Regina Scott (21 page)

* * *

Emma was in pain. Nick wasn’t sure why, but he could see the evidence—that pinched face, the pale skin, the tensed shoulders. The need to understand, to help her, drove him to her side. But Fredericks caught her arm, pulling her to a stop in the doorway.

“Not so fast, missy,” he declared. “I came here to see a demonstration. Is it my own work I’ll be seeing? Answer me!”

Emma’s look flew to Nick’s, and he knew anguish when he saw it. Did she think there was validity to Fredericks’s accusations? Perhaps she had inadvertently told Nick things she’d seen. It didn’t matter. His work was his own. He knew he’d solved the problem. What concerned him more now was that Emma continued to suffer for her kindness.

“If you have issue with the work, Fredericks,” he said, “I’ll be delighted to discuss the matter with you. Let her go.”

Fredericks said nothing, but Emma winced. Nick did not think he’d said anything that ought to compel such a reaction. Indeed, there was only one explanation he could see. Fredericks had had the temerity to tighten his grip and hurt her!

He’d wondered at her antipathy for the man, but suddenly, all the things she’d said and the way she’d reacted made sense, and he knew why she so feared her foster father. Fredericks had abused her. He’d dared to raise his hand to a child, with such frequency and violence that she could not forget it as an adult. Nick had wondered what Charlotte’s boiling point might be. It seemed he had discovered his own.

He took another step closer, forcing the man away from Emma. “I said let her go. Now.”

“Nicholas!” Charlotte berated him. “You forget yourself.”

He felt as if he had forgotten himself. Somewhere along the way, whether in his drive to succeed, Ann’s death or the explosion at the mine, he’d lost Nicholas Rotherford, a man who stood up for his principles, a man who knew it was right to put the needs of others before his own. A man who protected those he loved.

Forgive me, Lord. I don’t know how to reclaim that man, but I’ll try. And I promise You I won’t allow Emma to be hurt anymore.

His intentions must have been evident, for Fredericks dropped his hand. “No need to be difficult, Rotherford. I’m sure you’ll agree it is a father’s duty to discipline his child.”

“A child surely,” Nick replied, sickened by the sight of the man’s gloating face. “A grown woman with a life she’s chosen for herself, no. And I suspect we would disagree on the nature of discipline.” He turned to Emma. “I’d still like you to attend the demonstration, Miss Pyrmont, if you’re willing. Will you wait in the entry, please?”

Her jaw was set, but she nodded and left the room without another look at her foster parents.

“I think,” Charlotte said, “you owe Mr. Fredericks and his wife an apology, Nicholas.”

“Forgive me,” Nick said with a bow, “for preventing you from doing Miss Pyrmont a further injury. It must have been a grave disappointment after the years of abuse. But I’m afraid I cannot allow such actions in my home. Excuse me.”

“Nicholas!” Charlotte gasped, while Fredericks sputtered and his wife cried out in indignation. Nick ignored them all. He had more important matters to attend to.

He caught up with Emma in the entry. Someone had fetched her cloak and a plain straw bonnet. The gray wool hung from a form that seemed to be trembling, if the movement of her skirts was any indication.

“Once again you are treated poorly in my home,” he said, anger at the injustice still burning inside. “I won’t allow it to continue, Emma. I promise. Ride with me in our carriage. I’ll let Fredericks take his own. Sir Humphry Davy, the other observer, will meet us at the mine.”

But it seemed something else weighed heavier on her mind than her foster father. “I didn’t betray you, Nick,” she murmured, reaching out to lay a gloved hand on his arm. “Nothing I told you was pertinent to his work. He approached the problem from the chemical perspective, not the properties of the materials. Don’t let him take your reputation, your work.”

He laid his hand over hers. “I wanted as much to prove to myself I was right as to solve the problem, Emma. I’ve achieved both. That’s what matters.”

Her face was bunching again, as if something still pained her. “How I have misjudged you. I thought you would be like him, caring only for your work, willing to sacrifice others for it.”

He shrugged and tried for a smile. “You had ample evidence on which to base your conclusion.”

“Sometimes it takes more than physical observation,” she replied, moving her hand to his chest and pressing against his waistcoat. “Sometimes you must trust your heart.”

“A fickle organ,” he countered, though he noted it had started to beat faster at her touch. “I have never been willing to rely on it.”

