Chemistry of Magic

by Patricia Rice

  “Shall I show you how to separate out the minerals in your water?” he asked, with a degree of trepidation, but he was honestly eager to share his knowledge.

  She halted in the middle of the grassy field, stood on her toes, and covered his cheek in kisses.

  Dare thought that might be a yes.

  “M’lord, m’lady, Lord and Lady Pascoe-Ives have come to call.” One of the new maids stood nervously in the workshop doorway, apparently unwilling to enter the dim interior.

  Emilia removed the protective spectacles Dare had ordered her to wear. “Oh dear, I had not thought they would arrive so precipitously. Take them tea in the parlor and tell them we’ll be right there.”

  Dare growled irascibly and turned up the flame under his beaker. “It is almost boiling. Tell Pascoe to come out here.”

  Emilia glanced longingly at the workbench where he was showing her how to separate the elements of her spring water. “That is rude. We asked them to call, if you remember.”

  “Dying men don’t have time to be polite. Pascoe won’t mind.” He didn’t even look up from his work.

  “You could be dying for years,” she retorted unsympathetically. “That’s just an excuse to have your way.”

  That caused him to look up and flash her the glaring white smile that almost made her swoon. “You are a woman of rare perception.” Then he returned to work.

  “I am beginning to think your doctor deliberately poisoned you,” she declared, removing her apron.

  “I love your concern and sympathy,” he called after her as she left.

  He shouldn’t be able to make her laugh when she was angry with him, but he did. He was so brave in the face of death—it broke her heart but gave her courage as well.

  She stopped to tuck her hair into its pins and dust the straw off her hem before she hurried to the parlor to greet their very first guests.

  “You honor our humble home,” she exclaimed as she entered.

  Bridey was sitting on the ancient walnut sofa while Pascoe studied an old portrait. Emilia was relieved that Mrs. Wiggs and her crew had restored the parlor to cleanliness, if not fashion.

  “Your letter expressed rather urgent concern,” Bridey said, offering her a cup. “And we were worried about both of you.”

  Emilia settled on the sofa beside her and took the tea. “Thank you for helping Dare understand that I’m not a vaporish sort of female. He hasn’t quite grasped all we’re telling him, but he’s willing to listen.”

  She turned to Pascoe. “He is in the workshop, distilling spring water, and asked if you would join him there.”

  Pascoe was a distinguished gentleman, garbed in the height of fashion for this call. His lips curled wryly at her request. “You make me feel right at home. That is exactly what one of my nephews would request.”

  “I’ll have Aster trace Dare’s family tree. Perhaps there’s an Ives branch on it somewhere,” Emilia acknowledged. “But I need for him to understand why it would be disastrous if a railroad was built across the property.”

  There, she’d said it. She didn’t want Dare’s family to starve, but the moss might help all mankind. She had no alternative.

  “I’m sure Dare will explain that remark,” Pascoe said with a laugh.

  “But the railroad is one of the reasons we’re here,” Bridey added worriedly.

  “I’ll find Dare. You speak with Emilia. We’ll see which of us has a glass thrown at our heads,” Pascoe said dryly, bowing to Emilia before exiting.

  “Glass?” Emilia asked, studying her teacup. “I rather like this tea set, and I’m not much inclined toward tantrums.”

  “That’s why I thought I’d be safe here.” Bridey removed her gloves and reached for a cucumber sandwich. “Pascoe has many correspondents and has made inquiries into the railroad situation.”

  “Oh dear.” Emilia took a teacake. “Perhaps sugar will sweeten my disposition and prevent cup flinging.”

  “You’ll need more than a teacake. The railroad association Mr. Weathersby is helping to finance has already started laying rail. They claim to have signed deeds from all the property owners along the route. Pascoe wants Dare to look at the survey maps, but the track appears to run through our tenants’ field and your house.”

  Emilia felt as if she were wilting into the sofa’s floral fabric. “They can’t,” she whispered. “My father would never have allowed it.”

  Gently, Bridey asked, “Are you sure Dare wouldn’t? He has the right to sell your property that is not entailed, and since you’re not male, there is no entail.”

