Pemberley Ranch (7 page)

Darcy was working in his study the following evening when there was a knock on the door. Looking up, he saw the butler, Reynaldo, standing at the threshold.

“Begging your pardon,
señor
. Reverend Tilney is here to see you.”

Blinking back his surprise, Darcy bade him to bring in the minister. A moment later, Henry Tilney stood in front of the desk, hat in hand.

“Mr. Darcy, I’ve come to apologize for what happened yesterday.”

Darcy stood and turned to Reynaldo. “Where is Miss Darcy?”

“I saw her going towards the parlor,
señor
, to practice her music.”

He turned to Tilney. “Reverend, I thank you for coming. As my sister was involved in yesterday’s incident, I think she should be part of this conversation, don’t you?” Darcy couched his demand as a suggestion, but Tilney wasn’t deceived.

“I agree. I’d be happy to speak to Miss Darcy.”

Darcy nodded, and the three went directly to the parlor. Gaby was looking through some music sheets when the group entered the room.

“Gaby,” her brother said with the gentleness he reserved for her, “Mr. Tilney wants to talk to us.”

Brother and sister assembled on a couch, dismissed Reynaldo, and waited for Tilney to begin. Resolutely refusing a chair, he stood before them, hands behind his back, and expressed his regret for the mortification the two had undoubtedly suffered.

“I can’t speak for what the Bennets’ minister back in Ohio preached,” he continued, “but if he was anything like my predecessor in Rosings, I must tell you I don’t agree with it. I don’t hold with the mistrust and hostility that some in my denomination have expressed about Catholics. The Bennets speak out of ignorance. It is unintentional but still hurtful. Miss Mary in particular means well, but it was wrong of her to say what she did. If I can, I mean to heal the division between our churches. I have briefly explained this to the Bennet ladies and plan to visit with them again to discuss this subject soon.”

Darcy stood and extended his hand. “Well said, Reverend. Thank you very much.” Gaby nodded, too embarrassed to say a word, but her expression was less strained than when they had walked in.

Tilney took his hand with a smile. “We’re all on a path to God, and we both pray to Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. That’s good enough for me, Mr. Darcy.”

“I’d be pleased if you would call me Will and my sister, Gaby.”

“Then I’ll do that. My name’s Henry.”

“Have you met Father Joseph, Henry?” Gaby asked. Told he had not yet had the pleasure, she turned to her brother. “Can we plan a dinner when we can invite both?”

Assured that was a capital idea, Darcy asked Tinley to stay for supper. It took some begging from Gaby, but the preacher soon relented, and the girl took to the piano to entertain the gentlemen before the meal. Darcy was always happy to abandon
his paperwork for the joy of hearing his sister perform, and he and Tilney took their seats to listen to the impromptu concert. Gaby started with a short, light piece that delighted her audience before starting a slower, more moody composition.

Tilney leaned over to Darcy. “She’s very good.”

“Thank you. My father was lucky enough to hire Mrs. Annesley to be Gaby’s tutor and companion several years ago. She and Gaby spend several hours a day practicing.”

“I can tell. Her time is well spent.” Tilney listened for a moment. “I’m sorry I never got to meet your father. I hear he was a good man, well-respected by everyone.”

Sadness overcame Darcy’s features, causing the minister to regret bringing up the subject. “Yes, he died only a little while after you came to town.”

“I was new and had no way of making his acquaintance, as he was sick at the time.”

“Yes.” Darcy sat quietly, trying not to think about those terrible days gone by, allowing the conversation to wilt in the face of Gaby’s music before changing the subject. “How well do you know the Bennets?”

Tilney was glad to put the gloomy subject behind them. “As well as any of my congregation. Very faithful attendees for services. Friendly enough and not too overbearing in their manners. Unusual for Yankees.”

Darcy grinned, knowing he was referring to Whitehead. “Yes.”

“I find Mr. Bennet well-read for a farmer. Mrs. Bennet is very… loquacious, but very kind as well. Mary Bennet is surprisingly well versed in theology for a woman. Of course, I know many ladies who know their scripture backwards and forwards, but Mary has read some other religious texts, too. I’d say she’s
done more in that sphere than I did before entering seminary. Extraordinary girl…” He trailed off, looking into the air.

