Jack Caldwell - Pemberley Ranch

“So—I cannot ride my horse, is that what you mean?”

Darcy snapped back, “I truly don’t wish to offend, miss, but you’re being mighty stubborn! Your pony might fall into some gopher hole and break his leg and have to be put down. Now, I call that a tall price to pay for your pride!”

The girl said nothing, she only lowered her head. But Darcy could see the color rise on her cheek as she bit her lip. The two rode in silence for some time along the ridgeline before turning right and making their way down to the river. The trees grew more plentiful and thick next to the riverbank. Darcy tried to come up with some conversation, but the girl’s studied avoidance of his glance stilled his tongue. After a few more minutes, they reached a shallow ford across the Long Branch.

“Well, here we are—Thompson Crossing. Your daddy’s farm’s on the other side. I reckon this is how you crossed over?”

The girl’s sarcastic side reasserted itself. “It is. Thank you so much for assuring I didn’t cause Turner any injury. I am forever grateful!”

Darcy blinked. “Turner? Your horse’s name is Turner?”

A grin stole across her face. “It is, sir.”

“Strange. Most girls name their ponies Star or Brownie or Buster.”

Her grin turned into a mocking smile. “But I’m not like most girls, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.” With that, she spurred the paint across the ford, splashing water everywhere, leaving a bemused Darcy behind. He shook his head before turning Caesar back toward the Pemberley ranch house. It was only then he realized that he had neglected to introduce himself.

No harm done , he thought. It’s not likely we’ll meet up again.

The girl in the wide-brimmed hat had just dismounted next to the barn when she heard her mother’s call.

“Beth Bennet—there you are! Come inside and change this instant! There’s company for dinner!”

“Yes, Mother.” She led Turner into his stall and removed his saddle. Hill, the farmhand, assured her he would see to the paint, so Beth hurried to the house and into the bedroom she shared with two of her sisters.

“Beth, you’re late,” said Mary unnecessarily as she was putting her own hair up.

“I’ll help you,” said Jane as Beth tugged off her shirt.

In a few moments, Beth had changed from farm tomboy to countrified young lady. By then, Kathy had joined them, brushing her hair as Jane helped button up the younger girl’s dress.

“Hurry!” cried Lily. “George is just arriving!”

“Lily!” scolded Mary. “That’s Mr. Whitehead! You should have more respect for your elders!”

“Oh, pooh! He’s like family. He gave me leave to call him George, didn’t he, Kathy?”

“Oh, yes,” Kathy responded with a dreamy look in her eye. “Isn’t he the handsomest man?”

“I don’t know,” Beth said as she glanced at Jane. “What say you, Jane?”

Jane gave a smile. “He’s very handsome, to be sure.”

Kathy laughed. “But not the most handsome, is he? Not like a certain doctor in town?” Giggles erupted as Jane blushed.

The door opened, and Mrs. Bennet stuck her head in. “Girls! Come along! Mr. Whitehead is here. Ah, Beth, you’re almost ready. Hurry, hurry!”

“I’ll help her, Mother,” Jane assured her. “The others can greet our guest.” With that, Lily and Kathy almost ran out of the room, Mary following at a more sedate pace.

Jane helped Beth finish her hair. “There, beautiful as usual!”

Beth laughed. “Oh, Jane, you are too good! The only way I can be called beautiful is if you’re not in the room.”

“That’s ridiculous. You are very pretty, and one day a young man will fall on his knees, assuring you of your loveliness when he asks for your hand, just mark my words.”

Beth laughed. “Is that what Charles did, dearest?” She laughed again as Jane blushed for a second time, but the laughter died a moment later. “Why did he refuse our invitation to dinner tonight?”

Jane pretended to arrange the brushes on the table. “Charles said he had pressing business, and he would dine with us tomorrow.”

“Jane, you know he stays away just because George is our guest for dinner! Why is he so stubborn? Surely he must accept our friends if he is to marry you. George is a brave and honorable man. To hold the fact that he fought for the Union against him is very unseemly, I’m sorry to say. Why, haven’t we forgiven him for being a Rebel?”

Jane glanced at Beth, her mouth a firm line. “I will not question my fiancé, sister. I shall be loyal to Charles.”

Slightly abashed, Beth took Jane’s hands into her own. “As shall I, I promise! He is to be my brother, and I will love him as such. I just worry over the influence of others on him.”

“You mean his friends, the Darcys?”

“Yes! You’ve heard what George has said about them—unrepentant Rebels, unfriendly to anyone not in the intimate circle.”

“I’ve heard that Mr. Darcy has taken the loyalty oath.”

“Oh, Jane! What comes out his mouth is not what’s in his heart, I can assure you. He has only taken the oath, I can believe, to be allowed to vote again. But he hasn’t changed one whit. Why, none of us has ever met him or his sister—even you haven’t, and you are to marry his best friend. And just today, one of his ranch hands warned me off his property.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. He wasn’t unpleasant, I hope.”

“Very!” Beth claimed, trying not to recall that the rude man on the Arabian was also undeniably fine looking. At Jane’s alarmed look, she quickly added, “But he was polite, all the same. I’m unharmed.”

She rose and they moved towards the door. “Beth,” said her sister in a worried tone, “I’m sorry you will have to stand with Mr. Darcy at my wedding, but Charles has no family here, and the man is his friend.”

“Don’t fear, Jane. For your happiness, I would do anything, even suffer Mr. Darcy. And I truly adore your Charles. Now, shall we go to dinner?”

George Whitehead patted his mouth with his napkin. “Mrs. Bennet, may I say once again what a marvelous table you set. A better dinner I have not had these four years since I left Illinois.”

Fanny Bennet giggled like a schoolgirl. “Oh, Mr. Whitehead, how you go on! Would you care for more of the beef? Pass him the plate, Kathy. Kathy—I’m speaking to you!”

Kathy Bennet stirred from her admiration for their dashing guest. “I’m sorry, Mother, what did you say?” Lily unsuccessfully hid a snigger, which earned a glare from her sister.

“The meat, the meat! Pass the plate to Mr. Whitehead!”

“Umm, dear, perhaps Kathy should wait until George has finished his portion?” suggested Mr. Bennet.

“Yes,” replied Whitehead smoothly, “but I shall certainly take seconds.”

Beth nearly rolled her eyes at their guest’s embroidered gallantry. As much as she liked George Whitehead, he could lay on the compliments a bit too thickly for her taste. But as he meant to compliment her mother, his bit of foolishness was forgiven at once. And the man was devilishly handsome with his dark hair, elegantly styled vandyke, and impeccably tailored clothes. Yes, a person with whom it was very difficult to be exasperated.

As Mr. Bennet preferred to listen rather than lead the conversation about table, it fell to Whitehead to steer the discussion. “Miss Jane, I am sure you are looking forward to next month’s nuptials.”

“I am, George, thank you.” Beth had hoped she would bring up the antipathy between Charles and George, but she was disappointed.