I should give up thinking of such things.”
“In such a case, a woman rarely has much beauty to be thinking of.”
Mrs. Bennet bridled, and blushed, and herded the family out to their cars.
The ball was being held in the high school gymnasium, daringly transformed à la casbah with yards of pink tenting, fili-greed lanterns, and small café tables for intimate conversation. The Bennets were among the early, but not the first, arrivals, as the orchestra was playing a mix of sentimental and jazzy standards from the forties.
They were politely greeted by the president and board of the Hispanic Heritage Club, and then left to their own devices. Fortunately, Frank Carrillo was already present and, recognizing his young acquaintances from the Candlemas parade, came over with his wife to meet the rest of the family.
“I’m sorry to say that my son George hasn’t yet arrived,” said he, with a teasing glance at Lizzy; “but he’ll be here soon, I’m sure, to give himself the pleasure of meeting you properly. I hope you’ll save a dance for him.”
Lupe Carrillo made an instant hit with Mrs. Bennet by exclaiming over her good-looking family, and they were soon deep in conversation about the joys and trials of motherhood. Mrs. Carrillo, having only one child, was safely inferior to Mrs. Bennet in this regard, so the latter’s happiness with her new friend was complete.
John inquired of Mr. Carrillo about the Hispanic Heritage Club.
“Our group was formed in the 1880s, not so long after the first American families settled here, which happened in the 1870s when the stagecoach road went through, followed soon by a railway. Those arteries brought some trade to the area, and the Americans started sheep ranching—hence the name of Lambtown. Before then, all the land had been in the hands of a few Mexican families, who had held the property rights going back to when California was part of Mexico. Our rights to the land were confirmed by the U.S. government when California became a state, but in the 1870s some of the Mexican families started to sell or lose land to the Anglos.”
“Was your family here at the time?”
“My Carrillo ancestors held the largest cattle rancho, covering this entire section of the Santa Ynez Valley and up into the canyons to the east—the land that is now owned by the Darcy and de Bourgh families, who were among the first Americanos to arrive. My farmland west of town is all that remains of our original land grant.”
“So the club was founded in reaction to the changes taking place?” asked Lizzy.
“The original Spanish-speaking families saw the area becoming Americanized, and waves of immigrants from European countries were also settling here—Italian farmers, Basque sheepherders, later on the Danes at Solvang—and we wanted to band together to preserve some aspects of our traditions and way of life. Over time, the Hispanic Heritage Club became involved in preservation of the Spanish missions in the Santa Ynez, and other philanthropic work. We host the Rodeo Days over Fourth of July weekend, where we have a charreada, a display of traditional Mexican riding techniques. It’s kind of a relic now, so many of the ranches here have turned to raising thoroughbreds—the ones that haven’t converted to vineyard—that it’s hard to find local riders who know the old charreada style. We have to bring in riders from Mexico for the shows. My son, George, is one of the few local boys who rides in the Rodeo Days. I don’t know why more young men don’t learn charreada skills: it certainly makes George popular with the young ladies!”
“This area seems to have a lot of special events—balls, parades, rodeos,” said John. “I didn’t realize we’d moved to such a party town!”
“It’s not my idea of a party town,” said Lydon, “with no nightclubs, no bars, not even a cineplex! Have you checked out Mattei’s Tavern, over in Los Olivos? Not exactly a happening crowd.”
“I’m not sure why you are checking out taverns, Lydon, since you’re not old enough to drink,” said John. Lydon hunched his shoulder.
Mr. Carrillo smiled politely. “Lydon is very right, of course. For younger people’s entertainments, you need to go to Lompoc or UC Santa Barbara. Perhaps that’s why we have so many special events throughout the year—because everyday life here is so dull.”
“Oh, come on, Lydon, I want to dance,” said Jenny, and dragged her husband off. Kitty trailed along in their wake, hoping to win a partner from among the scattering of military men present.
“Miss Elizabeth, I understand you have met Father Austen,” said Mr. Carrillo.
“Yes, I think he’s a dear.”
Mr. Carrillo chuckled. “He would hate to hear you say so.”
As they talked, Lizzy was taking great pleasure in looking about her at the variety of people and dresses, from dowdy to daring. It mattered little to her that none of the young men present had yet approached her for an introduction or a dance. Nevertheless, it was clear that the Bennet family was attracting a good deal of attention and curiosity; she saw various clusters of people glancing their way as they chatted, and amused herself with imagining the drift of their speculations.
But soon enough the interesting subject of the newcomers gave way to a greater stir of excitement. There was a bustle at the door and everyone turned to gape as a resplendent group of young men and women made their appearance.
“It’s those people we saw at the parade, Lizzy,” whispered John. Lizzy saw that he was right: the man who had admired John was there, in company with the same group of friends.
“Well, who would ever have thought,” cried Mrs. Carrillo, “that Fitzwilliam Darcy himself would grace our ball with his presence!”
“Who is he?” Mrs. Bennet wanted to know.
“See, over there—the tall one,” said Mrs. Carrillo, pointing to one of the men in the cluster around John’s admirer. “He’s our most eligible bachelor, owns half the land in the area, but he doesn’t mix much with the locals. Every year he buys tickets to the ball, but he’s never attended before. When his parents were alive, it was different. They could be counted on to show up for community events. But young Mr. Darcy is always going around with his prep school and college friends.”
“And who are the people with him?” asked John.
“I don’t know all of them, but the handsome blond man is Charles Bingley, and the woman in the flapper dress is his sister, Caroline. Bingley is Darcy’s best friend from school, and he recently settled here and is opening a business in town. He seems to have quite a lot of money, too, though not as much as Darcy—I hear his father ran a chain of department stores in Oregon or someplace—but he’s a lot friendlier than Darcy. Oh, look! They’re coming over!”
Mrs. Bennet scarce had time to wreathe her face in smiles for such exalted company before the group was greeting the Carrillos. Charles Bingley, the one who had appeared to take an interest in John, was seen to have an easygoing, open courtesy while the others stood back, prepared to be bored with their surroundings. On Mr. Carrillo’s presenting the Bennets, Bingley exclaimed, “Oh, good! New arrivals! I’m glad to be replaced as the new face in town; let the world be inquisitive about someone else for a change. I’m a city boy, and not used to being such a center of attention.” Smiling on John, Lizzy, and Mary, he added, “Now that my sister and I are old-timers in Lambtown, maybe we can show you around the way Darcy did for us when we first got here—what do you say, Caroline?”
Caroline