  Chapter 17

  “Sign deeds? I bloody well did not sell our land to a rival, no more than you did,” Dare shouted, flinging his spectacles to the table.

  “I had to ask.” Pascoe leaned over the worktable to examine the beakers. “I don’t suppose you’ve discovered gold in the water? It will take a fortune or two to fight a wealthy merchants association. We’ll have to hire armed guards to keep their ruffians off our property.”

  “Give me a legal deed to your corner parcel, and I’ll have my group start building before the Harrogate lot can even dream of claiming our ground.” Angrily, Dare strode up and down the workshop. “I can’t believe the audacity!”

  Pascoe shrugged. “Both our properties lay vacant for years. They had every right to assume no one would notice, much less object. As Sommersville said, once a right of way is established, it’s nearly impossible to recover.”

  “Well, it’s not established. There is no road or path through this house or your field. They have no rights at all.” Dare wanted to shout at the top of his lungs, but his lungs didn’t have the capacity any longer. He considered punching a wall but he feared the building would fall on their heads.

  “I’ve written Erran to look into it. But if it comes to an actual lawsuit, we have to be prepared to empty our purses.” Pascoe shoved his hands in his coat pockets and pulled out the lining to show they were empty.

  “And there’s every possibility that Weathersby has a judge or two already in his pocket,” Dare said bitterly. “Life’s too damned short for this.”

  Pascoe nodded sympathetically. “True. So let’s fire the first gun and see what happens. Write your consortium. Tell them I need a fair price to pay my tenant to buy his own field elsewhere. And I want shares in return for my cooperation. And a good wall to keep the cattle from crossing the tracks.”

  Dare wiped his hands on a rag and offered one to shake. “Thank you. You’ll see we deal fairly with landowners. The abbey could have its own train station out there someday, once passenger travel is safe. It would be a boon to your wife’s school and infirmary.”

  “I considered that. Plus, I decided it best not to upset the two of you by refusing my land and forcing you to use yours. Marital strife won’t win us the support Bridey needs from Emilia’s family. The physicians working with the hospital in Harrogate are likely to start protesting Bridey’s unconventional school, and we need powerful people behind us.”

  “As I understand it, the Malcolms are already behind Bridey,” Dare said in confusion. “You don’t need me to have their support.” Now the problem was resolved, Dare started toward the house and his wife.

  Pascoe made an indelicate snort. “You really need to look into your wife’s family history.”

  Dare shook his head. “History has nothing to do with anything. Even if I should be so desperate as to sell Emilia’s swamp, I don’t understand how it affects you and Bridey.”

  “Her family will blame me for not selling my plot. I’m an Ives. My family fought the Malcolms for centuries. Hostilities did not end until the women regained control of that drafty lump of stone in Wystan. Do not expect logic when it comes to family feuds.”

  Feuding with women? What could they possibly do except. . . Dare grimaced. In marriage, a shared bed could become a battleground. He understood that better than family feuds and history.

  “Emilia’s generosity will allow my family to have a ho
me after I’m gone,” he explained. “I cannot stand in the way of her dreams, if she believes that swamp is worth saving. Help me find a way to protect my investment, and I’ll do whatever is necessary to help our wives,” Dare heard himself saying. He hoped to hell he knew what he promised.

  Picturing Peter gloating while Dare’s mother and sisters starved, Dare locked his jaw in determination. Somehow, he’d find a way to take care of his wife as well as his family. Although admittedly, he’d nearly killed himself in succeeding this far.

  Fighting from his deathbed did not seem very appealing.

  “You cannot sell my land!” Emilia shouted at Pascoe and Dare the moment they returned to the house. “I will write my father and the executor and Ashford and the king himself, but you cannot sell my grandfather’s hard work!”

  Dare raised his eyebrows and exchanged glances with Sir Pascoe. Emilia almost took a painting off the wall to pound both men with it.

  “Told you so,” Pascoe murmured.

  Bridey grabbed Emilia’s hand before she could fling her favorite teacup. “That’s his smirking cat-in-cream look. Let them speak before we declare war.”

