Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(49)
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.