Pemberley Ranch (9 page)

Summer came on fast in Central Texas. It was the middle of May, and the temperature was already reaching the ninety-degree mark. It made riding the range hot work for man and beast, as Darcy was experiencing.

Caesar walked along the ridgeline, head hanging low, as a sweaty Darcy watched his cattle. With half the workforce riding north along the Chisholm Trail with the herd heading for market, Pemberley needed every hand it had to do the everyday chores. So it was that Darcy fell back into his old job of supervising the herd as he had done before and after the war, before his father’s passing. The work was long and hot, but Darcy paid it no mind—it was what he was born to do. Besides, it gave a man the time to think.

Darcy’s thoughts, as much as he tried to steer them elsewhere, kept coming back to the mystery that was Beth Bennet. She was a mystery to him, at least.

It was midday, and the sun beat unmercifully upon Caesar, so Darcy moved towards the river, intending to wash his face in the cool water. He found himself a bit upriver of Thompson Crossing, which brought Beth back into his thoughts. He worked his way south along the trees and brush that lined the riverbank, making his way to the ford.

He would later have no idea why he stopped well short of his goal. He would recall no particular sight or sound, just a feeling. He looked around, but only saw dense bushes near a large oak, its branches hanging low. Darcy dismounted, tying Caesar’s reins to a branch, and began to make his way through the brush. He could make out the faint sounds of splashing, so he half-crouched, removing his hat in the shade and cover. A couple of feet from the bank, he sat back on his heels and carefully peered through the undergrowth.

It was a vision right out of his most intense dreams. A brown-haired nymph was playing in the water just off the opposite bank. She was swimming in what best could be described as a small cove shielded on three sides by trees hanging right over the water. Darcy realized that he was in the one perfect spot to observe her; a few feet to the left or right and the leaves from the overhanging limbs would conceal the cove completely. It took him a moment to realize that the nymph was Beth Bennet.

The next thing Darcy knew he was sitting down in his little spot, an audience of one for the erotic show. He couldn’t see all that much, as Beth’s head was the only portion of her body above the water, her long hair trailing behind. But even ignoring
the bundle lying carefully on the opposite bank, the river was clear enough for him to know, with an electric charge racing through his body, that the lovely lady was without a stitch of clothes on.

Decency, honor, a lifetime of training—all fled in an instant. Darcy could not tear his eyes from what he now realized was his one desire. Trembling, he breathed as slowly as he could, so as not to reveal himself. Darcy existed in a world of agony and ecstasy; he knew he should turn away, but could not. He wanted to jump in the river, swim over to her, and take her—love her— again and again. Instead, he sat as still as he could, sweat dripping down his face, his jeans becoming as tight as his breathing.

Beth dropped beneath the surface. At this, Darcy became alarmed, but before he could move a muscle, she came up again, only to lie back and float in the lazy current. Darcy froze; her breasts were exposed, their perky perfection kissed by the dappled sunlight through the canopy. Time stood still, all sound ceased, as Darcy was frozen by the siren song of desire, a real-life Calypso unknowingly taunting Odysseus. Lust and passion roared through his veins, and he felt he was going to explode.

By the time Beth dipped underwater again, Darcy found himself on one knee, beginning to move to the riverbank. He stopped himself and pulled back, just as she rose again, this time for good. She moved to the shallows and stood up, her back to him, water cascading from her shoulders and hair, running down her pale form, caressing her lovely buttocks, before dripping back into the river. Mesmerized, he watched her reach for a towel and had a glimpse of her dark treasure as she dried herself. Then she was gone—a bush hid her from view as she dressed herself.

Darcy sat back, panting as if he had run a great distance,
feeling both great discomfort and intense guilt. He knew that spying on the girl was wrong, terribly wrong. And he shook from the realization that he had been mere moments from revealing himself, to her almost certain horror and his assured everlasting shame. And yet his traitorous body cared not a bit—it only craved release between her soft, warm thighs.

Darcy took a long, trembling breath and slowly made his way back to Caesar. The horse seemed to give him a curious look as he loosened the reins. He walked the horse in the hot sun like a pilgrim seeking penance until they reached Thompson Crossing. There he drew Caesar to the river and allowed him to drink while he splashed water on his face and neck. Darcy’s mind was in utter confusion, except for one thought. He would certainly need to go to confession this week before Mass.

Beth quickly dressed in the private little glen she and her sisters used for their forbidden swims. Charlotte had introduced the Bennet sisters to this watering hole the first summer they arrived, and Beth and the others enjoyed it immensely, even though their father was uneasy about it, and their mother had strictly prohibited such unladylike activities. The girls paid no mind—the place was secret, hidden from view, and it was too blasted hot in the summer not to go swimming.

She was making her way back to the house when she heard a horse whinny. Turning towards the ford, she strained to see a tall man riding away from the crossing on a black horse. A chill ran through her, glad that the swimming hole was so well hidden. She would have been mortified to death had anyone come upon her like that!

Mary was fidgeting on the seat of the family wagon as Beth, next to her, handled the reins. Her sister had to hide her smile—Mary claimed her excitement was over the first meeting of the Rosings Musical Society, but Beth was sure her sister’s nerves were more unsettled by the expectation of the attendance of their host, Reverend Tilney. The wagon rolled easily down the road into town, giving Kathy and Lily, in the bed of the wagon, little reason to complain. That they did anyway was in keeping with their characters.

