“Mr Darcy,” came Giles’s voice from the other side, his tone carefully neutral. “Doctor Pembroke has arrived and is ready to examine you.”
Darcy closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before he looked back at Elizabeth. She smiled softly, her hand brushing against his cheek. “Go,” she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. “Let him help you.”
He nodded, pressing a final kiss to her forehead before stepping back. “I will return as soon as I can,” he promised, his eyes lingering on hers. “And then we shall speak of many things, Elizabeth. Many things.”
With that, he turned and opened the door, his heart heavy with the weight of what was to come but lightened by the feel of her touch still lingering on his skin.
Chapter Forty
Darcy steadied himself againstthe doorframe as he left Elizabeth’s room, his heart still thudding from the fervent embrace they had shared. He could scarcely believe that in the span of only a few days, his entire world had tilted on its axis. The thought of Elizabeth, her lips on his, the warmth of her touch—it brought a rush of strength he had not felt in weeks. But as he stepped into the hall, he came face to face with Mr Bennet.
Mr Bennet arched a brow, taking in Darcy’s dishevelled appearance, a faint hint of amusement in his eyes. “Up and about are we, Mr Darcy?” His tone was dry, but there was a note of genuine concern beneath the surface.
Darcy hesitated under the weight of the man’s scrutiny. He considered offering some excuse, but what point was there? They both knew what he had been doing, and he could not bring himself to regret it. “Yes, Mr Bennet,” he said, inclining his head. “I—” He stopped, feeling a surge of dizziness. “I understand Doctor Pembroke is awaiting me in my room.”
“Ah. Then I shall not keep you, sir. My very best wishes for a promising outcome.”
Darcy dipped his head and began to walk on, but then paused. “Mr Bennet? I wonder if you might… sit in on the examination? My memory, you see, has been unreliable. Elizabeth will want a full accounting, and I fear I might… not remember everything.”
Mr Bennet’s eyes softened, and he gave a slight nod. “Of course, Mr Darcy. I am not much for medical jargon, but I dare say I can manage a faithful recounting. Lead the way.”
Darcy felt a swell of gratitude. Despite his cynicism and sharp tongue, Mr Bennet had shown himself to be yet another soul in whom he could trust. Together, they entered the room, where Doctor Pembroke was already waiting.
“Mr Darcy,” Pembroke greeted him, rising from his chair with a measured nod.
“I am.” Darcy inclined his head politely, then gestured to Mr Bennet and Giles, who had walked in behind them. “This is Mr Bennet, my future father-in-law, and Giles, my valet. I desire for them both to sit in on the examination.”
“Of course, sir.” Pembroke dipped a slight bow to Mr Bennet. “And may I offer my felicitations on the happy event? I hope I will be able to provide you with a promising report, sir.”
“So do I. I trust you have been apprised of my condition?”
Pembroke’s eyes still flicked between the two men, his expression thoughtful. “I have reviewed the notes and correspondence from your previous physicians. I confess, I have some concerns. I hope to restore you to the lady waiting for you, Mr Darcy, but we must be candid about your situation.”
Darcy nodded, his throat tightening as he took a seat. He braced himself for the examination, knowing this might be the moment that sealed his fate. Doctor Pembroke began by asking a series of pointed questions, his tone clinical yet compassionate. “Have your headaches been consistent, or do they come in waves? Is there any recent trauma you can recall that might have precipitated these episodes?”
Darcy rubbed his temple, feeling the familiar throbbing beneath his fingers. “The headaches have been persistent,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Sometimes they dull to a manageable level, but they often return with a vengeance. As for trauma… there was a fall, some months back, from a young horse. I did not think much of it at the time.”
Pembroke’s brow furrowed. “A fall, you say? And you struck your head?”
Darcy nodded. “Yes, though I did not lose consciousness. At least… not immediately. And the headaches did not commence for some while after that, so I did not believe there was a connection.”
The doctor hummed thoughtfully, jotting notes in his ledger. “And the seizures—how frequent have they been?”
“More frequent of late,” Darcy admitted, his voice tightening. “They come without warning, and… leave me disoriented.”
Pembroke moved closer, peering into Darcy’s eyes, checking his pupils for any signs of irregularity. “Any changes in your vision? Blurring, double vision?”
Darcy hesitated. “There have been moments. Flickers at the edge of my sight. And sometimes, I see spots of light.”
Pembroke’s face remained impassive, but his eyes sharpened with a new intensity. “Mr Darcy,” he said carefully, “from what you describe, there is a possibility—indeed, a strong one—that you are suffering from a subdural haematoma rather than a tumour.”
Darcy’s breath caught. “A… a what?”
“A blood clot, Mr Darcy. Inside the skull and within the outer layer of the brain. A rather serious one, I fear. Given your symptoms and the history of trauma, it is likely that the blood has been accumulating slowly, causing increasing pressure on your brain. This could account for the headaches, the seizures, and the fluctuations in your condition.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed as he considered the doctor’s words. “Why do you suspect a subdural hematoma rather than a tumour?” he asked, his voice steady, though an undercurrent of anxiety rippled through him. “The other physicians I consulted were quite certain it was a tumour.”
Doctor Pembroke regarded him carefully, weighing his words before he spoke. “Your symptoms, Mr Darcy, provide crucial clues. A brain tumour typically presents with a gradual onset of symptoms, worsening over months or even years. The symptoms you describe—your persistent headaches, occasional vision disturbances, and seizures—are indeed common with a tumour, but there are inconsistencies. A tumour would likely cause progressive, consistent neurological deficits. You would be experiencing a steady decline rather than the fluctuating nature of your episodes.”
