Chapter 14

Fourteen

Camilla shifted on the hard seat of Beulah's wagon, drawing her attention. "Since we now find ourselves quite alone as Lottie, Mr. Timken, and Bernadette are off with Edward to Stone and Thomas to pick up a few essentials, and Owen was called into the factory to deal with an unexpected machinery issue, now would be the perfect time to delve into the events of last evening."

"Except we're not truly alone since Luella's following directly behind us and that girl has ears like an elephant," Beulah argued.

"I don't think Luella would appreciate having you compare her ears to elephant ears."

"I wasn't saying she has large ears, only that she has remarkable hearing."

"Maybe you should stick to simply saying in the future that Luella has remarkable hearing because the image of Luella sporting elephant ears is exactly what sprang to my mind the second you mentioned elephants," Camilla suggested. "However, even if Luella hears extraordinarily well, since she's assumed the role of my guard today, she's much too busy at the moment keeping an eye out for possible threats to eavesdrop on our conversation."

"Luella's capable of doing multiple things at once," Beulah said, turning the wagon off National Road and onto a gravel drive that meandered up a steep hill as far as the eye could see, the two draft horses pulling the wagon not slowing their pace in the least, even though Esmerelda was snoozing in the back of the wagon bed—all three hundred pounds of her.

"If that's your way of avoiding talking about last night, it was a fairly halfhearted attempt."

Beulah grinned. "I suppose it was, so fine, let's discuss last night. I'll start off by saying that it was a most delightful evening. I particularly enjoyed that parlor game you taught us—the Key of the King's Garden."

"You didn't seem to be enjoying it when you lost."

"I must admit I'm not fond of losing, and I do think the next time we play that game, that some allowances should be made for me, the poor, elderly woman whose memory isn't what it used to be. That right there was directly responsible for me having to forfeit my spot in the game after I got all those sentences turned around when it was my turn."

"You know there's nothing wrong with your memory, just as I know you're deliberately avoiding the event I want to discuss."

"My memory is obviously faulty because I have no idea what event you're talking about."

Camilla refused a snort. "You don't recall stealing into my room after everyone said good night with the express purpose of sneaking that apple pie recipe under my pillow?"

"Oh ... that event." Beulah cocked her head to the side. "I suppose I do recall it, but only because my ears are still suffering from all that shrieking you did. Why, my poor old heart will probably never recover after I found myself on the wrong end of your derringer, and then on the wrong end of Owen's Colt Dragoons after he raced to your rescue, which, you must know, was some mighty fine chivalrous behavior on his part."

It hadn't escaped Camilla's notice that Owen had shown up in her room, weapons at the ready, mere seconds after she'd begun shrieking.

Unwilling to dwell on his obvious chivalrous nature while sitting beside a woman who'd decided it was now her sole mission in life to convince Camilla that she and Owen were well-suited, Camilla lifted her chin.

"It's your own fault your ears and heart suffered because you're the one who chose to creep into my room, even though I'd told you there's a chance that a known criminal boss, one Victor Malvado to be exact, may be after me or Lottie—we're not exactly certain who his target is. However, because of that threat hanging over me, Owen and I are on high alert. You're lucky one of us didn't shoot you."

"And you're lucky I didn't expire on the spot because of heart palpitations. As I already said, I'm elderly and need to be treated with the utmost care."

"If that's your way of suggesting I stop pressing you about why you're so determined to get that apple pie recipe to me by one underhanded means or another, I'm not buying it. So ... what's the significance of the recipe, and don't tell me it's just a list of ingredients to make a pie."

"You're a bright girl. I'm sure you can figure that out on your own."

"Perhaps I'm not that bright, unless..." Camilla took a second to watch a bird fly by before she frowned. "The recipe isn't some type of love charm or something of that nature, is it, where the recipient finds themselves an involuntary member of the Chesterfield family after taking possession of it?"

"See? You are bright after all."

"Bright enough to know that even if you manage to get that recipe into my possession, I won't soon find myself married to your grandson."

"We here in West Virginia believe in the power of what I'm sure you'd consider superstitions, but our traditions shouldn't be taken lightly. I'll have you know that anyone who's earned the privilege of obtaining the list of ingredients for the Chesterfield apple pie has, indeed, become a Chesterfield."

"May I assume you gave the recipe to your husband?"

