That was enough talk of George Wickham for the day. Darcy’s body was rebelling in every way possible, and yet his sister persisted in talking of that miscreant? This was no longer to be borne. “While that is true, I have experienced enough of him to believe my opinions are altogether too accurate. No, it is for the best that you came back from Ramsgate with me when you did. I am sorry to cause you any pain, but I am sure that you will reflect on the matter and discover that I am right.”
She pouted, her gaze falling to the cold tea in her cup. “Why is it alwaysIwho will someday have to admit that I was wrong? Just once, I want to hear someone else admit that tome.”
She was still a Darcy, after all—as proud and stubborn as any of them had ever been, and she despised being wrong. Darcy wanted to chuckle, but now the nausea came sweeping back with an almighty force. His eyes crossed, and he clutched his stomach. “Perhaps someday, but… good Lord, call for my carriage at once!”
He heard her start to ask why, but in the next instant, he had snatched that priceless basin from Lady Matlock’s side table and buried his head in it.
“Surely, it is onlya mild fever. I was travelling just recently, and—”
“Mr Darcy, with all due respect.” Dr Westing frowned and shook his head, waiting for Darcy to subside with his excuses. “You have been experiencing these megrims for what… a few months now? Nearly a year?”
He quieted. “Better than six months.”
“And you’ve still no notion of what might have caused them, do you?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Not as such.” He puckered his mouth and cleared his throat. Surely, there was something… if only he could remember. “I had a fall from a young horse I was trying last winter.”
Doctor Westing frowned thoughtfully. “And did the megrims begin after that?”
“Yes, but… not immediately. I walked away from the fall with only a scrape on my shoulder and a slight bruise to my temple that subsided in less than two days. I doubt it was causative at all.”
“Indeed. And how long after that would you say that you began experiencing these megrims?”
Darcy started to shake his head but stopped himself when a stabbing pain in his eye reminded him of why he had permitted a doctor to see him in the first place. “I… I think April, so… a handful of months. I cannot recall exactly.”
“That is the third time since my arrival that you said you could not recall something,” Westing noted, scratching down something on a piece of paper beside him.
“Well, it was hardly something I thought to record,” Darcy replied testily.
Westing thinned his lips. “Tell me more about your hand. What happened this afternoon?”
“I wish I knew. I was speaking with my sister when it seemed that my body was determined to carry on without me. My muscles locked, my face felt numb, and I was even starting to drool as I was speaking. Now, surely, that is some new fever. Something brought across the Channel by some deviant sailors on leave, no doubt. You have seen it before, yes?”
Westing shook his head with a weary sigh. “I have, but not in fever patients. There are… a few possible causes, though.”
“Well? Tell me what must be done.”
Westing got up from the chair and paced to the window. “Mr Darcy, I expect you have been experiencing symptoms far more frequently and with greater severity than you have confessed. In fact, were it not for Lady Matlock’s insistence that I pay a call to her ‘favourite’ nephew, I doubt we would be speaking this afternoon.”
“That is not true. I would have sent for you if I had suffered a repetition of today’s… anomaly.”
Westing turned. “Mr Darcy, the truth, if you please.”
Darcy sagged, rubbing his temple. “Oh, very well. Indeed, I have been enduring these confounded headaches almost daily of late. Most days, I can carry on as though little is amiss.”
“And the other days?”
He scowled. “I cannot endure light of any sort. My valet must draw the drapes and shield the fire grate, and I can hardly sit up in my bed.”
“I see. And how long does that last?”
“Sometimes, it is days before I am right again.” Darcy’s shoulders rounded in a heavy exhale. “But that is rare. Once a month, perhaps. Only yesterday, I travelled to Hertfordshire with a friend. We intended to remain in the area for a day or two but were obliged to return the same afternoon. I suppose the travel fatigue is what has me so undone.”
Westing tutted a little,clasping his hands behind his back as he paced. “Stress and fatigue may certainly trigger a megrim, but Mr Darcy, by my own examination of you—as well as what little you will confess—I believe your condition is worsening.”
“‘Condition?’” Darcy scoffed. “Many people suffer headaches.”
“Fit, healthy men of seven and twenty do not usually experience almost daily megrims that frequently escalate into dizziness and vomiting. They do not usually have to spend a day or two a month in their beds in darkened rooms. They do not suffer sudden palsies, and they do not…” Westing paced before Darcy and leaned forward for emphasis… “show signs of memory loss.”