Darcy raised an eyebrow at Tilney. “Reading isn’t always understanding, Henry.”

Tilney colored. “I can’t disagree with you. Further study on her part would not be a bad thing—not just learning the passages but the meaning behind them, too. We must all be on our guard lest we fall into cant.” He smiled. “Lily Bennet is young and lively, and her youth must be her excuse for her more exuberant antics. Kathy Bennet reminds me a little of Mrs. Bingley—in her looks, I mean. In spirit she’s more like her sister, Beth.”

“Really?” Darcy turned his head towards Gaby. “I’ve met them both but saw no similarity.”

“True, Kathy is not the great lover of the outdoors that her sister is, but both have taken after their father in wit and intelligence—Beth more so. Very well read, Beth’s both clever and a sharp judge of character. Don’t let that smile fool you. Beth Bennet doesn’t suffer fools gladly.”

“You make her sound judgmental.”

“I wouldn’t say that. She’s very kind to everyone, especially the less fortunate. She’d rather laugh at a fool than berate them unless a friend is hurt. Then, she’s very quick to their defense. She’s very loyal to family and friends, like all her sisters.

“You know,” Tilney said thoughtfully, “the reason for the unfortunate incident today was Mary’s desire to improve our church choir. All the Bennet girls sing; Mrs. Bingley and Mary play, and they hoped to enlist your sister and cousin. But I have another idea. Would you like to hear it?”

“By all means.”

“Instead of a church choir, what about a ladies musical appreciation society? Would your relations be interested in that?”

Darcy sat back as he thought, letting Gaby’s music flow over him. He had wanted both Gaby and Anne to make more acquaintances in town, but he hadn’t thought of bringing them
there
; he was more of a mind to have their interactions under his watchful eye at Pemberley.

Tilney seemed to anticipate Darcy’s concerns. “I think my church would be an excellent place for the ladies to gather. We have a fine piano, and the caretaker and I are always around. They’ll be well looked after.”

Especially Miss Mary
, Darcy thought. He had not missed Tilney’s expression when he spoke of her. So, town was safe, as long as the meetings of this society were held at the Rosings Baptist Church. The Darcys were secure enough in their faith not to have any issues over entering another denomination’s building—as long as it wasn’t during services.

The question remained whether the Bennets were proper acquaintances for Anne and Gaby. They were Yankees, true, but not as obnoxious as others they had met. Jane Bingley proved to be kind; indeed, she was unquestionably a superior person, but what of the rest of them? Tilney pledged to talk to them about Miss Mary’s unfortunate statement, but would the girls be kind to Darcy’s relations? Was the apparent shallowness of Lily adequately compensated by the seeming depth of Beth? Darcy could see her deep, remarkable eyes, penetrating and expressive. There was something
there
—he knew not what, except he was drawn to find out.

As Gaby finished the sonata, Darcy turned to Tilney. “I’ll think about it, Henry.”

“Oh, there’s some news from town,” Tilney added. “I just heard that the Parkers, one of the families that bought land in the new settlement, are leaving the county.”

“What? My cousin only started selling that land two years ago. Why are they leaving?”

“Rosings Bank foreclosed on them.”

Darcy sat back, an unreadable expression on his face. “Cate was always hard-nosed when it came to business, but this seems a bit rash. Foreclosed, you say?” Darcy shook his head. “It happens. Never liked that land—I guess it was only a matter of time. Where are the Parkers headed?”

“Farther west—New Mexico, I hear.”

Just then, Mrs. Reynolds came to the door. “Mr. Will, Miss Gaby, sir, supper’s on.”

The trio began to follow the cook to the dining room when the sight of the black woman recalled something else to Tilney’s mind. “By the way, Will, yesterday at the store—can you tell me what you said to Zimmerman? He looked like you were about to set the dogs upon him.”

Darcy tried to wear an unconcerned expression. “Oh, that. I just told the old coot that if he continued to treat cash-paying customers with disrespect, perhaps there was room in town for another general store.”

