It’s like it’s a great big secret!”
“Beth, war is a thing a man wants to forget.”
“Have you talked about it to Jane?”
Charles ignored the impertinence of her question. “A little. Where’s all this leading?”
“Last night, when Mr. Darcy got… himself injured, Miss Burroughs and I helped Mr. Bartholomew get him to his room. In the course of caring for him we… we saw his back.” Charles’s eyes grew wide. “Charles, where did those scars come from? Was Mr. Darcy whipped in prison?”
It took a moment for an astonished Dr. Bingley to say, “That’s not my story to tell.”
“Then he was. Charles, you can tell me. Mr. Darcy himself told us stories about horrible mistreatment in the camps, so you wouldn’t be telling me something I haven’t heard. He said George liked to have people whipped. Was it George who had Mr. Darcy whipped?”
Charles stared straight ahead. “Yes,” he admitted in a low voice.
“Why?”
“Because of me.”
“You?”
“Beth, this ain’t easy for me to talk about.” He took a breath. “Will and I were at Vicksburg, but instead of being paroled after the surrender like the others, we were arrested by Whitehead on false charges.”
“What were the charges?”
“Resistin’ the surrender, but that wasn’t the real reason. We knew too much. You see, we saw Whitehead and his men stealin’ from my patients. I complained, but instead of punishing Whitehead, his commanders placed him in charge of bringing us to prison.” Charles went on to talk of their trip to Camp Campbell in Missouri—how the transfer point-turned-prison was totally insufficient for the purpose intended, and how Captain Whitehead essentially became the commander of the place.
“The sanitary conditions were awful,” Charles continued. “The latrine wasn’t suitable for even a third of the men we had there. I was workin’ in the camp hospital—there was a shortage of Yankee doctors—so I went to the Yankee colonel to get permission to have a new latrine dug. The drunkard turned me down flat—said his engineers told him what we had would be more than adequate. Beth, he was wrong. That thing was dysentery waitin’ to happen.
“Food was always scarce, so Whitehead had the idea of us makin’ a vegetable garden for the guards. Each day, a team of men would be issued hoes and tools to work the ground. I saw my opportunity and went to Will with my idea. If the men spent an extra ten minutes a day at the end of their shift diggin’ a new latrine, we’d have it done in less than a week. Will told me to go ahead, as long as the guards knew what we were doin’. I didn’t have any trouble with them, ’cause I had pulled a tooth for the head of the detail, and he took a likin’ to me.
“Everything was goin’ along fine until, in an unexpected fit of sobriety, the colonel decided to hold an inspection. He took one look at the nearly-finished latrine and started yellin’, accusing us of diggin’ an escape tunnel. Guns were being pointed every which-way, so I stepped up and told him what it was. I was immediately taken in hand and dragged to a court of inquiry.
“There I was, standin’ afore the colonel with a nervous Whitehead at his side. Now, you see, it was ole George’s idea to have us prisoners make a garden an’ put tools in our hands, so he was ultimately responsible. I figure he was there to make sure I took the blame, not him. So Whitehead said nothing when his commanding officer accused me of organizing a mass escape, until the colonel started talking about havin’ me shot. I guess that was too much even for Whitehead—that, or else he was afraid of an investigation from higher authorities. That’s when he suggested that shootin’ a doctor would be bad for morale and flogging would be enough of a punishment.
“Just before sentence was read, there was a disruption at the tent entrance. I turned around to see Will walking in like he was a commanding general, surrounded by two guards. He was yelling that this hearing was illegal, a violation of the Articles of War. The colonel got mad, I can tell you, and demanded an explanation. Will said that they couldn’t punish a man following a lawful order, and that he, as commanding officer of the Confederate prisoners, had ordered me to build that latrine.
“I was shocked to see him, Beth, and not just because of his words, which was stretchin’ the truth a bit. That he was allowed anywhere near the tent was amazing. But I noted that one of his guards was the same sergeant whose tooth I pulled, so I guess he was repayin’ the favor by bringin’ Darcy to the hearing so that he could object.