She withdrew her hand. “Pity. I only hope someday you’ll change your mind.”

He could not promise that, although the smile on her face made him want to try. He offered her his arm, and together they went out to the carriage.

Charlotte joined them a short time later, taking the seat opposite them and glaring at Nick as if he had had any doubt as to her feelings on his behavior. Emma kept her gaze out the window. Despite everything, however, Nick felt his spirits rising. This time, he knew the lamp would work.

Davy was waiting at the mine. The chemist took his top hat from his wavy brown hair and shook Nick’s hand.

“Delighted to be here for your triumph, Rotherford.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice, blue eyes serious. “Forgive me for allowing Fredericks to tag along. I thought if he saw what you’d accomplished without him, he might rethink his accusations.”

Given how Fredericks had treated Emma and Nick’s suspicions that he had taken his notes, Nick doubted that. With a thanks to the chemist, he went to meet Mr. Jennings and two of his men, who stood waiting at the main entrance to the mine. All the other workers, Nick knew, had been told to go home this afternoon, for fear of what might happen. He wondered what incentives the two remaining men had received for being willing to stay. The entire area seemed too silent, the clouds hanging heavily. It was as if nature itself doubted him.

He didn’t. The surety had been building since he’d prayed in the withdrawing room. Hands firm, Nick took out the lamp, waited while first Davy and then Fredericks examined it. The chemist seemed suitably impressed, but Fredericks’s bulldog jaw was set and something moved in his eyes. Still he stepped back with a nod. “Let’s see it work, then.”

Nick picked up the lamp and carried it to Jennings. “Show me the way.”

“Nick!”

Everyone turned at Emma’s cry, and she blushed as she stepped forward. “You can’t mean to go in there.”

He offered her what he hoped was a confident smile. “These men are risking their lives. Should I do any less?”

“Step back and be silent, Miss Pyrmont,” Charlotte murmured. “You are making a spectacle of yourself.”

Emma’s eyes flashed, but she stood her ground. “What about Alice?” she protested. “If something happens to you, she’ll be an orphan.”

In her eyes, he suspected, there could be no worse fate. He was putting his work before the well-being of his child. But he knew otherwise. He moved back to her side.

“Alice won’t be alone, Emma,” he murmured. “She has Charlotte and you. I’m not essential to her happiness.”

“You’re wrong,” she replied, gaze brimming. “You matter more than you know—to Alice, and to me. Please, be careful.”

“I will,” he promised. He wanted to say more, to take her in his arms, to assure her all would turn out well. But he knew the chance he was taking. So did she.

He turned and retraced his steps to the mine entrance. “If you’d be so kind, gentlemen.”

Exchanging glances, the two miners went to work the winch. Nick and Jennings entered the tunnel.

“You’re a game fellow to come with me, Sir Nicholas,” Jennings said as they stepped into the basket at the top of the shaft.

“It’s my work,” Nick said. “I stand behind it.”

The mine was much as he remembered it as a child, all darkness and thick air, with a feeling that the weight of the world was above him. But as the black walls rose around him, Nick found his thoughts going to Emma. She could have argued further, pressed her case. Yet she had accepted his decision, trusted him. All she’d asked was that he look out for himself.

More, she’d said that Alice wasn’t the only one who could be hurt by his untimely demise. She’d intimated that she’d be crushed by his loss. Could she still love him?

With a thump, the basket reached the bottom, and Jennings worked the gate to let them out onto the floor. The ceiling was low, forcing Nick to duck to move forward. He took a few steps into an adjoining tunnel.

“Sir Nicholas.” Jennings’s voice was thick. “Don’t move.”

Nick stopped. Ahead, it seemed the floor of the tunnel was moving, wavering in the light of his lamp as if something obscured the air. A flickering candle or older lamp might have made it invisible. He glanced back at Jennings.

The mine manager nodded to the way ahead. “That’s firedamp, that is. Don’t go any farther.”

Firedamp, the miner’s worst enemy, the problem Nick had sought to solve. A few breaths, and a man was likely to pass out cold. A spark, and he and his coworkers were doomed.

“Go back to the basket and signal them to haul you up,” Nick said. “If there’s an explosion, come back for me if you can.” He waited until Jennings had retreated, took a deep breath and plunged ahead.

