Page 15 of A Lesson in Propriety (Merriweather Academy for Young Ladies #1)

Fifteen

A sense of self-preservation had Drusilla snagging hold of the ladder during her rapid downward descent, the velocity of which bounced her off one side of the flue and then the other. Thankfully, the bouncing didn’t continue for long, but her shoulder felt ready to pull straight from its socket as she dangled for what seemed like forever until she finally got a foot on one of the rungs.

Before she could do more than appreciate that she’d managed to avoid a fall that could have seen her suffering a broken limb or worse, something began pecking at her head, eliciting a shriek from her, which spoke volumes regarding her current situation since she’d never resorted to shrieking before, not even when Anthony Sternman had put a frog down the back of her dress when she was all of ten years old.

Abandoning all thoughts of past frog misdeeds when the pecking began intensifying, Drusilla scrambled down the ladder, releasing her hold on it and dropping the remaining few feet to the fireplace floor when the pecking turned downright painful.

As far as descents went, graceful was not a word that sprang to mind, especially when she landed in a crumpled heap of what had been pristine ivory muslin at the beginning of the day, the pristineness disappearing the moment she hit the fireplace floor, her impact causing soot to billow up around her.

Any concern for her gown disappeared when she turned her head to the right and discovered a large raven peering back at her with eyes that seemed to be glittering with a great deal of malice. The malice observation was proven a second later when the bird darted forward, pecked her head, released a croak, then launched itself out of the fireplace with a flutter of black wings. Before she could breathe a sigh of relief over that fortunate situation, additional fluttering noises began reverberating down the chimney right before an entire unkindness of ravens whooshed down the flue and over her head.

It was quickly becoming clear why someone at some point in time had aptly named a group of ravens exactly that.

“Run!” she heard Mrs. O’Sullivan yell, but knowing it would hardly be a prudent move to stand when that would probably have numerous ravens flying into her, Drusilla crawled her way over the stones of the fireplace, then across the hearth, edging downward onto the cold, hard floor of the great hall as ravens continued to swirl over her.

“Keep down, Miss Drusilla,” Mrs. O’Sullivan called. “I’ll be right back with a broom and...”

Whatever else Mrs. O’Sullivan was saying got lost when the ravens began swooping directly over Drusilla, a few of them getting in pecks as they swooped, quite as if they’d figured out she was the one responsible for disturbing their nest and were keen to seek a bit of retribution.

Wincing when a raven landed on her back and sunk its beak into her neck, she rolled to her side in an attempt to dislodge it, stilling when a loud “Shoo” scared the bird away right before someone scooped her up from the floor.

A heartbeat later, she found herself flung unceremoniously over what was undoubtedly a male shoulder before said male bolted into motion, weaving and dodging his way across the hall before he broke into a full-out run once he reached the hallway.

A part of her couldn’t help but be impressed that the man hauling her around didn’t seem winded in the least as he ran her out of the house, down the steps, and then lowered her onto a stone bench.

Any favorable impression she’d begun to hold for her rescuer disappeared in a flash, though, when she tilted her head back and found herself looking up at none other than Mr. Rhenick Whittenbecker—a man she’d hoped to never encounter again.

“Are you alright, Miss Merriweather?” Rhenick asked as he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and took the liberty of pressing it against her forehead. “If you haven’t realized, you’re bleeding, and somewhat profusely at that.”

“I’m perfectly capable of holding a handkerchief to my head without assistance” was all she could think to say, since reminding the man that she’d promised to shoot him if he ever darkened her doorstep again might very well be taken as a sign she wasn’t appreciative of his remarkably timely assistance.

“I’m sure you are, but you have numerous wounds on your head. It’ll be easier all around if I just stanch some of the blood for you.” He gave the wound he was already attending to a dab before he moved the handkerchief an inch to the left and pressed it against another wound. “How in the world did it come about that you found yourself set upon by ravens? I’ve never heard that they’re prone to attacking people.”