  “Your father trusted me with your land for reasons,” Dare declared indignantly. “I shouldn’t have to justify my decisions.”

  If Bridey hadn’t been holding her arm, Emilia would have flung the cup. “Why should I trust my father’s decision any more than yours? I want you to promise to never sell my grandfather’s land!”

  “Even if we’re starving? Or my family is in danger of starving?” The obstinate man crossed his arms and glared at her. “You would take that choice from me?”

  “Yes, yes, I would. It’s my land. Only I know its value. I want it deeded to me directly.” Emilia crossed her arms and glared back.

  “Wystan Tower,” Pascoe said, seemingly senselessly. Then, when Dare didn’t appear ready to commit to giving up any of his authority, he continued, “I am selling my land.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly at his bride.

  “We’ll have smoking noisy engines running through the yard?” Bridey asked in dismay.

  “Not so close as that,” Pascoe said. “Give me the same chance you told Emilia to give Dare.”

  Bridey scowled, but the door knocker rapped. Emilia exchanged a glance with Dare, who shook his head. They all paused, waiting for the footman to enter with a card. He handed it to Dare, who scowled even worse than Bridey had.

  “One cannot deny entry to pestilences if they are family, can one?” he asked. “The rest of you may want to sneak out the back way. If I kill him, you can pretend you never knew he was here.”

  Unsettled by the argument, Emilia shook her head at Bridey’s and Pascoe’s looks of concern. “Have a seat. You must meet Dare’s charming heir so you understand his lack of hospitality.”

  Eyes alight with curiosity, their visitors returned to their seats and waited expectantly as the guest was fetched.

  Peter Dare entered looking as dapper as Emilia remembered from the wedding. He wore a small blue jewel in his neckcloth and a rather garish gold watch on a chain at his waist. His attire was of the latest fashion and neatly tailored to suit his small frame. His smile didn’t falter at seeing that Dare had guests.

  After making the introductions, Dare asked rudely, “What do you want, Peter? It will be a long time until I’m at death’s door. The country air agrees with me,” he added acidly.

  Emilia noted his cousin didn’t look daunted but merely produced a packet of papers from his inner coat pocket.

  “Your mother asked me to carry these to you. She was concerned that you have not written lately, and I had business in Harrogate anyway.”

  “What business did you have visiting my mother?” Dare took the package and began flipping through letters.

  Peter shrugged. “I stopped to ask her if I could see the size of the townhouse. Annette is expecting our fourth child, and she’s concerned the nursery won’t be large enough. It’s a shame the house can’t be sold.”

  Emilia caught Dare’s clenched hand and squeezed warningly, then spoke before he could. “How charming of you to think of Lady Dare at a time like this. I do hope you won’t mind, but we were just on our way out. Thank you so much for carrying the messages.” She rose so the gentlemen must also.

  Pascoe, ever the diplomat, led the way. “What business takes you to Harrogate?” he innocuously asked the visitor as he steered him toward the foyer.

  Following, Emilia kept a tight hold on Dare’s fist. “Killing your heir won’t help your mother,” she whispered.

  “My late father banked in Harrogate,” Peter replied, “and my meager inheritance is still there, so I’ve continued the practice. They hold my mortgages. Every so often I travel up from London to reassure them that my prospects are still good.” He put his hat back on and bowed to the group. “My pleasure, ladies, Sir Pascoe, Dare.”

  He rode off while Dare glared at his departing back.

  “Obnoxious twit,” Pascoe observed. “Does he have any income of his own?”

  “His father left him a small property where he houses his wife. Mostly, he borrows money, and he and his courtesan live on my expectations,” Dare said with dryness.

  “His poor wife,” Bridey said generously. “Have you ever met her?”

  Dare shrugged. “I wasn’t invited to the wedding. I believe it was an arranged marriage when they were both quite young. Her father’s property abuts his, and she brought him what must have seemed a decent marriage portion at the time.”

  “If he’s dealing with Harrogate bankers, we need to be wary of him,” Pascoe warned.

  Emilia frowned at the possibility of Dare’s heir conniving with the people trying to run railroads through her land, but she preferred to leave business in the hands of those who understood it.

