Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [45]
Beth had seen illustrations of such houses, but there was something wrong with this one. As she grew closer, she realized what it was that bothered her about the B&R house. What was meant to be impressive seemed pretentious. A house that would look beautiful framed by sleepy live oaks next to a lazy river was completely out of place in the middle of the plains of Texas.
The wagon pulled in front of the house where three men awaited her. A short, white-haired man helped her down from the wagon.
“Good afternoon, Miss Bennet. My name is Bartholomew, and I’m the butler here. Shall we go in? These men will bring your belongings to your room. Mrs. Burroughs and Miss Anne await you in the sitting room.”
The main door opened to a long, wide hall. Beth followed Bartholomew past a few doors before stopping. He softly knocked on one.
“Enter,” came a voice from the other side. Bartholomew opened the door and indicated that Beth should walk through. The room was in blue with gold furnishings in the French style. Gauzy curtains covered the windows, framed by heavy gold drapes. An intricately designed, ornate rug covered most of the floor. Facing the door from the other side of the room was Mrs. Catherine Burroughs, sitting in a rather large chair, a severe expression on her thin face. The lady wore a white blouse over a full dark skirt. Anne sat next to her on a small settee with a nervous smile. Beth wondered for an instant if Queen Victoria’s sitting room in Buckingham Palace could be any more flamboyant. She made a small curtsey; it was the right decision.
“Ah, Miss Bennet, please come closer,” Mrs. Burroughs said pleasantly, satisfied with the girl’s discretion. “Sit down, sit down. Anne, make some room for her. Tea? Do you wish for tea, Miss Bennet?”
“Umm—” Beth was not quite seated yet.
“Of course, you do. Bartholomew!” The little man appeared as if by magic. “Bring tea with scones and apricot preserves.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He left as quickly as he entered.
“Well, Miss Bennet, we are happy you are able to stay with us. Anne has spoken very highly of you. I understand you are from the North?”
Beth had never heard anyone dominate a conversation like Mrs. Burroughs. Her mother appeared downright quiet in comparison. And the woman’s language! Where did she learn to talk that way? Beth glanced about—did she take a wrong turn and end up in England?
“Come, come—speak up! Where is your family from?”
Beth found her tongue. “We’re from Ohio, Mrs. Burroughs.” She was surprised at the response.
“Ah, the country. I am a Matlock. I was born in New York City, you know. I was raised and went to school there. Yes, school—a fine finishing school for young ladies. I highly recommend it. Anne, of course, could not take advantage of such a place herself, living as we do in Texas. Oh, I could have sent her back East, I suppose, to my family, but it would have been terrible to lose the company of my only daughter. Do you have siblings, Miss Bennet?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have four sisters.”
“What? No brothers?”
Beth bit her lip. “My brother died in the war.”
“My sympathies, Miss Bennet. Many families have suffered grievous loss. Ah, the tea is here.”
While Mrs. Burroughs saw to the tea, Anne reached over and took Beth’s hand. “I didn’t know about your brother. I’m so sorry.” Anne’s genuine sorrow made up for her mother’s false concern. After the tea was poured and tasted, it was time to renew the interrogation.
“I understand your eldest sister is married?”
“Yes, ma’am, to Dr. Bingley. They would be attending the party, if she was not so close to her time.”
“Yes, I noticed her condition in church. It is best that she remain at home for the babe’s sake. Tea, not coffee, is the best thing to soothe her stomach if need be. And mint. Tea with mint, I always say. It helped me immensely with Anne. You must tell your sister, Miss Bennet.”
“I will, ma’am.