“I’d never heard that either, but evidently if you dislodge a nest from a chimney where they’re roosting, they turn vicious.”

Rhenick frowned. “What were you doing in the chimney?”

“It needed cleaning.”

He blinked. “And you decided to do that cleaning?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time, what with how my sister is occupied with other matters, my mother is refusing to come out of her room, and most members of my staff are pushing seventy, except for Riley, our stable hand. Riley’s afraid to step foot in the castle, though, because my mother claimed to have seen a ghost the other night.”

Drusilla squared her shoulders. “But speaking of my staff, if you’ll excuse me, I really do need to check on Mr. Grimsby, my butler, and Mrs. O’Sullivan, our cook, because the last I saw of them, they were in the process of fleeing from the great hall.”

“You’re in no fit state to get off that bench, so I’ll find them,” Rhenick said before he pressed a handkerchief that was now dotted with blood and soot into her hand. “Hold that in place while I’m gone. I’ll be back momentarily, and then we can see about cleaning and dressing your wounds properly.” With that, he got off the bench and strode toward the castle.

Drusilla watched him disappear through the door, but continued staring at the door even after he was out of sight because—it was difficult to hold a grudge against a gentleman who’d saved her from an unexpected bird assault.

It was also difficult to harbor ill-feelings toward a man who’d taken it upon himself to mop up her bloody forehead and then insist on reentering the scene of the crime, so to speak, to rescue members of her staff when doing so might result in him suffering some manner of personal injury as well.

Having a gentleman take control of a troubling situation was a novel experience to be sure, given that every gentleman in her life had left her to handle a world she willingly admitted she was ill-equipped to manage, unless he’d only rushed to her assistance because he was still determined to acquire the castle and land, and had viewed taking on a few ravens in order to accomplish that as a small price to pay.

Shoving aside thoughts that were leaving her with the distinct urge to throttle something—preferably Rhenick Whittenbecker, if what she’d been thinking turned out to be true—Drusilla took a moment to dab at blood dribbling down her face right as Annaliese came barreling around the castle. Her sister caught sight of her a second later and made a beeline her way, coming to a stop once she reached the bench, her eyes widening as she took to looking Drusilla up and down.

“What happened to you?”

“You didn’t hear the ruckus coming out of the great hall?”

“There was a ruckus?”

“How could you not have heard it?” Drusilla asked. “Ravens were everywhere, and they weren’t happy after I disturbed their nest in the chimney.”

“You were attacked by ravens?”

“Indeed.”

Annaliese blinked. “I’m sorry I missed that, as I don’t believe it’s usual raven behavior for them to go on the attack, but I missed all that excitement because I’ve been trying to find Mother.”

“Should I ask why?”

“You do remember that my darling Pippin was running around with a rat in her mouth, don’t you?”

Drusilla winced. “Do not say Mother saw that.”

“Oh, she did more than see it because Mother heard me scolding Pippin right outside her room and evidently thought I was Mrs. O’Sullivan finally bringing her a tray.” Annaliese shook her head. “The hysterics began the second Mother spotted Pippin, who promptly dropped her dead rat at Mother’s feet, and then ... the situation turned downright concerning when Fidget and Wiggles showed up.”

“Should I ask why the appearance of your other two ferrets turned the situation concerning?”

Annaliese winced. “That would be on account that they wanted to bring Mother presents as well, but while the snake Wiggles dropped next to the dead rat was no longer alive, I’m afraid the rat Fidget had was very much so. Before I could do more than tell Fidget she was a very bad girl, the rat scurried into Mother’s room, which caused Mother to dash down the hallway, screaming at the top of her lungs.”

“Why do I get the distinct impression Mother will be changing rooms again?”

“I’m sure Fidget has already recaught the rat, but I did hear Mother yell something about never stepping foot in the castle again before she ran down the back stairs, screaming all the while.” Annaliese glanced around the front yard. “I thought I’d find her heading down the drive, probably with the intention of running to Chicago, but I was wrong about that. She must have headed for the lake, where I’m hoping she didn’t decide to attempt to swim her way to the city.”

