Nick leaned on the bodyguard as he staggered toward the house. A flight of six slate stairs loomed before the massive front door, and he clenched his teeth and concentrated on lifting one foot, shifting his weight, and making it to the next step. It was slowgoing and would have been impossible without the bodyguard bearing most of his weight. Each movement hurt, leaving him light-headed and breathless.
The front door flew open before he reached it.
“Oh, Nick!” A pretty woman with red hair and green eyes winced with sympathy as he painfully struggled up the final step. “We heard you had a mishap in town, but I see that was an understatement.” She reached out to shake the bodyguard’s hand. “Thank you for making the trip. I’m afraid the housekeeper has already closed the kitchen, but she’ll make you lunch. If she gives you any trouble, tell her Eloise sent you.”
He prepared to follow Eloise into the house, but to his surprise, she slid to his side and wrapped a gentle arm around his waist.
“You can lean on me,” she said. “I’ve got a bedroom prepared, and the doctor has already been called. Should I call Lucy too?”
“No. Don’t call Luce,” he managed to choke out. The last thing he wanted was his baby sister to see him like this, all weak and staggering around like a whipped dog.
“I heard Lucy got married,” Eloise said. “And to an aristocrat! Who would have guessed it?”
Nick shot a curious glance at her through his one good eye. Did they know each other? He had a memory for faces, but she was a stranger. He’d remember a knockout like her, but she acted like she knew him, so maybe the pounding on his head had scrambled his brains some.
A servant emerged from a back room with a snifter of brandy. Nick reached for it and downed it in one swallow, welcoming the burn as it trailed down his throat. How long was it going to take the doctor to get here?
The bedroom was thankfully on the first floor, since there was no way he’d be able to get up that staircase in the front hall. He was filthy with blood, sweat, and dirt, but couldn’t worry about it as he lowered himself to the mattress. Everything hurt. He’d have to buy Garrett a new bedspread, because this one would be ruined. He let out a stream of curses as he lay back on the bed, his ribs howling in pain.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said between gritted teeth. “I’m not usually such a bounder.”
“Don’t worry about it, Nick. You were always my hero. Here, let me help you out of your shoes.”
He was too miserable to protest as she tugged his boots off, but what had she just said? He cocked his head to see her better.
“Do I know you?” he asked through swollen lips.
Her hands stilled, and now she was looking at him with a wounded expression. “You don’t remember me?”
Something about that wounded expression in her eyes triggered a memory . . . like a lost little girl. His eyes widened. “Ellie?”
She sat down on the mattress beside him. “Of course.”
“I thought you were in Rome!” he choked out. “Guess you got back.”
“Rome? I’ve never been to Rome in my life.”
That was odd. “Your mother said you were in Rome. At least, I think she did.” The brandy was beginning to cloud the edges of his memory. “Piano. She said you were a great pianist.”
The color drained from Eloise’s face. “Oh, I see. I should probably touch base with her so I know what the story is. These little slipups can be so embarrassing.”
She dropped one boot and went to work on the other. “Enough about Mother. Tell me what I can do to make you more comfortable before the doctor gets here. More brandy? An ice pack? Just tell me what you need, and I’ll go to the ends of the earth for it.”
The doctor arrived with a large bottle of pain-killing morphine, after which everything was a blur. Nick roused with a roar when his arm was manipulated back into his shoulder socket, but after that there was only pain and mind-numbing thirst. Every time he felt himself clawing up through the fog of sleep, the pain made him want to sink back into oblivion.
And every time he awoke, Eloise was right there, waiting with a cool glass of water, leaning over him, smelling like vanilla and sunshine. He tried to thank her, but he was too weak or drugged to make his mouth work. She always stopped him when he tried to thank her.
“Shh. When I was growing up, you were the only person who was ever nice to me. I’d do anything in the world for you.”
