“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. Werner, when it will be seventy-five days and counting. They can’t go fast enough for me.”
Given the dazzled way she smiled up at him, she felt the same. He only hoped she still felt that way after the judge ruled against her.
Rosalind saw little of Nick during the final day of the conference. The announcement of his selection as the next commissioner caused men to swarm around him, already jockeying for influence. Rosalind watched from a distance, impressed by how easily Nick mingled with these scientists and academics.
On Thursday morning, it was time for Nick to make good on his promise to visit her lab for a demonstration of chlorine’s ability to treat water. Rosalind paced the narrow aisle between the laboratory tables, her nerves getting the better of her as she awaited his arrival. Dr. Leal was out at the reservoir, overseeing the building of the chlorination system. She was running out of time to dissuade him from his reckless plan to secretly chlorinate the city’s water, making it essential that she persuade Nick to their side.
An awful chugging noise came in through the open window. It sounded like one of those dreadful automobiles, but no one ever drove to the laboratory. People either walked from the trolley station three blocks away or arrived by carriage.
She couldn’t help smiling when she recognized Nick behind the wheel of a grand automobile with its top folded down. Its carriage was a glossy royal blue, and he sat on a bench covered with tan leather. A grin broke across her face as she dashed outside to meet him.
“Hello, Rosalind,” he said in a voice eager with the same excitement she felt. How could she be rendered breathless merely by the way he said her name? Foolish, but she’d been a fool from the moment they’d met.
“I should have known you’d have one of these things,” she said with a glance at his pricey automobile.
“My pride and joy,” he said as he vaulted out of the vehicle, not even bothering to open the door.
“Let me show you inside,” she said, a helpless grin on her face. To her delight, he seemed curious about everything as she gave him a tour of the lab, showing him the workstations and the refrigeration units where they kept testing samples.
“Am I going to meet Dr. Leal?” he asked.
“Dr. Leal is in the field today.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask for details. She was a horrible liar, but she could hardly tell him that at this very moment, Dr. Leal was up at the reservoir, preparing to chlorinate the water supply of the two hundred thousand people of Jersey City.
“Good,” Nick said. “That means I’m entirely in your capable hands. Show me your experiment, Dr. Werner.”
She closed her eyes to murmur a fleeting prayer before taking the samples from the refrigerator. So much depended on this demonstration.
“I’ve selected both typhoid and diphtheria for the experiment,” she said as she set the rack of test tubes beside a microscope.
She put on her spectacles and began preparing the slide, using a dropper to put a single bead of blue-tinted water onto the glass. The blue dye made it easier to see the live diphtheria cells once they were under the microscope. She looked through the lens and twisted the dial to bring the organisms into focus.
“Have a look,” she said as she moved away from the table.
Nick stepped up to the microscope and fine-tuned the knob. After a moment he straightened.
“Did you see them move?”
“Yes.”
She opened the slide and dropped a bead of chlorinated water on top of the blue speck, and covered it again. “We’ll wait a while, and you’ll see that the treated water has the ability to kill the diphtheria cells.”
Instead of flirting with her, he fired off a series of probing questions. What was the percentage of chlorine in the water she just used? How long would the effect last? Could the fact that she covered the slide skew the results?
It was thrilling that he took her seriously. For the next hour, he listened patiently as she explained the various processes for diluting chlorine and infusing it throughout the reservoir. He wandered the laboratory and asked questions about their equipment, the racks of research manuals, even the plumbing for how they hooked up the sinks within the laboratory tables.
Finally, he came to the one piece of personal decoration she allowed to hang over her desk. The old photograph was the only one she had of her parents, taken shortly after their marriage. A gleam twinkled in her father’s gaze, while her mother had a calm, solid look, as though she was determined not to move and spoil the photograph.
“Your parents?” Nick asked, and she nodded.
“They died of cholera when I was ten. They’re the reason I went into this field.” It seemed such a paltry explanation. Their death had torn her world asunder, altering the course of her entire life. It was the same for thousands of people who suffered the ravages of catastrophic illnesses lurking in their water.
“Your mother was a beautiful woman,” Nick said. “You’ve got her eyes. Your dad looks fun, like he’s got a world of mischief in him.”
“I’m afraid I don’t remember him well enough to say.” She only remembered the things that mattered to a child. That he had a booming laugh and liked to tease her by hiding candies in the most unexpected places. That he had a nice singing voice as he lulled her to sleep at night, and that she adored him. She never had the chance to know him as an adult.
“It seems so unfair,” she continued. “They had such aspirations, but they died before anything came of them. My father was in the middle of writing a book about the birds of North America. My mother wanted to learn how to play the violin, and my father ordered one from New York, but it arrived a week after she died. So many unfulfilled dreams, all because of a glass of water.” She traced a finger along the rim of the frame. She could barely even remember what they looked like except for this single photograph. “As the years go by, my parents seem to slip a little further away from me. Gus barely remembers them, and when I die, nobody will be left to remember what wonderful people they were. I don’t know why that bothers me, but it does.”
Nick said nothing, but his eyes were soft with understanding.
