Chapter 11
"I understand that this must be upsetting for you both, Mr and Mrs Darling," Sir Arton slowly paced the floor behind his mahogany desk, his forefinger lightly tapping a lit cigar, "but the boy has been raving to such a degree, I fear his psychosis has worsened to an irreparable degree."
Mary Darling, whose eyes had been downcast, focussing on her husband's reassuring hands that were entwined with her own, now looked up to hold the gaze of the doctor.
"Are you saying he is beyond help? Beyond hope?"
"In my professional opinion... yes."
Mary let out a pained sob which she quelled by bringing her handkerchief to her mouth while tightening her grip on her husband.
"But... I don't understand! I only brought him here to have his hand seen to, and now..." Another sob chocked the end of her sentence.
"I know. It's a terrible shame, Mrs Darling. But, with all due respect, the boy hadn't been in your charge for long... and there's no telling what damage his mind had suffered in early life."
"What do you suggest as a course of action?" Mr Darling still feared the effect Peter was having on his family, but he would always find strength to support his wife.
"I would recommend committing Peter to an indefinite course of treatment at a more specialised establishment. Colney Hatch, most probably."
"Are you saying that Peter is a lunatic?!" Mary's voice was quiet, and her eyes searched Sir Arton's face for meaning.
"I'm afraid I am."
George grasped his wife firmly around the shoulders as she let out a strangled cry. Although she was sitting, he feared she might topple from her chair. It seemed to him she could have hardly reacted more emotionally than if it were her own child who was to be incarcerated.
"May I see him?"
"Mary, dearest... I'm not sure that is such a good..."
"I must see him." Her now strengthened voice cut across her husband's protest, but she kept her gaze fixed on the doctor.