Thank you to all the guest reviewers for your cheering and encouraging of Kitty's progress. The unseen middle daughters will have their day yet! Speaking of which, this chapter also required a lot of research. I did my best to try and ascertain what was known and published in that time. More below...

Chapter 12

A deep breath was drawn, then slowly released. Dr. Reis stood above, pushing firmly against the stomach. No pain had been felt, however, as the prodding touch veered to the right, it became uncomfortable. His hands released and move nearer to the hip; now that, as he pressed down lightly, caused Mary a cry of pain quite excessive for the pressure exerted.

"I'm sorry. Beg your pardon," he pleaded. "That is very tender. I'll check the other side. One bit of good news for you, Miss Bennet, this is not from the appendix. That was my initial fear."

That did bring a sigh of relief. From past medical books she'd read, anything to do with the appendix was death-dealing. As his hands moved to her left hip, she kept her eyes trained upward to the white ceiling. Difficult business it was, just thinking, while lying prone on the examination table; such a position made one light-headed. This wasn't so bad as her very first examination, intolerably painful indeed but certainly made more tolerable by the presence of a gentle-mannered doctor and the young nurse who held Mary's hand during the process. She stood closeby, with her hands folded this time, giving Mary a small smile every so often but patiently awaiting orders. Perhaps Mary's only complaint about Dr. Reis' office was the perpetual cold. The scarf-like thickness of her medical gown served no other purpose but modesty.

"How does the left side compare, Miss Bennet? Any pain?" inquired Dr. Reis.

"No sir."

"When compared, I'm really not surprised. Will you give me one of your hands?" Mary extended her left, to which Dr. Reis accepted and guided down to the left side of the pelvis. "Now, pushing down a little, you'll notice how everything feels pliable. You can push in a little and feel no pain, nothing except that small round organ. You feel it? You've probably done some reading, but in case you have not, that's your left ovary… Now, bring your hand over this way. You don't have to put very much pressure on it, but just feel the surface. You'll notice. No pliability. It feels like a rock, doesn't it?"

"W-What does that mean, Dr. Reis?"

"Let's sit you upright… Miss Bennet, you said this unusual, sharp pain began only two days ago? Are you sure?"

"Well, perhaps I might be mistaken. With my last couple of cycles, there's been harder cramping and… maybe a bit heavier bleeding. I've not changed anything. I'm still keeping with our agreed regimen."

"Glad to hear that," replied the doctor, nodding. "I ask because this sort of thing doesn't just happen overnight. Please, do not be alarmed. Miss Bennet, what I find on your right ovary, is a small mass. As to what kind, it's impossible for me to diagnosis this very moment. There are a few possibilities. It's not uncommon for a follicle in the ovary to develop improperly, abnormally, and it forms a fluid mass on the ovary. If that is the case, of all the possibilities, ideally, this is not a big problem. Many patients present these symptoms. Now, fair warning, when these masses eventually rupture, it is incredibly painful at the time, but it does resolve on its own."

"And you say that is a likely possibility?"

"Yes."

"But that is ideal?"

"Of course, it's not ideal, I admit, but considering—"

"Yes! I'd rather have that problem."

"Yes. Also given your age and medical history, I'd be inclined to assume this is the case. But I'd like to see you again very soon. We need to moniter this. If your symptoms do not improve within the next few weeks, or if this mass begins to grow larger, then we may need to consider other possibilities and how we'll treat this. Now, please, don't dwell on this because it may not come to that at all. Sometimes, the growth does not disappear on its own, in which case, it could be a tumor. Even if that's the case, given your age, the chances are in your favour, that the tumor is benign."

"Benign?"

"Yes. Short definition, meaning that they don't contain cancer. When the lady is more in the age of her forties or fifties, I start to worry more about cancer. In either case, it should be removed by means of surgery. Even if benign, a growing tumor sitting on the ovary will diminish your overall well-being. If large enough, the swelling, can start to give the appearance of pregnancy."

"What! Oh dear—but you said, this doesn't happen overnight. It takes a good while before it comes to that. It won't grow that large without my noticing, I'm sure?"

