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a medical dictionary. I thought to see what it advises regarding imbibing intoxicants.” Leading Prudence back to the settee, Eleanore settled there, waited until Prudence had arranged herself beside her, then held the book between them and began riffling through the pages, muttering under her breath. “Intoxicants, intoxicants, intoxi— No intoxicants, but they do have intoxication,” she said with quiet excitement, and lifted the book closer to her face to read. “ ‘Although literally meaning “poisoning of the blood by alco—” ’ ”
    “Skip over that part, Ellie, and find what they suggest to rectify the problem,” Prudence urged impatiently.
    “Suggestions.” Eleanore scanned the long paragraph, reading various words aloud as she went. “ ‘Imagination is excited’…‘symptoms’…‘delirium—’ ” She scowled impatiently. “Nay, all they say is that ‘in cases of poisoning, vomiting should be induced by a subcutaneous injection of apomorphine.’ ”
    “Apomorphine?”
    “An emetic,” she explained.
    “Oh.”
    “But your father hardly drinks to the point of poisoning himself.”
    Prudence snorted. “Nay. Not himself, just our lives.” She was silent for a moment, misery making her slump; then her head slowly lifted, scheming obvious on her face.
    Eleanore eyed her warily. “I know that look. It usually precedes trouble. Prudence, what are you thinking?”
    “Think you that there are such things as oral emetics?”
    Ellie slammed the book closed, alarm clear on her face. “Prudence!”
    “It is perfect!” she cried excitedly. “A bout or two of drinking that leaves him hanging over the chamber pot ere he gets too sotted might cure him of any desire to drink and thereby end his gambling!”
    “Pru!”
    “Oh, do not look at me like that, Ellie,” she snapped with irritation. “I am desperate. I no more wish to end up in debtor’s prison than you would. He will ruin us with his drinking and gambling. He has been doing both steadily since John died. I am sure that if we could but keep him sober for a day or two, he would regain enough of his wits to realize what he is doing to our family.”
    “But—”
    “How would you feel if it were
your
father?”
    Eleanore fell silent. Prudence watched several expressions flit across her friend’s face until resignation settled there. Placing the book on the settee between them, the girl stood and silently left the room.
    Prudence promptly picked up the book she had left behind and leafed through it, looking for
gambling, betting
, and
excesses
, but none of those terms was to be found. It seemed such was an ailment of the soul, not the body. Sighing, she had just set the book aside when Eleanore hurried back into the room, a large bottle gripped tightly in her hands.
    “What is it?” Prudence asked curiously as her friend handed it to her, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
    “Do you recall when Bessy had a sour stomach?”
    “Bessy?” Prudence shook her head with confusion. “Your horse?”
    Eleanore nodded. “At the time the stablemaster was sure she had eaten something she shouldn’t have. He procured this to help her remove it.” When Prudence stared at her blankly, she sighed and elucidated. “This concoction encouraged her to bring it back up. It is an emetic.”
    Prudence’s eyes widened incredulously. “You think I should give my father a horse emetic?”
    The other girl hesitated, looking uncertain. “Perhaps it is a bad idea.”
    “Nay!” Prudence stood and moved swiftly out of reach when Ellie tried to grab the bottle back. Crossing the room, she peered at it with fascination. “A horse emetic.”
    “Prudence, I do not think…” Eleanore trailed her across the room anxiously.
    “But it is perfect. It should have the same results with Papa, do you not think? How much did your stablemaster give Bessy? And how long before it took effect?”
    Ellie grimaced. “A couple of spoonfuls. It took effect