Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(43)
“Can you not just write Fowler, tell him his medicine kills bugs, and ask what he uses?”
“I believe he died some years ago, but the physician says the formula is in the latest edition of the pharmacopeia.”
She sniffed and looked in on her mouse. “The formula is that old? The latest pharmacopeia was reprinted in 1809 and the recipes are positively medieval. I thought you were trying some new kind of solution. I’ll look in grandfather’s ancient library.” She fed her pet vermin more carrots, then lifted her skirt and departed for the house.
Judging from her tone, Dare concluded he now ranked one rung lower than a cockroach, and he’d definitely better not poison her mouse. It would probably be easier on both of them if they remained at odds and fought attachment—as long as they still shared a bed. He wasn’t about to give up that bit of heaven on earth. Emilia’s quick, inventive mind worked in more places than a laboratory.
Picking up a dead insect, he calculated the best place to slice, then set up his lamps to examine the parts under a microscope. He’d need a live, unpoisoned bug to compare with.
Detecting poison was an entirely different field from detecting mineral elements, he feared. He needed more information. But if he’d learned how to identify opioids, surely he could boil medicine down to its essential ingredients.
Emilia returned with a heavy volume of yellowing pages, dropping it on the table and raising a cloud of dust. Dare coughed, held his nose, and looked up from his microscope. Having a female in his workshop was beyond distracting. The morning light illuminated her face so that it appeared to be translucent porcelain. Her old work gown clung deliciously to slender curves he had come to appreciate, and he had difficulty concentrating on what she was saying.
She flipped open to a page and pointed. “Fowler’s Solution consists of arsenic oxide, potassium tartar, water, and lavender. It is recommended in paste for psoriasis.” She said this last with distaste and disbelief. “Physicians are treating malaria and consumption with a potion for a skin disease?”
“Disease is disease,” Dare said with a shrug, looking over her shoulder. “Maybe it’s your lavender water that’s poisoning me.”
She elbowed him, hard. He kissed her ear in retaliation. At least she wasn’t treating him like a crippled-up invalid. She’d just taken weeks off of his research by finding the formula, once he proved these were the actual ingredients in his bottles.
“What on earth is arsenic oxide?” she asked.
“Arsenic is a naturally occurring element in metals and minerals. Oxide means it’s been chemically processed to add oxygen to it, but this does not say what form of oxide. There are several.” Grudgingly, he added, “And they can be poisonous.”
“So either Fowler’s recipe has been poisoning patients for decades, or your apothecary used the wrong form of arsenic?” she asked.
“Or lavender water is deadly,” he couldn’t resist adding, circling her waist and pulling her back against him so he could plant kisses along her lovely throat and pretend he was healthy and not terrified of dying and leaving her alone. “Go play out in the garden where you belong. I’ll stink up this shed oxidizing medicine.”
“I’ve sent word to Bridey that I’ll be over today. We need to develop a plan on how to move forward with the school. I’ll check on the garden, then try out one of your new horses. Please don’t poison yourself while I am gone.” She kissed his cheek and wriggled out of his embrace.
Damn, but he enjoyed having her there to hug. “Take someone with you!” he demanded.
“I plan to.”
She said it so brightly that Dare knew she didn’t mean a coach driver or sturdy footman. He drove his hand through his hair as she departed, her nearly petticoat-less skirt swaying nicely over her well-rounded derriere. He wanted to lock her up where no one could ever hurt her, while knowing he needed to let her learn how to fly free.
He was under no illusion that stopping the Fowlers would cure his consumption. He’d simply lost one more hope of postponing death.
Emilia stopped at the kitchen garden to see how it fared. The weeds had been hoed. Obviously, the spring planting had not been done, but there were volunteers of potatoes and onions from years past. The oregano and thyme had been unburied and trimmed.
Dare had said he’d talked to Mr. Arthur, but she didn’t see the old man around. She vaguely remembered him as a friend of her grandfather’s. He’d been ancient back then. He must be a hundred years old by now. She’d have to learn where he lived. Perhaps he was down at the hot spring garden today. If she had more time, she’d love to go down and look.
But she was no longer a child with no other task than wandering the fields. She’d have to trust servants to do their work while she did hers.
She stopped in the kitchen to talk to Tess. Mrs. Peacock sniffed her disapproval for Emilia’s daring to venture below stairs, but Emilia wanted to be certain working conditions were satisfactory.
After verifying that Mrs. Peacock had made arrangements with farmers and the village market for the provisions she needed, Emilia pulled Tess aside. “I wish you to accompany me to the abbey. Can you be ready in half an hour? I’ll speak to Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. Wiggs for you.”
The girl could be no more than twenty. Emilia didn’t know enough about Tess’s delicate condition to guess how far along she was. The maid simply looked too thin and under-nourished.