Page 39 of Prescription for Sin

Everett's heart plummeted as bile rose in his throat. Emma surrounded by suitors, each vying for the brilliant physician he had lost. The thought of watching other men court her, of seeing her smile at them or accept their dances, made him physically ill.

"I... I'm afraid I cannot attend," he managed. "My injury prevents me from standing for long periods." The excuse sounded hollow even to his ears, but the thought of witnessing Emma's courtship by worthier men was more than he could bear. Better to nurse his wounds, both physical and those of his own making, in solitude than watch another man win what he had thrown away.

“You do not need to dance to attract young ladies, Everett. They shall all swoon as soon as they see your handsome face. Now, understand, I have no wish for you to court the spinster sister. I’d like you to attend to court other young ladies.”

Everett frowned in confusion. “Why would they have other young ladies attend when their sister’s match is the aim?”

“That is the political side of things you don’t need to concern yourself with. I hope you’ll be fully healed by then. Now, go home and rest.”

“One more thing. I’d like to see the latest data on the cholera outbreak, Father. I’m interested in charting the recovery rate.”

“Very well but only if you promise not to treat cholera patients.”

Everett performed a mental calculation. He owed it to Emma to continue her research. And if he could discover the cause with Emma’s research, he may save thousands compared to saving dozens by treatment.

He gave his word and left the office, feeling the weight of his choices. He had decisions to make, loyalties to choose between. To do that, he needed to know why his father, whom he had admired all his life, had sent him to investigate Emma.

Emma returned to an empty house, the quiet welcome yet disappointing. The familiar scent of Mrs Norris’s cooking filled the air, but her thoughts kept straying to Everett. She ate standing at the counter, pretending to focus on her housekeeping notes while her mind wandered to their last encounter. She then discovered Helen’s letter and opened it in a hurry.

19 December 1840

My dearest Emma,

The absolute GALL of that contemptible excuse for a man! I have spent the last hour pacing my study, cursing Everett Moreland’s name in languages that would make my old finishing school mistress faint dead away. Of all the duplicitous, conniving, snake-hearted scoundrels to ever don a gentleman’s clothing!

Men! Give them a handsome profile and suddenly they think themselves clever enough to deceive a woman of your brilliance. I swear, the entire species exists purely to test our patience and steal our research.

I could fill ten pages with creative suggestions for what to do with Everett Moreland once I track him down (and track him down I shall). Perhaps we could start by introducing his smug face to the business end of my riding crop? Or better yet, I could “accidentally” spill Mrs Haversham’s notorious curry sauce on his pristine trousers at the next society gathering. The stain never does come out, you know, and it can easily be mistaken for…

But in all seriousness, my darling friend, my heart bleeds for your pain. You opened yourself to the possibility of love; a risk that requires more courage than any of these so-called “brave” men possess. That he would abuse such trust makes my blood boil. Your kindness, your commitment for the greater good, your brilliant mind; these are precious gifts he was too foolish to treasure.

You are worth a hundred Everetts, Emma. A thousand! And while I know these words cannot heal the wound he’s left, please remember that your worth is not diminished by his treachery. You remain the same remarkable woman who dared to claim her place in a profession that fears brilliant women.

Now, practical matters. I have already sent discreet inquiries through my network regarding his movements. (You didn’t think all those tedious social calls I made were purely for pleasure, did you?) The moment I learn anything about your research’s whereabouts, you’ll be the first to know. And if certain documents happen to find their way back to you through mysterious circumstances… Well, best not to question the vagaries of fate, hmm?

I absolutely insist you come to your sister’s house party next week. Not only will it do you good to get away from your practice for a few days, but I have it on good authority that Alexi has obtained a particular port I’ve been seeking. (Don’t ask how I know. A lady must keep some secrets!) Besides, we can spend the evenings plotting elaborate revenge while drinking. I promise to keep you thoroughly entertained and far from any insufferable men.

Remember, dearest, you are first and foremost a healer. Let us focus on healing your heart before we devise suitable punishments for the wretch who broke it. Though I still vote for the curry sauce.

With fierce love and fiercer loyalty,

Helen

P.S. I may have already started a rumour about Everett Moreland suffering from an embarrassing medical condition. If he suddenly finds ladies making a wide berth or being offered remedies for unusual rashes at his club, I cannot possibly imagine why.

Emma folded the letter with tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips. Despite agreeing with Helen’s sentiment, a part of her hoped he would return, tell her it was a prank or that he’d realised his mistake. Any reason for her to forgive him and have him back.

She poured herself a glass of wine and settled into the divan with the latest Provincial Medical and Surgical Journal. Yet even the fascinating article on childhood diseases couldn’t hold her attention. Every small noise made her heart leap, expecting his return.

When the knock finally came, Emma chided herself for the way her pulse quickened. She smoothed her skirts and checked her hair in the hall mirror before opening the door. Alexi stood instead with her servants.

“Hello, dear sister,” Alexi said as she breezed past Emma without an invitation.

“This is an unexpected pleasure. To what do I owe this honour?” Emma’s voice was clipped, already anticipating her darling sister’s irritating matchmaking plan.

“I’ve come to collect you for our house party at Lullingstone. It starts in a few days and ends the following Friday.”

“Absolutely not.” Emma left her sister and walked into the study, refusing to acknowledge her imploring gaze.