After an hour, it was time to show him the treated slides and the efficacy of her research. She inserted the treated slide beneath the microscope, adjusting the dial to cause the cells to zoom into clarity. She held her breath, examining each rod-shaped cell, looking for a trace of life. There was none. Refusing to let the smile show on her face, she backed away from the microscope and gestured for Nick to take a look.
The microscope dial looked tiny in his big hand as he twisted the knob, his face intent with concentration as he peered through the eyepiece. It seemed to take forever, but she mustn’t rush this moment. Every single cell on that slide was dead, and there was no need for her to point out the obvious.
Finally he met her gaze. “They look dead.”
“They are.”
His handsome face looked troubled. “But is it safe?”
Without a word, she walked to the refrigerator, got out the pitcher of water, and poured herself a glass. She met his eyes as she took the first sip, then continued drinking, lifting the glass higher, not pausing until she had drained it.
She set down the glass.
“That was treated water?” he asked.
“It was. It’s the only thing we drink here. I’ve been drinking it for years.”
“And you’ve never had any ill effects?”
“Never. It’s fast and inexpensive. It can purify millions of gallons quickly and efficiently.”
He folded his arms across his chest, his face still mistrustful. “It will never replace filtration.”
“Of course not,” she agreed. “We need both. Instead of doubling filtration units, all we need to do is add a little chlorine. It’s time to at least try—”
“Chlorine smells bad. People won’t like it in their water.”
“Sometimes, but we’re getting better at adjusting the levels, a
nd we think most people won’t even be able to tell it’s there.”
“Until you’ve got it right, we’re sticking with filtration.” His voice was hard and inflexible. It rubbed her the wrong way. This was exactly how he had sounded in the courtroom, as though he was the world’s greatest authority on water, when all he did was endorse an old-fashioned technique that wouldn’t keep up with demand as cities grew larger and more congested.
“Filtration works,” he insisted. “It’s slow, expensive, and the filtration plants are an eyesore to all of humanity, but they work, and they’re safe. You say chlorine kills diphtheria, and I can see that it does. But what does it do to a human kidney? To a human liver?”
“I’ve been drinking it for three years with no ill effects.”
“What about in ten years?” he demanded. “Or twenty? Fifty?”
She raised her chin, her anger twisting tighter. “We don’t know for certain, but I know what cholera can do, and it’s horrible. Babies can die within hours, adults within a day. And you’re fooling yourself if you think filtration can screen out those microscopic cells you just saw die under that slide. That’s antiquated and dangerous thinking.”
Instead of getting angry in return, he dropped his head, looked away, and took a heavy breath. It was a fascinating transformation, as though all the fight drained out of him and he became a different man. A kinder man. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were full of appeal.
“Rosalind, we’re both fighting for the same thing. Clean and safe drinking water for everyone.” He nodded to the microscope. “If what you just showed me can be proven safe, I will dance in the streets and celebrate. Until we’re sure, I’m sticking with what we know. Those big, expensive, and ugly filtration plants—no one likes them, and I wish there was a better solution, but for now filtration is the best we have.”
He sounded so caring. Conciliatory, even. But she couldn’t give up the fight. “Chlorine is better. I know it in the marrow of my bones.”
“Oh, Rosalind,” he said in an aching voice. “I adore people like you. Dreamers who will someday make the world a better place, even though you have to put up with people like me along the way. We test each other. We goad and poke and strive because we can’t afford to be wrong. The stakes are too high.”
He kept his gaze trained on her as he closed the distance between them. His normal swagger had vanished, replaced with a hesitancy she found unexpectedly moving.
“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I know you hoped this day would go differently.”
All she could do was nod. His tenderness hurt, for if he knew that she was hiding Dr. Leal’s chlorination plan, the admiration in his face would turn to outrage.
Nick ducked his head so he could see her better. “Would you ever consider someone like me? As a suitor? I never went to college and I don’t know any foreign languages or what fork to use at classy dinners, but I think you are very fine, Dr. Werner. A very fine lady, indeed.”
Her heart squeezed. She had enjoyed a few brief courtships in Germany, but nothing like this heady attraction to a man so completely different from herself. His blatant pursuit was flattering, but there was more to it than that. His generosity of spirit and blunt honesty were hopelessly appealing.
She could not return his honesty. To the bottom of her soul, she wished she could be as open and honest, but to do so would ruin Dr. Leal.
“I wish this court case wasn’t between us,” she said.
“In two and a half months it will all be over. Will I have a chance with you?”
Win, lose, or draw, she wanted Nick Drake. “Yes.”
All she said was a single word, but it was as if the world had suddenly shifted. The hesitancy in Nick’s face was replaced by a quiet joy that warmed her heart. But his next words stunned her.
“I’ll do anything I can to help investigate your chlorine idea,” he said. “If you need research funds, I’ll pay them. Lab space, I’ll buy it. I don’t know how medical tests work, but tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you. I’m not a stupid man, and I understand what I just saw beneath those slides. But you’ve got to prove to me that it’s safe before I can support it. I don’t know if it will take years or decades, but I’ll help you. You can count on me, Rosalind.”