“The colonel was spittin’ mad—screaming that he ought to shoot us both. Whitehead put a hand on his shoulder to quiet him down. He said, ‘Colonel, the captain is correct—we can’t punish a man for following a legal order.’ He then turned to Will, and Beth, I swear the man actually smiled as he said, ‘But we can punish an officer who encouraged insurrection against the lawful authority. Since Captain Darcy issued the order, let him be punished.’”
Beth’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, Charles!”
“Beth, I tried to stop it—I objected at the top o’ my lungs—but Darcy rode me down. Ordered me to be silent and obey. Whitehead had the guards take Will out immediately and execute the sentence.” He passed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t at the flogging, but since they didn’t revoke my hospital privileges, I was there when they brought him in afterwards. I’ll never forget that sight for as long as I live. They almost beat him to death—I feared for his life for nearly a week.”
Charles paused in his recount. “When Will was able to talk, I asked the damn fool why he did it. He told me, ‘Charles, I’m expendable—you’re not.’” He looked at Beth, his chin trembling. “And that’s Will Darcy for you.”
Beth blinked as her tears flowed freely.
Bingley pulled himself together. “As Will got better, we got the word that there had been a surprise inspection from the War Department and that the camp had received a commendation for the new latrine. It seemed Whitehead didn’t have the time to have it filled in, but it worked out to his advantage. He took credit for it, from what the guards told me. Helped lead to his promotion.”
It took awhile for Beth to compose herself. “Does Jane know this?”
“Not the details, but enough to know that Whitehead’s not the man he seems.”
“But why not tell her everything? Why not tell the whole town? They need to know how ruthless George is.”
“Beth, it’s not that easy. For one thing, it’s not just my story; it’s Will’s, too. Just by tellin’ you, I’m going against Will’s wishes.” He sighed. “You see, there’s a code out here—what’s in the past stays in the past. A lot of folks came out west to escape the past, so people in these parts aren’t ones to bring it up. A man’s judged by what he is and not by what he was.
“For another, Whitehead’s close to the government in Austin, and he can make a lot of trouble for any that get in his way. He’s got Mrs. Burroughs on his side and a private army in Kid Denny and his gang. A lot of people just want to put the war in the past, and Whitehead’s made friends here—your daddy, for instance.
“Darcy just wants to let it go. He’s afraid if he starts up something, people will get hurt, and there’s no guarantee that if we drive Whitehead out of town, the army or the government wouldn’t come in and make things worse.”
By now, the surrey had reached the outskirts of the town, passing the cemetery on the hill. “Beth, I reckon we just let things go on as they have. Sooner or later, this occupation by the army will be over, Whitehead will show his true stripes, the town will turn on him, and that will be the end of him. ’Til then, we’ll just keep our heads down and look out for our own, just like Will says.”
“But what about Father?”
Charles nodded. “I’ll talk to him again—make certain he’s not gettin’ in over his head in his dealings with Whitehead.”
“Again? You’ve talked to him before?”
“Yeah.”
Beth wasn’t sure that was enough, but she kept her concern to herself.
Darcy didn’t return to Pemberley until the next day. Everyone was concerned over his absence, Gaby most of all, and she asked for an explanation. Darcy declined to answer fully, mumbling something about an “indisposition,” and he immediately claimed a desire to see to the paperwork awaiting him in his study.
Once he locked the door and seated himself behind his desk, Darcy simply stared out the widow, ignoring the papers on his desk. Ever since he woke up the day before with a pounding head and sickly belly, he had been obsessed in reviewing what had happened—how things had gone so wrong and how he could have misjudged things so badly.
He raised one hand to his forehead. He still suffered from a headache brought on by his excessive drinking and his injury. He had no recollection of how he had hurt himself. He had awakened with a bandage wrapped around his head and a chamber pot close by, which he used to empty the contents of his stomach. It had been a full day since Charles had tended to him, and he still refused to rest. Darcy well remembered everything prior to falling down, and it was those memories that haunted him. He accepted his pain as penance for his arrogant behavior.
It had taken all of the day and most of the night before Darcy allowed himself to see past his pain, both physical and emotional, and accept the truth. Beth Bennet hated him, and he had no one to blame but himself.
