Page 4 of A Lesson in Propriety (Merriweather Academy for Young Ladies #1)
Four
C HICAGO M AY 1885
A shiver stole over Drusilla the moment she stepped from the hired hack and clapped eyes on a scene that seemed quite as if it had sprung directly out of a gothic novel—and one of the spookier gothic novels, at that.
Unlike the rustic lakeside cottage she and her sister had determined Aunt Ottilie had probably given them, rising up before her against a sky angry with billowing black clouds was an honest-to-goodness castle.
Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be one of those fairy-tale kinds of castles where princesses lived. Instead, it was more along the lines of a fortress that would house an evil sorcerer, that thought only reinforced when she noticed an entire flock of ravens—something her sister had once told her was called an unkindness —perched on top of two turrets, their caws swirling about in the wind as they peered down at her.
If ravens weren’t bad enough, the castle also had an overabundance of gargoyles leering at her as well, the recent rain responsible for the water that was gushing out of their grotesque mouths.
“Think there’s a possibility the driver took a wrong turn off Lake Shore Drive and this isn’t our new home sweet home?”
Tearing her gaze from what appeared to be bats flittering in and out of what she believed was called a belfry, Drusilla turned and found her younger sister, Annaliese, climbing out of the hired hack, her eyes wide as she drew her traveling cloak tightly against her.
Her sister then smoothed a glove-covered hand over a ferret that was perched on her shoulder, one that went by the name of Pippin. Fortunately for Pippin, Annaliese had taken it upon herself to spirit the poor thing from a fur farm three months before, earning Pippin’s undying devotion, the ferret so attached to what it obviously considered its new mother that it took to chirping in a most distressing fashion if it lost sight of Annaliese for any extended period of time.
Drusilla moved to her sister’s side, ignored that Pippin immediately took to giving her the evil ferret eye, and took hold of Annaliese’s hand. “I’m sorry to say that I think we’re in the right place since that key Aunt Ottilie left with us opened that monstrosity of a wrought-iron gate we just drove through.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Indeed.” Drusilla squared her shoulders. “Nevertheless, since it’s not as if we can turn around and traipse off to a less eerie house, we might as well head through the front door and hope the ghosts I’m relatively certain are floating about in there aren’t the malicious types.”
“You don’t actually think it’s haunted, do you?” Annaliese asked, glancing back to the castle and looking quite as if she expected ghosts to start wafting through the windows.
“I would love to say probably not, as I’ve never believed in ghosts, but given the way our luck has been of late, ghosts might very well turn out to be a problem. I hate to think what we’re going to discover in the dungeon.”
Annaliese shuddered. “We’ll probably find the skeletons that belong to the ghosts haunting the place.”
“An encouraging thought.” Drusilla returned her attention to the ravens, who seemed to be returning her gaze. “I can’t help but wonder what in the world Aunt Ottilie was thinking when she purchased a place that resembles that unnerving academy for wayward girls Father was determined to ship you off to after your unfortunate bird of paradise incident.”
“Father threatened to send me to that wayward school after the roach incident, not the bird of paradise one,” Annaliese corrected. “To refresh your memory, young ladies of the Four Hundred were up in arms against me, and not for the first time, after that unusual-looking roach darted across the floor during one of the family circle dance classes.” Her lips curved. “How could I have possibly ignored the opportunity to scoop up the little darling and stash him in my reticule so I’d be able to study him once I was at my leisure?”
“I’m sure the ladies were expecting you to stomp on Xavier, not bring him home in your bag—or name him.”
“Roaches are far too fascinating creatures to stomp on.”
“Given that we’re about to move into a moldy old castle, I have a feeling you’re soon going to find yourself fascinated with a variety of unusual creatures.”
“There might be some perks to moving into a haunted abode after all,” Annaliese said before her attention drifted to the belfry, or more specifically to what now seemed to be an entire colony of bats whizzing about. It wasn’t exactly surprising when excitement began flickering through Annaliese’s eyes.
“Before you get any wild thoughts in that head of yours,” Drusilla began, “I’m going to encourage you to resist the urge to capture a bat to study because I’m relatively certain they bite.”
