Pemberley Ranch - Jack Caldwell [65]
“Anne has been my friend. She’s been very kind to me,” Beth said pointedly, irate at the slight to her friend.
“I say nothing about her personality,” Caroline protested, “but you must admit that there is a lack of beauty in Rosings. Why, if it weren’t for the Darcys and our family, well… the dance would have been a challenge to behold, I’m afraid. Nothing like our Georgia peaches, eh, Charles?”
Charles lowered his paper. “I believe you’re being a little hard on Rosings, Caroline.”
His sister went on smugly as if he had said nothing. “The dresses did nothing to improve the ambiance, what little it could accomplish. I declare, I’ve never seen so much gingham and calico in my life.”
Beth seethed, as she remembered how proud Mary had been of her beautiful blue calico dress. She had had enough of Caroline’s snide remarks and superior ways. In her sweetest, most insincere voice, Beth observed, “Georgia sounds lovely, Miss Caroline. With your descriptions of what a paradise it is, I’m surprised you don’t return to Netherfield.”
The reaction to her comment was electric. Caroline paled, and even Bingley blanched. Jane sat up, the darning forgotten, and cried, “Beth, please! You don’t understand—”
“I understand that Georgia is apparently heaven on earth,” Beth went on heedlessly, in her annoyance dismissing the warning in her sister’s voice. “I’m astonished that Miss Caroline left home, the way she carries on about it.”
Charles put down his paper. “Beth!”
Beth was surprised to receive an uncharacteristic reprimand from her placid brother-in-law. The man was plainly mortified. With a nagging feeling that she had once again spoken without thinking, Beth’s eyes returned to Caroline. It was as if a mask had slipped from the woman’s face; her complexion had gone from white to red, her eyes wide. Her usual careless expression was replaced by one of pure anger and pure torment.
“I have no home!” Caroline cried. “My home is gone— destroyed by your precious Yankees!”
Beth’s eyebrows rose at the ridiculous accusation. “Are you saying that Union soldiers did something to Netherfield?”
“Did something? Oh, yes! They burned it to the ground is all—right before my eyes!”
Beth’s jaw dropped. “What? But… why?”
“Ask General Sherman!”
“Sherman?” Beth thought about what the papers had said about Sherman in Georgia. “I remember reading about the March to the Sea, freeing the slaves—”
“And destroying everything in his path!” Caroline was livid as she relived the event. “A damned host of fifty thousand Federals marched three hundred miles from Atlanta to Savannah, burning a swath sixty miles wide! They stole food, grain, livestock—anything they could carry. And what they couldn’t take, they burned.” She lifted her eyes from Beth and stared into the distance, as if she could see something far away, both precious and lost forever. “Farms, plantations, towns—just for spite. Sherman boasted he would make Georgia howl, and we did howl—in anguish!”
Beth was dizzy as her preconceived notions took yet another blow. First Will Darcy, then Charles, and now Miss Bingley. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. “But… but the papers said… the slaves. Sherman was freeing the slaves and attacking the means of war. Railroads, arms factories—”
“Lies! I was there!”
Caroline had leapt to her feet, her eyes so wide the white around the irises could be seen. Charles, too, had risen from his chair and attempted to soothe his sister.
“Caroline, please, calm yourself—”
“No!” the woman shouted, pointing at Beth. “I will not be silenced! She needs to know just what her damnable countrymen did!”
Her outburst had silenced the house—everyone was transfixed. Caroline paused, breathing in and out in a shuddering manner, before pacing about the room like a cornered animal, her hand jerkily accenting the words that spit out of her mouth.
“When the hordes came, all our slaves ran away to join them. All but my maid, Maybel.