Page 24 of A Lesson in Propriety (Merriweather Academy for Young Ladies #1)
Twenty-Four
For the briefest of seconds, silence settled over a scene that had been unquestionably chaotic right up to the point when Drusilla had fired off a shot—until a howl rent the air right before the carriage that had reined to a stop the moment she’d fired on it began trundling into motion again and, unfortunately, trundling directly toward her.
“You shot me!” the man sitting beside the carriage driver yelled as he clutched his right arm and swayed on the driver’s seat as the carriage picked up speed.
Self-preservation had her spinning on her heel instead of begging the man’s pardon, although given the circumstances, it probably wasn’t a grave faux pas to not voice an apology, since it appeared as if the man she’d shot now wanted to run her over.
She made it all of ten feet before the sound of additional shots rang out, and then chaos once again surrounded her. She heard Norbert yell something about everyone laying their weapons down right as Seraphina raced into view, gripping the blunderbuss she’d unearthed from one of the dungeon rooms, which she immediately aimed and fired at the carriage that had been gaining ground on Drusilla.
Glancing over her shoulder, Drusilla found the carriage driver already steering the carriage off the drive to turn it around. The four men who’d jumped from the carriage while it had been chasing her froze in the middle of the drive, undoubtedly because Annaliese had now charged into view as well and was in the process of pointing the Frankenau purse revolver she’d found the day before in an old trunk of Ottilie’s at them.
One of the men, the largest of the bunch, immediately stuck his hands in the air. “How about you just lower that pistol purse real nice and slow like,” he began, not taking his eyes off Annaliese, who was now scowling at him, probably because the man was talking to her as if she were a child—and not too bright, to boot. “It sure would be a shame if it misfired and that beautiful face of yours got disfigured.”
“It would be a shame, but I’m not lowering my weapon,” Annaliese countered as she fumbled with the bottom of the purse, her fumbling coming to an abrupt stop when the pistol purse suddenly emitted a bang, which resulted in the four men spinning around in unison and heading down the drive, one of them yelling something about crazy ladies and questionable gun accessories in the process.
Before Drusilla could appreciate the fact that she was not going to be run over in the very near future, Pippin, Fidget, and Wiggles came scurrying into view, setting their sights on the four fleeing men after Annaliese gave a snap of her fingers and pointed in the men’s direction.
To say the chaos increased exponentially was an understatement after Fidget caught up with one of the men and took to attacking his leg, Pippin and Wiggles doing the same to two other men a moment later. The fourth man then increased his speed, not bothering to help the others as he bolted down the drive.
Unfortunately for him, Billy the Goat, in the company of his entire herd, took that moment to charge through the trees, Mother Goose at his side, her long neck stretched out as she honked her way after the fleeing man, clearly intent on inflicting some damage, as well.
“Who would have ever thought that goats could be counted on to act as guardians of the castle?” Wilhelmine asked as she jogged up to join Drusilla, Irma panting beside her, both ladies equipped with brooms.
Irma rubbed at what was obviously a stitch in her side. “It was brilliant of Eloise to shoo the goats down the drive when we heard that first shot fired, but...” Her brow took to furrowing as she turned to Drusilla. “What in the world is going on?”
“I’m afraid some developers have turned desperate, but no time to explain since Rhenick still might be engaged in some fisticuffs with Umberto Zambarello.”
“Good heavens,” Wilhelmine breathed before she dashed into motion again, Irma dashing after her a second later, both ladies brandishing their brooms quite as if they were fully prepared to wield them.
After exchanging a look of alarm with Seraphina and Annaliese, Drusilla charged after them and reached the castle gate, coming to an abrupt stop and blinking rather owlishly at the sight that met her eyes.
Instead of finding Rhenick and Norbert holding off the men who’d taken the sight of an open gate as an invitation to abandon all sense of civility, there was no one in sight, save Umberto Zambarello. He, however, was sitting in the middle of the drive, nursing a bleeding nose, before turning his head to peer down the drive when a few distant yells rang out, yells that suggested that Billy the Goat had just gotten a few additional head rams in and the ferrets might still be enjoying sinking their teeth into additional legs.
Her lips began to curve—until she caught sight of Rhenick, who was limping his way toward her, his handsome face now battered and smeared with blood, his eyes already swelling shut, which explained the squinting he was doing.
He came to a stop directly in front of her and took a long moment to consider her. “Are you alright?”
Her lips began to curve again. “I’m obviously doing better than you are, but...” She winced. “I may have shot a man.”
Rhenick blinked. “You don’t say.”
“I thought I was aiming over the carriage, but I seemingly wasn’t aiming high enough and I hit a man instead. I don’t believe it’s a mortal wound, as he was perfectly capable of yelling at me, and he was still sitting upright when I think he encouraged his driver to run me over.”