The study door opened. “Will,” Gaby stated without preamble, “I’m going for a ride, and you’re going with me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I’m getting Buckskin and Caesar saddled right now.” Without another word, she left the room.
A few minutes later, Darcy was astride his black steed with his sister next to him on her palomino, riding towards Pemberley Lake. Darcy had to admit the hot sun felt good against his face and the movement of his horse settled his emotions, if not his head. He wondered when his sister had grown so wise.
The two stopped at a shady willow overlooking the lake, and they dismounted. Brother and sister took their ease sitting at the base of the tree as the horses drank from the water.
Darcy was thankful for the quiet; it allowed him to set his thoughts in order. The water before him reminded Darcy of Beth’s clandestine swim, and he finally came to the realization that he had confused his lust for Beth Bennet with love. It was the only reason he could think of that would so blind him to the truth.
Heck, even Anne saw that Beth wasn’t in love with me. But did I listen? Naw—I had to go my own way and make a damned fool of myself. No wonder she thought I was making some kind of improper request of her. In a way, I was. The only reason I wanted to marry her was to get her in my bed. And now, thanks to my drunken performance, there’s no way she’ll ever give me the time of day again.
“Will, is something wrong?” asked Gaby.
Darcy looked at the water for a while, thinking. Damn, I probably ruined Gaby’s friendship with Beth. Anne’s, too. What the hell was I thinking with that dress? That’s just it, I wasn’t thinking. I was treating her as if she was mine already. And all I accomplished was to drive her off and hurt Gaby and Anne.
A woman as fine as Beth Bennet deserves to be wooed, courted. Not just ridden down and lassoed like I was roping a calf—tossed, tied down, and branded. I haven’t the faintest idea how to earn the good opinion of a proper lady. I am the biggest idiot in Long Branch County.
“Will?”
Darcy sighed. “Gaby, I’ve made a mistake—a very, very big mistake—and I don’t know how I can ever make things right.” He tossed a twig towards the water’s edge.
Gaby looked at Will in surprise. It never occurred to her that her perfect brother could ever err. “What happened?”
“Hurt somebody I thought I loved.”
Gaby thought for a moment. “Beth?” she gasped. “What did you do?”
“I’m embarrassed to talk about it. Let’s just say that after what I did, she’d be the last person on earth to go get help if I was drowning in the lake there.”
“That’s hard to believe with George Whitehead in town.”
“He’s part of the problem.”
“What do you mean? Oh, you don’t think Beth’s in love with him, do you? Because if you do, I can assure you she’s not.”
“No, she told me she wasn’t.” Will, to his shame, remembered almost everything from the late-night discussion in the Burroughses’ library, except how he managed to earn a knot on his head. Before Anne told him what had happened, he half-figured that Beth had taken an empty whiskey bottle to him. “But he’s been telling stories.” He turned to Gaby. “How do you know she doesn’t love Whitehead?”
“A woman can tell these things.” She played with the grass beside her. “Will, when I… when Whitehead tried to… court me, I suppose… you made me talk about it. I didn’t want to, but you said it would make me feel better. And it did. Will, I think you need to talk to me now.”
“And it’ll make me feel better?”
“I don’t know. It worked for me. At least you’ll know you won’t be alone.”
Darcy thought about that for a minute. “Well, I can’t feel worse.” And so he told Gaby almost everything. Seventeen-year-old girls didn’t need to know about spying on naked people swimming, after all.
The Bingley household took their ease in the front parlor after supper. Charles read from a week-old newspaper, while Jane mended one of his shirts. Beth attempted to concentrate on a book of poetry, trying to keep her thoughts away from the mystery of Will Darcy, but Caroline defeated her by holding forth on the Burroughses’ ball.
“It was certainly not up to Netherfield standards,” she told her brother. “The food, in particular, was the usual primitive cooking so prevalent in these parts. ‘Barbeque,’ I believe it’s called. Do you remember the last party we held at Netherfield?” She turned to her sister-in-law, a faraway look in her eye. “Jane, the food was so elegantly presented and was as delicious as it looked.”
