July 5th, 1895 — Museum of Magical Miscellany, London
Exhibition Opening

The exhibit was on indigenous ritual practices of the Americas—not Wystan Pomfrey's usual area of interest. Attending, however, served to remind people of his existance, and as a healer who worked privately, such advertising was far more desirable than the indignity of placing a notice in The Daily Prophet. Besides, there was always the chance there would be something interesting regarding medicine; 'old' practices of the 'new' world so rarely saw scholarly publication.

Stan was examining a wooden staff—"Imbued with symbols and charms for the curing of sickness", the placard read, though to the wizard's dark eyes, it looked no more remarkable than the case in which it rested—when he saw her, his breath catching. It was not a dissimilar experience to observing one's fancy enter a room, save for the wave of guilt that accompanied it: the physician felt uneasy because, in his mind, he had failed.

"Miss Alardice," the wizard greeted once she was close enough that it would not be odd to do so. "You look well today."

No signs of her indiscretion were yet visible, and the debutante did not appear to be facing the worst ravages of sickness common to the early stages of pregancy.

Beatrix Alardice

  

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— graphics by the glorious mj! —

It wouldn't be very long before Bea's world was destroyed, now. The fact that her mother still had not discovered the truth of Bea's "mysterious health issue" was a miracle, in her eyes, and she found herself both glad and terrified. She'd come to today's exhibition opening because she couldn't hide forever. Not without telling her parents why, and she was desperate to avoid that.

A desperate woman is a dangerous thing.

"Dr. Pomfrey," she greeted in return, surprised to see him here. "Yes, I...I'm feeling quite well, thank you." Luckily for Bea, robes had a bit more give around the midsection than muggle clothes — but her corsets didn't fit right anymore. Anyone who looked too closely might notice, but she'd chosen a soft pink and white robe with a lot of flowy fabric on purpose, to deter people from looking too closely. "And how are you, Doctor?" It was only appropriate to ask; after all, he'd outright commented.

Bea is wearing something akin to this with opaque sleeves and a higher neckline.
Wystan Pomfrey

  

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make the most of the turning tide
it just split what's left of the burning silence

How was he? He carried her secret—one he had kept from her parents, in spite of his better judgement—as well as the knowledge that he could not safely do anything about it.

"Well enough, thank you."

Stan had gone to his sister, childless in spite of years of marriage. Though he was a man of medicine and science, a part of the healer had always assumed that this was due to character shortcomings on the part of Dempsey who was, to put it bluntly, an ass. Unfortunately, Thomasina had clarified the situation for Stan more than he ever wished to know, and had been able to offer no more than highly dangerous options for his (to her, hypothetical) patient.

Who looked miserable.

"Would you take a turn about the room with me, Miss Alardice?" he offered kindly.

Beatrix Alardice

  

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— graphics by the glorious mj! —

Beatrix hadn't even looked into the more dangerous avenues for solving her predicament. She couldn't consider that. Not only was it far too dangerous, she just couldn't bear to think of it. Whatever the scandal she might face, Bea found herself growing fond of the scandal's byproduct.

A child. She was having a child.

Certainly it would all be worth it in the end, if the child was healthy; it would simply be a matter of maintaining that. That was the thing that truly scared her. Social ruin was one thing. Being disowned was entirely another. Being disowned meant losing all access to her family, and the safety that came with them.

"I would be delighted," she accepted, offering him a slight, tight smile.

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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make the most of the turning tide
it just split what's left of the burning silence

He hesitated a moment before deciding it would look too peculiar to offer his arm. Instead, he set off at a slow amble, allowing the mother-to-be to set the pace.

"As long as we remain in motion, keep a pleasant expression, and do not speak too loudly," the physician explained, "I expect we can converse without much scrutiny. Have you yet told Mr. and Mrs. Alardice of your... situation?"

Even expecting not to be overheard, Stan was not stupid enough to think he could name her condition in a public space.

Beatrix Alardice

  

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— graphics by the glorious mj! —

Right. Pretend everything's all right and no one will question their motives or pry too deeply into their conversation. Bea nodded slightly and made the effort to keep the slight, tight smile in place, even as Dr. Pomfrey asked if she'd outed her secret to her parents.

"I doubt I would've been allowed to attend today if I had," she replied, her smile growing tighter. It was an honest and likely true assessment. She was lucky her parents hadn't questioned her too deeply about visiting his office just over a week ago. That her cover for missing so many balls and parties of late was that she was feeling poorly.

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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make the most of the turning tide
it just split what's left of the burning silence

For a moment, the wizard frowned, before quickly schooling his expression into something more neutral. True, he did not expect the Alardices to be happy, or even understanding, but Stan knew the wealthy well enough to be confident in their desire to avoid a scandal. Surely their daughter could trust in that, if nothing else?

"The longer you wait," he cautioned as they continued their procession, "the fewer options remain to you. This—this is not a matter you can address without help, Miss Alardice."

Proper help, not the understanding and platitudes he had managed to deliver.

Beatrix Alardice

  

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— graphics by the glorious mj! —

Options. There really weren't any options Bea could see that didn't involve total social ruin. It took all her self-control not to scoff aloud at the mere thought.

Perhaps the doctor had an idea.

"What sort of options do remain to me at this point?" she huffed after a moment. "The root cause of the matter has fled — I cannot see an avenue there." Still, she let the thought stew as they walked, her gaze wandering over the artifacts on display. What options remained? What answers could be had?

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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make the most of the turning tide
it just split what's left of the burning silence

A beat passed—Stan was surprised. Surely she didn't...

"You are not the first young lady to take ill, Miss Alardice," the healer returned carefully, flashing a quick smile at a waving acquaintance (who would hopefully assume he was too busy with a pretty young lady to be interested in conversation with a plump male healer in his middle fifties). "Some take so ill they disappear to the countryside for a year. Others find it... renews their interest in marriage. I have seen the occasional babe born 'prematurely' to newlyweds."

Beatrix Alardice

  

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— graphics by the glorious mj! —

In all honestly, Bea had simply never noticed these things. She wasn't self-centered, but she wasn't a gossip and never speculated as to what caused a friend to disappear to the countryside for an extended period of time, or married suddenly. Such speculation simply wasn't in her interest.

"Oh."

She also couldn't help realizing that disappearing to the countryside probably meant giving the child away. Bea took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her hands in their current position.

That simply wasn't an option.

"The...illness aspect," she began after a moment, her voice inquisitive, "are there...alternative methods to manage it? I've found potions to be, at best, unreliable." She couldn't believe she hadn't mentioned the sporadic nausea during their preceding appointment — but, granted, she'd been a bit focused on the cause of the nausea rather than the symptom itself. "If I am to take a renewed interest in marriage, it wouldn't do to — well, you get the idea."

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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make the most of the turning tide
it just split what's left of the burning silence

The smile he gave the debutante was a strained one.

"Miss Alardice, even without your symptoms... time is of the essence." This was the understatement of the year, perhaps. "Your parents might—if they knew—make the necessary arrangements for you..."

Beatrix Alardice

  

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— graphics by the glorious mj! —

"So I am to —" she began, her tone growing snappish before she stopped herself, taking a deep breath. Several, in fact. It might have been easier if she closed her eyes, but she couldn't. Not as they walked.

After she steadied her nerve, she began again. "If my parents make the arrangement, I will have no say in who I am to marry. I know I cannot expect a love match, but I would at least appreciate a bit of agency in the matter. Or at least someone I can tolerate."

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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make the most of the turning tide
it just split what's left of the burning silence