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She helped him. “I understand. He will be able to use no part of his lower body. Only the automatic muscles of digestion will work.”
“I am afraid that is true. I’m sorry.”
Even though she had known it, to have it spoken made her aware that some foolish part of her had hoped she was wrong, and that hope was now dead. She felt a profound weight settle, hard and painful, inside her. It was as if a final light had gone out.
The doctor was looking at her with great gentleness. He must hate this as much as she did.
She forced herself to lift her head a fraction and keep her voice steady.
“I shall do all I can to help them accept it,” she promised. “Have you told the Baroness, or do you wish me to?”
“I have not told anyone else yet. I would like you to be there when I do. She may find it very difficult.”
“And Robert?”
“I have not told him, but I believe he knows. This young woman he mentions, Miss Stanhope, seems to have prepared him to some extent. Even so, hearing it from me will be different from merely thinking of it. You know him better than I do. From whom will it be least difficult for him?”
“That depends upon how his parents react,” she replied, not knowing how real their hope may have been. She feared Bernd would fight against it, and that would make it far more difficult. Dagmar would have to face reality for both of them. “Perhaps we should allow them to choose, unless that proves impossible.”
“Very well. Shall we go downstairs?”
Bernd and Dagmar were waiting for them in the huge, high-ceilinged withdrawing room, standing close together in front of the fire. They were not touching each other, but Bernd put his arm around his wife as Hester and the doctor came in. He faced them squarely, hope and fear struggling in his eyes.
Dagmar looked at them and read it in their expressions. She gulped.
“It is bad … isn’t it?” she said with a catch in her voice.
Hester started to say that it was not as bad as it might have been, there would be no pain, then realized that was not what they would be able to hear. For them this was as bad as they could conceive.
“Yes,” the doctor answered for her. “I am afraid it is unrealistic to believe now that he will walk again. I … I am very sorry.” His nerve failed him, and he did not add the other facts Hester had deduced. Perhaps he saw in Bernd’s face that they would be too much to bear.
“Can’t you do … anything?” Bernd demanded. “Perhaps a colleague? I don’t mean to insult you, but if we were to try another opinion? A surgeon? Now that you can anesthetize a person while you operate, surely you can … can mend what is broken? I—” He stopped.
Dagmar had moved closer to him, was holding on to his arm more tightly.
“It is not broken bones,” the doctor said as calmly as he was able. “It is the nerves which give feeling.”
“Then can’t he walk without feeling?” Bernd demanded. “He can learn! I’ve known men with dead legs who managed to walk!” His face was growing dark with pain and anger at his own helplessness. He could not bear to believe what was being said. “It will take time, but we shall accomplish it!”
“No.” Hester spoke for the first time.
He glared at her. “Thank you for your opinion, Miss Latterly, but at this time it is not appropriate. I will not give up hope for my son!” His voice broke, and he took refuge in anger. “Your place is to nurse him. You are not a doctor! You will please not venture medical opinions which are beyond your knowledge.”
Dagmar winced as if she had been hit.
The doctor opened his mouth and then did not know what to say.
“It is not a medical opinion,” Hester said gravely. “I have watched many men come to terms with the fact that an injury will not heal. Once they have accepted the truth, it is not a kindness to hold out a hope which cannot be realized. It is, in fact, making them carry your burden as well as their own.”
“How dare you!” he said. “Your impertinence is intolerable! I shall—”
“It is not impertinence, Bernd,” Dagmar interrupted him, touching his hand with hers even as she clung to him. “She is trying to help us to do what is best for Robert. If he will not walk again, it is kinder for us not to pretend that somehow he will.”
He moved away, taking his arm from her grasp. In rejecting her he was also rejecting what she had said.
“Are you prepared to give up so easily? Well, I shall never give up! He is my son … I cannot give up!” He turned away to hide the emotion twisting his features.
Dagmar turned to Hester, her face bruised with pain.