Her voice was soothing, like warm velvet. He struggled to maintain his focus, but the drugs were making it hard to see, and one eye was completely closed up. He couldn’t make out her features, just the brilliant reddish-auburn hair worn in a braid and impossibly green eyes in a pale face.
Another figure stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Bruce Garrett. Nick ought to rise and say something, thank him for the welcome after being beaten half to death.
“Don’t try to talk, my friend,” Bruce said gently. “Eloise will look after you.”
Nick closed his eyes, too tired to respond.
Nick awoke, his head throbbing and entire body stiff, but most of all he was ferociously hungry. For the first time, there was no sign of Ellie—or Eloise, as she now seemed to be calling herself. Every time he emerged from the fog of sleep, he’d seen her here, often with Bruce right alongside her. He remembered them reading together. There, in the corner by the window, Eloise had been at one side of the table, reading, and Bruce had been pacing the room. They seemed very comfortable with each other.
A little bell was on his bedside table. He felt pretentious using it, but he needed help and doubted he’d get very far if he went in search of it. The drugs had worn off, and the simple act of sitting up made it hard to breathe. Tight bandages bound his ribs, his right arm was in a sling, and his lower lip was crusted with blood. At least he was able to open his left eye, which had been swollen shut for what seemed like days.
Shortly after he rang the bell, a portly woman with frizzy brown hair hustled into the room, carrying a platter loaded with a pitcher of water and, mercifully, a bowl of something that smelled delicious.
“How is our patient feeling this morning?” she asked in a bright voice.
“Fine.” A lie. Everything hurt and throbbed, but all he cared about was whatever smelled so good. “Hungry.”
“I expect so. Sit up, and I’ll prepare a tray for you.” She introduced herself as Mrs. Hofstede, the housekeeper who also did a bit of work in the kitchen. “I hope you like tomato soup. The doctor said he didn’t think you should be eating anything too hefty, but I grated up a big wedge of cheese into it, because otherwise I didn’t see much point in plain tomato soup.”
When he tried to smile his entire face hurt, but that bowl of soup was moving closer, and he’d never smelled anything so good. And it tasted divine. Warm, tangy, and oh, that cheese. How long had it been since he’d eaten?
He polished off the last of the soup and was still famished. “Is there any more? I hate to clean out Garrett’s pantry, but I’m starving.”
“I expect you are,” the housekeeper said as she took the bowl from him. “You’ve been out of commission for three days.”
Three days! He’d been wallowing here for three entire days? He pivoted on the bed to put his feet on the floor.
“Now don’t you worry,” Mrs. Hofstede soothed. “Mr. Garrett called your house and let them know about the mishap, so there’s no need to panic. Your sister even sent up a box of your favorite lemon cookies.”
“Is Mr. Garrett here? I’d like to speak with him.”
“He’s out at the quarry, but I’ll send a message that you’re awake and would like to see him. He usually comes in for lunch. Is there anything you need? Just say the word, and we’ll take care of it.”
He shifted his weight. Beneath the nightshirt he was wearing, he was naked. “Are there some clothes I can borrow? Mine were a mess, but I expect most of it will come out in the wash.”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid your shirt
was a goner, and the doctor had to cut your trousers off. We had one of the servants go into town to buy a fresh change of clothes. I’ll send him in.”
It annoyed Nick to spend a dime in Duval Springs, but he could hardly return to New York in a nightshirt, and he was too big to fit in Garrett’s clothes. A stable man came in to help him change, and then Nick carefully picked his way across the room to step through the bedroom’s double doors onto a flagstone patio stretching along the back of the house. From here he could see all the way down into the valley, the sloping mountainside covered with forest except for where Garrett’s quarry cut into the land like a bright ivory scar.
As badly as his body ached, it felt good to be out in the fresh air with a view of the sprawling valley. The housekeeper brought another bowl of soup, a platter of warm rolls, and some grapes. He was just about to tuck into the soup when he spotted Bruce Garrett striding up the path leading to the patio, taking the steps two at a time.
