“Yes. I wondered how you were going to examine me with one arm, and I felt the irony of it, Doctor.”
“I only need one arm and hand to examine ye.”
Morpeth bit his lip. “I heard you scream, Doctor, some hours ago. I hope that you have less pain now.”
It was not an apology, but Alasdair wondered if this was the first time Lord Morpeth had ever experienced empathy, so close on the heels of Alasdair’s severe pain had his own followed.
“The pain is considerably improved now that the dislocation is reduced, thank ye, Lord Morpeth.” Alasdair took Morpeth’s wrist in his hand and felt his pulse. It was rapid. His skin was quite warm. He noted a chamber pot by the bed, filled with clear gastric juices. “Ye have vomited, I see.”
“When I move and the pain is bad, I vomit.”
“I would like to raise yer shirt and unbutton the fall of yer trousers.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Morpeth said.
Alasdair looked at Lady Lyndmouth.
“I am not leaving,” she said. “I have seen everything, I assure you.” She did not blush.
Alasdair raised the baron’s shirt but found he could not unbutton the fall of the trousers with only one hand.
Lady Lyndmouth pushed him aside. “Let me.” She unbuttoned Morpeth’s fall but left it in place and stepped back.
Alasdair observed the skin of the abdomen with its pelt of dark hair, and it appeared normal. He leaned down and put his ear to the abdomen, all four quadrants, and heard bowel sounds. Perhaps decreased but present. He straightened up and observed again how still Lord Morpeth was. He took his left hand and began by pushing on the umbilicus.
“Unh.”
The abdomen was slightly rigid under Alasdair’s pressing hand. He now moved to the left upper quadrant, right upper quadrant. The same pain reaction from Morpeth, the same degree of rigidity. Now, he pressed in the left lower quadrant.
“When,” Morpeth gasped, “when you pressed me there, I felt it on the other side.”
Alasdair now pressed on the right lower quadrant.
Rock hard.
Morpeth came up off the bed in a spasm and grabbed Alasdair’s left arm in a pincer grip of iron.
“Don’t,” he said through his teeth, “touch me,” he fell back but did not release Alasdair’s arm, “there.”
“Let go of the Doctor, Giles, before you break his one good arm.” Lady Lyndmouth’s voice continued to be cool.
Morpeth released Alasdair’s arm.
“And now, I must examine yer scrotum.”
Alasdair pulled the unbuttoned fall down and saw that both sides of the scrotum appeared normal. Morpeth appeared to have no increase in his pain when Alasdair palpated the testicles, both of which had a normal lie. Alasdair allowed himself an unprofessional moment of satisfaction in noting that Lord Morpeth’s phallus while flaccid did not seem larger than his own when in the same state.
He put the fall back in place and straightened up. “That dinnae hurt, Lord Morpeth, did it? When I felt yer testicles?”
“No.” And then Morpeth grinned. “I was worried for a moment that you might twist one and exert a little revenge for your shoulder.”
“Forgive me,” Alasdair said and put his left hand under Morpeth’s right knee and lifted his leg.
Again, Morpeth came off the bed and this time a small scream escaped from his lips. Alasdair put the leg back down gently. Lady Lyndmouth was now sitting on the bed and her hands were on Lord Morpeth’s face and she was attempting to soothe him.
“We will get you something for your pain, Giles.” She turned her face to look at Alasdair. “Won’t we?”
“Aye. We will have to ask the Marchioness of Painswick for some of her laudanum.”
