A Christmas Wedding Wager (21 page)

'Will he?' Emma crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "My father is not a bone to be fought over by two men who have borne grudges since school. This is a man's life we are talking about. My father's life.'

'I doubt it. Your father is over the worst. He will live.' Jack nodded towards where her father lay. 'See, his breathing is easy. There is no sweat on his brow. You said that every fit he had, he had when he'd reached the end of a tonic bottle?'

'Did I? I don't remember.' Emma paced the room, clasping and unclasping her hands. She found it difficult to think beyond the immediate room. 'Yes, I suppose that is correct.'

'Think. Take your time about it, but do you ever remember a fit that happened when he was in the middle of a bottle?'

Emma shook her head. 'It could be coincidence. Or perhaps my father tries to eke out the bottle. He has a great dislike of calling for the doctor.'

'I do not believe in coincidence. Nobody operates outside nature. A bridge falls down because of the forces exerted on it. People become ill for a reason.'

Emma swallowed hard, torn. Every instinct she had told her to trust him. It was a basic tenet of civil engineering--the forces of nature controlled everything. Every fit her father had had, had happened when he'd reached the end of a tonic bottle. She was sure of it now. She had never thought about it before. Jack was correct. Coincidence was highly unlikely. 'What do you intend on doing?'

'Following my hunch.' He gave a crooked smile. 'Check and recheck everything before coming to any definite conclusion. It is what I am good at. Details are important.'

'What sort of details?' Emma asked cautiously.

She glanced again at her father. He was sleeping comfortably. It would be a shame to wake him. She wrapped her arms about her waist and kept her mind away from what might happen.

'When he has the attacks, is there anything Dr Milburn gives him?' Jack paused and tapped the scissors against his thigh. 'What does Dr Milburn do? Does he bleed him?'

'No, not that. He has other methods.' She swallowed hard. 'I disapprove of bleeding. I think it made Mama weaker, despite what the doctors said. It is one of the reasons we changed to Dr Milburn. His methods are more modern. He believes in medicine-pills and tonics.'

'What methods? Think carefully, Emma. How does he control your father's attacks?'

'He has some special pills that my father is supposed to take if ever he is starting to feel dizzy.

They seem to cure it, or at least make the fits less.' Emma rummaged through her father's top drawer and pulled out a glass bottle. She squinted at the spidery writing. 'Charcoal and sulphur. They are all gone. Is it significant?'

'Yes, I thought they might contain those two ingredients. It all fits.' Jack went to her father, snipped a lock of hair from his head, then captured it in a handkerchief before carefully transferring it to an envelope. He handed the envelope to Emma. 'Seal it.'

'I trust you,' she said.

'I would feel safer if you used your father's wax and ring to seal it. I want everything to be correct. You never know when it might have to be used in a court of law.'

Emma took the envelope and went over to her father's dressing table. She quickly sealed the envelope, pressing the ring into the warm red wax. Jack took it from her nerveless fingers.

'What will you do with it?'

'I will send this away, along with the empty bottle of tonic, to make sure my hypothesis is correct.' Jack ran his hand through his hair. She could see tiredness around his eyes. 'Milburn knows there is something in the tonic. Sulphur and charcoal are given for one specific reason.

He knows what is causing these fits, even if he is not telling you.'

'Dr Milburn knows the cause?' Emma stared at where her father lay. Questions crowded in her brain. 'But he would dearly love to know. It would make his fortune, he says.'

'I suspect your father is suffering from arsenic poisoning. He has all the symptoms--

confusion, garlic breath, metallic-tasting mouth and stomach cramps. Luckily Edward Harrison has a strong constitution.' Jack turned the empty pill bottle over. 'The cure for an accidental overdose is charcoal and sulphur. When your father feels up to eating he will need to have eggs and onions--foods that contain sulphur.'

'Poisoning?' Emma stared at Jack, incredulous. Her body became numb. Poison. Her father.

Impossible. 'Who would do such a thing? How would he get arsenic?'

'Milburn's tonic most likely contains some,' Jack said quietly. 'A good many tonics do. In small doses it is supposed to be helpful in certain cases.'

