Chapter 17

Seventeen

Given that she was currently on the receiving end of what could only be described as a glare, and a scorching one at that, it was a curious state of affairs when Camilla felt the most compelling urge to laugh.

That urge only increased when Owen finally got hold of Elma's arm and helped her out of the carriage, shooting Camilla a slightly wary look before he leaned forward, placed a kiss on Elma's wrinkled cheek, then winced as Elma gave his ear a bit of a wallop.

"What in tarnation's the matter with you, boy?" Elma demanded, her indignation somewhat suspect considering her cheeks were now pink. "You jist 'bout gave me heart palpitations since you know darn tootin' I'm not a woman who appreciates no physical sign of affection."

Owen gave his ear a rub. "Honestly, Aunt Elma, you know you're my favorite aunt. Of course I'd want to show you affection by kissing your cheek after not seeing you for almost a month."

"You haven't seen me for nigh on two moons," Elma shot back. "You done been avoidin' me cuz you know I had a roof needin' fixin'."

"I sent men to repair your roof the day after you told me it needed fixing."

"Should've come yourself," Elma muttered. "I pickled eggs just for you."

Owen's lips quirked at the corners. "That was unusually nice of you."

"It won't never happen again, since I heard tell you didn't come to do my roof because Alma needed your help at her place."

"Aunt Alma's stove caught on fire and burned down the wall behind it. If you'll recall, that was during a spring snowstorm. Aunt Alma needed my assistance far more than you did because snow was pouring into her house. You merely needed a few roof tiles replaced."

"Everyone always favors Alma," Elma said with a sniff before she glanced at Camilla. "You responsible for turnin' him affectionate?"

Camilla swallowed yet another unexpected laugh. "I don't believe Owen needed me to assist him with that because I'm sure he's always been an affectionate sort when it comes to family."

"No one mentioned you were daft, girl," Elma said before she turned to Mr. Timken, who was still sitting in the wagon, looking highly amused. "One would think, as her butler—although why anyone totes a butler around like a fancy piece of luggage is puzzlin'—you'd have mentioned somethin' about her lack of sense when you told me you was in her employ."

"Considering I found myself at the wrong end of your rifle, Miss Elma," Mr. Timken began, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "you'll have to forgive me for not divulging Miss Camilla's entire life history or idiosyncrasies to you in explicit detail. Although, I will state here and now that Miss Camilla is in no way daft."

"Why were you holding poor Mr. Timken at rifle-point?" Camilla asked, settling a frown on Elma.

"I stumbled on him rootin' around the spare barn," Elma began. "What else was I to think but that he was robbin' the place? He don't have the look of a local 'bout him, so I figured he'd done heard tell about Luella's treasures and knew she stashed them away from the house."

" You knew about Luella's furniture acquisitions?" Owen asked.

Elma arched a gray brow Owen's way. " You didn't?"

"Not until today."

A swat to his arm was Elma's first reply to that. "Maybe you and Miss Daftness here are doomed to be together after all since you don't know what your own sister's been up to of late. Talk around the valley has it that our Luella is doin' the Chesterfields proud with her philanthropic work since she's decided to make a difference in the community just like you, your daddy, and your daddy's daddy done did."

"I'm not sure how buying furniture correlates into philanthropy," Owen said.

"She's done been savin' strugglin' businesses," Elma said. "From what Hester"—she sent a nod to the woman still sitting in the back of the wagon—"heard when she was at Daniel's Diner, where everyone done knows gossip flows quicker than the Ohio after a rainstorm, Luella single-handedly saved Stu Wiggley's carpentry business."

Owen blinked. "She did?"

"Darn tootin'," Elma said. "Hester also heard that Luella introduced Stu to the Stiffel family, the textile manufacturers downtown, and they're now cooperatin' together and producin' some furnishin' that's sellin' like the buttermilk pies Beulah and Alma make to donate to the preacher's bake sale. To top it off, Luella's been hikin' into the hills and findin' all sorts of what she says are brilliant artsy types, snapping up the paintings and sculptures them artists are makin' and givin' 'em a fair price as well. Why, she's probably responsible for them artists being able to put meat and potatoes on their tables these days. She's so determined to help them that I heard she's been deliberately smearin' dirt all over herself as them hill people don't trust no one who looks too clean."

