Gus released a snort. “Thomas isn’t concerned about the welfare of his animals. Our fares are based on how long it takes to get to a destination. If Thomas’s horses are kept to a plod, he brings in a higher fare.”
Annaliese’s smile dimmed. “But my sister negotiated the same fare for all the hacks and wagons she hired today, so why would Thomas have kept his horses to a plod if there isn’t a possibility for him to make more money?”
“Force of habit, I suppose, or...” Gus’s voice trailed away as the door to the hack Thomas was driving began to open and then a foot clad in a high-buttoned shoe appeared, followed by the appearance of Miss Seraphina Livingston, who immediately pushed back the hood of her cloak as she took to perusing the castle with a frown on what could only be described as an exquisitely beautiful face.
Gus’s jaw, along with Thomas’s, instantaneously went slack at the mere sight of Seraphina, who didn’t notice the gawking as her gaze was now settled on the ravens that had abandoned their tree and were once again circling the turrets.
In all honesty, it was a somewhat odd state of affairs that Seraphina had traveled with them to Chicago, considering that Drusilla hadn’t set eyes on her old friend, nor heard a single word from her, since they’d both been twelve years old and enrolled in the Sherwood Academy together.
Seraphina had always been more outgoing than Drusilla, and could count dozens of girls at the academy as friends. But even though she’d been one of the most sought-after students there, she’d always made a point to include Drusilla in a varietyof activities—until Seraphina’s father had remarried and she’d been yanked out of the academy and sent off to a finishing school in Switzerland, never to be seen again until she’d arrived on Drusilla’s doorstop a mere week ago. It had become clear almost immediately that Seraphina was experiencing a bit of a challenging situation.
What that situation was, exactly, Drusilla had yet to discover, as Seraphina seemed reluctant to discuss it. However, since it was very unusual for any lady to reside in a boarding school past the age of eighteen, and Seraphina had been attending her school in Switzerland four years past that, it was obvious that her old friend had experienced some manner of discontent with her family, which presumably started after Seraphina’s father had married the widow Drayton, mother of Julia and Katherine, the two young ladies Elbert had been flirting with at Rutherford’s tearoom the day he’d ended their engagement.
That discontent had evidently reached a tipping point after Seraphina had finally been summoned home, one that had then caused Seraphina to show up at the almost completely emptied-out Merriweather house on Washington Square, past midnight no less, dragging a portmanteau behind her and clutching a silk bag in her hand.
After apologizing for arriving at what was certainly an inappropriate hour, she’d proclaimed herself delighted that Drusilla still remembered her, then asked, because she’d overheard her stepsisters talking about how Drusilla was liquidating most of the Merriweather possessions, if Drusilla could recommend a jeweler who would be willing to relieve her of a few pieces of her late mother’s jewelry.
Given the way Seraphina’s gaze kept darting to the door as if she might need to bolt at any second, it had been obvious that something was gravely amiss. After asking Seraphina as delicately as possible if her father was aware she wanted to sell her late mother’s jewelry, Seraphina admitted that her fatherhad died over a year before. She’d then admitted she needed to lay low for a while, or more specifically, lay low for two years until she came into some money.
Recognizing a fellow lady in distress, and one who apparently had no one else to turn to, Drusilla had invited Seraphina to travel with them to Chicago.
It had been quite telling when Seraphina hadn’t hesitated to accept that invitation, looking remarkably relieved as she made a point to promise to pay her own way just as soon as she could liquidate her jewelry.
“I feel the oddest sense of déjà vu because, if I didn’t know better, I’d say I’ve just found myself back at the Swiss finishing school I attended for over ten years,” Seraphina said as her gaze shifted from the ravens and swept over the castle.
“You truly were in finishing school for over ten years?” Annaliese asked.
Seraphina inclined her head. “Until I was summoned home after my father died. Quite frankly, if he hadn’t passed away, I’d probably still be in Switzerland, diligently working my way through every social decorum instruction manual known to womankind. I’m sure I would have also been adding new languages to the five I already speak, and perhaps delving into a touch of Impressionism, an art form I’ve admired for a few years, but one I’ve yet to personally explore as my art instructor at the academy felt that Impressionism wasn’t all that impressive.”
“Ten years is a very long time to devote yourself to matters of propriety,” Annaliese said.
“Quite.” Seraphina grinned. “But before you take to feeling too sorry for me, know that I was also given the opportunity to dabble in some rather unusual pursuits that aren’t common for ladies, taught to me by the likes of groundskeepers and retired military men who accepted guard positions at the school after they retired.” Her eyes took to twinkling. “My favorite dance instructor, who turned out to be a master in fencing, even taughtme fencing skills during school holidays since I never bothered traveling all the way from Switzerland to New York to enjoy Christmas or summer breaks.”
Annaliese took a second to give a tug on the bodice of her gown, which had taken to moving, suggesting Pippin was trying to find a comfortable spot for a nap. “You didn’t happen to ever stand in for any of your decorum instructors when they took unexpectedly ill, did you, or perhaps when they wanted to travel for the holidays early and knew you wouldn’t be returning to New York?”
“Since I was enrolled in that school for far longer than any other student—so long, in fact, that I was actually older than some of the instructors—I often stepped in and lent a hand whenever there was a need.”
Annaliese arched a brow Drusilla’s way. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That you’re dying to learn what those other skills are that Annaliese procured during all the years she attended finishing school?”
Annaliese rolled her eyes. “Well, of course I’m curious about that, but I was actually thinking that your academy idea isn’t such a bad one after all because it sounds as if Seraphina might very well surpass you in the whole being proficient with proper decorum business. She also has experience instructing students, something you and I lack.”
“Academy?” Seraphina asked.
Before Drusilla could explain, Gus, who’d returned to unpacking their trunks, dropped another portmanteau to the ground, and none too gently at that, before he sent a nod Drusilla’s way. “I only have a few trunks left, and it looks like the other drivers are almost done unpacking as well. That’s why I’m going to suggest all of you gather any personal belongings you left in your respective hacks.” He cast a glance at the sky. “If you haven’t noticed, the sun will be going down before toolong, and I, for one, don’t intend on being around when the ghosts come out, even if I’m usually not opposed to charging an extra fee for lingering about.”
Seraphina’s lips twitched. “The castle has ghosts?”
“Allegedly,” Drusilla returned. “But before Gus takes to telling us more ghost stories, which are hardly going to allow us to sleep well tonight, allow me to get Mother out of the hack so Gus can get on his way.”
With that, and after asking Annaliese and Seraphina to see after the Merriweather staff members who’d gotten out of their respective hacks and were now standing in the middle of the drive, all of them gazing at the bats whizzing around the belfry, Drusilla squared her shoulders and marched over to the hack where her mother had taken to hiding out.
It was not an unexpected sight when she opened the door and found Irma sniffling into a handkerchief, something she’d been doing frequently ever since Sanford had made off with the Merriweather millions.
Tellingly enough, her mother had barely shed a tear for her husband after Morton Merriweather had died, probably because she’d never claimed to have been overly fond of her husband. Their marriage had been an arranged one, and Irma had barely tolerated Morton, just as he’d gone to extraordinary lengths to avoid her whenever possible.
Granted, Irma had certainly never wished him dead and had unquestionably been taken by surprise when Morton had suffered from what his doctor had deemed an unexpected failure of the heart while engaged in a business discussion with Sanford in his office. However, she’d seemed more distressed over being expected, per the rules of proper decorum, to mourn her husband for a full two years, her mourning period responsible for her having to forgo the many frivolities she’d always thrived on.