All the Bennet girls were going to the outing. Mary, of course, was one of the organizers of the society, and Beth owned a lovely singing voice. Kathy and Lily, on the other hand, were not known for their musical prowess, preferring to listen and dance rather than perform. Still, given the choice of putting on a nice dress and going into town or staying at home to churn butter, the two youngest Bennets claimed to be the greatest music lovers in Texas.

The girls arrived early, even after stopping by the Bingleys’ to pick up Jane. Beth and Lily moved to secure the horses while the others went into the church, Mary almost running. They were happy to receive assistance from a couple of friendly passersby.

“Well, Miss Beth, Miss Lily,” smiled George Whitehead as he took the reins and affixed them to the hitching post while Billy Collins stood nearby, “I suppose you’re excited about the new musical society I hear is being formed.”

“Lord, yes—anything to get out of chores!” Lily laughed.

Collins smiled. “And you, Miss Beth, is your interest in the group as practical as your sister’s?”

Beth smiled. “Not so very practical, Mr. Collins. I do love music, and the chores will be awaiting us when we return.”

Lily stuck out her tongue. “Oh, pooh, you’re such a spoilsport, Beth! George, are you staying to listen? Say you will. We need an audience. You, too, Mr. Collins! Beth, help me convince them.”

Whitehead laughed. “I wish I could, Miss Lily, but we do have work to do.”

Lily stamped her foot in a halfhearted pout, but her attention was caught by a wagon moving slowly down the street, a woman driving the team of oxen, while a man walked beside it. “Oh, look at that! Is that the new homesteaders moving in?”

Collins colored and started to cough. Whitehead turned back to the two girls. “No, moving out, I’m afraid.” He lowered his voice. “Those farmers lost their place.”

Lily put a hand over her mouth. Beth asked, “What happened?”

Collins waited until the wagon was past. “The usual thing, miss. People move in, borrow more than they can afford, get overextended, can’t meet the payments.” He shrugged.

“Foreclosure,” Lily whispered. “Oh, how dreadful!”

Beth realized Collins wouldn’t meet her eye. “Was it Rosings Bank that foreclosed on them?”

Whitehead jumped in. “Rosings did hold the paper—Collins and I were just discussing it. He told me that he and Mrs. Burroughs did everything they could to extend more credit, but,” he smiled, “it wasn’t enough.”

“Enough? But it’s the bank! You’ve got all the money in town!” Lily claimed.

“Not all the money—there’s Darcy Bank,” Collins pointed out.

“Yes,” Whitehead agreed, “and if Darcy Bank had helped
those poor people out, Rosings may not have been forced to call in the loan.”

“How greedy can they be? Mr. Darcy is a mean man!” Lily cried.

Collins simpered. “Not everyone is as concerned about the community as Mrs. Burroughs and Rosings Bank. But there’s only so much we can do. A shame, really.”

Whitehead glanced down the street and then turned back quickly. “We’d best be going. We’ve got a meeting in a few minutes.”

Collins looked at his pocket watch and blanched. “Goodness! We’re late. Mrs. Burroughs will be displeased. Good day, ladies.”

The man began to scamper down the sidewalk, leaving Whitehead to make their proper farewells to the Bennets. Lily laughed about Collins’s antics as the two ladies joined the others inside, Beth happy to see that Charlotte was already there. It was only a moment later that the front door opened and three other people walked in.

“Mr. and Miss Darcy, Miss Burroughs, welcome!” Tilney strode up the aisle to take Darcy’s hand. Beth schooled her face to hide her surprise. She knew they were invited, but she never expected that they would actually attend. By their sudden arrival, she wondered if George had seen them approach and had gone to avoid the unpleasant rancher.

Darcy greeted only Jane with more than the barest civility. Beth had the strangest feeling he was avoiding looking her in the face, but was staring at her back as she talked to Miss Darcy and Miss Burroughs. She did her best to ignore the man and focus her attention on the two girls.

Both were quiet, polite, and reserved, but that was almost the only similarity between the two. Anne Burroughs was a
short, pale, plain girl in her mid-twenties. Her brown hair was pulled up in a tight bun on her head, making her appear even more severe than Mary. Gaby Darcy was a sweet girl, just seventeen, tall and well developed. Her black hair, worn down, set off her dusky complexion. Her dark eyes shone with a restrained exuberance.

The only other similarity was that both girls had an intense desire to become acquainted with Beth. Their object could only wonder at it.

“I’m very glad to meet you, Miss Beth,” Anne was able to manage.

“Oh, yes! We’ve heard so much about you! Haven’t we, Anne?” Gaby cried.

Beth was confused. “I can’t imagine where—”

The rest of her comment was interrupted as Mary and Jane called the group to order. The two had decided between themselves to organize the society, Mary realizing that Jane was far better suited to the task than she. The ladies all took their seats and began discussing the purpose of the society and how often they should all meet. It was quickly decided that it should be a monthly gathering, weather permitting, and that in future they would have themes to the meetings, such as the works of a certain composer or a type of music.

For this first meeting, Jane suggested everyone play or perform their favorite piece, either alone or with others. Henry Tilney, standing to the side of the group, showed the ladies over to the piano and pump organ and then, with a bow, walked to the back of the church. Beth was surprised that he wasn’t alone—Will Darcy was also seated in a back pew, his arms crossed over his chest. Beth assumed the man had left after
greeting everyone with so little enthusiasm. To her discomfort, he seemed to be staring at her again.