Chapter 4: The Doctor's Verdict
Arthur returned to the study just as Dr. Evans was packing his black leather medical bag. The elderly physician, a trusted family friend for decades, had a grave expression on his face, his wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose as he turned to Arthur. Clara lay on the sofa, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow but steady under the warmth of the heavy blanket. The room was quiet, save for the crackling of the hearth.
"How are they, Richard?" Arthur asked, his voice low so as not to wake Clara, his hands clasped behind his back.
Dr. Evans sighed, stepping away from the sofa toward the warmth of the fireplace. "Her blood pressure is dangerously high, Arthur. The stress of whatever happened tonight has put her into a state of acute shock. Fortunately, the baby’s heartbeat is strong, but she cannot endure another scare like this. If her pressure doesn't come down, we are looking at premature labor, and at seven months, that carries severe risks for both mother and child."
Arthur looked over at Clara, his heart aching with a mixture of grief and fierce protectiveness. "What do you recommend? Give me your honest medical opinion."
"Complete bed rest," Dr. Evans said firmly, adjusting his coat. "And absolute peace. She must not be exposed to any stress, any arguments, or any sudden emotional shocks. I've given her a mild, pregnancy-safe sedative to help her sleep tonight, but tomorrow she needs a calm, secure environment. If she cannot find that here in this house, you must move her to a private clinic under an assumed name."
"She is safest here under my direct supervision," Arthur replied, his eyes narrowing. "I will make sure the source of her stress is neutralized immediately. You have my word on that, Richard."
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"I trust you, Arthur," the doctor said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "But remember, Clara is incredibly fragile right now. Her mind is still healing from Julian's sudden passing, and this unborn child is her only anchor to this world. Guard her well, because the wolves are clearly at the door."
After Dr. Evans left, Arthur sat in the armchair beside Clara's bedside. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the soft lace of her dress catching the dim firelight. The house was quiet now, but the silence felt like a holding breath before a storm. He knew Eleanor would not stop. She was driven by a desperate, toxic greed, a fear of being cast out of the Vance dynasty once the new heir was born. Arthur reached out and gently patted Clara’s cold hand, swearing a silent oath to his late son that he would guard this family with his last breath.
