Cordelia started to nod when an exceptionally short man with a ring of ashy hair and a small mustache breezed into the room.
Dr. Mabee’s medical bag was nearly as big as he was. The nervous type, he was given to a number of unnecessary gestures—brisk hand-wiping and twitchy fingers, too many blinks. He quickly set up shop on the heavy rosewood desk in the study and had Cordelia come sit on the edge of it like it was an examination table, squinting into her face from behind bifocals. “Yes, I think I see the likeness—around the mouth, the line of the neck, and so on,” he said. “Remarkable.”
She frowned and touched her head, her symptoms all but gone now. She wasn’t really in a hurry to be reminded of her mother’s suffering or her own, the resignation she felt toward her own undoing. But she was losing her ability to judge the timing and severity of the headaches since coming here, and that frightened her.
“Sir,” Eustace stated with a snarl, leaning against the edge of the desk next to her sister. “My sister was out cold in a grocery store. I think we’re less concerned with how much she resembles our aunt and more concerned with what the fuck is wrong with her.”
“Of course,” he acquiesced with a little cough. He shined an ophthalmoscope into one of Cordelia’s eyes and then the other. “Did you experience any symptoms prior to syncope?”
“Sin-what?” Cordelia asked.
“Fainting,” he clarified. “Did you notice anything unusual before you passed out, Ms. Bone?”
“A bit of a headache coming on,” she said, carefully avoiding Eustace’s gaze. “I was late getting my caffeine fix. You know how that goes.”
Beside her, Eustace went brittle as old cheese.
“Uh-huh,” Dr. Mabee said, checking each of her ears. “And do you get them often? These headaches?”
She hated to answer that in front of her sister. She could lie if she weren’t so terrible at it, and if Eustace weren’t a human polygraph. Better to have it out now. “Daily since coming here. A couple of times a week before that.”
“Sincecoming here?” he reiterated. “You mean they’ve gotten worse with your arrival and not better?”
Cordelia nodded.
Eustace sucked in air. “Oh, Cordy.” Her eyes watered, shining like silver coins.
Dr. Mabee fitted Cordelia’s arm with a blood pressure cuff. “Are your parents still with us?” he asked bluntly.
“I don’t know my father,” Cordelia told him. “Our mother died of a brain aneurysm.”
He emitted a small grunt.
Cordelia sat still while he listened to her heart. Putting his stethoscope away, he pulled out a butterfly needle and a blood collection tube. “It’s just as I thought. You’re perfectly well, Ms. Bone.For now.”
Eustace narrowed her eyes. “I’ve been around enough doctors in recent months to know when one is holding back, Dr. Mabee. So, whataren’tyou saying?”
The doctor smiled. “I made regular house calls for your aunt—your entire family, in fact. Checkups and such. Though we lost Claude some years ago. It’s been just Augusta for so long. I was surprised when Gordon called from the supermarket and told me who you were. I’d not been informed of your arrival. I expected any future Bones would come under the same arrangement,” he explained.
“Arrangement?” Cordelia wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but he seemed to think she would be.
“Yes, well. I suppose you’ve been away. Haven’t you?” He said more to himself than her. “Most unusual.”
“What’s so unusual about us being away?” Eustace pressed.
“I suppose Mr. Togers hasn’t had an opportunity to explain how things are done yet. I’m on a retainer, you see. Available to come to the big house when needed. Anytime, day or night. It’s an agreement that’s been in place here with my predecessors for some generations,” he told them.
Gordon entered with a tray and several cups of tea. Setting them down, he stood back. Cordelia smiled up at him.
Turning promptly to him, the doctor said, “Mr. Jablonski, would you be kind enough to step out of the room? These are private,familymatters and I must not violate my oath.”
“Oh, sure.” Gordon gave her a reassuring grin before sliding the pocket doors closed behind him. Cordelia listened for his retreating steps but was immediately distracted by the poke of the needle.
Once the doors slid shut, the smile dropped from Dr. Mabee’s face. “Thesemaladies,” he began, “have plagued your family for a great many years. To varying degrees and effect for each person, but as I understand it, it is a hereditary defect.”
“I’m sorry,” Cordelia interrupted him. “Whatdefect?”
He leaned in. “Ms. Bone, I am taken into your confidence as I was your aunt’s to a most dedicated degree, as I am paid to be. But I can only extend to you that which was extended to me by my predecessor here, circumscribed by your own family’s discretion, and under the careful oversight of Mr. Togers. Your family’sconditionis of a discreet nature. My understanding of it is limited—a collection of what I have been told and my own practical experience. I don’t pretend otherwise, and no more has been asked of me.”