“I could always wear gloves.”
“Or you could study them from afar and leave it at that since it’s not as if we have expendable money to pay a physician to treat you for some dastardly disease you might pick up from a bat bite.”
“An excellent point, although speaking of funds...” Annaliese gestured to the castle. “Not that I’m an expert on financial matters, since it wasn’t as if we ever needed to count our coins before Sanford stole our fortune, but I’m relatively certain a castle is going to be expensive to maintain. Coal to heat the place will probably be astronomical, and I can’t see Mother refraining from complaining incessantly once it begins getting colder if every room she steps foot in isn’t at a comfortable temperature.”
“Mother has proven herself to be rather adept at complaining over the past year,” Drusilla said before she took a long moment to peruse her new home, stilling when an unexpected thought took that moment to fling to mind.
“You’ve got the most peculiar look on your face,” Annaliese said, pulling Drusilla from her perusal.
“I’m sure I do because I might have just come up with an idea that could very well help us secure a more financially stable future.” She took a few steps toward the castle, eyed it for another long moment, then turned. “Remember how that school for wayward girls had an ominous air to it?”
“It would be difficult to forget how spooky that school was considering it looked as if it had leapt off the pages of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey . I haven’t forgotten how relieved I was when, no matter how much Father offered to pay, I was denied entrance into that school because they had a two-year waitlist.”
“And that a spooky old school didn’t have any openings suggests that an ominous air isn’t detrimental to the success of an academy for young girls or ladies.”
Annaliese immediately took to shaking her head, freezing on the spot when Pippin began chirping up a storm.
After giving Pippin another soothing pat, Annaliese returned her attention to Drusilla. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, you’ve clearly taken leave of your senses. Not that I want to come across as a Doubting Delia, but we know nothing about running a school for wayward girls. Frankly, I’ve never even been acquainted with a wayward girl, and I know you haven’t, so opening an academy for them is completely out of the question.”
“There have been more than a few people who’ve thought you’re a wayward girl over the years, which is why Father was determined to get you enrolled in that particular school.”
“I would have never fit in at that school because holding an interest in studying bugs or wanting to ensure entire animal species don’t go extinct due to the fur and plume trade doesn’t make a girl wayward. It merely makes her curious, as well as compassionate, unlike truly wayward girls who enjoy creating chaos on purpose.”
“A fair point,” Drusilla conceded. “But I’m not saying I thought my idea was well formulated yet, although...” She cocked her head to the side. “There were men of the nouveau riche set in New York who were willing to marry me simply to enhance their social status. It might be worthy of consideration to explore the possibility of offering young ladies from the nouveau riche set an opportunity to secure a proper decorum education from ladies who are verified members of the New York Four Hundred.”
“I’m not sure we’re still verified, given our new unfashionable penniless status,” Annaliese argued. “Besides that, what might truly stand in our way of opening any type of real academy is this—we’re not businesswomen.”
“And to that I must disagree. If you’ll recall, I did take it upon myself to set up a meeting with the Pinkertons after they sent us notice they were abandoning our case due to the fact we could no longer pay their fee. I then negotiated a new contract with them, one that keeps them pursuing Sanford on a contingency basis, with their exorbitant fee only paid once they capture that repugnant man.”
“That was a brilliant move on your part.”
“Thank you, and finding success with the Pinkerton negotiations lends credence to the idea that you and I are capable of things we’ve never even dreamed about yet, and—”
A loud chorus of caws interrupted Drusilla, as well as caused the hair on the nape of her neck to rise when the ravens suddenly soared off the turrets and began swooping in their direction.
Pippin took one look at the advancing ravens and disappeared under the collar of Annaliese’s cloak, causing Annaliese to squirm ever so slightly, undoubtedly because having a ferret under one’s cloak probably wasn’t all that comfortable.
After unbuttoning the top button of her cloak, Annaliese glanced back to the castle. “While I’ll admit your academy idea may have merit, I’m afraid we’re going to have a difficult time convincing anyone they’re yearning to obtain lessons in propriety in a castle that might not only be haunted but truly may have more than a few skeletons lingering about.”