"Thoney, my late husband, being the Chesterfield in that particular case, slipped it into my pocket a few days after I saw him standing in town, covered in coal dust from a mine he'd just begun to build. He took one look at me, I took one look at him, and it was love at first sight."

"Thoney's not a name I've heard before," Camilla said.

"He ended up with that name because his mama didn't know how to read or write much," Beulah said. "The story has it that she was aiming to name him Thomas but had written Thoney in the family Bible. After someone pointed that out, Thoney's mama decided the name had a nice ring to it and everyone called him Thoney from that point forward."

"And did Thoney's mama approve of him slipping that recipe to you?"

"'Course she did. Round these parts, love at first sight isn't taken lightly either, but in all honesty, I didn't even need to gain access to the recipe, given how much I adored Thoney. Nevertheless, I was thankful to have it in my possession all the same as I decided it was best not to take any chances with the Chesterfield tradition."

"Your grandson doesn't seem to believe in love at first sight since he's still arguing with me about my belief that Lottie and Edward have succumbed to that delightful happenstance."

"Owen believes in love at first sight. He just enjoys annoying you."

"Because...?"

"I'm not completely sure, but it might be his unusual way of earning your affections."

"Or a death wish," Camilla muttered.

Beulah released a cackle. "I do appreciate your fondness for frequently wanting to inflict bodily harm on Owen, which I'm sure, being a matchmaker and all, you already realize is a direct result of your emotions becoming engaged, and—" She suddenly leaned forward. "Duck!"

Thinking it was an odd time for Beulah to point out a duck since she'd been in the midst of getting ready to dispense what she'd undoubtedly consider sage advice, Camilla glanced upward right before leaves suddenly obscured her vision as the wagon barreled underneath a low-hanging limb—one that was responsible for knocking her straight out of the wagon.

Landing on the ground, an "oomph" escaping her a second later, a noise that had, oddly enough, escaped her often of late, Camilla pushed herself up on her elbows right as Nems, Owen's one-legged carriage driver, steered his carriage to the side of the road. Before it came to a complete stop, Luella leapt from it, landed on the ground without a hint of a stumble, then set her sights on Camilla and broke into a run.

"Good heavens, Camilla, are you alright?" she demanded, kneeling down beside her.

"I think I'm fine, but where did you learn how to do that?"

Luella frowned. "Do what?"

"Leap from a moving carriage and land on your feet."

"Luella's always been graceful," Beulah said, hurrying up to join them. "People just never notice because of her unconventional attitude."

Camilla smiled. "I can work with graceful."

"I'd rather you work with the fact you're a member of the Four Hundred and get everyone in Wheeling to simply accept me because of that rather than going through the bother of refining me," Luella grumbled.

"Nice try, but no, and also know that you'll be accepted much more easily if you don't take to grumbling when you're conversing with anyone at the ball."

"That might be asking far too much, but grumbling aside..." Luella turned to Beulah. "It's not like you to drive underneath such a low-hanging branch."

"I tried to tell Camilla that I'm getting senile, but she didn't want to believe me."

Camilla wrinkled her nose. "You haven't mentioned a thing about senility, merely said your memory isn't what it used to be."

"See? I've forgotten that already, although I do distinctly recall telling you to duck when I realized running under that limb was inevitable, although I have no idea why you didn't listen to me."

"I thought you were directing my attention to a duck flying by."

Dead silence greeted that admission until Beulah started cackling again and Luella started grinning.

It was a novel experience, being the source of amusement, but curiously enough, there was something lovely about it, as well as lovely about being around people who didn't bother to stifle their amusement simply because she was a grand heiress who'd apparently come to the wrong perception of the word duck , something that, now that she thought about it, was definitely cackle-worthy.

Her lips began to curve. "I think I should state, for the record, that the next time I'm riding with Beulah and she yells ‘duck' that I won't take to looking to the sky."

"Owen will probably insist you never ride with Meemaw again after he hears about this latest fiasco," Luella said. "I'm sure he'll also launch into a lecture with me since he tasked me with the job of protecting you on the ride to the country house."

"Protecting me against would-be-abductors , not your grandmother ," Camilla pointed out.

Beulah's nose immediately shot into the air. "You certainly don't need protection from me. With that settled, I say we get back on our way, especially since my senility may have let me forget that there could be a real threat to you out here on the road, and yet, here we all are, lollygagging about. We'll be easy pickings if that Victor Malvado's discovered where you've gone and is currently lurking about, waiting for an opportunity to snatch you."

