June 24th, 1895 — Offices of Drs. Pomfrey, Diagon Alley, London

"My apologies, Miss Alardice," the physician offered profusely as he entered his examination room-cum-office, where the young lady already sat. "A house call ran long."

This was, Wystan thought, a less awkward excuse than I was eating lunch; quickly and, he hoped, unobtrusively, Stan ran a hand over his beard lest any crumbs remain to betray his fib. Truer still, the wizard had no reason to apologize, strictly speaking: there had been no appointment scheduled. The day nurse, however, had said there was something about the young lady that had prompted her to send the witch back nonetheless, and neither Stan nor his father employed staff whose judgement could not be trusted entirely.

Rather than go directly to Miss Alardice, he removed his wand, raping it thrice upon the deceptively medium-sized cabinet along one wall of the room. On the third rap, the cabinet relinquished its treasure: a manila folder with the young lady's name noted upon it in a neat, precise hand that most certainly did not belong to either of the physicians in the offices, both of whom possessed the sort of handwriting stereotypically associated with their occupation. He did not open it, however, instead placing it on the desktop and taking his seat.

"Now," he said, steepling his fingers on the desk, "what has brought you to us this afternoon?"

Hurling! Unmarried, under 30, willing to consider Stan :P

  

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— graphics by the glorious mj! —

Trixie had honestly put this off for far too long.

"Oh, I don't mind the wait...thank you, for seeing me, Dr. Pomfrey," she said softly. This was a drastic change from her usual chipper self, but then, most people don't visit the doctor nearly out of the blue without some sort of reasoning to be less than...enthusiastic. Yet even still, in Trixie's previous visits to the office (which were usually just regular checks to make sure she was healthy on a cursory level), she had always had a quiet enthusiasm to her.

This was different. This was anxiety.

"I...well, I..." Trixie tried to begin, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. And even though she was already an adult, a young woman, she asked, like a teenager who's about to misbehave, "You won't tell my mother what I say, will you?"

  

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

As she spoke, Stan eyed the debutante. Physically, there was not evedently anything wrong with her, but she was rather... off Oh, he did not know any of his patients particularly well, save perhaps for the more valetudinarian ones, but each tended to have the same demenaour each time he saw them, and Miss Alardice's was not matching up. And yet, if she were properly ill, Stan thought, surely her parents would have arranged for a house call?

"Not what you say, no," the healer answered carefully, "but of course, I would not be doing my duty as your physician if I did not report if something were seriously amiss." She was too old, certainly, to be getting her monthlies only just now, so at least Wystan was spared the embarrassment of having to explain to the witch her menstrual cycle.

"Your father may know that you came to see me, if he is the sort to be... meticulous about bills."

His desire as a man of medicine for her to divulge the reason for her visit was at odds with his reluctance as a man of honour to lie to her.

Beatrix Alardice

  

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"Oh," she says, both embarrassed and a bit dejected by the thought that her father might notice that there'd been a visit to the doctor's. Of course there would be financial evidence of the visit happening. Of course. That only made sense.

But that did answer her question, regardless. This was...somewhat of a safe space in which her troubles could be potentially alleviated. And of course, she was no liar.

Beatrix took a deep breath, and spoke. "As you'll recall, I attended finishing school in Paris," she begins, "and, of course, during my time there, I made some...acquaintances. One of them...he claimed to be a gentleman, I assure you...well, he visited recently...and he led me to believe he intended to propose...so I..." Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, averting her gaze. The implication of her shame was quite clear.

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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

He did not recall this, but gave a small nod of agreement nonetheless. The fact was, largely, quite immeterial unless the finishing school had been beset by some sort of long-dormant plague—unlikely, to say the least. As her story—brief though it was—continued, however, Stan began to see a path towards its relevance.

"Miss Alardice, I know it is likely uncomfortable for you to do so," it would be uncomfortable for the healer, too, though he showed no evidence of this, "but I need you to speak plainly with me, or I will not be able to assist you."

Merlin, please let her have simply kissed the gentleman and be haunted by the memories of the since-abandoned Hogwarts chastity cuffs.

Beatrix Alardice

  

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Bea wished that was all she'd done.

"He...we...Doctor, I laid with him," she said, trying to explain through the anxiety and panic. "In the moment, it felt wonderful, and then it hurt, and then we fell asleep. When I awoke, he was gone, and all he left was a note, thanking me. I..."

She wiped at her cheek abruptly, casting aside a tear that escaped. She did not want to appear weak, despite the fact she knew she was. She'd given it all up so easily...

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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

Oh.

Oh dear.

Well, that was plain—or plain enough.

He coughed uncomfortably into a hand to buy himself some time.

