"Madam," Mattheus cut her off coolly. "Can you bear the consequences of keeping Countess Marcel from being treated by a doctor that the royal family acknowledges the skills of?"
"I—"
"Anne," the older noblewoman in dark blue called. "Enough."
Finally, after a precious few minutes passed since Countess Marcel collapsed, Mattheus was able to get close enough to touch her wrist and assess her with his skill.
He frowned as he processed the scan results from a combination of his Dedicated Student perk and healing magic. Raising the necessary hormones to revive the woman, he continued to observe her as lashes fluttered open.
"L-Lord Crown?"
Mattheus pursed his lips. "Doctor Crown when I am acting as Court Healer, Countess Marcel."
He didn't exactly like throwing the title around but the noblewoman needed to get into the correct mindset of taking him seriously.
Maybe it was his youth but the Original already had a long list of accomplishments anyway.
Maybe it was how his name was more well-known in academic circles rather than amongst the aristocrats, whose latest exposure of a Crown family member was a daughter that married below her station and the heir who became a knight because he "failed" in academics.
It didn't matter what reason it was, same as how he didn't care what crawled up Anne Farfelou's butt for her to be so antagonistic toward himself, as long as he could do what he originally came here for.
"Ma'am, do you remember what happened?"
"I… was talking to the ladies—No. There was an argument and I meant to stop it. Did I faint again?"
"You did. Have you been sleeping well? Any loss of appetite or eating less than usual?"
It seemed the realization she fainted again made her more amenable to answering his questions, because she said, "I have difficulty falling asleep until late in the night. As for the loss of appetite… yes."
"Have you been more physically active recently?"
"Nothing more than usual when it comes to the season, I would think," she replied after thinking for a moment.
Finally, the other ladies decided to remind them that they were still there.
"Oh, Lady Ophelia, are you alright? You had just collapsed and wouldn't respond!"
"Do you have to continue to hold her hand, Lord Crown." Of course, this was Anne.
Mattheus thought he was developing a headache from the excessive noise of the women, who were all expressing their worry for Countess Marcel.
Thankfully, the lady of the house finally urged the others to end their well-meaning visit (more like nosy, busybody spying). His ears and sanity were saved from further damage. Bless.
Mattheus heard Brunilda mutter something in Italian, not able to remind her she converted to her first language again at the moment. He felt a sense of camaraderie though since his friend only forgot to speak English when she was truly irritated. He was not alone in his suffering, clearly.
Once the sitting room was emptied of the extra visitors and Countess Marcel was helped by a maid, Mattheus gestured for Vincent to leave as appropriate. He had never had the chance to do so thanks to the abrupt interrogation.
The youngest Crown sat on the couch across from the countess, patiently waiting as Ophelia Marcel tried to gather herself. If it were any circumstance other than now, he knew it would be more appropriate to come back another day.
But he was a doctor that came on a house call at the request of the Duchess.
And there really was something odd about Ophelia Marcel's readings.
At least her staff was more welcoming to his presence, having served tea to him along with a low mutter from the butler inquiring whether he would need anything.
Ophelia also seemed to notice. Her eyes darted around her servants in the room before she bit her lip. There was a sense of guilt in her eyes before she straightened and finally focused on Mattheus again.
"What is your diagnosis then, Doctor Crown?" she asked.
He wanted to smirk at her. The woman was still being stubborn even though she was acting as if she gave in to becoming his patient. A normal doctor would need to do more than hold her wrist and ask a few questions to give an accurate diagnosis.
But he wasn't a normal doctor. He had a cheat.
"Well, it's long-term poisoning," he replied absentmindedly.
Yes, poisoning where he found no trace of the actual poison in her system. This was actually quite bizarre considering the long-term exposure needed should have left traces. She had all the signs of lead poisoning… without the lead in her system.
Ophelia became shocked at his words. "What kind?"
Mattheus focused again, having been preoccupied trying to figure out the lack of traces and what it could mean. "Ah, I should say that you show signs of long-term poisoning from the environment but it could just as easily be from an allergy of some sort," he amended, realizing his blunt diagnosis could have been misinterpreted.
As he was trying to downplay his original words that implied she was directly being poisoned in small amounts, he was surprised at the countess turning pale. It took him only a second before he recalled that the last significant news of allergies had been of General Grant, who nearly died from it.
Ah.
"As long as we find the cause, there shouldn't be an issue as long as you stay away from whatever substance is harming you. I will help treat some of the symptoms before looking for what is the cause of your being sick, with your permission, madam."
"Ah, yes. Of course. You want to check Marinell House, yes?"
He stood up, making sure his tied stayed smoothly in place underneath his suit-vest. "Places you frequently spent time in, specifically. Do you own an automobile?"
"Yes. It is how I head to the capital and back."
"That too, then. And the kitchens," Mattheus concluded.
"Simon can direct you to all the relevant locations." The countess gestured to her butler.
Mattheus nodded. He then caught her gaze and gestured to a space near her. "If I may?"
Once he got permission, he walked around the low table and stopped to kneel on one knee. He gestured for her hand before lowering her elevated blood pressure once in contact again. He tweaked the chemicals and hormones to counteract the effects she was feeling before releasing her hand.
"I would recommend the countess having a filling meal right now," Mattheus commented to the butler. "We can check the kitchen last."
…
Over two hours later, Mattheus was at a loss.
"Sir?"
Mattheus dropped his hands from pinching the bridge of his nose before glancing at Vincent. His valet had joined him on the wild hunt for the cause of Ophelia Marcel's illness since he left that sitting room, Brunilda having disappeared somewhere to no doubt do her own investigation.
"I don't think we'll find anything today and I do not want to intrude on Countess Marcel for the night," Mattheus admitted.
While he was able to get away with staying at the Grant Estate considering he had permission from General Grant, he would not stay even if Countess Marcel agreed. She was the Lady of the house without anyone immediately above her in the Marcel family. It would be too scandalous and Mattheus had enough of gossip and curiosity from those women earlier—he didn't need anymore fuel added to the fire.
The nineteen-year-old turned to Simon, "If you would direct me back to your Lady?"
The butler bowed in assent before the trio of men walked through the halls to wherever the countess was.
Mattheus kept a sharp eye on his surroundings, ignoring the mild migraine he had from overusing the Dedicated Student perk that gave him information on things if he focused hard enough. Yet all he saw was more of the gaudy decor that seemed contrary to what he perceived of Ophelia Marcel and her rather understated dress sense and minimum jewelry.
When he saw Countess Marcel again, at the same time reuniting with Brunilda who had also been in the sitting room—a different one from the one they initially met at—he could only tell her the lackluster results of the search.
"I will come tomorrow for a follow-up and to maybe start you on sessions to gradually help you recover your lost weight and figure out a solution to the exhaustion you feel."
"Yes. Thank you, Doctor."
"With your permission, Countess Marcel, I will also continue to try to find the exact cause that is making you ill in the next few days."
He had only gone through a portion of Marinell House, after all, and it could be something the countess didn't think was important or relevant to share. It's not like she would know that potential items or substances that are normally benign could be poisonous to her.
"I will comply with anything the Court Healer finds necessary as his patient." The subdued woman bowed her head.
Mattheus couldn't find any guilt nor vindication at Ophelia Marcel essentially surrendering to the inevitable treatment. She had essentially shot the messenger, after all. Why make his job difficult when he was essentially trying to heal her at the behest of her friend, Sophily?
In another sense, the man had never been angry or annoyed by her being an unruly patient either. It's never fun to be forced to do something unwillingly, after all.
…