“I’m sure it was, Caroline,” Jane replied, never taking her eyes off her task, in a tone of voice that told Beth her sister had heard these tales before. Charles kept his face in the paper.
Caroline was insensitive to it. “And the dresses! Yes, they spanned the colors of the rainbow, I’m sure. Silk and taffeta and all good things. A far cry from what I saw here.” She turned to Beth, interrupting her reminiscing, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Your dress, however, was very fine, Miss Beth. May I ask where you got it?”
Mention of the blue dress brought Darcy—and his reaction to it—to Beth’s mind, and she hoped she didn’t blush as she told a small lie. “It belonged to Anne Burroughs, and she was kind enough to insist I wear it. It was very pretty.”
Caroline seemed relieved at the intelligence. “I see. It did favor you, though—much better than it would have done for Miss Burroughs.”
“Caroline! That is not very kind,” Jane mildly scolded her.
“Oh, Jane, you know it’s true,” Caroline cried. “I hope she’s been blessed with a substantial dowry, because she’ll never attract a suitor with her looks, bless her heart.”
“Anne has been my friend. She’s been very kind to me,” Beth said pointedly, irate at the slight to her friend.
“I say nothing about her personality,” Caroline protested, “but you must admit that there is a lack of beauty in Rosings. Why, if it weren’t for the Darcys and our family, well… the dance would have been a challenge to behold, I’m afraid. Nothing like our Georgia peaches, eh, Charles?”
Charles lowered his paper. “I believe you’re being a little hard on Rosings, Caroline.”
His sister went on smugly as if he had said nothing. “The dresses did nothing to improve the ambiance, what little it could accomplish. I declare, I’ve never seen so much gingham and calico in my life.”
Beth seethed, as she remembered how proud Mary had been of her beautiful blue calico dress. She had had enough of Caroline’s snide remarks and superior ways. In her sweetest, most insincere voice, Beth observed, “Georgia sounds lovely, Miss Caroline. With your descriptions of what a paradise it is, I’m surprised you don’t return to Netherfield.”
The reaction to her comment was electric. Caroline paled, and even Bingley blanched. Jane sat up, the darning forgotten, and cried, “Beth, please! You don’t understand—”
“I understand that Georgia is apparently heaven on earth,” Beth went on heedlessly, in her annoyance dismissing the warning in her sister’s voice. “I’m astonished that Miss Caroline left home, the way she carries on about it.”
Charles put down his paper. “Beth!”
Beth was surprised to receive an uncharacteristic reprimand from her placid brother-in-law. The man was plainly mortified. With a nagging feeling that she had once again spoken without thinking, Beth’s eyes returned to Caroline. It was as if a mask had slipped from the woman’s face; her complexion had gone from white to red, her eyes wide. Her usual careless expression was replaced by one of pure anger and pure torment.
“I have no home!” Caroline cried. “My home is gone— destroyed by your precious Yankees!”
Beth’s eyebrows rose at the ridiculous accusation. “Are you saying that Union soldiers did something to Netherfield?”
“Did something? Oh, yes! They burned it to the ground is all—right before my eyes!”
Beth’s jaw dropped. “What? But… why?”
“Ask General Sherman!”
“Sherman?” Beth thought about what the papers had said about Sherman in Georgia. “I remember reading about the March to the Sea, freeing the slaves—”
“And destroying everything in his path!” Caroline was livid as she relived the event. “A damned host of fifty thousand Federals marched three hundred miles from Atlanta to Savannah, burning a swath sixty miles wide! They stole food, grain, livestock—anything they could carry. And what they couldn’t take, they burned.” She lifted her eyes from Beth and stared into the distance, as if she could see something far away, both precious and lost forever. “Farms, plantations, towns—just for spite. Sherman boasted he would make Georgia howl, and we did howl—in anguish!”
Beth was dizzy as her preconceived notions took yet another blow. First Will Darcy, then Charles, and now Miss Bingley. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “But… but the papers said… the slaves. Sherman was freeing the slaves and attacking the means of war. Railroads, arms factories—”
“Lies! I was there!”
