Page 23 of A Lesson in Propriety (Merriweather Academy for Young Ladies #1)
Twenty-Three
“I’m not certain Edwin believed, after he got a glimpse of the pistol in your pocket, that you’re not going to use said pistol on Umberto Zambarello, no matter that you assured him you weren’t a lady who usually resorted to violence,” Rhenick said after Seraphina disappeared around the side of the castle with the twins, who’d been less than thrilled they hadn’t been invited to watch the meeting with Umberto, what with how Edwin was convinced there was going to be some shooting involved.
Drusilla grinned. “I’m not sure he did either, but do you think it speaks well of my character that I was somewhat delighted by the mere idea he thought I was the type of adventurous lady who’d even consider shooting an opponent in the first place?”
“You took a shot at me not all that long ago,” Rhenick pointed out before he stopped walking. “Besides the attempted shooting of me, though, what lady but an adventurous one wouldn’t flee from a castle where shenanigans are obviously occurring, or flee when ravens that once attacked her are now making a habit of setting themselves up in a line on the turret, where they begin cawing ceaselessly the moment they spot her walking across the back courtyard?”
Drusilla shot a look to the sky to make certain there were no ravens flying overhead before she leaned closer to Rhenick. “Annaliese told me that ravens are highly intelligent birds, and she believes the castle ravens might have memorized my appearance, which also leads her to believe they’re going to stalk me from this point forward.” The hair on the nape of her neck took to standing to attention when a chorus of kraas suddenly rang out, quite as if the ravens knew she was currently discussing them. “I may have to resort to drastic measures, such as taking some food up to the turret and leaving it there as a peace offering.”
“Which might work, or it might simply attract more rats, something that will undoubtedly cause your mother to take to her room again, even though my mother has finally convinced her to get out and explore the castle more, which Irma seems to enjoy, but only as long as my mother is with her.”
“Perhaps I should try to lure the ravens into the forest area and leave a peace offering there.”
Rhenick smiled. “A sensible idea, but speaking of sensible, we should probably decide, before we reach the gate, how you want to proceed with Umberto. Would you like me standing directly beside you, or would you prefer me to linger in the background so that he knows you’re the one who makes the decisions pertaining to Merriweather business and won’t resort to directing questions my way when you don’t agree to give him what he wants?”
For the briefest of seconds, she found herself devoid of an answer because, while Rhenick’s question was a fairly simple one, the very idea that he was asking her what she wanted to do in this situation instead of taking charge because he was a man reinforced the idea she’d had often of late—that being the fact that she’d clearly misjudged Rhenick right from the start.
Rhenick, unlike other men, never ignored her opinion but actually sought it out often, a novel experience and one she couldn’t deny she enjoyed.
Frankly, she’d come to enjoy quite a few things about Rhenick over the past weeks, as he was a man who was well-versed in a plethora of subjects and didn’t expect to limit their conversations to the weather.
Many of the conversations they’d shared during the time they spent together revolved around the improvements that needed to be made in the castle, or discussing what classes should be considered of the utmost priority once the academy was up and running.
Rhenick, it turned out, possessed some incredibly helpful insights when it came to deciding what lessons would be the most beneficial to the young ladies of Chicago, that insight a direct result of him spending the majority of his time being surrounded by members of the feminine set. Those feminine members were not simply his sisters, but a variety of cousins, neighbors, and—not that he’d said this, but his mother certainly had—numerous young ladies who apparently longed to spend as much time in his company as possible.
Truth be told, she couldn’t blame those ladies, not when she’d found herself—a woman who’d vowed to avoid the company of men—looking forward to the time she and Rhenick spent together, mostly because Rhenick never failed to make her feel as if she was the center of his attention, something she’d never experienced before.
He also never hesitated to answer any of the many questions she directed his way, and when she’d asked him about his love of architecture, he’d taken the time to explain how he developed his fascination for building when he was young and visited his father on different sites, then pursued his passion for creating structures when he went off to college and studied architectural design.
When they weren’t talking about her plans for the academy or his love of design, they were immersed in castle renovations. Thankfully, those renovations hadn’t been as extensive as Drusilla had feared, most of the work centering around maintenance issues such as getting the coal furnace up and running, fixing the water pressure to where it wasn’t soaking a person anytime a faucet was turned on, and inspecting gas lines so that it would be safe to use the gas sconces that were installed on every wall.
“We could always put off this meeting with Umberto if you’re having a difficult time deciding how to proceed,” Rhenick said, recalling Drusilla to the fact she’d not said a word in reply to his question, which was not something any lady well-versed in proper decorum would usually do, not when turning mute in the middle of a conversation was certainly considered rude.
“Forgive me, Rhenick,” she began. “I fear I was quite lost in thought, but know that I have a general idea of what I’m going to say to that man.” She sent him a nod. “I’m going to keep it short and direct.”
“And if he doesn’t accept short and direct?”
“Then I may need you to intercede, as I would hate to lose my temper and begin shrieking at him in frustration since that would hardly be appropriate for a future headmistress to do.” She smiled. “Shrieking, as I’m sure you know, would be very bad for business, especially if word got around that a lady who’s supposed to be the picture of decorum displayed behavior that was anything but.”
Rhenick drew her into motion again. “I don’t think shrieking on your part would harm your academy in the least because what you don’t seem to understand is this—the mothers of the Chicago daughters who are to be enrolled in your academy will not bat an eye if it’s discovered that the headmistress of a soon-to-be-esteemed ladies’ academy may have a bit of a temper. Not when her academy will go far in making sure that the embarrassment Tilda endured during a Vanderbilt dinner, or the embarrassment my own mother endured when she was snubbed at the Palmer House, won’t happen to their daughters in the future.”