Chapter Twenty-One

A
t the mine entrance, Emma waited with Mrs. Dunworthy, Sir Humphry and the Fredericks. None of them paid her any mind. Sir Humphry was talking with the two miners while they waited for a sign from below. Mrs. Dunworthy and Mrs. Fredericks were chatting about friends they’d known years ago as if they were meeting over tea instead of in a great coal-dust-covered landscape. Her foster father was pacing from the winch to the entrance and back, boots crunching against the rocky ground. None of them seemed to care that Nick’s life might be in danger.

That duty lay solely with her. Yet much as she worried about him, facing the firedamp hundreds of feet below the ground, she wanted to shake some sense into him! Everything she’d done, every change she’d seen in him, and still he didn’t understand. Alice needed a father—a living, breathing, caring father. How could he jeopardize that by risking his life?

Yet he wasn’t the man she’d originally thought him. In risking his life, he was putting the needs of others—Mr. Jennings, the miners, even the advancement of knowledge—before his own. He didn’t act like the heroes in her favorite books, and he would certainly never be the perfect husband. But that didn’t stop her from loving him.

The realization brought tears to her eyes. This was love—not the expectation of perfection but the care and joy in the face of very real flaws. That was the love her heavenly Father had offered her. How could she not offer the same to Nick?

A shout from below set the miners to hauling. Sir Humphry and Mr. Fredericks rushed to the entrance and peered inside. Mrs. Dunworthy and Mrs. Fredericks clutched each other’s arms.

Emma could scarcely breathe. Was it over? Was Nick hurt? Was he dead? She pushed past the other ladies, every part of her trembling.

Nick walked from the mine, face blackened, clothes dusty. Though the two natural philosophers and Jennings hovered near him, his smile was all for Emma.

“We did it,” he said, lifting the lamp, which was still burning. “It worked.”

The miners who had manned the winch came running with a cheer, and Mr. Jennings went so far as to clap Nick on the shoulder, raising a puff of dust. Emma wanted to clasp him close and shout in triumph at the same time, but she couldn’t help noticing her foster father’s reaction. Mr. Fredericks beamed congenially at them all, as if this success was his. Very likely he was only biding his time until he could assert his claim on Nick’s work.

She had to stop him. She knew the work was all Nick’s. He’d pored over calculations, come up with the design, risked his own life to test it. Surely he deserved the credit and a chance to regain his reputation!

Nick stopped in front of her, his grin the cleanest thing about him. There was even coal dust lodged in his cravat.

She couldn’t help smiling, as well. “Congratulations,” she said. “You solved the problem.”

“We solved the problem,” he corrected her. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You’ll have the thanks of every collier in the country,” Mr. Jennings predicted, joining them.

“Every collier in the world, once this is manufactured in bulk,” Sir Humphry assured them.

Mr. Fredericks’s smile was smug.

Oh, no. She was not about to let her foster father get his hands on this invention.
Please, Lord, show me how to stop him!

“We’ll need to come up with a way to develop the wicks then,” Nick said with a chuckle. “I doubt Miss Pyrmont will want to spend all her time knitting them.”

“And I’m sure more than one gentleman might like to have her spend more time courting than knitting,” Mr. Jennings replied with a grin to Emma. “I’ve already had three of the men you nursed ask your direction, Miss Pyrmont.”

“Now, now, gentlemen,” Mr. Fredericks said. “I expect a fine fellow to offer for my daughter, with a generous bride portion. I cannot see a miner in my family.”

Jennings’s smile vanished.

“I’m honored they would think of me that way, Mr. Jennings,” Emma said. “They are fine men, doing dangerous work. They have my thanks.”

Jennings nodded but turned away to speak to his men.

“I’ll be sure to note Miss Pyrmont’s contribution in my report to the Royal Society,” Sir Humphry said, with a smile to Emma.

“Yes,” her foster father encouraged, “you do that.”

Nick looked thoughtful, and she saw his finger moving against the metal of the lamp. Did he understand at last the danger her foster father posed to his work? Did Sir Humphry?

Perhaps she should tell him.

Part of her wilted at the thought of having to expose the pain she and her foster brothers had endured. Yet she felt an urge inside, an encouragement, a courage. Nick had worked so hard for this. She couldn’t allow her foster father to ruin it.

