Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [63]
“For another, Whitehead’s close to the government in Austin, and he can make a lot of trouble for any that get in his way. He’s got Mrs. Burroughs on his side and a private army in Kid Denny and his gang. A lot of people just want to put the war in the past, and Whitehead’s made friends here—your daddy, for instance.
“Darcy just wants to let it go. He’s afraid if he starts up something, people will get hurt, and there’s no guarantee that if we drive Whitehead out of town, the army or the government wouldn’t come in and make things worse.”
By now, the surrey had reached the outskirts of the town, passing the cemetery on the hill. “Beth, I reckon we just let things go on as they have. Sooner or later, this occupation by the army will be over, Whitehead will show his true stripes, the town will turn on him, and that will be the end of him. ’Til then, we’ll just keep our heads down and look out for our own, just like Will says.”
“But what about Father?”
Charles nodded. “I’ll talk to him again—make certain he’s not gettin’ in over his head in his dealings with Whitehead.”
“Again? You’ve talked to him before?”
“Yeah.”
Beth wasn’t sure that was enough, but she kept her concern to herself.
Darcy didn’t return to Pemberley until the next day. Everyone was concerned over his absence, Gaby most of all, and she asked for an explanation. Darcy declined to answer fully, mumbling something about an “indisposition,” and he immediately claimed a desire to see to the paperwork awaiting him in his study.
Once he locked the door and seated himself behind his desk, Darcy simply stared out the widow, ignoring the papers on his desk. Ever since he woke up the day before with a pounding head and sickly belly, he had been obsessed in reviewing what had happened—how things had gone so wrong and how he could have misjudged things so badly.
He raised one hand to his forehead. He still suffered from a headache brought on by his excessive drinking and his injury. He had no recollection of how he had hurt himself. He had awakened with a bandage wrapped around his head and a chamber pot close by, which he used to empty the contents of his stomach. It had been a full day since Charles had tended to him, and he still refused to rest. Darcy well remembered everything prior to falling down, and it was those memories that haunted him. He accepted his pain as penance for his arrogant behavior.
It had taken all of the day and most of the night before Darcy allowed himself to see past his pain, both physical and emotional, and accept the truth. Beth Bennet hated him, and he had no one to blame but himself.
The study door opened. “Will,” Gaby stated without preamble, “I’m going for a ride, and you’re going with me.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I’m getting Buckskin and Caesar saddled right now.” Without another word, she left the room.
A few minutes later, Darcy was astride his black steed with his sister next to him on her palomino, riding towards Pemberley Lake. Darcy had to admit the hot sun felt good against his face and the movement of his horse settled his emotions, if not his head. He wondered when his sister had grown so wise.
The two stopped at a shady willow overlooking the lake, and they dismounted. Brother and sister took their ease sitting at the base of the tree as the horses drank from the water.
Darcy was thankful for the quiet; it allowed him to set his thoughts in order. The water before him reminded Darcy of Beth’s clandestine swim, and he finally came to the realization that he had confused his lust for Beth Bennet with love. It was the only reason he could think of that would so blind him to the truth.
Heck, even Anne saw that Beth wasn’t in love with me. But did I listen? Naw—I had to go my own way and make a damned fool of myself. No wonder she thought I was making some kind of improper request of her. In a way, I was. The only reason I wanted to marry her was to get her in my bed. And now, thanks to my drunken performance, there’s no way she’ll ever give me the time of