  “I will not let suspicion and distrust mar my days. Peter Dare is simply an annoying insect.” She kissed Dare’s cheek as their visitors prepared to leave. “We have better things to do. Bessie has almost finished copying my book, and I need to add the old pages to the ones Bridey already has. I’d also like to help with the infirmary as much as possible. The sooner the school is in operation, the sooner I can have my laboratory. Bridey has already said I might go with them.”

  “Let Ashford’s expensive team eat them out of house and home,” Dare said with callousness. “We have the gig now and don’t need the berlin.”

  “Your generosity overwhelms,” Pascoe said dryly. “But a crested carriage does add prestige when I harass the bankers. We’ve already sent word to Erran about the deeds, so let me work with him on that angle for now. You work with your consortium in securing my corner.”

  “You really ought to spend more time in the fresh air instead of writing letters, Dare,” Emilia admonished. “But I do hope you’ll arrange the deed to my swamp be entrusted to me.” She tucked her portfolio of papers under her arm and waited to be assisted into the berlin.

  As the carriage drove off, leaving Dare standing in the drive, glaring at the road, Emilia prayed he did not do anything foolish like ride after his cousin and beat him into a pulp for being a reprehensibly self-centered fop. Like mice, even fops deserved to live.

  Surely, he would not sell her land. If he’d talked Pascoe into selling his instead, Dare had to understand how much it meant to her.

  The carriage let them off at the rear of the abbey where Bridey had established an entrance exclusively for the school and infirmary. Pascoe went on with the horses to the main house.

  “How is Tess doing?” Emilia asked as they followed the ancient stones to Bridey’s office.

  “She’s marvelous! Quiet, but she handles the paperwork admirably. I have great hopes for her once she gains a little confidence.”

  She pushed open the door to where the topic of their conversation worked. Tess stood up, but Bridey gestured for her to return to her seat. “Put your pages with the others,” she told Emilia. “I’ve been reading the pharmacopeia as I have time and
making a few notes, but you’ve incorporated almost everything I know. It’s a brilliant work.”

  “Thank you,” Emilia said with relief, knowing Bridey’s expertise equaled hers. “I need to ask Lord Erran if he knows the best way for me to publish it. I hate spending my own money to have it printed while our expenses are so uncertain. Dare is trying to make me understand budgeting.” She added the papers from the portfolio to the metal box under the counter. “I am not very good at more than knowing what I can buy with the coins in my pocket.”

  Bridey laughed. “There speaks the rich girl who has been given everything she wants. Welcome to the real world. You’re in luck this time. Pascoe sent a carrier pigeon to Ashford at Wystan yesterday asking Erran to come down and help us with this railroad affair. His wife’s baby isn’t due for weeks, so we expect him to jump at any offer to escape.”

  “When the tracks are laid, will we be able to take a train from here into town?” Tess asked with fascination, looking up from her work. “My father. . .” She ended that sentence abruptly.

  They’d not been able to persuade more from Tess or her aunt about the girl’s parentage. Emilia pretended to concentrate on removing her gloves. “Your father has interest in railroads?” she asked as if it didn’t matter at all.

  “They are supposed to be beneficial.” Tess returned to her work.

  The girl took taciturn to new levels. Emilia exchanged a look with Bridey and left Tess alone.

  They were just finishing up their work at the end of the day when Pascoe and Lord Erran arrived. Pascoe was only older than his nephew by a few years, Emilia knew. They both had the strong cheekbones and dark Ives good looks. Pascoe was a little more lean and sophisticated. Erran was broader in face and stature and dressed more fancifully. His wife was an accomplished seamstress and did little to discourage his preference for embellished waistcoats and fancy linen.

  “You made good time,” Bridey exclaimed.

  “You’re only a day’s ride away, and I was eager to escape the women and their nesting. Even Ashford is shouting for brighter paints and papers, demanding windows be installed where no windows should be. A summer day’s ride is pure pleasure in comparison.” Erran bowed to Emilia. “Lady Dare, my congratulations. Your husband has the respect and admiration of many.”