"Yes. We don't want it to progress that far. Also, remind yourself, that it's very good that we've caught this early. It's much easier to catch these sooner than later. In some cases, these growths are simply too large to watch and wait anymore. They need to be removed immediately. So, you're not there at this time… And do I understand right, that you are staying with your family in town? Is that still the Gardiners's address?"

"No. I'll be staying with my sister and her husband on this trip. It's likely I'll be staying here several months… perhaps longer."

"Very good. Mrs. Colton, when we're done here, will you go down and see my secretary about an appointment in two weeks for Miss Bennet."

"Yes, doctor."

"Have you any questions so far?"

Mary's head still spun from rising from the table, but more from the blow of this news. "Is there anything I ought to do, in view of this development?"

"There's not very much you can do, except use good judgment. If you have a good apetite at meals, don't deprive yourself, or if you have little apetite, take a little, don't force more. Keep hydrated. Take a little exercise when you can, but take care, no overexerting yourself. Try to get plenty of rest. Basically, just continue to take care of yourself."

"Very well."

"And as the days go by, check and feel the mass every so often. It will help us both judge in the next several weeks where we stand on treatment. This may sound very distressing, and I'm sorry for it."

"Do not be sorry, Dr. Reis… You're the first doctor I've really had, and I-I am grateful to be treated straightforward and directly. As I've told you before, our apothecary back home did not see fit to tell me the truth of matters outright. And I don't think his matter of treating patients secondhand through family members, very sensible."

"Certainly not," he agreed. "Are there any other questions before we're dismissed?"

"No."

"Then Mrs. Colton and I will step out, and give you privacy. Feel free to alert my secretary to any adverse changes, or if you need any further information. I hope you have a good rest of the day, Miss Bennet."

Mary quickly dressed behind the changing screen upon their departure, transacted with the doctor's secretary in the office, and met Lizzy and Georgiana waiting for her outside. Mrs. Annesley stayed in the carriage to lend the ladies privacy. Rather surprising, they found Mary, though shaken, decently composed and in command of herself. Nobody expected her to speak of the appointment immediately; curiosity was not obliged immediately either. It seemed more sensible to return home, upon Mrs. Annesley's suggestion. Lizzy, on the other hand, bid Mary to make request where she'd like to go.

"I don't know," shrugged her sister.

Lizzy grasped her hand with a squeeze. "How about a nice drive through St. James. If you're not in pain and can bear it, let's all have some fresh air. We could stop, get out, and walk a little."

"Lizzy!" gasped Georgiana. Eyes wide and anxious.

"A short walk. It would do us all good," pleaded Lizzy. "We'll take a drive, then return and take a luncheon at home on the balcony. What do you say?"

"I suppose… a distraction would be expedient at this time."

It wasn't so desirable as it was meant to sound, but Mary could not disagree with her sister's intention. Diversion and fresh air, not thinking about Dr. Reis' prognosis, was a prescription that the doctor had fundamentally endorsed himself. There may be no basis for concern at all, then anxious torment would be for nothing. The coachman was ordered to St. James' Park. Predictions proved correct. Feeling the late morning on their faces, and the most mild warmth of spring, settled the agitation. When Lizzy stepped out, of course, Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley were holding their breath about it. Back home, all the women gathered on the balcony as intended. Sandwiches and fruit and salad were presented them, along with a rousing brew of tea. Lizzy, by no means, forgot her sister's preferences, and one smaller teapot, as she informed Mary, was specially for her, in the way their mother would have called too strong and bitter for good taste. Georgiana did try a sip of it, for no reason; the lavender and mint, though tasty, had been steeping longer than the others. Her reaction was a recoil.

"Good heavens! It's hard to believe something that strong, that you, Mary, one of the sweetest persons I know could swallow that."