Luella immediately held out a hand, helped Camilla to her feet, then headed for the carriage. "Don't worry that you're not well protected, Camilla," she said over her shoulder. "I've been shooting since I was six, and since Owen taught me, well, I don't think I really need to say anything else."

"Why are you still lollygagging, Camilla?" Beulah called from where she'd already resumed her seat on the wagon. "Like I said, we're sitting ducks out here, and I, for one, have had enough of ducks for today."

Biting back a grin, Camilla hoisted herself into the wagon, taking a firm grip on the seat when Beulah snapped the reins and the draft horses took off at a fast clip.

After checking to make sure there weren't any low-hanging tree limbs in the near vicinity, Camilla turned on the seat. "Luella said she learned how to shoot when she was six, but isn't that a little young to be handling a weapon?"

"Depends, and in Luella's case, Owen didn't have a choice but to teach her after Luella snuck into her daddy's gun cabinet, helped herself to a pistol, and headed out into the forest to try it out."

"How did Owen know she'd headed out to the forest?"

"Owen kept a close eye on his little sister back then because she was always finding trouble. He saw her sneaking from the house and followed her, finding her in the apple orchard, gun loaded and ready to go. Knowing how obstinate Luella can be, he had no choice but to teach her properly. She was an expert markswoman a mere three years later. She then decided to learn how to shoot while on a moving horse, which is when I really noticed how graceful she was."

"Do you think that gracefulness can be conveyed to a dance floor?"

"Luella can do just about anything if she's got the mind to, except for musical instruments." Beulah gave a bit of a shudder. "She's tone deaf. Takes after me in that regard."

"Which I'll take as a reason not to ask you to play the piano for me while I teach Luella, as well as Owen, a few of the more popular dance steps the Four Hundred is embracing these days." She smiled. "I thought that might go far to impress the guests at Mr. Fulton's ball."

"I am capable of humming, which I will gladly do if it means you'll get to practice some steps with Owen instead of having him learn them with Luella while you play the piano, although ... I'm not sure where Betty Lou stored the piano she bought for Luella. Might be back on the island."

"We'll worry about that later, but don't think I don't realize that your less-than-subtle offer to hum was your peculiar way to get me spending more one-on-one time with your grandson."

It was quite telling when Beulah began cackling. "You do seem to have the uncanny ability to see right through me, which suggests I should simply proceed with you in a straightforward manner, so returning to the subject of Owen, allow me to take a few minutes to tell you more about him and his many stellar attributes since I already touched on a few of Luella's."

Camilla felt the unusual impulse to try her hand at cackling as well but settled for sending Beulah a slight narrowing of her eyes, which resulted in Beulah cackling louder than ever.

As Beulah pulled a handkerchief that had chickens embroidered on it from the bodice of her dress and took to dabbing at now-watering eyes, Camilla settled back against the seat, knowing she was in for a bit of grandmotherly bragging about Owen.

In all honesty, she wasn't opposed to hearing more about him because what she'd begun to realize was this—he was a kind man at heart, and even though he had the ability to annoy her, she looked forward to their verbal skirmishes and enjoyed the fact that he didn't guard his every word with her as everyone had always done.

It was refreshing, having someone speak plainly to her for a change, and what was somewhat curious was the fact that she spoke plainly to him in return. She normally considered every word before allowing one out of her mouth, but with Owen, that simply wasn't the case, which ...

"Contrary to popular feminine belief," Beulah said, stuffing the handkerchief back into her bodice and interrupting Camilla's thoughts, "Owen is not a lout. Yes, he's somewhat awkward when it comes to speaking with women, but I believe that's simply a result of him spending most of his time around men."

"An interesting theory, and one that might explain why Owen called me ‘little lady' when we first met, and then suggested I calm down a moment later."

"What did you do when he suggested you calm down?"

"I had to resist the urge to shoot him with the derringer I was already pointing his way."

Beulah released a bark of laughter. "And that right there, my girl, is exactly why you're perfect for him."

"Because I refrained from shooting him?"

"Well, that was considerate of you, but no. You're well-suited for him because you're not intimidated by him. I don't know of any other lady who would have dared such a thing, given that ladies in general are unsettled by the sheer size of Owen, as well as his brusque nature."

