Beth could not help stealing a glance at Jane. Sure enough, her sister was red in the face with mortification. For the sake of her feelings, Beth labored to defuse the situation. “I’m always happy to meet new people, George, but I can’t vouch for others. As he said, it’s his land, and I shall respect that.” No matter how little I respect him!

“Well said, my dear,” injected her father, “we should always respect other people’s property.”

George did not take the hint to change the subject. “It’s not surprising that you didn’t know who he was, for he is a rather peculiar fellow. He’s practically a hermit, and he keeps his sister close to Pemberley with him. Had you never seen him in town?”

“No, none of us have,” Beth replied.

Mary decided to have her share of the conversation. “We certainly have not seen them in church on Sunday, unlike other respectable members of the community.”

How like Mary to note that! Beth considered. But it was true. The Darcys did not attend services at the church in town, while Catherine Burroughs and her daughter, Anne, made a very notable procession every Sunday to their reserved pew in the front. Sheriff Lucas, Doctor Bingley, and George Whitehead were all members in good standing of Reverend Henry Tilney’s congregation.

“Well,” Whitehead grinned, “we are commanded to be faithful, yet we are all poor sinners. But what can you expect from a man who has taken up arms against his country?” Beth winced a little at the latest disparagement of Darcy, knowing how it would give Jane pain, as the same could be said of Charles.

Finally, Mr. Bennet roused himself to take control of his dinner table. “Any news from town, George? We’ve been very busy here with harvest time upon us.”

“Yes, a new family has just moved in east of town in the new settlement—the Washingtons, a former slave family from Louisiana, looking for a better life out here.”

Bennet frowned. “East of town, George? You mean that land near the river?”

“That’s the place.”

Bennet pursed his lips. “It’s a bit low there, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you say that land’s prone to flooding?”

Whitehead stared at Bennet for a moment, his face made of stone. He blinked and a shy grin grew across his face. “Well, I’m no expert about that, Tom. I’m only the recorder of deeds. Mrs. Burroughs sells the land. But I’ve been here four years, and I’ve never seen any flooding in the new settlements.”

Bennet shrugged his shoulders as he sipped his coffee. “If you say so, George.”

“Well,” cried Mrs. Bennet, “if everyone’s finished—no seconds, Mr. Whitehead? Are you sure? Well then, girls, help me clear the table for dessert. Blackberry cobbler!”

William and Gabrielle Darcy walked the small man in the black cassock to his carriage. “I’m pleased you could join us for dinner, Father.”

Father Joseph smiled as he spoke in a heavy Spanish accent. “No, my son, it is I who should thank you, your sister, and most particularly your cook, Mrs. Reynolds!”

“Oh, Father,” said Gaby, “you’re welcome anytime.” She curtsied as he took first her hand and then her brother’s, before making the Sign of the Cross over them in blessing.

“May Our Father bless you and all here.” The priest climbed into his carriage.

“Go with God, Padre!” Will shouted as the brother and sister waved in farewell.

“That there’s a good man, even if he does wear a dress,” drawled Richard Fitzwilliam, leaning on a column next to the steps leading down from the veranda.

“Maybe you should come to Mass with us sometimes, Fitz,” said Gaby. “It’ll do you good.”

Fitz laughed. “Me? All that kneelin’ an’ bowin’ an’ such? Thank you kindly, Miss Gaby, but that ain’t for me.”

Gaby shook her head in fond resignation as she continued into the house. Will and Fitz sat down in two rocking chairs on the veranda and lit cigars. “Heard ’bout the latest homesteaders come to town?” Fitz began. “Former slaves bought some o’ that bottomland from your cousin, like the rest o’ them.”

Darcy closed his eyes for a moment. “Damn!”

“Yeah,” Fitz took a puff, “don’t know how folks ’round here will cotton to a family of former slaves movin’ in.”

Darcy glanced at his friend and ranch foreman. “You’ve got a point, Fitz, but that’s not what I meant. You’re not from around here. There’s a reason that land’s lay fallow ’til now. It’s low and prone to flooding. I remember back in ’55 when the Long Branch came up from its banks after a heavy storm. It’s been dry ever since, but that won’t last. We get one big rain, those people in the new settlement will have three to four feet of water in their homes.”

“Your cousin, Mrs. Burroughs, must know that. Why’s she sellin’?”

“Oldest reason in the world—money. Whitehead and that fancy-pants bank manager of hers, Collins, talked Cate into it.”

“You could talk her out of it.”

Darcy stared out onto his land, his features set. “Nope. That isn’t my concern anymore. I learned my lesson in the war, Fitz. I worry only about my family, my people, and Pemberley. Everything else can see to itself.”

The two finished their cigars in silence.

“Ah, here you are, Beth,” said her father as he walked into his study.

“Yes, I was reading and keeping Samuel company.” Beth was in an armchair near the bookcase, an oil lamp on the side table, and the precious lone photograph of Samuel that had been taken before his departure with the rest of the Ohio troops lovingly hung on the adjoining wall. Bennet walked up to it, sighing.

“You know, I think Samuel would have liked Texas,” he observed before turning to her. “You’ve certainly changed your mind about the place.”

Beth put down her book. “Texas is a lovely place.” She then smiled impishly. “If only it wasn’t full of Texans!”

Bennet laughed. “Now, that’s not quite true. You’ve made great friends with Miss Charlotte Lucas, the sheriff’s daughter. Reverend Tilney’s a good man.” He paused. “You’re not holding the war against Doc Bingley, are you?”

Beth bit her lip. “No. How can I? He makes Jane so happy—”

“Don’t you like him for himself?”

Beth colored. “I do. It’s just…” she glanced at Samuel’s portrait, “I feel as if I’m betraying Samuel’s memory.”

Bennet laid a hand on her shoulder. “Beth, you’ve got to try to forget about the war.”

“I try, but I’m afraid if I do, I’ll forget Samuel.”

Bennet just shook his head. “Well, I’m going to bed, my dear. Don’t stay up too late.” He kissed the top of her head and left. Beth watched him go and then turned her eyes to the photograph.

Softly to herself, she repeated her vow. “I’ll not forget you, Samuel. No matter what the others do, I’ll stay true, just watch. I’ll never forget you.” With that she extinguished the light and left the room for bed.

Chapter 2

October, 1870

“I hereby pronounce you man and wife. What God hath joined, let no man tear asunder.” The Reverend Henry Tilney then raised his hands to the congregation. “Friends, let me present to you Dr. and Mrs. Charles Bingley.”