“Oh, there’s more than a few skeletons in that house, and everyone knows it’s haunted.”
Turning, Drusilla discovered the driver of one of the hacks they’d hired, who’d told her his name was Gus, setting down one of her large portmanteaus before he straightened.
“Why do you say it’s haunted?” she asked.
“Because Norbert Tweed—that’s Ottilie Merriweather’s groundskeeper—and I often enjoy having an ale together down at the Mead and Vittles. He’s told me all about the peculiar things that’ve been happening here. According to Norbert, this castle is one of the most haunted places in Chicago—and haunted by none other than Miss Ottilie Merriweather.”
Drusilla blinked. “Are you telling me that Ottilie is dead?”
Gus blinked right back at her. “You didn’t know that?”
“I haven’t heard a word from Aunt Ottilie or even about her since she left on her adventure over two years ago.”
Gus snatched his hat from his head. “I surely am sorry, then, for delivering what is some horrible news so bluntly. In my defense, though, when you hired me to take you to this address, I assumed you’d traveled here to finally get Miss Ottilie’s affairs settled.”
“We were unaware there was anything that needed to be settled, but I’ll look right into the matter after I have an opportunity to track down my aunt’s solicitor.”
“Then you’re still plannin’ on continuing with what I assume is some type of holiday, even after learning your aunt is haunting the place?” Gus asked.
“We’re not here on holiday” was all Drusilla was able to get out of her mouth before the door to the hired hack suddenly flew open and her mother stepped out, the very sight of her causing Gus to take a few stumbling steps backward.
It wasn’t exactly unexpected that Gus would take issue with her mother, Irma Merriweather, especially since she was dressed head to toe in widow’s weeds and had also thrown on a floor-length weeping veil at some point while she’d been waiting in the carriage.
“Did I overhear correctly that the house we’re supposed to live in is haunted?” were the first words out of Irma’s mouth.
Drusilla refused a sigh. “I believe that’s simply speculation from the locals at this point.”
Irma peered through her netting at the castle. “Who’s haunting it?”
“Miss Ottilie,” Gus supplied before Drusilla could stop him, which had her mother raising a hand to her throat.
“Ottilie’s dead?”
“That would fall under the whole speculation business as well,” Drusilla muttered.
Irma ignored that as she shoved up her veil and settled her gaze on Gus. “Why do you think Ottilie’s dead?”
Gus rubbed a hand over a chin that sported more than a day’s worth of stubble. “I’m just repeating what Norbert told me. According to him, there weren’t any signs of hauntings while Miss Ottilie was in residence, but that changed some months after she left Chicago.”
“What type of hauntings began at that point?” Irma pressed.
“From what I’ve heard, the staff kept waking up to strange noises,” Gus said. “When they’d go to investigate, no one was ever found, but furniture was often rearranged, messages were scrawled onto the mirrors with soot from the fireplaces, and windows that had been locked the night before were wide open.”
“Why did the staff conclude it was Ottilie haunting the place?”
Gus gave his chin another rub. “Norbert told me the messages scrawled on the mirrors seemed to be written in Miss Ottilie’s hand, as she was known to make a very distinctive S . He also said the messages stated things like ‘keep your feet off the sofa,’ ‘don’t forget to water the roses,’ and ‘make sure to polish the silver every two weeks’—a telling message since Norbert mentioned that the butler, Bentley, neglected to regularly attend to that task after Miss Ottilie left.”
Irma drew in a sharp breath. “Ottilie was always particular about keeping her silver polished.”
“I don’t know any lady who isn’t particular about the silver,” Drusilla couldn’t help but point out.
“But only someone with the quirks Ottilie possessed would bother with silver after they’ve returned as a ghost,” Irma argued. “That means there’s no possible way I’m going to step foot in this castle because Ottilie never cared for me and will surely make a point of haunting me the most.”
With that, Irma resettled the weeping veil over her face, turned on her heel, then marched back to the hired hack, climbed inside, and shut the door firmly behind her.