22. Betrayal’s Price
Chapter twenty-two
Betrayal’s Price
Everett felt the heart pendant at his throat, its delicate gold chain coiled around his neck like an accusation.
Three days had passed since he saw Emma, and her absence already cut deeper than any physical wound.
But he couldn’t allow himself to wallow, not when his carefully laid plans were finally coming together.
His breakfast lay untouched as he opened the morning paper, only to have his blood turn to ice at the headline: ROYAL COLLEGE brINGS CHARGES AGAINST UNLICENCED PRACTITIONER
His hands shook as he read further.
“The Royal College of Physicians has laid formal charges against Miss Emma Brown for practicing medicine without proper credentials. Additional charges include theft of confidential medical records and endangering public health through unauthorised treatments…”
“No.” The word emerged as a snarl as the paper crumpled in his fist. He surged to his feet, nearly toppling over his chair. His father had gone too far by turning what should have been a private negotiation into public warfare.
“Have my carriage brought around,” he barked at the startled footman. “Immediately.”
As he waited, Everett’s mind raced with the implications.
When the carriage arrived, Everett practically threw himself inside. “Westminster Palace,” he ordered, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.
His father would soon learn that he wasn’t the only Moreland capable of calculated warfare. And unlike the elder Dr Moreland, Everett had truth on his side. It was time for more direct measures.
He burst into Westminster Palace, his rapid footsteps echoing off the Gothic arches as he made his way to the House of Lords.
He found the public gallery already crowded with observers watching the peers debate some agricultural bill. Arthur sat in his usual place, his aristocratic profile unmistakable even from above. Everett scrawled a note on a piece of paper.
Urgent. Royal College has moved against Emma. Must speak with you immediately. - E.M.
He pressed the note into a page’s hand along with a coin, watching the boy thread his way through the gallery to deliver it. Arthur’s posture shifted subtly as he read the message. After a moment, he rose with practiced casualness and made his way toward the exit.
Everett met him in a secluded antechamber, where portraits of past lords seemed to watch their hasty conference with painted disapproval.
“I saw the paper,” Arthur said without preamble. “Your father moved faster than we anticipated.”
“He means war.” The words caught behind his teeth.
“Indeed.” Arthur’s features hardened. “Though I suspect he’s also sending you a message. Submit to his wishes or watch Emma’s life crumble.”
“I won’t let that happen. We must accelerate our plans.”
Arthur studied him thoughtfully. “Are you prepared for the consequences?”
“Whatever it takes.” Everett met his brother-in-law’s gaze steadily. “I am ready. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but if he’s determined to make this a public battle…”
“Then perhaps it’s time to give him one,” Arthur finished.
His lips curved in a predatory smile. “Leave it with me. I’ll need a day or two to set certain pieces in motion.
In the meantime…” He clasped Everett’s shoulder.
“Keep gathering evidence. Every scrap of proof you can find. When we move, it must be decisive.”
Everett nodded, his fury gradually transforming into cold determination. His father had chosen this battlefield, thinking to use public scandal as a weapon. He would soon learn that a blade could cut both ways.
As he left Westminster, he felt lighter somehow. He’d chosen deception once to protect Emma. Now, perhaps, the truth would prove a better shield.
Emma pressed her stethoscope against the child’s chest, forcing herself to focus on the raspy breaths rather than her own turbulent thoughts. “Deep breath for me, sweetheart.”
The girl complied, though the effort triggered another coughing spell.
“The fever’s down,” Emma told the anxious mother. “But her lungs are still congested. Continue with the steam treatments. Keep her warm and give her plenty of willow bark tea.”
“Miss Brown,” Bessy, a senior nurse, called out from behind her. “Lady Salisbury is here to see you.”
The girl’s mother’s eyes gaped open. Emma smiled despite her apprehension—Alexi’s unannounced visits usually brought significant news—and discharged her patient.
When, at last, she entered her small office, her sister’s silk skirts seemed absurdly out of place among the hospital’s plain furnishings.
“Alexi? What’s happened?”
Alexi approached and gripped her hands.
“There’s to be a hearing. Tomorrow, at Westminster. Arthur says it’s about London Water Works.”
Emma released her sister’s hands and sank into her chair while Alexi paced. “You’ve worked tirelessly and sacrificed so much to see justice brought to those who died because of this disease. Let us head to London today.”
Justice for London Water Works but perhaps sacrifice for Everett if one believed in his innocence. She believed he’d fallen victim to his father’s machinations, but he would not intentionally hurt anyone. Did that make him culpable or innocent?