Caroline had leapt to her feet, her eyes so wide the white around the irises could be seen. Charles, too, had risen from his chair and attempted to soothe his sister.
“Caroline, please, calm yourself—”
“No!” the woman shouted, pointing at Beth. “I will not be silenced! She needs to know just what her damnable countrymen did!”
Her outburst had silenced the house—everyone was transfixed. Caroline paused, breathing in and out in a shuddering manner, before pacing about the room like a cornered animal, her hand jerkily accenting the words that spit out of her mouth.
“When the hordes came, all our slaves ran away to join them. All but my maid, Maybel. She alone stood by me as they ransacked my home. What those god-forsaken blue bellies couldn’t take, they destroyed. For a time, we were terrified that one or more of those animals might try and take me!
“But, no—they didn’t so much as touch a hair on my head. Instead they ripped my heart from my breast! We watched those monsters turn our beautiful Netherfield into ashes. Everything I owned was burned. Everything. All I had left was literally the clothes on my back!” By now, tears were running down her hard features.
A stunned Beth turned to Charles, who nodded, verifying his sister’s account. Beth’s insides roiled in mortification at her earlier thoughtless words. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Sorry… sorry. Is that all you Yankees have to say—that you’re sorry?” Caroline continued to rage. “After the war, the carpetbaggers and their scallywag friends stole what was left of Netherfield when we couldn’t pay the taxes!” She stopped her pacing and turned to Beth. “You tell me you’re sorry? Prove it! Give me back my home! Give me back Netherfield! Then, I’ll accept your apology.” Her tearful eyes gleamed with malice. “Until then, allow me to hate y’all as much as I can.”
“Caroline, that’s enough!” Charles thundered. “Beth, please excuse me. I need to talk to my sister.”
A weeping Beth made her way into her borrowed bedroom, her pregnant sister close behind. Once she closed the door, Jane joined Beth on her bed, taking her hands.
“Are you all right, Beth?”
Beth shook her head. “I’m… I’m shocked. I can hardly believe what she said. But Charles’s face… oh Jane!” She held her face in her hands. “Is everything I know about the war wrong?”
Jane rubbed her sister’s back. “Beth, do you remember how scared we were back in ’63 when we heard of Morgan’s Raid[5]? How the Rebels were riding along the Ohio River, stealing from folks? We were afraid they would show up at our door any minute. Father always said not to put too much stock into what the papers wrote. People are people, and you can’t expect Northern troops to act any differently than the Southerners.”
Beth looked at Jane and saw only concern, not surprise or censure. “Did you know about this?”
“Yes. Charles told me what happened to his family’s home some time ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Charles and I decided not to. What good would it have done to tell you that our Union soldiers took everything away from the Bingleys? It would have only made things uncomfortable for everyone. Charles has made his peace with the war. Mother and Father have more than accepted Charles; they love him as a son. What’s in the past is in the past. We both want to make a new start here in Texas.”
“You still should have told us, but I understand your reasons. Poor Caroline.” Beth made a sound between a sob and a nervous laugh. “I never thought I would ever say that. Oh, my God, what that poor girl has gone through.”
“I know, but I don’t excuse what Caroline said. She’s a very bitter woman.” Jane sighed. “I’m not blind. I know she doesn’t like me, and she’s disappointed that Charles married me. I know she wants him to move to New Orleans. But the war has deeply damaged her. She’s been forced to live with the Hursts, far away from a home she loved. It’s driven out most of her tender feelings, leaving only pain and anger and false pride to hide behind. Do you know that as pretty as she is, she has no beaux in New Orleans? It’s because it’s written on her face that she can’t love anymore.”
“If you believe she dislikes you, why do you put up with her?”
“Because she’s my sister.” Jane stroked Beth’s hair. “If you came down sick, I would nurse you, you know that. Caroline’s sick, but in a different way. She’s sick in her heart, and we’re trying to help. Perhaps one day, Caroline will allow herself to love again.”
“You’re a better person than I am, Jane,” Beth said in awe.
Jane smiled. “No, I’m not. You’re special in your own way.”