"Perhaps your sister's grooming problem isn't as bad as we initially thought," Camilla muttered.

Owen smiled ever so slightly before he returned his attention to Elma. "I'm curious how you knew Luella's been mingling with the hill folks. You haven't been sending Miss Baker up into the hills to keep an eye on her, have you?"

Given that Miss Hester Baker, who Camilla remembered Owen mentioning was Elma's paid companion, turned her head and began taking an interest in Gladys, who was now snoozing beside the coonhounds, it was evident that Elma had been sending her to snoop.

Elma shrugged Owen's question aside. "Hester likes when I send her to wander around the valley. Gives her a reason to part company with me for a spell."

"I'm sure she does enjoy an occasional break from your oh-so-pleasant disposition at times, but Hester's a paid companion, Aunt Elma, not a spy," Owen pointed out.

"Companions make excellent spies, my boy," Elma said with a knowing nod. "No one ever takes notice of them, but don't you fret I overtax her. I have other sources to glean interestin' tidbits, one of them sources bein' the ice-wagon driver, Howie Mitchell. He's the one that done told me about you fixin' to get hitched to Miss Peedmont."

Owen ran a hand over his jaw. "It's Miss Camilla Pierpont , and I fear I've set aside all semblance of manners because I've just realized I've yet to introduce the two of you properly."

"That's sure 'nough easily fixed." Elma nodded to Camilla. "I'm Elma McColloch, widow of Seth McColloch, a no-good, lying dog if there ever was one, and the reason the whole family gets to say their piece a'fore any vows are exchanged." She leaned closer to Camilla. "Seth done got himself blown up makin' moonshine 'bout thirty years past. You don't have a love of the bottle, do you, Miss Pierpont?"

"I have an occasional glass of wine or champagne," Camilla admitted.

"Long as it's not the whole bottle, that's acceptable," Elma said. "I myself am known to enjoy a titch of dandelion wine every now and again, but only on special occasions, mind you." Elma dusted her hands together. "Now that all them manners have been taken care of, I say let's get back to business." She took hold of Owen's arm. "Help me into the house because there ain't no sense in jabberin' away out here in the sun. Since you haven't seen fit to get me one of them fancy wheeled chairs I heard tell you got for Nems, my bad hip is painin' me more than usual and walkin' any distance is a chore."

"I got Nems a wheeled chair because he's missing a leg and his crutches chafe his underarms if he uses them too often," Owen said.

"It's a sad day when you cater more to a man in his prime over your old auntie" was all Elma said to that before she tugged him into motion, moving remarkably fast for a lady who claimed to suffer from a bad hip.

"I feel as if we've landed in an alien world," Mr. Timken muttered as he climbed off the wagon seat, then assisted Hester Baker over the side of the wagon. He then introduced Hester to Camilla before offering each of them an arm.

"May I assume you suffered no ill effects from Elma brandishing that rifle in your direction?" Camilla asked as they headed for the house.

"I can't claim I wasn't taken aback," Mr. Timken began. "However, Miss Baker, who possesses a very sensible nature, realized straightaway that I wasn't a thief. After I explained who I was, she then used my position as your butler to get Elma to lower her weapon."

Camilla's gaze shifted to Hester. "How did you do that?"

"I simply mentioned that butlers were known, at least from what I've read in books, to be in possession of titillating tidbits about their employers." Hester smiled. "Elma forgot all about shooting Mr. Timken because, after Howie told her about the gossip swirling around over you and Owen, Elma decided we needed to have a chat with Beulah lickety-split. Beulah, of course, wasn't at her cabin, but then we heard a rifle shot, which left Elma thinking her sister had gone over to the big house to do some target practice. Elma loves nothing more than shooting things, so off we went."

