"The hip and thigh took the worst of it," Dr Fielding continued, prodding at the purple blooms spreading across Aubrey's skin. Aubrey hissed in pain.
"Yes, quite tender, I imagine. Now then, let's see the really interesting bit..."
His hand moved higher, and Aubrey made a strangled sound of protest.
"Doctor, I must insist Lady Madeley leavethe room—"
"We’re all adults here, my lord." Dr Fielding lifted the nightshirt higher, exposing bruising that spread across Aubrey's inner thighs and disappeared into his groin.
"Lady Madeley, observe here—the bruising extends quite significantly to the genital area. One testicle in particular has taken quite a beating. Nearly black, actually. Fascinating from a medical perspective."
Eleanor made a small choking sound. Aubrey had closed his eyes, his jaw clenched so tightly she feared he might crack his teeth.
"Now, the delicate matter," Dr Fielding continued with the same cheerful tone one might use to discuss the dinner menu. "My lord, Lady Madeley, given the severity of the bruising in this particular area, there's a distinct possibility of damage to your reproductive capacity."
Silence.
"I'm sorry, what?" Aubrey's eyes flew open.
"Your ability to father children may be compromised." Dr Fielding said it as though announcing the soup was cold. "The impact was quite severe, you see. Testicular trauma of this magnitude can affect fertility. We won't know for certain for several weeks, of course, but..." He shrugged. "Best to prepare yourselves for the possibility."
Eleanor couldn't breathe. The room tilted slightly.
"You're saying I might be..." Aubrey’s wide eyes stared at the doctor.
"Infertile? Possibly. Or your reproductive function could be perfectly fine! Won't know until you try, really."
Dr Fielding let the nightshirt drop back down, entirely oblivious to the devastation on both Madeley’s faces.
"Nature of these injuries, I'm afraid. Rather unfortunate timing, given you've only just been reunited with your wife and now this!" He chuckled. "The irony isn't lost on me."
Aubrey's face had gone grey. "This isn't amusing, Doctor."
"No, no, quite right. Serious matter." But Dr Fielding was still smiling. "Could be worse. Could have lost the whole apparatus entirely. Count your blessings, eh?"
Eleanor felt tears burning behind her eyes. She couldn't—she couldn't do this. Couldn't stand here while this man made jokes about her husband's injuries, about their non-existent marriage, about children they might never have.
"Now then, daily care," Dr Fielding continued briskly. "Lady Madeley, you'll need to inspect these areas every day. Clean them thoroughly. Check for signs of infection—redness, swelling, unusual discharge. I know it's delicate, but it must be done. The groin area is particularly susceptible to complications."
"I want a male attendant," Aubrey said, his voice strained. "I'll pay whatever—"
"It’s too late now. Should have thought of that before. You can’t be moved now without risking you tumbling down the stairs."
Dr Fielding closed his bag with a decisive snap. "Besides, your wife is perfectly capable. I'm sure she can manage washing her own husband. Better watch she doesn’t drown you though!” He guffawed at his own joke.
Eleanor wanted to sink throughthe floor.
"And you'll need to be turned every three to four hours," Dr Fielding continued, addressing Aubrey. "Day and night. To prevent bedsores. Your wife will need to help you. You can't manage it alone. I know it's uncomfortable, but there we are. Marriage, eh? For better or worse, in sickness and health, and all that."
He beamed at them both as though he'd said something tremendously clever.
"How long?" Aubrey's voice was hollow. "How long must this... arrangement... continue?"
"Oh, three weeks at minimum. Probably six before you're walking properly. The intimate care will be necessary throughout." Dr Fielding moved toward the door. "But chin up, my lord! You're young, strong, excellent physical condition—well, before the accident, at least. You should make a full recovery. Or mostly full. Can't promise anything about the fertility issue, of course, but as I said, won't know until you try!"
Another inappropriate chuckle.
"I'll return in three days to check your progress. Lady Madeley, send word if there's fever or if the pain becomes unmanageable. And don't be squeamish about the daily inspections! All perfectly natural between husband and wife."