His full-throated support was humbling. Within the space of an hour, he had opened his mind and taken the first, crucial step in her direction. There was no trace of pride or stubborn commitment to his original position. All she saw was a genuine desire to find the best way to deliver clean water. She longed to return his honesty, confess everything that was taking place out at the reservoir, and beg for his understanding.
But it was impossible. Nick must never learn of Dr. Leal’s plan to release the chlorine early, or that she had played any part in covering it up. As fast as Nick’s respect for her had flared to life, it would vanish in a flash if he was betrayed.
Chapter
Seven
On Friday morning, Nick arrived at his sister’s elegant apartment before dawn with a heavy heart. He hoisted his groggy daughter higher in his arms as he strode toward the elevator that would take him to Lucy’s sixth-story apartment. This was a message that should be delivered in person, and since she and her husband would be headed to their office soon, he needed to intercept them before they left for the day.
Lucy and her husband worked for rival news agencies. Lucy was a telegraph operator for the Associated Press and handled stories wired into the New York office of America’s premier news agency. Her husband, Colin, was the New York manager for Reuters, the British equivalent. Between the two of them, they always knew what was going on in the city.
If Reuters hadn’t heard the report Nick was bringing, surely the AP would. This wasn’t the sort of news Lucy and Colin should hear from a newswire.
Their uncle was dead. The man they’d battled in a decades-long lawsuit and who had haunted their nightmares was finally dead. The last time Nick had seen Uncle Thomas was in a courtroom five years earlier as his son was sentenced to ten years in prison based on evidence Lucy turned over to the authorities. Uncle Thomas and his wife had been staring daggers at him. They hadn’t exchanged a word since. Nick had learned of Uncle Thomas’s death last night and been unexpectedly troubled by it.
And ashamed. Family was the most important thing in the world. Inheriting a fortune had taught him that. Dining on fancy plates and wearing tailored clothes were nice but didn’t bring the bone-deep security and love that a family provided.
Uncle Thomas had been a snake who could rival any Shakespearean villain, but he and Aunt Margaret had a strong marriage. No matter how much Nick despised Uncle Thomas, this morning his widow was grieving. It was something he had firsthand experience with. He wasn’t sure how to deliver the news to Lucy without reopening the Pandora’s box of painful memories, but she needed to know, and he didn’t want her hearing it from someone else.
“Lady Beckwith’s floor,” he said to the elevator attendant as the man turned the crank to close the doors. Nick still felt a little foolish calling his baby sister by a title, but she had married a baronet.
He bobbed and rocked a little to keep Sadie awake as the elevator climbed higher and delivered them to his sister’s sixth-floor apartment. Colin answered his knock, wearing a burgundy silk dressing robe casually thrown over his broadcloth shirt and suspenders.
“Hello, Nick,” Colin said. “And look at this charming little sleepyhead.” He gave a gentle tussle to Sadie’s dark curls, but his welcoming smile dimmed at Nick’s serious expression. “Come inside. We’ve got strawberry crumpets. Lucy? Your brother is here.”
Nick stepped inside the apartment, so different than the shabby place where he and Lucy grew up. Instead of well-worn furniture that had come down through generations of Drakes, the pieces in Lucy’s apartment were even older, harkening from Colin’s seventeenth-century estate in England. Nick always felt a little uncomfortable sitting on furniture that had probably once hos
ted kings and dukes.
Lucy strode into the room, dressed in a plain black skirt and canary yellow blouse that offset her jet-black hair. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m taking Sadie to stay with Bridget’s parents while I head out of town for a few days. Something unexpected has come up.”
Lucy must have noticed the tension in his voice, for she lowered herself into a seat, her eyes concerned. “Tell me,” she said.
“It’s Uncle Thomas. He’s dead.”
Warmth fled from Colin’s face. “Can the devil ever really die?”
Silence descended. Uncle Thomas had caused generations of trouble in their family, and Nick didn’t expect Colin to have much sympathy.
“How did you find out?” Lucy asked.
Nick didn’t want to tell her. Lucy had made a complete break with the Saratoga branch of their family, and she’d always assumed he had too.
He hadn’t. Guilt over the family rift started plaguing him within weeks after the lawsuit had been settled. It had been easy enough to become friendly with one of the footmen at Oakmonte, the grand country estate where his aunt and uncle had lived for the past thirty years. Oakmonte had been purchased with money swindled from his grandfather, and to this day, Nick had never set foot on the property. But footmen had their price, and Nick gladly paid it to be informed of everything that went on behind Oakmonte’s grand façade.
He took a seat at the breakfast table, gently bouncing Sadie on his knee. “I got a telephone call from one of the servants at Oakmonte,” he admitted.
Lucy’s eyes narrowed with bewilderment.
Sadie started to rouse and noticed the strawberry crumpets on the table. Without warning, she lunged for one. He scooped her back into his arms more securely.
“Can I steal one of your fancy rolls?” he asked. “Apparently I haven’t been feeding my child properly.”
Lucy went about filling a plate for both of them, but he could tell from the stiffness of her movements that she didn’t approve of him being in touch with the folks over at Oakmonte. And she still didn’t know the half of it.
A Daring Venture Page 8