Drusilla’s pace slowed. “Wilhelmine never mentioned being snubbed at the Palmer House.”
“I would have thought she’d have mentioned that at some point as a way to solidify why she wants you to open the academy. And while it’s not my story to tell, I don’t believe Mother would mind me explaining how she was given what amounts to a cut direct, and by ladies who not only snubbed her, but felt it was their job to point out what they thought were her glaring deficiencies.”
A sliver of temper slid through her because, even though she knew it was simply the way society comported itself and had often witnessed ladies of the New York Four Hundred giving the cut direct to more members of the nouveau riche set than Drusilla could count, Wilhelmine had been more than kind to her, and because of that...
“Do you think your mother would be receptive to taking a few lessons in propriety?” she asked, earning a blink from Rhenick in return.
“I don’t believe she’d be opposed to it, but you already have almost sixty students wanting to attend your school and only three instructors. Offering my mother personal classes might be too much for you to take on.”
She waved that aside. “I wouldn’t be giving those lessons. I’ll ask my mother since she’s already grown incredibly fond of Wilhelmine, especially after your mother somehow convinced mine to give up her widow’s weeds, which has left my mother enjoying a far more comfortable existence of late. That comfortable condition has improved her frequently querulous nature by leaps and bounds. Because of that, I don’t think she’d hesitate to extend a few lessons in propriety to Wilhelmine.”
Rhenick settled a smile on her, but before he could do more than that, a whistle coming from the vicinity of the gate drew her attention, as well as caused her to realize that she’d almost reached the gate but had been completely unaware of that, what with how focused she’d been on Rhenick. It was a curious thing, losing track of her surroundings, something she’d never been prone to doing before, and...
“It’s about time,” a man yelled through the gate, snapping her out of her thoughts, her pace slowing when she got her first good look at a man she assumed was Umberto Zambarello.
To say he fit the image of a man who might still be a member of the criminal persuasion was an understatement, even if he’d supposedly gone legitimate, because he stood over six feet tall, had a scar bisecting one of his cheeks, and was as broad—if not broader—than Rhenick. Add in the fact that he was currently scowling at her with dark eyes that were narrowed in what could only be described as a menacing fashion, and it was little wonder that a shiver took that moment to travel up her spine.
She forced herself to meet his gaze directly. “I understand from my groundskeeper that you’d like a word with me. Mr. Zambarello, I presume?”
“Of course I’m Mr. Zambarello, and you’re that Merriweather chit, but know that it would be easier to have that word if you’d open the gate and let me in,” Umberto snapped. “I’m unused to being left lingering outside anyone’s door.”
“You wouldn’t be left lingering if you’d simply accept that I’m not interested in selling, and calling me a chit is hardly going to convince me to have a lengthy talk with you, even with a gate separating us.”
“Would addressing you as Miss Merriweather convince you to let me in?”
“I believe that moment has passed, not that I ever had any intention of inviting you inside as, again, I’m not selling the castle.”
Umberto’s eyes hardened. “Then why has Whittenbecker and Company had crews roaming around here?”
She lifted her chin. “How disconcerting to learn you’ve been spying on my castle, but to answer you’re rude demand know that I, along with my sister, brought Whittenbecker and Company on because we needed a few maintenance issues addressed, nothing more.”
“What kind of maintenance issues?”
“I don’t see where that’s any of your concern. But perhaps having you learn that I’m intending to open a finishing academy for young ladies in the near future will finally allow you, as well as all the other anxious developers, to realize that I am, again, not going to sell.”
Umberto frowned. “I heard a rumor about this academy, but I didn’t put much stock in it as the fees you would glean from tuition won’t be able to compete with what I’m willing to give to buy you out.”
“I’m not selling.”
Umberto shot a look to Rhenick. “I find myself curious, Whittenbecker, how it came to be that you ended up being a man in Miss Merriweather’s confidence. Could it be that you’ve been plying her with flattery, perhaps convincing her that you find her attractive when you and I both know she’s nothing of the—”
Before Umberto could finish his thought, Rhenick surged into motion, pulling out the gate key Norbert had given him. A mere heartbeat later, he was shoving the gate open before he launched himself in Umberto’s direction, taking the man to the ground before Drusilla could get so much as a squeak past her lips.
Her mind then went curiously numb as she watched Rhenick begin rolling with Umberto down the drive, but before she could do more than take a step in their direction—to do what, she had no idea—another carriage came racing toward the gate.
Before she knew it, the doors to that carriage were flying open and then a handful of very large men spilled out onto the drive, heading not in Rhenick and Umberto’s direction, which suggested they weren’t Umberto’s men, but toward the now-open gate.
“My dear Miss Merriweather,” one of the largest of the men called, “how delightful to find you outside for a change and with the gate open in obvious welcome. If you can now spare me but a minute or two of your time, I assure you, I’ll make it worth your while.”
A whisper of dread swept through her, but before she could contemplate her best response to what hadn’t exactly seemed like a request, Norbert materialized at her side.
“Best get yourself back to the castle, Miss Merriweather,” Norbert muttered. “Those are Loughlin ‘Lackey’ MacSherry’s men, which means ... we’ve got trouble.”
With that, Norbert ever so casually aimed his rifle toward the men, who were in the process of steadily advancing toward them. To Drusilla’s relief, the sight of Norbert’s rifle left Loughlin MacSherry’s men stopping in their tracks, her relief short-lived when another carriage came clattering toward and then through the gate, the man sitting beside the driver of this particular carriage sporting an enormous pistol, one he seemed to be directing Norbert’s way.
Unwilling to allow her groundskeeper to suffer a bullet, Drusilla whipped her pistol out of her pocket and, remembering that Seraphina had told her to simply aim and shoot instead of pondering the matter too long, drew a breath and pulled the trigger.