Her new life as an independent married woman had advantages she’d never dreamed of, Emilia concluded as she happily dressed for a meeting with a duke two days later. She had considered marriage simply as a means of completing her research.
But now, aside from the interesting introduction of bed play, she was learning a whole new world outside of her books. Besides working with an accomplished herbalist and midwife like Bridey, she could meet dukes. And not just any duke, but one with the same professional interests and gifts as hers. She was nearly dancing with excitement at the opportunity.
Hearing the berlin pull up to the door, she dashed down the stairs to meet Dare. He’d buried himself in his office writing letters since the railroad incident. He hadn’t even objected when she’d returned to the abbey alone to make more horehound drops for him. This morning, he’d dressed for his visit but had gone downstairs early to work on papers she assumed had to do with his business interests.
He’d been rather grumpy these last two days while planning for his meeting with a duke, but she’d happily worked around him. And in bed, she’d even dared send his poor stomach a little healing energy. He’d immediately been aroused, breaking the healing connection, but she thought the wrongness was receding from that area. Maybe, if she could just convince him of what she could do, he’d let her test his chest.
She wanted to make him proud of her today, so she’d worn her most fashionable afternoon gown and had Bessie help her with her hair. Sommersville was over an hour away, so she’d donned her best hat and matching pelisse to keep her gown clean. She didn’t mind being a little warm.
Dare was just leaving his office, carrying his tall hat, when she reached the bottom of the steps. She halted to admire the dashing figure he cut when he bothered to dress like a gentleman. He wore his new gray wedding coat and his linen was a blinding white. She fancied he’d gained a little color in this past week in the country. He certainly didn’t look weak, although she feared the journey would tire him.
“Where are you going dressed like that?” he asked in absent-minded puzzlement as he pulled on his gloves.
Emilia’s spirits plummeted. “Is this not the day we meet with the duke?”
“Pascoe and I do,” Dare said curtly. “But this is a business, not a social call.”
“But it’s my business as well. It’s not just male business.” Too upset to restrain herself, she hit him with her largest weapon. “Besides, the duke and I share a gift. I’m most eager to discuss it with him, even though I understand his healing talent has more to do with neurological problems than mine.”
He frowned in confusion and continued toward the door. “We’re not discussing health. You’ll be bored to death. Even Lady Pascoe is staying home.”
“That’s because she is suffering morning sickness. Besides, she and the duke are old friends. They discuss medical matters all the time,” Emilia protested, keeping up with his long strides. “I’ve never met him. I cannot communicate with a duke without an introduction.”
Dare glared down at her. “Emilia, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had expectations of a social call. Some other time, perhaps. We don’t have time for it today.”
“Why is it all right for you to talk with a duke and not me?” Outrage, humiliation, and disappointment at being swept aside swamped her—especially after she’d just dared to reveal that she had a healing talent, and he hadn’t even reacted! Was he not listening? She’d thought Dare, of all people, noticed her!
She stuttered helplessly, unable to express herself. She pounded her feeble fist on his broad chest until clearer words emerged. “You do not understand! The duke is a Malcolm. He’s a healer. Do you have any idea how rare our gifts are? Perhaps he could give me advice so I needn’t be afraid to use mine!”
She’d exposed her soul and was very much afraid she would burst into tears.
From Dare’s horrified expression, he feared the same. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Sommersville is a physician, yes. But he does not practice medicine. We’re to talk railroads. Now, I really must go.”
She wouldn’t cry. It was her own fault for not being brave enough to explain her gift or her fears. Her husband wasn’t a Malcolm. He had no understanding. She’d known that when she’d married him.
But he ought to at least listen.
“Fine,” she shouted after him. “Do not complain if I go visiting on my own!”
“Not until we hire footmen,” he called back, before entering Ashford’s great lumbering carriage and letting the marquess’s footman slam the door.
Since he was taking their only male servants, he was telling her to stay home.
Not bloody likely. She was dressed to go calling, and by all the goddesses, she would go calling.
Perhaps she wouldn’t attempt the duke today since he would be otherwise occupied, but there was one call they hadn’t had time to make.
She located Mrs. Wiggs overseeing the parlor maid. “If you have a footman and groom in mind, could you send for them?”
“Jemmie and Luke,” she said instantly, bobbing her capped head. “I told them to be ready, what with the new horses and all. I’ll have them come around.”
With that settled, Emilia returned upstairs to the office where Bessie worked. “I need you to accompany me. When the new groom arrives to hitch up the gig, we’ll go visiting.”
Bessie’s eyes widened, but trained well, she didn’t question direct orders. She bobbed a curtsy and hurried off to find hat and gloves.
Grimly studying her scarecrow reflection in a hall mirror, Emilia decided she looked suitably impressive to terrorize human vermin.
She knew the direction to Hadenton. It was just a matter of making a few inquiries before finding the corrupt Mr. Crenshaw.
“I’m disappointed you didn’t bring your delightful wives,” the duke said as a maid laid out the tea table. “I am much more interested in how the infirmary fares than in railroads.”