“Back among the living, I see!” Bruce called.
Even watching Garrett’s vigorous climb made Nick’s body ache, but he nodded with a grateful smile. “I’m indebted to you for your hospitality. I think the folks in Duval Springs would have just as soon poisoned me.”
Bruce flung himself into the chair opposite him, his face a study in grim acceptance. “The reservoir is dividing the valley. Some are eager for the influx of jobs, but people below the proposed flow line are fighting like rabid dogs.”
The reservoir’s flow line wasn’t “proposed” anymore. It was a done deal, but Nick didn’t want to quibble about wording. The people of Duval Springs could pack up and leave, or they would be forcibly evicted. Beating him to a pulp hadn’t frightened him, it just hardened his resolve.
“Where is Ellie?” he asked. “I haven’t seen her in years and was surprised to see her here.”
Bruce reached for a handful of grapes and tossed a few in his mouth, chewing slowly as he surveyed the mountainside. “Who?” he finally asked.
This was ridiculous. Each time Nick had emerged from the fog of drug-induced sleep, he’d seen the two of them together, quite cozy.
“Ellie Drake,” he said tightly. “She’s my cousin and Margaret Drake’s daughter. She was here when I was brought in and seemed to have the run of the place as she got me settled. Where is she?”
“Ah, you mean Eloise,” Bruce said, although Nick had a hunch that Bruce knew exactly who he’d been referring to. “She’s my accountant. She was up here to reconcile the end-of-month statements.”
“She works for you?”
He shook his head. “She works for Millhouse Jones in Manhattan. They’ve handled my books for decades, but she was assigned to the quarry a few years back. That girl is an absolute genius with numbers.”
“She called you ‘Bruce.’”
Garrett’s mouth stiffened as he tightened his fist. “What are you implying?”
“She seems like more than an employee. The two of you seem very close.” When Nick staggered in the front door, she’d been ordering the servants around as though she was the lady of the manor.
“Drag your mind out of the gutter,” Garrett warned, his voice as sharp as the glare in his eye.
“Ellie Drake is my cousin,” Nick said. “Her parents never gave a fig about her, and if she’s alone in the world, I’m not going to stand aside and let some rich older man take advantage of her.”
Bruce stood up. “I’ll have a carriage brought around, and then you can get out of my house.”
He didn’t see Bruce Garrett or Eloise again. Within five minutes, a carriage arrived at the front of the mansion. The housekeeper informed Nick that the next train to Manhattan would leave in less than an hour, so they had to hurry.
As if catching the train was the reason for his banishment from the Garrett mansion. It was more like Nick had come dangerously close to revealing something about Eloise Drake that Garrett wanted hidden.
It was going to be a painful journey back to Manhattan. At least he had a newspaper to divert his attention from the gnawing pain. He rarely went this long without reading the papers and eagerly devoured stories about the mayor’s new budget and a proposed subway line beneath the East River. He turned to the last page of the newspaper, where they covered news from the tri-state area.
And he saw it.
The judge in the chlorine case was holding a hearing today on whether Dr. Leal should be allowed to continue his unauthorized chemical testing. Today! The matter of the notebooks would be decided too. All this had been happening while he was napping in bed like an infant.
Suddenly he was grateful for having been unceremoniously thrown out of Garrett’s mansion. He had no idea how fast he could get to Jersey City, but one thing was certain. He was going to be in that courtroom when the judge ruled.
Chapter
Seventeen
Rosalind sat in the back row of the packed courtroom, waving a fan in the overheated room. The hearing to determine the fate of her notebooks and Dr. Leal’s ability to continue the chlorine tests was about to begin, and she’d never been so nervous in her life. They were on the cusp of something great, but it could all come crashing down if the judge ordered a halt to their research.