They sat quietly for a moment. “Has Charles told you anything else about the war?”
“Some. What are you asking?”
“Has he told you about George Whitehead?”
“He told me Whitehead did some wicked things in the war, if that’s what you mean.”
Jane’s use of George’s last name told Beth that her sister was deeply angered by the man. “I’ve heard some things, too. I think we should tell Father.”
Jane glanced away. “Charles has tried to warn Father, but…” she shook her head, “he dismissed him. He thanked Charles for his concern but said that things were different now.” She turned to Beth, confusion written over her face. “I don’t understand.”
Neither did Beth, but before she could say so, the bedroom door opened to reveal a grim Charles with Caroline behind him. Miss Bingley once again wore an expression of supreme indifference.
“Beth, Caroline would like to say something to you.” He gestured for his sister to proceed.
A stone-faced Caroline stared at a point above Beth’s head. “I hope you will pardon my strong words earlier, Miss Bennet. If, by my honest account of the misfortunes that have befallen my family, you’ve taken offense, I am sorry.”
Charles was not happy about the halfhearted apology. “Caroline…”
Beth stood up, intending to end this disagreement. She was not fooled into thinking Caroline was in any way sincere. Her use of “Miss Bennet” rather than the more familiar “Miss Beth” was ample evidence of that. But that was neither here nor there. Caroline deserved her pity and forbearance, and she intended to make amends as best she could.
“Thank you, Miss Bingley. May I say how sorry I am about the hardships you have been forced to endure? I thank you for telling me, and I hope there are better days ahead.”
Caroline’s eyes flicked to hers, and Beth was shaken by the resentment she beheld there. For the first time in her life, Beth was truly hated by another person—not for who she was, but for what she was. She realized that Caroline Bingley would never forgive or forget; she would nurse this hatred for the rest of her days. It was a disconcerting experience for Beth, especially as in essence she had sworn to do the same.
Still, Caroline extended her hand, which Beth took gingerly. “Thank you. I trust we will get along just fine in the weeks we have left together.” Her smile was devoid of any warmth.
“I… I believe we shall.” Beth was shaken again. Never before had any apology she offered been so effectively dismissed. Matters were hopeless.
Caroline sighed. “It’s your usual time to retire, I believe.”
“It is. Good night, Miss Bingley.”
The lady nodded again and swept out of the room, Charles following in her wake, still unhappy. Jane kissed Beth good night and left for her own room.
Beth shook her head sadly as she prepared for bed. It was going to be a long month.
Darcy and Gaby stood outside the Baptist church until they finally spied their quarry. Gaby gave her brother’s hand a squeeze before waving at the two ladies approaching.
“Miss Caroline! I’m so glad you came today. There’s something I’d like to get your advice on.”
Miss Bingley, who heretofore had simply been walking to the meeting of the Musical Society with Miss Bennet and had been concentrating on following Charles’s unexpectedly harsh command to be polite to the woman, looked up in surprise. “Of course, Miss Darcy. How may I help you?”
Gaby threaded her arm through Caroline’s. “I, uhh, wanted to discuss my musical selection with you. I need your help to pick the right piece. Your taste is so fine; I know you can choose the proper one.”
Caroline looked between Darcy and the girl. Her desire to spend time with the handsome rancher was overcome by the combination of the appeal to her vanity and the opportunity to prove useful to Darcy’s sister, thereby impressing the man. “Certainly, Miss Darcy.”
Gaby practically dragged her into the church. “My music is inside.” Caroline looked back helplessly as the doors closed behind her.
Darcy’s thoughts changed from the reward Gaby was sure to demand for this piece of theater—perhaps a new saddle for her horse, Buckskin—to the half-confused, half-amused lady before him. Just as she began to follow the others, Darcy stopped her.
“Miss Bennet, may I have a moment of your time?”
Beth turned to him warily, an unfamiliar expression on her face. “Yes?”
