Chemistry of Magic: Unexpected Magic Book Five (Unexpected Magic #5)(80)
“It doesn’t take a physician to determine that my brother has a skull as hard as rocks,” Ashford said, handing them wine glasses.
“All Ives have skulls hard as rocks,” the duke retorted, jotting notes on some papers he removed from his pocket. “But some, like William here, have pockets of intelligence.”
Dare and the women laughed. William looked relieved to have the duke’s hands off his head. His brothers, Lord Ashford and Lord Erran, merely saluted the riposte with their wine. As host, the marquess introduced Emilia to his distinguished guest.
Emilia curtseyed in awe. “Sir, I cannot express the extent of my gratitude for what you have done for my pharmacopeia.” She’d practiced that line the whole time she’d been dressing so as not to be left completely tongue-tied.
He took her hand and patted it. “Your book is brilliant. I am delighted that you thought to let me see it first. Working with Bridey, you can annotate and edit and update it regularly, and it will be a boon to mankind.”
He turned to Dare. “I understand you are undertaking the chemical end of medical science. Will you also be publishing your discoveries?”
Emilia could see her husband was taken in astonishment at the notion that his hobby might be thought beneficial. She squeezed his elbow until he nodded acknowledgment.
“If I have anything worthy of publication, of course. I have not my wife’s experience, but I am hoping to have more time in the future for experimentation.” At the duke’s questioning look, he continued. “If my theory is correct, I may have longer to live than expected. I have just come to suspect that my consumption may be the result of arsenic inhalation.”
“Is there some way to know for certain?” Emilia asked what Dare would not.
The distinguished physician listened with interest. “After dinner, I will listen to your lungs. Arsenic, you say? Now there’s an interesting theory.”
Lady Ashford called them to the table, and the conversation became more general. Lord Erran had been successful in winning the election of one of Ashford’s pocket boroughs, so there was discussion of labor laws and banning slavery from British soil. The duke had examined Ashford’s eyes and found them recovering from the blow that had caused temporary blindness.
Ashford announced that his son and heir was to be named Alan Dunstan Russell Ives in honor of his ancestors and Christie’s father.
Christie counter-announced that he was to be named Alan Duncan Malcolm Ives in honor of her husband and mother.
The duke wisely withdrew from the debate. While he and Dare left to determine a possible diagnosis, William and Erran cornered Bridey and Emilia.
“The animosity and suspicion toward your plans for the abbey are high in Harrogate,” Erran stated without preamble. “Having their plans for a railroad rejected has not improved your relationship with the community. I understand that’s not your fault. I’m just warning you.”
Bridey. . . bridled. Emilia couldn’t think of a better word.
“I am not giving up my school,” she said emphatically. “Pascoe says he will support me no matter what I choose to do, and I choose to go forward.”
“I stand with Bridey,” Emilia said. “I don’t understand how men can feel so threatened by a few powerless females. It’s silly.”
“Crenshaw,” William said.
Erran nodded at this reminder. “Pascoe sent us to warn that Frederick Crenshaw is crying murder. I have gathered depositions from the witnesses. He has no grounds for charges. But rumor, insults, and innuendo are more interesting than facts, and the town is more inclined to believe one of its own.”
“Arthur Crenshaw,” William said tersely, prodding the tale along. “And Peter Dare.”
“Locals,” Emilia cried. “They can speak for us.”
William nodded approval at her understanding.
“Neither is considered a man of substance,” Erran warned. “Arthur, your gardener, is seen as eccentric at best, mad at worst. Peter Dare has no title or position, only a large mortgage on his small estate. While his father-in-law is a respected landowner, Peter’s relationship with him is. . . not close. There is animosity over his estrangement from his wife, although I’ve met the wife, and she and Peter seem to be on good terms.”
Emilia puzzled over this revelation. If she’d been Peter’s wife, she would have run him through the heart with a meat cleaver for haring off to London and raising a family with his mistress.
Dare and the duke returned before she could respond. The duke continued on to talk business with Ashford, but Dare hugged Emilia’s shoulders. “The duke claims he can find no trace of consumption, that I might live a hundred years if I don’t overexert my damaged lungs.”
Emilia covered his face in kisses. “I will learn how to heal lungs,” she declared boldly. “His grace says I must not fear my gift, and that he can teach me techniques to make it less daunting. You will be my experimental lesson until I can trust myself.”
Dare laughed and hugged her hard. “Thank you, I think. I am glad I can be useful. Now, what trouble can I cause to remove all your long faces?”
Erran and William congratulated him with enthusiasm. And Bridey cried. When Emilia turned to her in concern, her friend waved her handkerchief in dismissal. “I become weepy over everything these days. Pay no heed to my tears. I am thrilled for you both, and Dare, I welcome any aid you can offer. We are apparently about to be destroyed by small-minded merchants and uninformed physicians.”