"It was rather disconcerting the way Elma can switch from rifle-threatening woman to a sweet grandmotherly type," Mr. Timken admitted as they walked across the portico and through a door that had been left open, Mr. Timken making a point to close it after they entered the house, shaking his head and muttering something about his nerves.

Camilla gave his arm a pat. "Since Charles and Leopold are now here to protect me after Father informed the Accounting Firm that I'd taken off for the wilds of West Virginia, you're more than welcome to return to New York, which may spare the state of your nerves for the foreseeable future."

"I'm not leaving you here with a bunch of rifle-toting women. Besides, I'm also your chaperone. I intend on continuing to act in that capacity until you return to New York."

"You and Owen aren't going to live here after you get married?" Hester asked.

Camilla was spared a response to that rather tricky question when she caught sight of Owen, who was in the process of having his hand pumped by a beaming Leopold, something that was leaving poor Owen looking yet again like a deer caught in the lantern lights.

"I think Owen might need some assistance," she said before she excused herself and headed down the marble hallway.

"Ah, Camilla, there you are," Leopold boomed as he released Owen's hand and settled his smile on her. "Charles and I were just about to come looking for you. It certainly doesn't speak highly of our guarding abilities that we've been sent to protect you and yet somehow misplaced you for a few minutes."

She returned his smile. "I wasn't misplaced, merely with Owen, which means I was perfectly fine. Frankly, I'm sure you'll misplace me a few more times while we're here since your attention seems to be focused on someone other than myself."

"I was just remarking to Owen about how delightful I find his grandmother," Leopold said, his smile turning brighter than ever.

Owen shuddered ever so slightly. "He told me Meemaw's a fine figure of a woman and hopes I'll put in a good word for him, and . . .You were right about the whole cozying up to my relatives you suggested he might be doing because when I introduced him to Aunt Elma, he kissed her hand."

"Did she box his ears?"

"No. She turned red as a tomato, muttered ‘go on with you,' and dashed off to speak with Meemaw, bad hip and all."

Camilla laughed. "I have a feeling it's going to be an interesting afternoon."

"Let's just hope no one else in the family shows up," Owen murmured.

"And wouldn't that simply be a shame since I find myself downright enamored with all the Chesterfields I've met so far, at least as pertains to the ladies," Leopold countered. "But speaking of ladies"—he took hold of Camilla's arm—"what say we repair to the parlor? I imagine Luella still has numerous decorating tasks to be completed, although I readily admit she's not been overly impressed with my picture-hanging skills."

"I doubt you're eager to return to the parlor because of decorating tasks," Camilla said, walking with Leopold down the hallway as Owen fell into step beside her.

"You've found me out," Leopold said cheerfully.

"It wasn't difficult," Camilla said. "You've been less than subtle regarding your interest in Beulah."

"When you reach my age, there's no time for subtlety, just as, according to Beulah, there's no time like this evening for me to sample a local delicacy she's specifically making for me that goes by the name of corn pone." Leopold smiled. "I think her willingness to share the local fare with me suggests she may find me almost as intriguing as I find her."

It wasn't exactly a surprise when Owen took to scowling, but before Camilla could do more than grin, they were walking into the parlor, Charles excusing himself from where he was helping Luella and Bernadette position an abstract sculpture on one side of a fireplace that dominated the room.

"You must be Owen," Charles said, holding out his hand for Owen to shake. "Camilla told me a little about you earlier. I hope you'll forgive us for arriving on your doorstep without prior notice. Hubert Pierpont, Camilla's father, was on the verge of personally coming here to fetch his ‘wayward daughter,' as he's taken to referring to her, but decided against that after Gideon Abbott, who's a partner at the Accounting Firm, sent him a telegram, explaining the Lord Shrewsbury situation. Hubert then decided it would be best for him to stay in New York to monitor Lord Shrewsbury once he shows up there."

"Wasn't Lord Shrewsbury the man you told me was dreadful?" Owen asked, settling a frown on Camilla.

"Indeed."

"And he's evidently traveling to New York?" Owen pressed.

Charles's brow furrowed as he turned to Camilla. "Why am I getting the distinct impression you haven't disclosed much to Owen about George?"