Dare tried not to drop his teeth in shock. Dukes weren’t supposed to dabble in female matters! Battling a cough after the long dusty drive, he let Pascoe respond.
“Bridey sends her best wishes and hopes you will invite her soon so she may discuss her next steps. But our railroad concern is more immediate.” Pascoe poured the tea since there were no women to do so.
“Then you really need to speak with my son. Rainsford is far more familiar with that sort of thing than I am. He should be here shortly.”
Tall, with a full head of silver hair, the duke was the picture of a distinguished aristocrat, but he didn’t wield the overbearing authority of his station. What had Emilia said about his neurological interests? Dare had difficulty understanding why a duke would have any interest in such a menial profession as a physician. There was probably a story there that he was too impatient to learn.
The marquess of Rainsford arrived shortly after. Taller and thinner than his father, he carried himself with the languid grace of a privileged heir. After shaking hands, he poured his own tea and settled in a wing chair.
“I’ve had reason to look into railroad investments recently,” the marquess said without prompting. “There is an association of bankers and merchants in Harrogate eager to establish their mineral springs as the new health spa, better than Bath. They believe railroads are their future.”
Dare frowned. “Harrogate is no Liverpool. They have limited space inside the city for laying track. Goods can be unloaded in industrial areas outside the city. Materials are far more profitable to transport and less dangerous than passenger travel, which is what they’re talking about. That can come later, after more investment has been made in safety. Buying property in town to establish passenger rail stations is an expensive venture as well. They’re putting the cart before the horse.”
Pascoe looked at him in surprise, but the marquess nodded sagely. “So I told them when I declined to join them. But the class of aggressive merchants involved are more concerned with building their businesse
s now than in waiting. Safety is not their issue.”
“Neither are morals or ethics,” Pascoe said dryly. “If this association is planning a railroad, they seem to believe all they have to do is lay track and worry about land ownership after.”
“Developers usurp public roads and path easements,” the duke said. “Had this same issue with the toll roads, and they’re raising the question in Parliament again with the railroads. Communities have to step up and stop the wealthy merchants from grabbing what they can at the expense of the general public.”
“That’s easy for us to say,” Dare said, having seen the other side. “We have power and access to wealth, but farmers do not. And they’re not likely to think in terms of safety or long-term effects. An association of their friends and neighbors offers them cash for some part of their land, and they see a new roof for their house or barn.”
“As your consortium knows,” the marquess said dryly. “At least your group consists of respectable gentlemen who understand the value of agricultural land. You’re to be commended for using honorable tactics and seeking wasteland. Have you and Pascoe found a way of overcoming Bridey’s objections to selling abbey property for that final parcel you need?”
Damn. He had no idea how the marquess knew so much about his business. Dare started coughing and grabbed his handkerchief as Pascoe glared at him in surprise.
But Pascoe was a cautious diplomat. Instead of exploding, he let the marquess continue.
“Parliament is looking into an act that requires railroads to acquire government permits for building,” Rainsford said, as if he hadn’t just upset the applecart. “That could cost a fortune. You’d best hurry and complete the track before they have time to act.”
By the time they left Sommersville, the gnawing in Dare’s gut had worsened, and he was almost gasping for breath. He took a furtive swig of the herbal water Emilia had made for him, then sucked on a horehound. He didn’t want to play the part of invalid while Pascoe rightfully rang a peal over him.
The baronet merely poked the opposite seat of the carriage and hummed thoughtfully.
“You heard Rainsford.” Dare finally broke the silence. “It’s a legitimate consortium of gentlemen. We attempted to buy the acreage we needed from the Crown before the king granted it to you.”
“I have wanted to invest in railroads,” Pascoe acknowledged. “I had just not thought of them at my back door.”
“It will happen sooner or later.” Dare leaned his head back and tried to control his breathing. “The race to the sea is too important. They’ve already planned a line from Harrogate to York. It’s best to get in on the ground floor.”
“Convince our wives of that, and I’ll listen,” Pascoe said dryly. “In the meantime, we’re no closer to learning who is behind the contretemps in my fields.”
“I’ve spent the last two days verifying that it’s not my group,” Dare said. “Next, we go to Harrogate, talk to bankers.”
If his head did not fall off in the process.
Chapter 15
Emilia was a city girl who knew exceedingly little about horses and grooms. But now that Dare had learned Mr. Crenshaw’s direction from the bankers in Harrogate, she was determined to confront the man. Besides, she needed to learn how to go about on her own.
In an excess of caution, besides taking Bessie with her in the gig, she had asked the new groom to accompany them on the second pony. She was glad to have them with her once they arrived at Crenshaw’s “estate.” It was little more than an overgrown field with a house not much larger than her own. The place had an air of shabbiness and despair that did not bode well for having her funds returned.
The groom knocked on the fading front door. Emilia could swear it took a full five minutes before anyone answered, but that could just be her fear talking. An elderly woman in a worn black gown and dirty apron finally answered and gestured for them to enter without even inquiring their names or business.
Leaving the groom to mind the horses since no one came around to help, Emilia led Bessie inside the dim interior.
“The master is not well,” the servant intoned. “Come this way.”