“I’d be happy to explain my contribution to you further, sir,” she said to the chemist. “I see you brought an open carriage. Might I beg a ride home with you?”

Nick frowned as if he wasn’t sure what she was doing. Her foster father seemed to think he knew, for he beamed at her.

“Excellent suggestion! Rotherford deserves a run for his money. You could do worse than to marry into my family, Davy.”

Emma knew her face was crimson. She was only glad the chemist was too polite to respond to her foster father. Instead, he offered her his arm. “It would be my pleasure to drive you back to the Grange, Miss Pyrmont.”

Nick took a step closer. “Are you certain, Emma?”

She knew by the way her foster father’s face changed and Sir Humphry’s arm stiffened that they had noted his use of her given name. She thought by the way Nick regarded her that he’d chosen to use that name for a reason. She hoped he could tell by her smile that she knew her mind.

“Quite certain, Nicholas,” she assured him, careful to use his name, as well. “I’ll see you at the Grange. I can’t wait to share our success with Alice and Lady Chamomile.”

He smiled then, and she knew he understood that, whatever she intended, her feelings for him and Alice had not changed.

“Lady Chamomile?” her foster father asked, eyes lighting. “A new sponsor, Rotherford?”

Knowing Nick would now have to explain, Emma put her hand on Sir Humphry’s arm and urged him toward his own carriage.

“Thank you for allowing me to impose,” Emma told him as the open landau started down the hill. The cool breeze brushed her cheeks inside her straw bonnet, and she clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling at what she must do.

“I would like to be flattered that you’d ask,” Sir Humphry said. “But I sense you have something more to discuss than your contribution to the development of the safety lamp.”

Emma nodded. “Very astute of you. And I made no significant contribution to Sir Nicholas’s work, I promise you. But I’m very afraid Mr. Fredericks thinks otherwise.”

“Ah.” His brow cleared. He was a handsome man, with dark hair curling back from a boyish face. She could feel the energy radiating from him. “Allow me to assure you that your foster father’s impressions will not sway my report.”

“I wasn’t concerned about that,” Emma explained. “I fear he intends to claim Sir Nicholas’s design as his own.”

Now he frowned, fingers splayed on his trousers. “A serious accusation, Miss Pyrmont. What evidence do you have?”

Emma swallowed. Now came the hard part. “For one, I know that he sought to find someone to blame for the previous explosion. For another, I have reason to believe he stole Sir Nicholas’s notes.”

Sir Humphry shook his head. “My dear, you must know there’s never been a hint of scandal involving Fredericks. I don’t know what Sir Nicholas told you, but I have no reason to believe your father is anything less than a gentleman.”

“Then you are greatly mistaken, Sir Humphry.” Emma moved her cloak aside so that the sleeve of her gown was evident. Carefully, she pulled up the edge just enough to show him the pockmark on her skin. “I received that for failing to properly mind a mixture of chemicals. My foster brother Barty is deformed because of the weight he was forced to carry when he was young. I have it on good authority my other foster brother Frank may be blind now in one eye from being splashed with chemicals as a punishment. In short, Sir Humphry, Mr. Fredericks would never qualify as a gentleman in my estimation.”

Sir Humphry leaned away from her as if somehow her story had dirtied him, and his face settled into lines too harsh for his youthful features. What had she expected? Her foster father had hidden his true nature too well. No one would believe he could be so cruel, so devious. She tugged down on her sleeve even as tears threatened.

You know the truth, Lord. Let it shine forth, for Nick’s sake!

“Thank you for telling me this, Miss Pyrmont,” Sir Humphry said quietly. “I can appreciate the courage it took to do so. I will see what I can do to protect Sir Nicholas from further accusations.”

Emma drew a breath. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Indeed. And I will do something further. I am friends with a number of the fine gentlemen and ladies who serve as trustees for the orphan asylum, who also occasionally serve to fund our scientific pursuits. It might interest them to know the sacrifices its children have made for your foster father’s discoveries.”

Emma stared at him. “You’d tell them what happened to us?”

“In an oblique way, of course,” he said. “But enough to ensure an inquiry is made. I only wish I could do more.”

Emma leaned closer, heart lifting. “Perhaps you can. I’m ashamed to say I thought all natural philosophers would be so stone-hearted. Knowing Sir Nicholas, and now meeting you, I have revised my assessment. I wonder, would you know others, like you, who might need assistants? I can promise you my foster brothers learned their trade well.”

