The People of Dewbrook

Chapter Ten

Immediately alerted by the scream, Rosemary's brother and father both ran into the drawing room as fast as they could. Upon seeing her lying in her armchair in a state of unconsciousness, they both froze in place, looking all around the room while engulfed with fear and confusion. They hoped they would see the truth in Caroline's eyes, a trace that she knew at least a little more than they did, but, much to their dismay, she seemed to know about as much as they did. It did not help at all, nor did it help when she started explaining everything she saw happen while shuddering with her entire body:

"I have no idea how any of this happened! She was just drinking tea with me, and I was about to begin to talk about my husband, but then, she fainted out of nowhere, and I had no clue what I was supposed to do. I fear this illness might be deadly, but I also hope that this is nothing more than my paranoia speaking and that she will go on to live as the rest of us do. Now, I suggest that we waste no more time and call the doctor to see what it might be. When one is sick, every single moment matters, for it could mean the difference between life and death."

"Father?" Harold asked nervously once he saw his father staring darkly at the horizon.

"Good people always die the fastest," Elliott responded with a mournful sigh.

"Father?" Harold asked again, far more nervously than before, shaking him with all his might. "What are you saying? Why should you utter such nonsense at this time?"

Elliott shook his head. "You are young and thus know nothing of the world. When it comes to dying, your mother was by no means an exception. I have seen people like her, especially women, die of consumption and other such terrible things at every step. The world is not as merry as one might think, my son. The world is cruel and unfair, leaving us to suffer with no real meaning behind it. It is true that I learned a lesson when Eleanore died, but there is no meaning here. I have no more lessons to learn, unless, of course, the lesson that I ought to learn is that I am nothing more than a creature which was made to sorrow."

"I am a fairly intelligent man of forty, father," Harold responded with gritted teeth. "Also, Caroline is in the right. I think that we ought to call a doctor. You are not one, and as such, you have no right to tell what this sickness might be. Perhaps she merely fainted for a while out of nowhere. It would not be surprising in her case. When it comes to this situation, it is better to be proactive than to do nothing other than fall into despair immediately. Let us go at once. The doctor will not wait for us forever, nor will Rosemary."

Elliott nodded. "Yes, my son, and I apologise dearly for this inconvenience. Let us go now. Caroline, you stay here and care for her until we return. She must not be left alone, after all."

Nodding with determination, Caroline watched sternly as they quickly put on their overcoats and ran out into the cold late afternoon right after slamming the front door behind them. In a matter of minutes, they were nothing more than dark silhouettes amongst even darker trees, illuminated by the rays of the sun that were fading slowly but surely. As she stared out the nearest window, she pensively placed her right hand onto her chin, thinking about what all of this might mean.

At the moment, nature itself seemed to be symbolic. The sun was fading, but it still shone over their distant silhouettes. It clearly presented the sole two outcomes all their lives could have. Either Rosemary lived, or she died. There was no in-between. If she were to live, nothing would change. If she were to die instead, there would be grief and pain that her closest relatives might never overcome. Even she would feel it at least slightly, for Rosemary would never cease to remind her of her husband. Such people were all the same. Unmistakably pure souls that had nothing but hope and love for the world, their lives ending suddenly at their peak, so many years that could have been lived through by them yet never were. But would there ever be - could there ever be - something good when it came to her demise? Perhaps there could be.

Her mind drowning with such thoughts, half an hour passed, her feeling it was half a minute. The doorbell rang suddenly, waking her up from her thoughts. Nervous, she ran to open the door, noticing that Rosemary was still in a state of unconsciousness. The doctor stood right in front of her, followed by Harold and Elliott, who at that moment looked more morose than ever. She noted that the doctor was a man worn by age, the minimal remains of his hair grey, his deep brown eyes having no spark of life in them, his thin brown lips chapped and curled in a feeble frown, and the old skin on his hands completely withered. Not caring to look her in the face, he pushed her away, but he was forced to face her when she pulled him back.

"As you may know, I am Caroline Proust, and I-"

On the man's face, it was visible that this provoked much rage within him. "Who would not know that? Over the years, your appearance has become the primary symbol of that name which invokes evil. You dare to seduce every man you can find and lead him to his doom, and you are not even ashamed of it! And what are you even doing here in the first place?!"

Caroline stared at him blankly. "I am mourning my husband, and-"

The doctor raised his hand in the air. "Halt saying such nonsense! There is not another tongue that lies as freely as yours! You are here merely to gain something from this most benevolent family, I am sure of it. I have known them for years, and it is incredible how pure their souls are. I, James Underwood, have always been more than just the family doctor. I have known them intimately for years, and although we may not be the closest of friends, we have found solace in talking to each other on many an occasion. They possess not a flaw that truly matters, much unlike you. You are quite unfortunate to meet such people, madam, for if they were not in your vicinity, you would surely-"

Caroline's face became red with fury. "Mister Underwood, I implore you to close your mouth at once. There is an ill young lady in the drawing room who I much care for. It is your job to check on her and not hold a sermon over here because you are a doctor and not a preacher, you know? Now go, go and perform your duty already!"

Upon hearing that, he ran into the drawing room like his feet were on fire. Stunned, Harold and Elliott looked blankly at her for a while before she shrugged, rolled her eyes, and followed the doctor on his way, the latter of which they soon did as well. 

In a few minutes' time, the drawing room was filled with silence while the doctor was waking Rosemary up from her unconsciousness. It did not take him as long as he had expected, presumably because she was starting to feel better and not that ill in the first place, at least not yet. What took him longer was finding the right equipment, which was difficult for him due to his frustrating tendency to make a mess inside the heavily stitched bag he always brought with himself. 

Then, once that was done, he also had to do many tests, none of which were all that interesting to observe. Everyone else's minds wandered, and Caroline was so bored that she almost fell asleep from boredom at one moment. Tedium turned into dread the moment the doctor looked at all of them sternly. Staring at him intently, they all anticipated what he was going to say with every bone in their bodies.

"Well, I must say that this illness is certainly like nothing I have ever seen before," he said with a heavy sigh. "It is not a temporary disturbance of the senses, nor is it consumption, as you might have suspected, nor is it anything else that has been noted in the medical field thus far. However, although the malady may be unfamiliar, it does not appear to be all that strong. Perhaps it is due to this being its primary appearance, but I would advise you not to fret, at least not yet. As long as you make sure that the lady stays in her bed as much as possible for the next couple of days and eats all sorts of healthy meals, especially soups, she should be fine at the very least, if not cured entirely. If the situation gets worse, call me immediately, but I do not see why that should be the case. Farewell, and may we all meet each other at a better time."

"Farewell," everyone except for Rosemary said in unison, relieved at the news he had delivered and also at the fact that he did not stay for too long. The day was finally over. All that was left for them to do was to take care of Rosemary before going to bed, and then it would be over. The following day, not much would be different, and everything would go back to normal soon. At least they hoped so.