Dr. Leal was the only witness, which was a blessing, for she dreaded speaking in public. She got tongue-tied, nervous, and unable to speak with the ease that came effortlessly to Dr. Leal. She admired his poise as he calmly placed his hand on the Bible and took an oath to tell the truth, then began fielding a barrage of angry questions from the city’s attorney.
There were no impartial observers in the courtroom. Across the aisle, the benches were crammed with city officials, angry lawyers, and journalists who scribbled furiously to keep up with the rapid-fire interrogation of Dr. Leal. Her side of the courtroom was filled with scientists and the laboratory assistants who had been helping with the analysis. To Rosalind’s surprise, General Mike O’Donnell slid onto the bench beside her only a few minutes after the hearing began.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he said quietly. “What have I missed?”
“Just a few warm-up insults from the city’s attorney,” she whispered, embarrassed at the tremor in her voice, but every muscle in her body was so tightly wound that it was hard to be calm. “I feel like I’m watching a puppy being savaged by a wolverine. Dr. Leal is a very brave man.”
The general reached over to squeeze her hand. “He’s got the best ally any man can have. He’s got the truth on his side.”
Modesty prompted her to pull her hand away. Surely General O’Donnell hadn’t meant anything by the gesture. It was simple kindness, and his presence today gave her a shot of badly needed confidence. Other sanitary engineers from the tri-state area were on their side of the courtroom, but as a man in charge of New York City’s water supply, General O’Donnell was the most prominent of their supporters. The fact that he had come to their side of the courtroom was a powerful declaration of support.
She just hoped his presence would not cause problems for Nick. If there was a falling-out among the three-member board of commissioners, the public would instinctively side with General O’Donnell, a war hero with decades of public service to his credit. Nick’s appointment was still controversial. It was anyone’s guess how Fletcher Jones, the third member of the commission, would vote.
As the morning progressed, Dr. Leal calmly touted the success of the experiment, seeming to anger the city’s lawyers, which was odd. A rational person ought to be thrilled that the city now had an efficient and low-cost means of providing pure water to their citizens, but the lawyers had been circling like sharks all morning.
“Would you give chlorinated water to your own wife?” a lawyer for the city demanded. “Your own child?”
“I would, and have done so,” Dr. Leal said calmly.
Sitting behind his elevated desk, Judge McLaughlin listened to every word, rarely intervening but taking copious notes. After a short break for lunch, Dr. Leal was back
on the stand, continuing to take abuse from the city’s attorneys, who questioned everything from his academic credentials to his decision to hire students for processing the test results.
Rosalind fanned herself, anxious on Dr. Leal’s behalf and wondering how much longer this line of questioning would drag on. A commotion near the doorway caught her attention. The man hobbling into the courtroom reminded her of Nick, except that his face was covered in bruises.
She stood for a better look, because good heavens, it was Nick, and he looked horrible. One side of his face was swollen with purple bruises, and he had a cut on his lip and an arm in a sling.
The glare he shot her made her freeze. It had been more than a week since she’d seen him, and it appeared his fury had not cooled. He limped past her to take a seat on the city’s side of the courtroom, lowering himself gingerly onto a bench.
She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. People stared at her as she remained standing, but she was too dumbfounded by Nick’s terrible appearance to move.
The judge tapped his gavel. “Dr. Werner? Have you something to say?”
“No sir,” she said, quickly dropping back into her seat.
Dr. Leal continued his testimony, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Nick.
“Do you know what happened to him?” she asked General O’Donnell.
“He got into a tussle upstate with some folks who are angry about the new reservoir. Don’t worry. Nick’s a tough son of a gun.”
The firestorm of abuse hurled at Dr. Leal continued. “And how are we to have faith that the poison you are dumping in the water supply is effective?”
“We have six weeks of data proving it. I am confident any qualified scientist in the country can examine the reservoir water and confirm its purity. The notebooks in Judge McLaughlin’s custody are proof of it.”
A Daring Venture Page 20
