Foolishly Falling for You

16

"She is in good health. Absolutely fine."

I narrow my eyes, looking at Doctor Turner, who has apparently seen to Anita since she was a child. He adjusts his glasses confidently.

"Is that so?"

The doctor nods enthusiastically. "This method of treatment is new but not unheard of. Anita was sickly as a child you see, so these are more desperate attempts of a father to save his child."

Desperate. I don't think I have ever seen the Duke anything akin to desperate. This entire situation smells to me. Anita crosses her arms, as if to say she told me so.

"Then what is the purpose?" I inquire.

The doctor fiddles with his spectacles. It seems its...a nervous habit. But why would a doctor expounding on his expertise of a new treatment make him nervous?

"P-Pardon me?"

I touch one of her scars. "The cuts are not precise. They are not made with a scalpel, you can tell by the jagged edges of the wound."

Anita flinches back. 

"They don't appear to follow any rhyme or reason, they seem...wild and impulsive. In fact, they don't seem like cuts. They look more like...slashes. Are you...slashing my wife?"

"S-Slashing? Not slashing," He stammers.

"So what are you treating? How does this treatment help? Why are these scars made with different instruments?"

"I-I am sorry but I have another house call," Doctor Turner stammers.

"In fact, some of these remind me of lashings. So we have lashings, slashes, and one mark with a scalpel. I am very interested in this treatment," I edge forward. "I believe the King will find it of interest as well. The kind of...treatment the Duke's personal doctor employs."

That breaks him.

"I was not the one to implement this treatment," he said frantically. 

Anita lets out a soft sigh. I smile. "I see, so that's why you don't have these answers?"

He nods frantically in agreement.

"Then who did?"

Doctor Turner went white as a sheet. Anita sighs. 

"Stop harassing Dr. Turner. You asked for a doctor to confirm the treatments, and he is--"

I shake my head. "I asked for the doctor who ordered the treatment."

Anita waves the doctor away who takes a large shaky breath, hurriedly exiting the room.

"Just...trust me. This once, listen to what I'm telling you. Let this go."

Let it go? I clench my jaw. How could I? Her eyes sparkle with tears unshed and I feel myself soften.

"I will have my doctors attend to you. You can not employ rhis treatment anymore," I frown.

She nods. "I won't."

I don't believe her. I'll go to the source of the suspsions. I head over to the last place I ever want to be: my father's house.

My father was a cruel, sick man, and now that he's dying, the flowers bloom bigger and the sun shines brighter. I smile at the thought, as I enter my stepmother's drawing room.

She raises her brows at the sight of me, standing on the step.

"It...isn't like you to visit," She says.

I narrow my eyes. "I am investigating the matter you wrote to me about."

"Weren't you called off to war?"

I wave my hand, extending it for her to sit down. She does.

"Fetch some tea," She orders her maid.

"No need. I don't intend to stay long. I just have questions. My first question is: why the hell were you at my house?"

Her cheeks go red. "I went to check on my daugter in law. You'd just gone off to war I was--"

I raise my hand, calling for a halt to the dramatics. "What did you do? What happened?"

She shifts in her spot anxiously, her eyes darting about trying not to make eye contact. "I said something...insensitive."

"Like," I prompt her.

She looks down. "I can't say. It's...It's a woman's matter."

Woman's matter?

"She just seemed suddenly hopeless, and I wanted to make sure she would be fine."

"Because she hung herself from the rafters?" I ask nonchalantly.

She looks up at me and says nothing. So it's true. And everyone has hidden it from me. What else, I wonder has this family been hiding about my wife?

What else don't I know?

"What were your exact words?"

She shakes her head. "I do not remember."

I stand. I won't get anything else out of her. 

"You are a liar. Stay away from my wife. You're not welcome in our home, especially if I am not present."

She just stares into her tea. "That girl deserves more than you seem capable of giving her. Let her go. She may turn into a bitter old woman like me."

I look at her over my shoulder. "I wouldn't say you're old yet. But bitter..."

She scoffs. "This is what becomes of a woman whose husband despises her. This is your future."

Have I become a man like my father? I shudder to think.

"My wife has a better character than you, Francine. Though I have no doubt she has become disillusioned by my neglect, your temperament does not come from the fact my father does not love you."

She scoffs. "How do you know?"

"He doesn't love me either," I say solemnly, a smile on my face.

"And look how you treat your wife," She shoots back.

I blink and slam the door behind me.