"What makes you think Owen doesn't unsettle me?"

Beulah turned the horses onto yet another drive before she frowned. "An interesting question, and one I'll need to consider further, but not right now since we're almost to the house."

"Why does my question need further consideration?"

"Because I've gotten the impression you pride yourself on always being composed, but since you've all but admitted my Owen unsettles you, well, there could be a myriad of reasons to explain that. I simply need to figure out which reason is the right one, although I'm relatively sure it's the one where you, a matchmaker, realizes that you've met your match in Owen, but because you're so immersed in the business end of romance with other people, you're simply too blind to see what's clearly in front of your face."

Camilla opened her mouth to argue but closed it when Beulah drove around a bend in the road and a beautiful mansion came into view, one that captured Camilla's attention and erased all thoughts of arguing.

Gazing at the building located between large, leafy maple trees, Camilla lingered on a portico at the very center of the house, one that had six white Ionic pillars forming a semicircle leading to the front door, the white of the pillars providing a lovely contrast against the saffron yellow the house had been painted. Situated back from the pillared entrance was the front door, painted a deep burgundy. Seven leaded-glass windows inlaid across the middle section of the house sparkled in the sunlight and drew attention to what was the centerpiece of the house, even though there were indented wings on either side of the main building, which was a somewhat atypical architectural design for a house that was mostly built in the Greek Revival style.

"It's beautiful," she said as Beulah drew the wagon to a stop in front of a short flight of steps that led to the impressive portico.

"I preferred the house Betty Lou and Hiram originally began building," Beulah countered. "It was a charming eight-room farmhouse."

"This is certainly no farmhouse."

"Too right it isn't." Beulah released a sigh. "The farmhouse plan changed once Betty Lou discovered that the Murchendorfers were intending on building a thirty-room mansion about half a mile from here. Betty Lou immediately decided the farmhouse wasn't going to impress anyone, and off she went to speak with the architect, who was more than happy to take the bones of the farmhouse that had already been erected and transform it into what is standing before us."

"It's charming."

" Charming isn't exactly a word I'd use to describe a house that has thirty-seven rooms, one of which is a ballroom that takes up the majority of the second floor."

"And is a room I'm apparently going to be spending a lot of time in now that I'm being taken in hand," Luella said as she strode up to join them, tucking a pistol into the holster she was wearing low on her hip, but whipping it out again a second later when a shout came from the side of the house right before a handful of men came rushing into view, all of them heavily armed.

"Riders comin' up fast," someone yelled.

A blink of an eye later, Beulah had what could only be described as a sailor's grip on Camilla's arm as she propelled Camilla up the steps and through the front door.

"Stay here, and for heaven's sake, stay out of sight. Your enemies have evidently come to call," Beulah barked before she spun on her heel and headed out the door, saying something about fetching her rifle.

Not particularly caring for being shoved out of the way and told to stay out of sight, Camilla unsnapped her reticule, pulled out her derringer, then moved to the nearest window and twitched the drapery just the slightest bit to catch a glimpse of what was transpiring outside.

A frisson of alarm stole through her when she caught sight of two riders approaching, reining to a stop when Beulah stepped forward and aimed her rifle at them.

"That's close enough," Beulah yelled.

"No cause for alarm," one of the men shouted. "We're just here to see Camilla Pierpont."

"We know why you're here," Beulah countered. "But you won't get to Camilla unless it's over my dead body, and I have no intention of dying today."

"Is that a Kentucky long rifle?" one of the men called next, which was a rather unusual thing to concern himself with, given the circumstances.

"Too right it is," Beulah yelled back.

"I heard that rifle is capable of shooting a fly off a fence."

Camilla stilled when she realized the voice sounded familiar.

"It surely is capable of that," Beulah yelled next.

"Are you capable of that?" the man called back.

Recognition finally set in and had Camilla pushing the drapery aside, but before she could yell to Beulah to stand down, Beulah shifted her stance, took aim, and fired.

A second later, a blast resounded through the air right before the hat one of the gentlemen was wearing went skittering off his head—a gentleman who just happened to be Mr. Leopold Pendleton, a dear friend of hers. He was in the company of Mr. Charles Wetzel, another friend, and obviously neither man was a threat to her, but both men were now facing imminent danger because every person in possession of a weapon, save herself, was now pointing those weapons Leopold and Charles's way.