It was difficult to refuse a sigh. "I did mention George to Owen, although I might have also simply said he was a scourge of a man and left it at that."

Owen's lips twitched. "Has it escaped your notice that this scourge of a man shares the same name as my horse?"

"I noted that straightaway," Camilla said. "However, know that George, as in your horse, is far more amiable than George, the scourge, could ever be."

Charles cleared his throat. "And while this is a fascinating turn in the conversation, and I'm sure George the horse is a delightful creature . . ." He caught Camilla's eye. "Lord Shrewsbury could be a key figure in the mess you've landed yourself in."

"I know that, and before you say it was irresponsible for me to not come clean to Owen about George, I know that as well. The only excuse I have for withholding that information is that I don't particularly care to talk about the man who's responsible for the most humiliating event in my life."

"What's this about some man and humiliation?" Elma demanded, barreling up to join them. "You ain't using my great-nephew to make this man who humiliated you jealous, are you, cuz round about these parts, we don't take kindly to nonsense like that."

"Perhaps we should all take a seat so we can discuss everything rationally, without anyone threatening to fetch any rifles" was all she could think to suggest, earning a grunt from Elma in return, although Elma did march over to the nearest chair, plopping down on it a second later.

"I'm listenin'," she said.

Realizing she had no choice but to disclose all, Camilla took a seat on a delightful yellow settee, taking the next several minutes to fill everyone in on exactly who George Sherrington was, information that Owen took in stride, waving off her apology of not being completely upfront with him, and saying that since he didn't care to revisit unpleasant encounters from his past, he certainly wasn't going to hold it against her that she'd withheld unpleasant information from hers.

His willingness to simply accept her explanation without any judgment or resentment had her losing her train of thought for the briefest of seconds, until Elma cleared her throat and sent her a pointed look paired with a knowing smile, which snapped Camilla straight back to the situation at hand.

She immediately launched into a brief explanation about the abduction attempt, then finished up with how it had come to be that she and Owen were feigning their engagement.

Elma squinted in Camilla's direction. "If I'm understandin' what you jist said, Gideon Abbott's investigatin' that scourge, Lord Something-or-Other, cuz he might be fixin' to harm you. And that accountin' firm, which is a mighty funny name for an investigatin' agency, is lookin' into Victor Malvado, who may want to snatch you or maybe that companion of yours, who, if you didn't notice, ain't around right now."

Camilla's gaze shot around the room. "Where is Lottie?"

"She done went off to fetch more furniture with that interestin' lady's maid of yours." Elma shook her head. "'Fore you get to thinkin' your maid is bein' overly helpful, know that she only decided to go with Lottie after Edward insisted on accompanyin' your companion, sayin' something about makin' sure Lottie was kept all safe-like."

Camilla sent a smile Owen's way. "I told you I was right about Edward and Lottie."

"Just because Edward volunteered himself as Lottie's personal guard doesn't mean he's smitten."

"Oh, he's smitten all right," Elma said before Camilla had a chance to argue. "I done know the signs of a besotted man, and Edward's a marked man for sure." She brushed a wispy strand of gray hair out of her face. "I would've gone with them to make it all proper-like, but that maid, while bein' an unlikely chaperone, will done make sure there's nothin' untoward happenin' on account that she's one of them women who likes men to be keepin' their attention on her. She won't cotton to any funny business, at least not when a man might be thinkin' about kissin' someone other than her."

"I wouldn't think Edward, having just met Lottie, would be contemplating any kissing just yet," Camilla said.

"And you found success as a matchmaker?" Elma asked before she let out a bit of a snort and lifted her chin. "Anyhoo, back to what I was sayin'. You, Miss Pierpont, from what I kin gather, have agreed to gussie Luella up within a few short weeks, but I ain't thinkin', given how she started to scowlin' when you mentioned that, she's all that receptive to cooperatin'."

Luella sat forward on the settee she was sharing with Leopold. "Too right I'm not, since I think it would be easier all around if we'd just use Camilla's status within the Four Hundred to get everyone to accept me without going through the bother of making me all refined."