“You know Mother never steps a toe in any type of water unless it’s an unusually warm day.”

“Then let us hope she thinks it’s too chilly for a swim and is merely brooding along the shoreline, contemplating the horrors she’s faced of late.” Annaliese leaned closer and peered into Drusilla’s face. “Before I resume my search for Mother, though, are you certain you’re alright?”

Drusilla waved that aside. “I’m fine, although I’m sure I must look a sight. I might have looked even worse, though, if Rhenick Whittenbecker hadn’t shown up from out of the blue and rescued me from the ravens.”

“Rhenick Whittenbecker rescued you?”

“He did.”

Annaliese plopped down beside Drusilla, any thought of tracking down their mother seemingly forgotten. “Do you think intervening with the ravens might have been a calculated move on his part in order to get into your good graces, or ... do you think it was a gallant reaction from a gentleman who saw a young lady in danger and did what gentlemen are expected to do—that being saving the damsel in distress?”

Even though Drusilla had just been thinking he’d had an ulterior motive for rescuing her, now that she thought further about the matter, it was highly unlikely Rhenick had had time to consider how his act of chivalry could be used to his advantage, as he certainly couldn’t have known he’d arrive at the castle and find it being taken over by ravens.

That suggested that he’d acted instinctively, and also meant that he might very well have a chivalrous nature buried under what she’d assumed was a cold, calculating heart, which also meant that perhaps—just perhaps—he’d broached the whole marriage idea because of his concern regarding her safety.

“Looks like I won’t need to track Mother down after all,” Annaliese said, nodding across the front yard to where Irma was attempting to pull herself over a low stone wall, one that was only about three feet high, the stiff crepe of Irma’s mourning gown evidently responsible for making it difficult for her mother to clear the wall.

Before Drusilla could do more than rise to her feet, Irma managed to pull herself to the top of the wall, stomach-side down. She then, instead of trying to sit up, simply remained on her stomach, quite as if she didn’t know how to proceed from there.

“Do you think she knows she won’t hurt herself if she just rolls to the ground?” Annaliese asked right as Rhenick walked through the castle door with Mrs. O’Sullivan on his arm, who looked as if she’d had a run-in with the ravens as well, since her hair was straggling from its pins. Mr. Grimsby followed a step behind, streaked with ash and looking rather like he’d run into a bolt of electricity, what with how his hair was standing on end.

After Rhenick got Mrs. O’Sullivan down the steps and then helped her take a seat on the very last one, Mr. Grimsby joining her, he turned Drusilla’s way and frowned.

“You shouldn’t be standing up,” he called.

“My mother needs my assistance,” she said with a wave at Irma, who’d just managed to sit up on the wall, dangling her legs over the side as she peered at the ground, clearly debating the risks to her person if she were to simply jump.

“I’ll get her, but you need to sit down because I can see you wobbling from here,” he called before he headed Irma’s way.

Realizing she actually was wobbling, as well as realizing it was an odd circumstance that a gentleman had even taken notice of that, Drusilla retook her seat and watched as Rhenick strode closer to her mother.

“What do you think the odds are that Mother’s going to do her best to convince Mr. Whittenbecker he needs to revisit the topic of marriage with you?” Annaliese asked.

“I’d say that’s a given considering she’s been badgering me relentlessly about that matter, insisting our family will only be able to return to a semblance of normalcy if I come to my senses and marry a man she believes has stellar recommendations.

“However,” Drusilla continued, “even if Rhenick has returned to broach that particular matter with me, or if Mother succeeds in convincing him I might be more receptive to the idea now that I’ve had a few days living in a castle she believes is haunted, know that I haven’t changed my mind in the least. Furthermore, if Rhenick tries to pursue the matter, I’m going to have to relieve Norbert of his rifle again, since I’ve already had a most trying day and have no intention of dealing with additional ridiculousness in the near or distant future.”