Darcy removed his hat and steeled himself. “I’m sorry for the unease our meeting must give you. I’m very aware that my presence is a trial to you. But I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to apologize for my reprehensible behavior during our last meeting. I’m heartily ashamed of myself, and I offer no excuse. I don’t ask for your forgiveness—indeed, I don’t deserve it. This charade,” he waved his hand, “wouldn’t be necessary and I’d never presume to disturb you again if not for the sake of my sister and cousin. I beg you—do not end your friendship with them because of me.”
He watched with anxious eyes as Beth stood before him, blinking. She seemed astonished, but Darcy would not trust his observations. Too many times in their acquaintance had his instincts been very wrong about this girl.
“Mr. Darcy, I… I thank you. I would never throw off Miss Darcy or Miss Burroughs, even though we’ve had our… disagreements.”
“Then, may I tell them that you still welcome their company?”
“Oh, yes, indeed! I’m… I’m only surprised.”
“Surprised about what?”
She glanced away. “Surprised that you still think me a suitable companion for your sister and cousin, given my mistaken opinions about you.”
“Miss Bennet, I can think of few people I would entrust my sister to, other than you.” Beth blushed, and Darcy cursed himself for being too forward.
“I’ll accept your apology only if you’ll accept mine. I’ve been blind and ignorant about many things, especially about you—”
“Misled, I would say!”
Beth allowed a small smile. “Perhaps, but I thought myself to be a good judge of character. I now know I’m not. Thank you for teaching me that lesson. I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”
“I don’t think you need to apologize to me, but I’ll accept it, if that means you’ll remain friends with Gaby and Anne.”
She nodded. “You mentioned a charade. Do you mean that Miss Gaby wasn’t as interested in Miss Bingley’s company as she appeared?”
“No.” An embarrassed Darcy allowed himself a smile. “I figured you might be coming to the meeting together, and I had to find a way of speaking to you privately. This,” he gestured as before, “was Gaby’s idea.”
Beth giggled a bit, and then looked around. “Is Anne here? I didn’t see her with you.”
The rancher grew serious. “No. She was unsure of her reception. She’s afraid you wouldn’t want her company anymore.”
He saw Beth become distressed. “Oh, no! That’s not true. Please tell her she’s still my friend.”
“I will.”
Beth looked down. “I hope Miss Darcy still thinks kindly of me, as little as I deserve it.”
“She likes you very much.”
“As I do her.” She sighed. “I wish I could be friends with her brother.”
At that, Darcy’s heart sank even lower than it had been.
Beth continued, “But how can I, when it’s apparent I don’t even know him? I’ve been very foolish.”
For the first time since the party, Darcy dared to hope. Carefully he said, “Perhaps you could get to know him. Start over.”
She glanced up at him. “Will he be willing to give me that chance?”
“He seems to be a nice enough fellow. I’m sure he will, if it was welcome.”
Beth blushed again. “Thank you,” she whispered. Darcy nodded and the two stood in awkward silence for a moment.
“Excuse me,” Beth said. “I must be going inside. The meeting’s about to start.”
Darcy put his hat back on. “And I have a meeting as well— at the bank. Good day, Miss Bennet.”
“You, too, Mr. Darcy.”
He watched Beth enter the church before turning and crossing the street to the Darcy Bank in a better frame of mind than he had expected a half-hour before. He waved at the teller, Mr. Rushworth, in his cage before knocking on the manager’s door.
“Bertram, got a few minutes?”
Edmund Bertram got up from his desk. “Certainly, Mr. Darcy. Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?” Two mugs were quickly prepared, and Bertram returned to his desk, facing his employer. “What brings you to town, sir? It’s been a long time.”
“Too long, Bertram. I’ve been away too long.” Darcy took a sip as Bertram raised an eyebrow. “I want you to tell me everything that’s been going on around town.”
“Everything? That’s going to take some time.”
“I have the time, if you do.”
“Then I’d better tell Rushworth to put on another pot. We’ll be here awhile.”
Morgan’s Raid, or The Calico Raid, June 11–July 26, 1863, was a highly publicized 1,000-mile incursion by 2,400 Confederate cavalry into the Northern states of Indiana and Ohio during the Civil War and was one of the northernmost military actions involving the Confederate States Army.