"But that there would deprive me," Elma began, "your favorite auntie, of the opportunity of watchin' you deliver Ada Mae Murchendorfer the comeuppance she rightly deserves after what she done did to you, and likewise what she done to your mama a couple years back."

Luella's brows drew together as she rose to her feet. "What did Mrs. Murchendorfer do to Mother?"

"You ain't heard?" Elma asked before she shot a glance at Beulah.

Beulah winced ever so slightly as she moved to stand beside Luella, taking hold of her hand. "I hope you won't get angry with me for not telling you this before, but you supposedly had an understanding with Stanley. If I would have blurted out what Ada Mae did to your mother, you would have been left feeling less than charitable toward a woman you thought was going to be your mother-in-law someday."

"'Specially when it's Ada Mae's fault your mama hied herself off to Paris," Elma added.

"It's my fault Mother went to Paris, even though Meemaw's been trying to convince me otherwise," Luella argued.

"That's nonsense there, child," Elma said, bustling up to Luella and giving her shoulder a slightly awkward pat. "You had nothin' to do with Betty Lou's decision. She up and left for Paris on account of that whist saloon Ada Mae purposefully didn't invite your mama to join but done invited every other woman of standin' in this here valley."

Luella wrinkled her nose. "I can't picture Mother getting bothered about not being able to go to a saloon."

"I think your aunt meant salon," Camilla clarified, blinking when Elma, instead of scowling at her, began to cackle.

"I think you're right, girl, jist as I think you might not be so daft after all, which is why I suppose I have no choice but to help you with fixin' Luella up."

"Oh ... I don't believe that'll be necessary."

"It sure 'nough is, and besides helpin' you with Luella, I'll help you save poor Owen's reputation by doin' my best to show everyone real personal-like that you really aren't suited to country life." Elma nodded to her sister. "That'll make it more believable when you git around to tellin' everyone you're withholdin' your blessin' from their union."

"Except that I have no intention of withholding my blessing," Beulah argued.

"Why not?"

"Camilla's worthy of the recipe."

Elma blinked. "Don't reckon I was expectin' that, and just when I'd come up with a way to..." Elma stopped talking and began moseying around the room, muttering under her breath until she stopped and, concerningly enough, settled a smile on Camilla. "You keen on Beulah not cooperatin'?"

Camilla frowned. "I've already tried to disabuse her of the notion that Owen and I are well-suited for each other, but she doesn't seem to want to listen to me."

"Beulah's stubborn as the day is long, but I can help show her, jist like I said I can show the people of Wheelin', you're not suited to country life, and hence, not suited for Owen."

Wariness immediately settled over Camilla. "What do you have in mind?"

It was less than encouraging when Elma took to grinning, a look that on anyone else might have been pleasant, but on Elma was a look that probably terrified small children.

"Well, see, what with how gossip works around here, everyone's already heard that Owen brought you here to get his meemaw's blessing. Cuz of that, they're gonna expect you to be tryin' to impress, or maybe cater to is a better way to put it, to the family, specifically, his meemaw and ... me."

"Define cater to the family ," Camilla said.

"Oh, you know, jist doin' a few chores here and there."

Camilla tilted her head. "That's an interesting way to get yourself some unpaid labor, quite like Beulah apparently does when she sends out invitations to the family to plant her garden."

"Me and Beulah believe in bein' practical when it comes to gettin' tasks done that we don't care to do ourselves, but since you're gonna need my help convincin' my sister to withhold that blessin' in the end, I think it'll behoove you to accept the terms I jist laid out."

"I'm not really sure this is a sound plan because it's not as if anyone but you and Beulah would be around when I'm doing these chores."

Elma waved that aside. "Now don't you fret about that. I'll provide you with an audience to witness your ineptitude. And with that settled, I'll be expectin' you tomorrow at my cabin come sunrise. Don't dress fancy."

"Why not?" Camilla forced herself to ask.

Elma sent her another rather frightening grin. "Cuz I got a white-picket fence that needs whitewarshed, and that fence done got your name written all over it."