Henry Tilney was not the only person making an evening visit. Responding to a knock on the door, Charlotte Lucas opened it to see a man with a black hat in one hand.

“Evenin’, Miss Lucas.”

“Good evening, Mr. Fitzwilliam.” The air had cooled since
sundown, and Charlotte pulled her wrap about her shoulders. “What can I do for you? The sheriff’s still at the jail.”

Fitz ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Yeah, well… I ain’t come to see the sheriff, miss. I come to talk to you.”

Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. “Me? Whatever for?”

Fitz looked out into the growing dusk, gathering his thoughts, the light from the oil-lamp sidelights framing the door, glistening on his hatband. “Well, you see, I’m leavin’ on a cattle drive to Kansas in about a month. Drivin’ Mr. Darcy’s and Miz Burroughs’s cattle to market. I ought to be gone for a few months.”

Charlotte stepped onto the porch. “Yes, I heard that y’all were leaving early.”

Fitz nodded. “Well… it’s become a bit of a tradition for me to buy somethin’ for Miss Darcy after I get to Abilene. Nothin’ big, you understand, just a trinket or two for remembrance.” He smiled as he fidgeted with his hat. “She’s like another little sister to me, and it pleases her no end.”

“That’s very nice.”

Fitz studied his boots. “Yeah, well… I was thinkin’… maybe I could… uh…”

Charlotte tilted her head, not sure what he was talking about. “Yes?”

He peeked shyly at her. “Bring back somethin’ for you.”

Her jaw dropped. “Me?” she whispered.

In the limited light, Fitz’s expression was hardly visible, but the stammer in his voice gave away his lack of composure. “Uh, yeah. There ain’t much pretty things ’round here for a lady. I’ve been thinkin’, and seeing as you got no brothers to buy you stuff like that at the end of a drive, I thought that maybe… I could.”

Charlotte Lucas was the only daughter of a widowed sheriff. That alone put off most would-be suitors. On top of the situation at home, Charlotte was a woman who would be considered handsome by only her most charitable acquaintances and plain by the world in general. She had never had an admirer, much less a sweetheart, and at twenty-five, she expected nothing more than being the town spinster, taking care of her father in his dotage.

She wasn’t blind or uninterested in the male sex. Occasionally, Charlotte would allow herself to dream of a life with a kind and handsome man with children at her feet, if only she looked more like Jane or Beth. If asked, of the men in town, she liked Richard Fitzwilliam. The good-looking cowboy always had a kind word for her since he came to town. He had been one of the fixtures in her dreams. But dreams never came true for the likes of Charlotte Lucas.

Therefore, it was no wonder that Fitz’s astonishing words sent a shock through her. She grew hot and cold at the same time. Unconsciously, she pulled her wrap more tightly about her. “What kind of… pretty things?”

Fitz looked everywhere but at her. “Oh, I don’t know. Things you can’t get ’round here, I suppose. Umm… a piece of lace or a figurine. Maybe some o’ that fancy perfume that smells of flowers.” He looked up. “Decent things—I wouldn’t buy you anything not decent. That wouldn’t be right.”

Charlotte bit her lip. “No, of course not.”

The corner of his lip turned up. “Have to be pretty, though.”

Her mouth was dry. “Why?”

“Pretty girls need pretty things.”

Silence hung between them. “You think I’m pretty?”

Fitz’s eyes grew dark as he licked his lips. Time seemed to
stand still as she awaited his response. He took a half step closer, his smile growing a bit.

Another voice called out from the darkness. “Charlotte, who are you talking to? Oh—Fitzwilliam. What can I do for you?”

The two jumped away from each other as Sheriff Lucas reached the porch, Charlotte unable to hide her flushed expression. The sheriff, scowling, eyed his daughter closely.

“Get yourself inside, girl.”

“Paw, we weren’t doing anything,” Charlotte protested. “Fitz was just visiting.”

“I said, get inside,” Lucas growled. “We’ll talk later.”

Embarrassed, Charlotte nodded at Fitz. “Good night,” she managed before fleeing inside. Sheriff Lucas then turned to the cowhand.