'Dr Milburn is poisoning my father?' Emma looked at Jack. 'How could he do such a thing?

Why would he do such a thing? If he knew, why would he have my father continue to take the tonic?'

She backed away from the tonic bottle as if it might bite her, trying to make sense of it. Dr Milburn was poisoning her father.

'I am sure it was not deliberate, Emma,' Jack said carefully. 'It is possible that the arsenic settled after being left too long. It needs investigating. We need to be certain before deciding what to do next.'

'You don't sound convinced.'

'I want to wait and weigh the options. I may not like the man, but I doubt Charles Milburn is a cold-blooded murderer. You say that he kept your mother alive. I have to trust your judgement.'

'Yes,' Emma breathed, and the word came out as a half-choked sob. Emma fumbled for a handkerchief but could find none. She gazed up at the ceiling. Why did she always get the temptation to cry when she was not in possession of a handkerchief? She blinked back tears and swallowed hard. Regained control of her emotions, then continued in a stronger voice.

'He saved Mama's life. I am convinced of it. We kept her going for as long as possible.'

Jack was standing right beside her. Emma turned slightly. His strong arms went around her, held her close in their gentle embrace. She laid her cheek against his starched white shirt-front and heard the reassuring thump of his heart in her ear. Nothing lover-like, a place of comfort.

Safety. She swallowed hard. They were friends, and she had to be content with that.

'How long will it take until we know for certain?' she asked, fixing her gaze on his second shirt button down.

'I will have the answer before Christmas. Before I depart from Newcastle.' He spoke into her hair.

He loosened his arms and stepped away from her. The cold air rushed around her. She forced her lips into a brilliant smile. 'I imagine these things take time.'

'You won't have to wonder for long.'

All the while her mind kept echoing his words. Christmas. Christmas was when Jack would be leaving. He planned on going despite his new knowledge. Only a few days ago she hadn't been able to wait until he went, and now the thought of him going filled her with dread.

'What am I supposed to do in the meantime?' She struggled to keep her voice steady.

'Wait and watch. Hope.'

'And what of Dr Milburn?'

'I think it best if your father finds another doctor.'

'You may be correct.' Emma hugged her arms about her. She hated to think it had been she who had insisted her father take his tonic. She had thought that it was doing him some good, and instead she had been poisoning him. Her mind recoiled. She wanted to sink to her knees and weep. She forced her body to stay upright. 'Papa, you are not dying. We are going to get you well. You will live to see this bridge across the Tyne built. I promise you that.'

She heard the door click, and saw that Jack had quietly gone.

'Thank you,' she whispered to the emptiness he'd left behind.

'Fathers!' Emma closed the door to her father's room with a satisfying bang the following morning. 'One would think they enjoyed turning the entire household upside down and inside out.'

'You seem perturbed this morning, Miss Emma.' Jack lounged against the doorframe.

'Hopefully your father has not become worse in the night.'

'He agrees with you!' Emma put her hands on her hips and tried to forget that she looked a fright. Up most of the night, and with her hair hanging down her back in a loose plait, and more than likely dark circles under her eyes. Her only consolation was that he had seen her worse. But she wanted him to think her attractive. As excitingly attractive as the women in London or Paris.

'Agrees with me about what?' A faint dimple showed in the corner of his mouth.

'"There is no need to send for the quack."' Emma put her hands on her hips and mimicked her father's tone. '"Nor to take any more of that quack's medicine." Hooray! Hoorah! "Always knew it wasn't good for me," says he.'

'I thought we had decided not to send for Milburn anyway.' Jack reached out and grabbed her arm. 'We agreed to wait for the results.'

Emma stepped back and his hand released her. She held her elbows and did not meet his eyes.

'I thought maybe one of the other doctors, but Papa is refusing even that. He approves of your methods and is willing to wait for the results.'

Jack gave a satisfied nod. 'I would say that is a very positive sign.'

'Positive? It is infuriating!' Emma began to pace up and down the hall. 'This is the first time in a long time that my father is not being sensible, and you are encouraging him in this foolish behaviour.'