“Have you corresponded with your husband at all?”
Husband. The word rang hollow. Emma’s hand absentmindedly went to his mother’s ring hanging hidden beneath her collar.
“He’s written numerous times, but I hadn’t responded.”
“You’re still wearing his ring.” Alexi’s statement felt like an accusation, a declaration of sort.
Yes. She was still hopelessly in love with him.
“Emma.” Alexi’s soft voice jolted her away from her reveries.
“You’ve always had a strong sense of justice.
Remember when you were twelve and discovered the cook was feeding your porridge to the chickens instead of the starving children in the village like you’d asked?
You refused to speak to her for three months, even after Father explained she had been giving them fresh bread instead.
You’d decided she was wrong, and that was that.
” Alexi’s gentle smile took the sting from the memory.
“Sometimes, dear sister, there can be more than one right way to help.”
“Perhaps the chickens would have preferred fresh bread,” Emma said with a sheepish smile.
“But you see, this is different. Just as I wanted the village children to have a choice in what they ate, I wish Everett had given me a choice, too. He decided for both of us, Alexi.” Her fingers twisted the ring.
“He chose what he thought was best for me, just as I once chose porridge for those children. I suppose there’s some irony in that. ”
Alexi nodded. “I understand, sister. But consider this. When faced with a sick patient, you examine all possible causes before deciding on treatment. We both know what seems entirely right at first glance isn’t always the whole truth.
So, I ask you now as a physician who makes decisions for patients every day.
If he’d told you everything from the start, would you have been able to see past your first reaction? To consider all sides of the matter?”
Emma met Alexi’s eyes. “I would have fought openly,” she admitted. “Challenged his father directly.”
Alexi touched her hand gently. “I believe Everett knew that. He chose to sacrifice your trust to protect your work, which is a significant part of your happiness, your identity. And he made it from love, not manipulation.”
Emma sat pondering her words, turning Everett’s ring between her fingers. The gold caught the last rays of sunset, warming against her skin like a living thing.
She’d been so certain of everything when she left London. So righteous in her anger over his deceptions. Now, however, with this hearing looming, all her certainties seemed to blur.
The smart thing would be to stay in Rochester, to keep her distance from the one man who could cause so much anguish, to live with this dull ache she’d become accustomed to.
But even as she thought it, she was already composing a list of instructions for her replacement. Because beneath her anger, beneath the hurt and betrayal, one truth remained. He needed her, and she would not have him suffer alone.
Emma pressed the ring to her lips. “Damn you, Everett Moreland,” she whispered as Alexi waited patiently.
Rising, she gathered her medical bag while her mind kept straying to Everett. Had she failed him by leaving, or had he failed her by not trusting her enough to share his burden? The memory of their parting weighed heavily on her heart, a tangle of love and regret she couldn’t quite unravel.
The cemetery was silent save for the whisper of leaves and the distant toll of church bells. Everett knelt before the familiar headstone, his fingers tracing the letters of his sister's name. The marble felt cool against his skin, grounding him in this moment of decision.
"I've brought you roses," he said softly. "The pink ones you loved so much. Remember how you used to say they were too pretty to die? You'd try to press every single one, until your room smelled like a perfume shop."
A robin landed on the headstone, tilting its head as if listening.
"I'm about to do something... Something that will change everything. Father will never forgive me. The Moreland name, all the power and privilege it carries, it'll be worth nothing after today."
He arranged the roses carefully, buying time as he gathered his thoughts.
"I've been thinking about that last day. How you begged for me to come to you, and I... I didn’t because Father said it wasn’t safe. Because I trusted him more than my own eyes, my own conscience."
His voice caught. "Emma reminds me of you sometimes. That same fire, that refusal to accept comfortable lies."
Standing, he brushed dirt from his knees.
"Mother used to say you were the brave one.
'That girl would storm heaven itself to right a wrong,' she'd say.
Do you recall when Father dismissed Mrs Hayes for being too ill to work, you followed him around the house for days, reciting Bible verses about charity until he relented?
" He chuckled silently as wind stirred the roses, carrying their sweet scent upward.
"But I understand now what Mother meant about courage. It's about being terrified and acting anyway. Emma showed me that. And you... You showed me the price of silence."
He touched the headstone one last time, feeling the finality of this moment.
"I choose truth now, Mary-Anne. No matter the cost. I think... I think you'd be proud. You and Mother both. And maybe someday, when he understands why I had to do this, Father will be proud too."
The robin took flight, startling him. He watched it disappear into the darkening sky, carrying his words into the gathering dusk.
"Goodbye, sister."