Page 2 of A Duke Under Her Spell
After standing in thought for a moment, the doctor turned and pulled a wooden cylindrical device from his bag. He placed the device against the Dowager Duchess’s chest. “Doctor Standish?” Felix questioned eyeing the odd contraption.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. This is a new invention by a friend of mine, René Laennec, a physician at the Necker-Enfants Malades Hospital in Paris. It is used for mediate auscultation.” The Dowager Duchess raised her brow in question. “Excuse me, Your Grace, I sometimes forget that I am not speaking with my fellow physicians. It is used to listen to the inner workings of the body, the heart, the lungs, the liver. He calls it a stethoscope.” He extended it to Felix to examine.
“How does it work?” Felix stepped forward taking the proffered instrument. “Does it amplify sound such as an ear trumpet?”
“Yes, that is very much the idea, Your Grace.” The doctor smiled, pleased at the Duke’s intelligence.
“Marvelous!” Felix moved over to the doctor. “May I?” he asked gesturing toward the man’s chest.
“Yes, of course, Your Grace.” The doctor puffed his chest out for easier access.
Felix held the stethoscope up to the physician’s chest and placed his ear on the other end. The doctor’s heart beat true and steady. “Positively marvelous,” he murmured. “Mother you must hear this.” He moved over to his mother’s bedside and held the stethoscope up to his own chest then leaned down so that she might place her ear to the device.
The Dowager Duchess’s eyes widened in surprise. She smiled in delight. “How inventive!”
“Indeed,” Doctor Standish agreed. “Doctor Laennec is exactly that. He sent it to me in his last post.”
“We had heard that you were quite unorthodox and now I see why. I am pleased at your willingness to consider alternative methods; however, I must admit to being quite surprised at your previous diagnosis when you are so advanced in your methodology.”
“My apologies, Your Grace. I fear it is the only one I can give you at this time, but I will not rest until I supply you with a better, more precise alternative. I fear there is still much we do not know in the field of medicine.”
Felix nodded and handed the doctor back his stethoscope. The physician moved forward and began a second, more thorough examination of the Dowager Duchess’s person. Felix knew from past experience that male doctors were hesitant to examine female patients in any truly invasive manner as it was deemed inappropriate, but he and his mother had long since passed the point of caring about such indelicacies. They simply desired a cure above all else, societal strictures be damned.
Once the doctor completed his second examination, he put away his instruments and stood just as solemnly as before. “I have nothing new that I can tell you, Your Grace. I have no other diagnosis to offer. It is clear that Her Grace’s health is failing, and I cannot be certain how much time she has left, but it is my advice that you prepare yourselves for the worst. I have not known of very many other cases such as this, but in each one I regret to report that they did not survive.”
Felix and the Dowager Duchess exchanged a look of knowing sorrow. “That, my good doctor, is unacceptable to me.”
“As it is to me, Your Grace.” Doctor Standish bowed. “I will do all I can, but I am certain that it will not be enough. I encourage you to keep looking for a cure; however, it is highly unlikely that you will find one. I will go to London and consult with my fellow physicians, then return to Arkley Hall to look in on you upon the morrow.”
Felix nodded and arose to escort the doctor to the bedchamber door where the butler, Mr. Wheatly, awaited to take him the rest of the way. The Dowager Duchess’s lady’s maid, Mrs. Snow, entered the room and aided in putting Her Grace’s person in order once more. Felix stepped out to give his mother some privacy and walked down to the library. He sat down behind his desk and stared out the window in thought.
There must be something more we can do. I will not accept defeat, not now, not ever.
Pulling out several pieces of paper he wrote missives to the remaining doctors on their list. They were not the best in the field by any standard, which was why he had not written them as of yet, but desperation made allowances for unconventional means. Perhaps they would have knowledge or experience that had passed by their better-known colleagues. At this point he was willing to try anything. When he was done writing letters, he arose and called for the butler.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Mr. Wheatly inquired as he entered.
“Please see that these letters are delivered to London straight away. We cannot afford to lose any more time. We will simply summon themen masse.Please see that a groom is dispatched immediately.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Mr. Wheatly bowed, took the letters, and left to do as bid.
Felix sighed and raked his fingers through his dark wavy hair. “Not that any of it will do much good,” he mumbled knowing that a lesser physician was even more unlikely to have an answer, but he could not afford to leave any option unexplored. Leaving the library, he climbed the stairs two at a time and entered the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber once more. “Mother?” he questioned.
“Yes, I am awake,” she answered, opening her eyes.
“I am sorry to disturb you. I can come back later.”
“Nonsense, you are not disturbing me at all. I was simply going over the options that remain to us in my mind. There are very few, I fear.”
“I was doing the same, and have sent out another series of letters to physicians in London.”
“I hate to see you throwing away good money for ineffectual treatments and diagnoses.”
“It is nothing. A paltry sum. Worry yourself not over such matters, Mother. ‘Tis not good for you to worry so.”
“Ah, but I do. So much falls on your shoulders, my son. It would ease my mind considerably if you were to have a helpmeet at your side. Have you given any more thought about our last discussion on the subject?”
“Paying court to Lady Cordelia Weatherton?”
