Page 59 of Pursuing Mr. Mattingly

She glanced at Oliver, but his attention was riveted on the doctor, and his arms were crossed at his chest, which meant he was closed off or protecting himself from terrible news.

What diagnosis did he want to hear?

The doctor cleared his throat. “When you engage in regular activities throughout your day, does your heart feel strained?”

What did that mean? “For the past six months or so, I have made it a point to do nothing more strenuous than walking.” She ignored the heat in her cheeks. “Of course, I have been intimate with my husband, but there again, we have been careful and haven’t done even that with abandon or let passion carry us away.”

Except that glorious day in the attic when they’d enjoyed each other with abandon.

And that was perhaps a regret now.

“Are you often out of breath?” the doctor asked without looking as if he’d heard her.

“Sometimes.”

“The fatigue has become worse than when you were first diagnosed with the heart ailment?”

“It has. In the past several weeks, I’ve had to take naps or lie down during the day.” Trying to keep up with Hannah was sometimes too much.

“When you are in the country, do you feel better overall than when you are in London?” The doctor stared at her as if she were a bug in a jar.

“In some ways being here has made me feel more relaxed, but I yearn for the excitement of Town, and I miss the faster pace I enjoyed there.” Though she didn’t look at Oliver, she felt his gaze on her. “However, I have less anxiety here than there.”

Even less so once Oliver had come into her life, but would all that go away soon?

“Is there anything different about your lifestyle or daily living now than when you were first diagnosed?”

“Besides being married?” This time she did glance at her husband. He tried so hard not to show his reaction, that she had learned about him, for his jaw was set as if he clenched his teeth. His eyes were slightly narrowed behind the lenses of his spectacles. “Besides living every day behind fear of dying?” Except when she met Oliver. He’d taught her to stop wasting the time she’d had left and to start living. “I worry less.”

Oliver nodded. “I can attest to this. She has relaxed by increments, and I haven’t known her that long.”

Again, it was due to her husband. How could she let him go, but how could she expect him to stay if her diagnosis wasn’t what he was promised? With every shred of willpower she possessed, Sophia tamped the desire to cry.

“However, the fatigue is debilitating even if I’ve spent the day lounging about.” She pressed her lips together. “My emotions often swing wildly back and forth between happiness and the depths of despair without warning. I can cry for no reason.” Previously, she’d assumed it was because she’d been facing death. Now, she might as well confess everything she’d felt recently. “There is also the feeling as if I shall burn to a crisp at any given time. Applying cool, wet clothes or splashing water on my face or chest have no effect. Sometimes, my thoughts are murky, and I imagine the worst scenarios.” Thus, being frightened of the dark.

“Interesting.” Yet his expression suggested she was bound for Bedlam. “I have not encountered anyone having all of these symptoms together before.”

“I’m afraid of that.” Yet, how sad was it that she clung to the hope that the first diagnosis still stood, for that would mean she could keep Oliver in her life, shortened as it was. “There is also feeling faint at times.”

“Before or after manipulating the stairs or walking?”

“It comes and goes.”

For long moments, the doctor peered at her as he stroked his chin. Finally, he nodded, pulled a brown vial with a glass stopper from his bag and set it on the bedside table. “There is something unequivocally wrong with you, but it is not your heart.”

“Even though my father died of a weak heart?” His diagnosis left her more confused than before.

“These things present differently between men and women, and quite frankly, we know almost nothing about women’s health.” He pointed to the bottle. “This is laudanum. Take a few drops when you find the pain—any pain—unbearable or the chest tightness unwieldy. Or perhaps even when those, er, ah… urges you told me about start to bedevil you.” Dark color crept over his cravat. “Take it also when you feel the other symptoms are out of hand.”

So, because this man wasn’t familiar with a woman’s body or how it worked, she was to spend her days under the influence of opium? How convenient for everyone. In that state, she wouldn’t be a bother.

But that is no life either.

Basically, she was back where she started.

“Then what the devil ails her?” Oliver asked as he came closer to the doctor. One hand had curled into a fist. “Surely, it’s something, else she wouldn’t be feeling as she does. I’ve never known Sophia to lie or concoct stories for attention.”

Her heart squeezed. Oh, he was such a noble sort, a true hero, and he truly didn’t deserve any of this.

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