Without introductions, the housekeeper abandoned them in the doorway of a dark study. In a chair by the fire sat an extremely stout, balding man with a bandaged foot raised on a stool. He glanced up at their entrance with a frown. “I ain’t got nothing to give to any funds for the poor.”
“No, I gather you prefer to steal from them, Mr. Crenshaw.” Rather than take a seat that had not been offered, Emilia remained standing. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but this pathetic excuse for a gentleman had not been it. “I am Lady Dare, granddaughter of Sir Henry Malcolm. Are you the gentleman who was supposed to pay my staff?”
He looked a little shocked, then narrowed his eyes. “I don’t talk business with females. They ain’t got no understanding.”
“I simply want explanations,” she lied. She might not be good at small talk, but she knew how to maneuver around male obtuseness. “Why did you let my elderly staff go? They had every right to expect to live there as long as they wished. My executor provided for them.”
“Shows what you know,” he said, scoffing. “Railroad going right through that place. They were better off having time to look for a new place before the old one was torn down around their heads.”
Emilia experienced a cold chill. Deciding knowledge was more important than the stolen wages she would never recover, she demanded, “I would like the names of the men who think my house is for sale.”
That caused him to look shocked—and a little frightened. “It ain’t already sold? Has to be. Mr. Weathersby wouldn’t lie to me about an investment like that. He knows I need the blunt.”
He thought her land had been sold? “Who is Mr. Weathersby?” she asked without inflection, hiding her panic.
“Banker in Harrogate,” Crenshaw said with a splutter. “Bankers know everything that goes on. And there’s Jeffries from the mercantile and a whole lot of physicians from the hospital. They’ve already started building the spa.”
“I see. “ Although she didn’t. “Then perhaps you should take advantage of my visit today to ask for your investment back, because there will be no railroad through my property, ever. Instead of paying for my servants, did my funds go into investing in a spa?”
He squirmed. “I figured I’d pay back the estate once the investment pays off.”
“No, you didn’t,” she said without rancor. “You planned to buy more wine and beefsteak and make yourself more ill. God has a way of punishing ill-doers. Get your investment back, Mr. Crenshaw. My husband will most likely sue you for our funds shortly.”
She left the man spluttering incoherently. The visit had been a most unsatisfactory one, except for obtaining the name of the banker who thought he could steal her home.
“Bankers can do anything,” Bessie said worriedly as they settled back in the gig.
“We’re come this far south. We could go into Harrogate and question him.” Emilia took up the reins but wasn’t certain if that was a direction she wished to follow. She had no interest in finance or business and no notion of who the banker was who had handled her grandfather’s affairs. This was why she had an executor. . . and Dare.
She was still furious with him, but not enough to drive to Harrogate, look for a bank, and confront a banker. She had never so much as been inside a bank before, much less talk to a banker. And there were physicians involved. She should ask Bridey if she knew any Harrogate physicians. Cautious research is what she did best.
“What I would really like to do,” she decided, “is buy arsenic. I should find an apothecary.”
“Strychnine works better on pests,” Bessie said pragmatically. “They probably have that at the mercantile.”
Emilia shivered. “One poison at a time, please.”
Even with the side trip, they arrived home before Dare. Emilia changed into her work clothes and retreated to the laboratory.
She couldn’t test poison treatments on people or deliberately poison mice to see if she could cure them. But bugs. . . she might make concessions for pests.
She was fully involved in taking notes and trapping bugs when one of the new maids rapped at the door. “M’lady, his lordship is home, and he’s took real sick. Do we call a physician?”
Emilia dropped her pen and pulled off her stained apron. “I’ll be right there. Have someone heat water to boiling, please, and carry coals up to our chamber.”
She hurried up the stairs, heart pounding. She could alleviate the symptoms of consumption to a small degree, but what if he had come down with an illness like pneumonia? She could easily kill herself attempting to fight both diseases. She’d have to send a note to Bridey, asking if any of the physicians in the area could be trusted.
She burst in on Dare just as his valet was helping him out of his waistcoat. His breathing was raspy, he was choking on his inhalations like an asthmatic, and he couldn’t seem to stop coughing.
“Fetch brandy, James. I’ll help with his undressing,” she ordered.
“Do it myself,” Dare argued through his coughs. “Don’t need quacking.”
One didn’t smack the ill, although she was sorely tempted. “Lie down,” she ordered. “Take pressure off your lungs. You’ve overdone it today.”
He sat down and began tugging at his boots. Emilia straddled his leg and helped. By the time James returned with the brandy, Dare was sprawled on top of the covers in shirt and trousers, still gasping for breath. The new footman raced up shortly after, bearing a steaming pail of water and a cauldron that would hook over the grate.
The handkerchief Dare pulled away from his mouth was covered in blood.
Emilia tried very hard not to panic. She couldn’t let him die like this!
She had no real ability to heal him, only prolong his life for a little while. She could die in his place if she tried.
He gulped the brandy. Terrified and hiding it, Emilia added herbs to the steaming water. She’d had them prepared for just this occasion. It took a few minutes for the aroma to fill the room.
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