Jack came forward, blocking her way. He reached out and gathered her hands in his. Emma found it difficult to breathe, her mind spun. She kept her gaze on his embroidered silk waistcoat.

'Emma,' he said, and his finger lifted her chin. 'Listen to me. Believe in me. Your father is recovering.'

'I am. I do. He must be.'

With the greatest of efforts she tore herself away from his hands. Took a deep breath. Her lips ached. In another moment her hand would have curled around his neck and pulled his mouth against hers.

There were too many servants about, and she hated to think about the scandal. And what it would do to her father. She had to be realistic. This was a flirtation for Jack. He had said when they first met that he was not interested in marriage. Nothing he had done since gave the slightest indication his mind had changed. Whatever chance they'd had, had been destroyed a long time ago, when her mother had not given her the letter. No. If she was honest, it had gone before then--when Jack had left without giving her a chance. His departure had nearly broken her heart. He would not have a second chance. And this time her heart was immune.

It had to be.

Jack made no effort to recapture her. He raked his hand through his hair.

'If your father was not feeling right within himself he would want to see the doctor. He'd welcome your suggestion.'

'He is talking about what will happen once he is in charge at the bridge.'

Jack's face betrayed no emotion. 'I would say that is a good sign.'

'He may change his mind about your proposal...I mean offer.'

Emma wanted the earth to open up when she realised which word had escaped.

'My proposal?' He lifted a brow. 'And which proposal would that be, exactly?'

Emma felt a tide of burning wash up her face. 'I was speaking about your offer for Harrison and Lowe. That is the only proposal I know about. Is there another one?'

'Not that I have heard of.' His eyes glittered slightly, and a half-smile appeared on his lips. 'I thought maybe you could enlighten me. Exactly what is your proposition, and will I enjoy it?'

Emma smiled back at him, feeling on firmer ground. Light-hearted remarks with no substance she had learnt to deal with years ago. 'I don't have time to stand here bantering with you.

There is work to be done.'

'On a day like today? Have you had a look out of the window?'

Emma hurried over to the window on the landing. Snowflakes were coming down in great piles, as if there was a gigantic pillow fight in the sky. The garden was rapidly filling up with huge white flakes. The muddy patches, the bare trees and bushes and the Greek goddess statue that had been her mother's pride, were all covered in a blanket of wet snow.

'You are right. There will be no work on the bridge.'

'It would be impossible,' Jack agreed. 'The men will work all the harder when the thaw comes and the ground is soft.'

'I pray when it comes the thaw will not be too rapid.' A shiver ran down Emma's spine as she thought of what the Tyne was capable of. Her father's previous project before this one had been strengthening the flood defences along the Tyne, and she prayed they would not be needed.

'You are too tender-hearted, Emma. The thaw needs to be rapid. We need to see what happens when the Tyne is in full spate. When I build a bridge it stands for all time, not just until the first one-hundred-year flood.'

'But think on the potential for devastation, the lives that would be ruined, the property.'

'If we can understand the pattern and the effects, we can save lives and ensure the bridge stands. The Tyne has washed bridges away before now. Every single bridge was lost last century due to a flood. It will not happen to my bridge.'

'Another of your it-can-be-done projects?'

'I am interested in taming the forces of nature, making them work for us rather than against us.' Jack paused. 'But you lead me from my purpose.'

'Your purpose?' Emma tilted her head.

Jack was dressed in his overcoat and top hat. Emma's brow wrinkled. Surely he could not be planning on going out in this weather? He had said that work was suspended on the bridge.

'To ascertain how your father fares.'

'I have told you that he is recovering--recovering all too quickly,' she said with a wry smile.

'He will be complaining about resting within a few days. You may go in and see him if you like.'

'It won't be necessary.' Jack waved his hand, but his face had turned serious. 'I must bid you adieu.'

'Adieu? You are leaving?' Emma looked at him in dismay, and her stomach dropped. The light appeared to go out of the day, and time stretched bleakly in front of her. 'But I thought you were staying until Christmas.'

'Urgent matters have arisen and I need to go to London. Stephenson needs to know about your father--about what we have decided.'