Page 54 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“It is an unusual situation, to be sure.” Francis nodded as if he were deep in contemplation. “However, Your Grace, I believe your son was right to bring her into his safety. She was badly injured, and I do not know if the city infirmaries would have seen her to a full recovery.”
“Why is that, Doctor?” the Duchess squinted at him over the sun streaming in through the great east windows.
“She suffered many broken ribs.” Francis began to explain.Now I must plant the seed.“If one of her ribs should have punctured... well, anything internal, then harmful humors begin to infect areas of the body that they should not be in.” Francis knew that the Duchess had no knowledge of medical science, and he hoped that she would forget most of what he told her in a short amount of time.
“This will give cause to a horrible, internal infection.” Francis went on. “And even I would be powerless to stop it's work.” Francis could see that the Duchess looked horrified.
“But she is well, our patient?” the Duchess insisted, suddenly rattled by the medical discussion.
“Well, I should see to that, Your Grace, you yourself have said that you have not seen her. He pushed his chair out and reached down for the black medical bag.
“Oh my.” The Duchess took in a breath. “How cruel a host am I?”
“Not at all, Your Grace.” Francis began to make his way towards the hallway.It is I who is the cruelest of guests.
His feet were heavier now than they had ever been as Daniel showed him to Miss Benson's room. Once more he passed the overbearing painting of St. Sebastian. The martyr hung against the Roman pillar, bound by thick cord, pierced by a torrent of arrows, and still his eyes bore down into Francis's soul.
Francis had never been a religious man. Of course, he had been raised in conjunction with the church, just as near everyone else of his status in the country. Yet, as he grew older and tasted sin, he fell away from the teachings of the Bible. It all seemed a bit much for him, and being a man of science, he eventually put zero stock in it.
Yet, trudging down the hall towards the confrontation, he could no longer pretend was not going to happen; he felt the unrelenting stare of St. Sebastian, judging him from his death sentence.
“Here we are, doctor.” Daniel said, reaching the door. He knocked twice and called, “Miss Benson? The doctor is here.
* * *
“Send him in.” Leah responded. She pulled herself up a bit more in the bed, bracing against the pillows. She had found that in the confines of the small space, one of her greatest joys had become answeringsend him in,or,enter.It feels good to have your own space.
“Good morning, Miss Benson.” Dr. Fowler said as he came through the door. Leah knew immediately that something was wrong with him; his face looked like it belonged to a man that hadn't slept in a week.
“Good morning to you, Doctor.” she said, looking him up and down. “Are you sure I'm the one that needs attention?”
“Quite right.” He took the stool beside the bed. “I fear I look something awful.”
“That is a polite way of saying things.” Leah smiled at the doctor. He looked worried and troubled. It was a look she knew all too well, and it was a face she normally hadn't seen on those living in the upper classes.
“Enough about me and my inability to sleep soundly.” Dr. Fowler waved his hand as if he were shooing a fly aside. “How are you faring, or at the far least, how do you feel?”
“I am turning mad in this room, Doctor.” Leah sighed. “I cannot live like this any longer.”
“Well, I shall be the judge of that, hmm?” Dr. Fowler leaned forward and clicked open his medical bag. Looking down into it he could see his display of tools neatly arranged.
“My ribs still hurt, but much less.” Leah said hopefully. “And I feel my ankle is fine enough again.”
“Then we shall start with the ankle.” Dr. Fowler said. Turning to avoid her face, he began to examine her previously-injured ankle.
After confirming that her ankle had in fact healed remarkably well – much to Leah's delight – Dr. Fowler set to checking her ribs with a delicate hammer.
She studied him closely; there was an uneasiness within him that leaked out like some sort ooze. She could feel it, dripping down onto her, and she could see its nature.He is hiding something, something that has to do with me.
“It is impressive.” Dr. Fowler concluded, sitting back on the stool. She could see that he was sweating a fair amount – more than would be naturally occurring on this late summer day. “Your body has healed at an accelerated rate, it seems.” He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
“Accelerated?” Leah squinted at him.He is sure enough in a hurry.
“Well, your ribs will require another week or two to regain full functionality.” he went on. Leah watched his face and saw him slip between tracks of thought. One was medical, and one was causing him intense anxiety.What are you hiding, Doctor?
“But I can begin to walk about?” Leah pressed.
“Slowly, mind you.” Dr. Fowler said sternly. “It won't do to have you trip and fall, upsetting all our progress now, would it?”
