Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [130]
“Fitzwilliam, will my girl ever go hungry?”
Stunned by the question, it took a moment before Fitz could answer.
“No, never. I stake my life on it.”
Lucas’s bleak expression gave way to one of resignation and grief. “Then you have my permission. Take care of my baby girl.”
The couple shared an incredulous look. Charlotte said gently, “Paw, I think you ought to know we were thinking of living here, in the house, with you, if that’s all right.”
The tears that had formed in the older man’s eyes flowed freely as he responded, “That… that would be fine. I’d be glad for the company. Mighty glad indeed…” He broke down as the couple rushed to embrace him.
As improvements needed to be made on the house, the wedding would not take place until mid-January. The event would not be as bittersweet as many feared, as it seemed that Fitz and Lucas had settled most of their differences. But if anyone thought that there would be smooth sailing in the Fitzwilliam/ Lucas household, they would be wrong. Two stubborn men were bound to butt heads from time to time, and if Lucas and Fitz were good at anything, it was arguing with each other.
Still, they were united in their love for Charlotte and fear of her displeasure. In the crisis, Charlotte had found her own strength, and she was no longer afraid to express it. It was surprising indeed for the town to learn that Sheriff Lucas could be henpecked, but there was soon no question that Mrs. Fitzwilliam was the person who ruled that household. Fitz would have no complaints—he knew best how to please his wife—and within a few years the yard about the house was filled with their children.
With one wedding in November and another in January, it was easy for Beth and William to settle on mid-December. Mrs. Bennet was happy that at least one of her daughters would not be married in her Sunday best, but she was confused by Beth’s intention of becoming Catholic. Wasn’t her brother-in-law’s church good enough, she had asked.
Beth smiled and kindly, yet firmly, said, “Mother, when I marry Will, I will have to promise to God that I will raise my children in the Catholic faith. I will not be a different religion from my children. I hope you can see that.”
So on a bright December Sunday morning, Elizabeth Bennet, dressed in a new white dress, received First Communion and was confirmed into the Roman Catholic Church. Five days later, wearing the same dress, she again walked down the aisle of the Santa Maria Catholic Mission chapel, this time to become Mrs. William Darcy. Her intended stood tall and still, his white shirt gleaming against his black suit. His face was impassive, as was his wont when he was emotional, his fiancée now knew. She had only to gaze into his intense blue eyes to see the fireworks of happiness that his demeanor masked. To help set aside the terrors of the months past, the various families had decided to make the three weddings a town event, so it was standing room only as Father Joseph proclaimed the couple man and wife, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, and prayed that God’s peace would descend upon the people of Rosings.
May, 1873
TWO MEN ON HORSEBACK stood in the shade of a single oak tree atop a ridge on Pemberley. A tall man in a black vest was astride a black Arabian, the man’s tan ten-gallon hat nodding as his companion spoke. He was of a slightly shorter stature, sitting on a brown horse, and wearing a black hat with a silver hatband. As they talked they gazed over the sea of prairie before them, dotted with hundreds of cattle, lowing and grazing. They were not alone; a handful of wranglers carefully moved their cowponies around the vast herd, keeping an eye out for trouble.
There was an unfamiliar sound on the breeze—that of construction from across the river. The taller of the two men gestured in that direction.
“Soon, Fitz,” said William Darcy,