A heavy sigh, and Stan reached across the desk to offer her his handkerchief. It was nondescript: a border, but no monogram, clearly the possession of a man accustomed to distributing them to ohters.

"You were worried, then, that your indescretion may be discovered?"

A part of him felt bitter, though only fleetingly, towards Miss Alardice: her indescretion was quite damning, according to the rules of capital-S Society, but was secret. It was entirely possible she would not be found out. She was plainly living the consequences now, but still. Meanwhile, his sister had been in far less indecent a position than this, and had had to hide out in finishing school until the matter blew over.

"Or perhaps... perhaps concerned that the gentleman—" the word was spoken with clear derision; whatever fault Miss Alardice might have born, her companion's was far greater "—left you with more than a note?" Brown eyes lowered to the debutante's midsection.

Beatrix Alardice

  

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She accepted the handkerchief without protest or hesitation, gently blotting at her eyes as Dr. Pomfrey spoke. Merlin, she hadn't even considered the possibility of discovery until — until Anne had informed her of the likely result.

"I fear it's more than mere concern," Beatrix began softly, her voice thick with emotion. "One of the housemaids, Anne, her mother is a midwife, and her sisters are in training to become the same. She told me the...the details, and has been...helping me, to keep things...hidden." It made Beatrix feel guilty, implicating her housemaid, who was so incredibly kind, in this whole ordeal.

Still. The man before her was her doctor. It was only right that he know the details of how severely she had deviated from the path laid out before her from birth.

"I fear I may be beyond help."

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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

It was, frankly, just about as bad as it could possibly be. Wystan did not think there was much of a point in noting this to Miss Alardice, who was understandably overcome by the gravity of her circumstances. True, she was in part to blame, but women—particularly those reared to be Society wives—tended to have a pitiable understanding of their own bodies. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he considered her position.

"It may surprise you, Miss Alardice," he said after a few moments, "to learn that you are the first young woman to come to me in these particular circumstances." Oh, Stan had treated pregnant women before, but they had been in possession of the all-important wedding band.

"My knowledge of your... condition is extensive enough," he continued; surely he rivaled a trainee midwife, if not a fully qualified one. "I can tell you a great deal about the physical changes that you are likely to encounter, but socially..."

Merlin this was uncomfortable.

"Our world is not a kind one towards unwed mothers."

Beatrix Alardice.

  

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She knew that much, at least. It may have not happened frequently, but it had happened before — not to anyone Beatrix knew, of course, but Society types loved their gossip. It took a significant effort not to burst out in another wave of tears as she considered her station.

"So I am to be ruined, then?" she asked after a moment. "I have no current suitors, and I dare not tell Mother or Father of this...condition." She sighed heavily, wringing his handkerchief in her hands. "I can't believe I was so stupid. So...naive." She didn't say it, but suddenly, she wondered how many other young ladies had been tossed aside into ruin by this one man...

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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

His was a long exhale through his nostrils, though the extended beat that Stan took before replying did not furnish him with anything resembling clarity.

"Leave it with me," he said at last.

The responsible thing to do, Stan knew, would be to write to Mr. or Mrs. Alardice. His father, the healer knew, could advise him on which would likely be the softer of the pair. Whichever it was could swoop in, formulate a plan, and take this not medical problem out of his decidedly medical lap. She did not wish him to, of course, but what young lady would? Would Ani come to thier father, to Stan himself, under such circumstances? No, she would go to Sina.

What if Stan did, too?

"Come back in... three days." Her condition was unlikely to worsen dramatically in that time. His sister was a healer but, more importantly, a woman in the eye of Society whether she liked it or not. A shot, then, at helping Miss Alardice on something resembling her terms before informing her parents of her predicament. The best of both suboptimal worlds.

Beatrix Alardice

  

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Leave it with him.

Beatrix could barely fathom the idea of leaving this matter in his hands, but what choice did she have? She wasn't the type of person who would seek out something drastic, never had been, but this...Merlin, she'd really messed her own life up, hadn't she? There was nothing to be done for it.

Monsieur Courtmanche had ruined her...no. She had ruined herself.

To her own surprise, as she came to this realization, she did not burst into another fit of tears. She dabbed at her cheeks again, just in case, and slowly rose to her feet. She would probably cry more later. For now... "Thank you, Dr. Pomfrey," Beatrix said, her voice quiet, resolved. But to what, she didn't know. "I suppose I shall see you in three days' time."

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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

"In the interim," the wizard spoke as he rose to his feet in echo, moving around his desk to show her to the door, "be on the lookout for anything symptomatic of your monthly cycle. It may indicate... further complications."

Beatrix Alardice

  

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The idea of complications makes Bea pause, and for a moment, she's about to say something else. But she thinks better of it, nods, and says, "Thank you, again, Dr. Pomfrey."

Wystan Pomfrey

  

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