Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(28)
“My bride and I argue the benefits of renovation over restoration,” Pascoe said as he led the way down still another rambling corridor. “I think we should leave the gargoyles to frighten off the vultures who will inevitably descend to pick our bones. Bridey says we must dress as monks and nuns to do that.”
“Vultures?” Dare asked. “You’re expecting trouble?”
“I love trouble,” Pascoe said with relish. “I’m hoping for it.” He shoved open a door that led into an arched walkway.
Dare glanced down at Emilia with questions in his eyes.
“We’re women,” she whispered in explanation. “Medical practitioners do not want women treating women. It is all very foolish. I cannot believe anything will come of it.”
“Says the scholar who knows nothing of the extreme arrogance of men. Bridey should be in here.” Pascoe pushed open another door into a wide, stone-floored room smelling of drying herbs. An auburn-haired woman as tall as Emilia, but better proportioned, looked up from a table at their entrance.
“Emilia, at last,” the woman exclaimed, wiping her hands on her apron. “And Lord Dare, how good to meet you. We did not know whether to interrupt your honeymoon idyll so soon.”
As they exchanged pleasantries, Emilia could sense her husband’s tension. Assuming he was fighting off a cough, she studied the array of herbs Bridey had accumulated.
“Would you mind if I helped myself to some of your horehound and a bit of that sage?” she asked, finding the herbs in the drying leaves overhead. “Our wagon broke a wheel and my supplies haven’t arrived.”
“If we are to work together, you must consider this room as your own,” Bridey declared. “I have much to learn from you. I’m eager to see this pharmacopeia you’ve described.” She reached for the requested leaves.
Delighted to have someone who understood the properties of herbs almost as well as she did, Emilia happily delved into a familiar environment, leaving Dare to occupy himself. While she conferred over cough recipes, Dare and Pascoe wandered to the door in a discussion of their own.
Only when Sir Pascoe shouted “Railroad!” did unease knot her stomach.
Her husband looked pale but determined. Sir Pascoe merely looked livid.
Emilia exchanged a glance with Bridey, and as one, they wiped off their hands and left their work on the table.
Chapter 9
“Railroads are the country’s future,” Dare insisted as he sipped the bitter herbal tea his wife had forced upon him. “In war time, they will speed the transportation of coal, iron, and wood to our ports for the navy.”
Only slightly older than Dare but more experienced in the ways of governance, Pascoe waved a dismissive hand. “I understand their importance. I had hoped to find a consortium in which to invest. But the task of land acquisition is monumental and expensive. The tracks need to be laid through wasteland, not crop-bearing fields.”
“Fine for freight, but what about transporting people? Imagine taking the train from London to Edinburgh in hours instead of days!” Dare had yet to mention the needed land for track already planned for Alder. He’d fallen asleep before he’d had a chance to examine the survey maps.
He was afraid just his casual broaching of the subject was leading toward disaster. His family’s future relied on his ability to talk people into what he wanted. If the disease was attacking his brain and his ability, he was in trouble. He clenched his teeth and listened rather than offer protest.
“We can’t have noisy, coal-spewing monsters near towns until we know they’re reliable,” Pascoe said, reaching for a crumpet. “For one thing, they’ll terrify horses.”
The beautiful wife Dare wished to seduce was watching them with consternation. He was accustomed to taking risks. Emilia was not. He fought his cough and changed the subject until he had more information. “Tell me more about the vultures that threaten this school my bride wishes to work in.”
Lady Pascoe—Bridey—spoke up. “It is nothing yet. Pascoe cynically expects the worse. For now, we’re only setting up the infirmary and schoolrooms. Aster and Emilia’s mother will help us find a few select women to be trained as midwives. Women have performed that task for centuries. This insistence that only a male physician can treat a woman’s body is utter idiocy.”
Dare frowned. “You have the skills and training of a licensed physician?”
“As much as I have the skills of an apothecary,” Emilia said in that stiff polite voice she sometimes used. “No man will teach us or allow us to work as their assistants, an education required by law—laws passed by men, you will remember. We are self-taught for the most part.”
By Jove, she might not talk much, but when she did, she packed a punch. Before Dare could take adamant exception to his wife working as an apothecary, Bridey interceded.
“My grandfather was a physician. He taught me. I have learned more from experience, just as any good physician must if he is to be of any use. We do not mean to interfere where there are proper physicians and hospitals and wealth enough to pay for them. What we want to do is help women who do not have access to medical care.”
Dare lifted a questioning eyebrow to his wealthy city wife who had never been deprived of anything in her life. She met his gaze with defiance.