Rhenick stilled. “A man encouraged someone to run you over?”
“Indeed, but it was clearly an unsuccessful attempt as I’m still standing, and those particular men were run off due to the intervention of Seraphina and Annaliese, along with the ferrets, goats, one goose, and perhaps our mothers, although now that I think about it, our mothers showed up after the men were racing down the drive.”
“I don’t believe they would have been all that intimidated by our brooms,” Wilhelmine called, drawing Drusilla’s attention to where she and Irma were standing mere feet from Umberto, their brooms at the ready.
It was a curious state of affairs when a laugh began bubbling up Drusilla’s throat.
“Not to point out the obvious,” she called, “but I don’t believe you need to be brandishing those brooms. Mr. Zambarello doesn’t look to be much of a threat right now.”
“We’re not considering giving him a few wallops because he’s a threat,” Irma returned. “We’re considering that because he had the audacity to get into a bout of fisticuffs with our dear Rhenick.”
Umberto swiped a hand over a face that was just as, if not more, battered than Rhenick’s. “He started the fight.”
“Because?” Irma pressed.
“It was of little consequence as I merely stated what everyone is saying around town about Rhenick and Miss Merriweather—that being that he’s resorted to flattery to gain her trust, something Miss Merriweather is obviously unfamiliar with given that...”
“Given that what?” Irma demanded when Umberto suddenly stopped talking, undoubtedly because Rhenick had taken to emitting a bit of a growl as well as balling his hand into a fist.
Umberto dashed a strand of hair out of his eyes before he lumbered to his feet and presented Irma with the slightest of bows. “I fear it won’t benefit me in the least to continue with this conversation, Mrs....?”
“Merriweather,” Irma supplied. “Drusilla’s mother.”
Umberto’s eyes—or rather, the one that wasn’t as swollen—narrowed on Irma. “May I dare hope, since I’ve learned there are no gentlemen in the picture with your family, that you’re the head of your household and are actually the lady I should have been seeking out all along in order to discuss the more-than-fair offer I’m willing to make for the Merriweather castle and grounds?”
Irma narrowed her eyes right back at the man. “I should say not, as Ottilie gave the castle to Drusilla and Annaliese. However...” Irma tilted her head. “I find myself curious as to whether you’re the Mr. Zambarello who has five unwed daughters?”
Wariness flickered through Umberto’s eyes. “I do have five daughters, although there’s no reason for you to say unwed in what sounded like an accusatory tone of voice.”
“If my tone is accusatory, it’s simply because I was told that your daughters are known to be somewhat rambunctious, and as such, may require you to settle overly large dowries on them, which I’m going to assume is why you’ve seemingly lost your mind since you thought it was a good idea to arrive here unannounced.” Irma lifted her chin. “You then apparently proceeded to insult my daughter, prompting Rhenick to defend her, which then resulted in the two of you engaging in a brawl, which I believe speaks very highly of Rhenick’s character, while leaving yours in tatters.”
Umberto lifted his chin, quite like Irma had just done. “But again, I didn’t throw the first punch.”
“But you threw the first insult, which certainly isn’t something you should be proud of. That type of behavior, if you’re unaware, is considered vulgar in polite circles, and it certainly doesn’t set a very good example for all those daughters of yours because they might very well conclude that the insults they may someday suffer are not out of line since their very own father doesn’t hesitate to serve them up to uncooperative women.”
Wilhelmine stepped directly beside Irma and shook her broom at Umberto. “I’m going to suggest you beg dear Drusilla’s pardon now, as well as Rhenick’s, and then take your leave, but only after I have your word that you won’t be bothering the Merriweathers again about this property.”
“Do you honestly believe I’m going to agree to that when I know without a shadow of a doubt that Loughlin MacSherry won’t be abandoning his desire to secure this land anytime soon, nor will Giacomo Caggianni, not after Miss Merriweather lodged a bullet in his right-hand man.”
Drusilla winced. “The whole lodging of a bullet was completely unintentional.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Umberto argued. “Giacomo will take the shooting as a direct insult, and you mark my words, he’ll be more determined now than ever to find a way to get this property.”
“He can try all he wants,” Irma snapped before Drusilla could respond, “but we Merriweathers are quite determined to open a much-needed academy for young ladies. And...” She drew herself up. “While all of you less-than-scrupulous developers seem to believe a household filled with ladies will be easily intimidated, know that Merriweather ladies are made of much sterner constitutions than I believe even we realized. As such, we’re formidable enemies to make, especially when none of us will suffer the slightest qualm over putting to use any of our many unusual weapons—one of which is a rather terrifying cannon that will be waiting right inside the gate should you choose to not heed my advice and decide to show your face here again.”