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November 26 - December 7, 2020
“A doctor from London came last week while you were up at Barton Hall.” “Did he have anything helpful to say?” “He thinks I’m malingering.” Ben sucked in a breath and held it until he could trust himself to speak calmly. “Did your parents believe him?” “No, thank goodness. Or, even if they did, they’d never say as much, which is more or less the same thing.” Ben disagreed there, but didn’t want to point it out. “But I feel like I’m starting to believe him. What if I’m mad? He told Father that this is a form of hysteria he usually sees in older women who have already had children and now wish
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“You haven’t walked on your own in months. If you were shamming it, you’d have to be as mad as a March hare, and I think we’d all have noticed by now.” She was silent, the only sounds the hooting of an owl and the rustling of leaves. “He was so sure of himself.” “It’s his job to be sure of himself. He can’t charge five guineas to shrug his shoulders and walk away.”
For a moment he questioned the wisdom of expecting his young children to master facts he had forgotten two decades since, but then thought better of it.