“On penalty of death, it seems,” Sir Humphry murmured. “Yes, Miss Pyrmont, I believe I could find a use for such men. Give your foster brothers my direction. I’ll be happy to speak to them further about a change in position.”

Emma pressed her fingers to her lips, heart swelling. “Oh, Sir Humphry, thank you!”
And thank You, Lord!

He cocked a smile. “It is the least I could do. After all, it seems Sir Nicholas has indeed discovered more than how to design a safety lamp. He has quite a gem in you, Miss Pyrmont.”

Emma blushed and was glad when the carriage pulled up before the Grange. Tea and cakes were waiting in celebration, but she managed to slip away. She had no interest in spending more time with the Frederickses, and after her confession to Sir Humphry, the nursery had never looked more welcome. She stopped by her room only long enough to hang up her cloak and set aside her bonnet.

But when she walked into the nursery, she found the maid dozing in the rocking chair.

“Dorcus!” she scolded, and the maid’s head jerked up, eyes opening and mouth snapping shut.

“Where’s Alice?” Emma asked, hands on her hips.

Dorcus covered her yawn with one hand and motioned toward the girl’s room with the other. “Taking her afternoon nap, as she always does.”

Emma moved to the door of Alice’s room and peered inside. Though the covers on the bed had been disturbed, there was no sign of her charge. She felt cold all over.

As Dorcus rose from the chair, Emma strode to the center of the nursery and raised her voice. “Alice, dear Lady Chamomile, come out, come out, wherever you are.”

No giggle greeted her call; no dark head popped into view. Dorcus stared at her, eyes widening.

“Find her,” Emma ordered.

She and Dorcus searched the nursery suite, calling to Alice and Lady Chamomile, but to no avail.

“I only nodded off for a few minutes,” Dorcus protested when they regrouped in the center of the nursery. “I promise!”

“Check the chamber story,” Emma ordered. “Then go downstairs to the main floor. If you can’t find her, tell Sir Nicholas.”

Dorcus quailed. “Oh, not the master, miss.”

“Yes, the master,” Emma insisted, tugging her toward the door. “Alice is his daughter. He needs to know if she’s missing. I’ll take the servants’ stair and check with Mrs. Jennings, then go out to the woods. Don’t fail me.”

The maid nodded and dashed for the main portion of the house.

Emma started down the stairs, heart pounding louder than her steps. Every turn, she hoped to find Alice and her doll playing, but every turn stood empty.

Please, Father, help me find her!

“I hear it was a great success!” Mrs. Jennings greeted her when Emma came into the kitchen.

“Yes,” Emma said, “but that’s not why I’m here. Alice has gone missing. Have you seen her?”

Mrs. Jennings blanched, hands braced on her worktable. “No. Oh, where could she have gone?”

“I doubt she slipped past you, but check the servants’ hall, the larder and the laundry just in case,” Emma said. “Dorcus is searching the main house. I’m for the woods.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Jennings said, hurrying off. “And I’ll wave some of those biscuits about. That ought to bring her out of hiding!”

Emma wanted to smile at the reminder of how much Alice loved those cinnamon biscuits, but her laugh caught in her throat. The Grange seemed so large compared to the London town house where she’d spent most of her life. How much larger must it seem to Alice? Had she locked herself in a little-used room by accident? Fallen down a window well? Emma’s mind conjured up a dozen ways a child of Alice’s size and curiosity could get herself into trouble.

Once out the door, however, Emma saw that it had begun to rain, and her heart sank further. If Alice had gone into the woods alone in her muslin gown, she’d soon be chilled. Chills had been known to lead to pneumonia, and pneumonia could kill a young child.

Oh, please, Lord, protect her!

Refusing to take the time to fetch her cloak and galoshes, Emma hurried across the lawn, rain wetting her shoulders, grass wetting her hem. She could see nothing moving in the darkening woods, but as she passed the laboratory, a sound caught her attention. Was that Alice’s voice?

“Sing a song of sixpence, a bag full of rye,

Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.”

Emma drew in a breath. That high piping voice could belong to no other at the Grange. She opened the door, ready to pounce on Alice for scaring her half to death. But when she peered inside, she felt as if her heart had stopped beating.