"It's an acquired taste certainly," chuckled Mary. "This is actually one of the more palatable tea concoctions I make. Lizzy knows. There are some I make for myself, more bitter and equally potent. It was recommended for medicinal use. Let me tell you, I hated it!" Only she and Lizzy enjoyed the memory. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley listened. "I had to offset the bitterness with a lot of sugar or honey, at first. Overtime, I was less and less revolted. Now, I can take wormwood straight without any sweetening at all."

"Wormwood?"

"It's not really wormwood," replied Lizzy. "It just tastes so."

"Yes, I hope, Georgiana, that you need never turn to such remedies for your health." Between the drive in the park and the food in her stomach, Mary's frame of mind did revive. Even with some time separated between Dr. Reis' clinic and sitting on the balcony, overlooking the next street over from Grovsnor Square, the diagnosis wasn't so bad as earlier. Tumors have a threatening sound to them, and likely, that's not what it was at all. It might just be an irregular growth that will dispatch itself. A shame there was no knowing how to accelerate the process of it. Having finally achieved recognition in London and now a member of the starlight herself, this was no time to be inconvenienced by her health. Two or three days of her life out of every month was robbed from her. While riding along in the carriage from the clinic, since she preferred not to speak of it, everyone was respectful. It was not the threat of depressive tears but tears of anger that she fought to control. Only two people came into her thoughts unbidden—her mother and Mr. Jones.

What ignorance! This rabid distrust and resentment against every doctor had done as much damage as any other negligence in the home. With good reason that during Lizzy's misfortunes were silent in the post. When Jane borne Davy, there was no reason to inform Mrs. Bennet that she was attended to by a doctor, not a midwife. With Lydia's pregnancy, she had written—dictated through Mary, that she should see the local midwife in Newcastle; when such advice was not followed, it was an outrage and a shame that Mrs. Bennet could not have been there to see to Lydia herself. She'd have made certain that her child and grandchild was in good hands. All well and good a midwife, but from Mary's study and research, a midwife was only as good as her instructor. They faced the same problems and uncertainties as any skilled physician. All it came down to really, what it must come to, is that Mrs. Bennet disapproved of a lady's medical concerns being discussed, handled, and physically examined by a man. Instead of an open mind and willingness to release herself from fear, she would rather give into it; such a woman preferred living in ignorance because she lived without her fear, unless of course, someone came along to challenge it.

And if a time should come, if Mary needed more serious treatment such as a surgical procedure, this could not possibly be hidden from her mother. Of course, now that she was of legal age, she need not seek consent. If consent were truly required, at least, she had the authority of Mr. Darcy as a brother and her Uncle Gardiner. Perhaps, such measures might be necessary, and best retained for memory.

The butler approached. "Forgive me, ladies. There is a Miss Sothern, here to see Miss Bennet. And the post has come, Mrs. Darcy."

"Thank you."

"Will you show her into the drawing room, please?" requested Mary. "I'll be down directly."

As Mary took her leave, she heard a few words from Lizzy. Apparently, among the letters, one had just arrived from their mother. Whatever its contents, the recipient was silently reading in distress. Downstairs, a much more agreeable form of writing awaited, of a very different form from Rietta Sothern. Upon entering, Mary found her sitting, waiting at the piano, perusing her leaflet with a scrutinizing eye. Lion had let himself in and rolled, rubbed himself against her ankles. More pardons were asked for the interruption; she had no knowledge that the family had just come home and were at luncheon. Still, no matter. Mary welcomed any intrusion this day, especially that which silenced the intrusion of her own thoughts. Since Rietta had already been sitting on the bench, Mary simply wedged herself in and sat beside her. Something about countenance struck her, something reluctant and insecure.

"Mary, you have a talent unlike anything in all the Starlight Circle, or for that matter, of anyone of my acquaintance for that matter. Something tells me one day you'll be transported from London, to a far greater, more impressive scene in society."

"I don't assume great things, or at least, not anymore."

"It's been a dream already fulfilled, to have come to London and performed for society. I'd just had a note from Lady Herncastle only yesterday, the morning after the soiree. She's informed me that in short order, I can expect some calls or letters from some among her friends, to request my performances for future events."

"Very good! And have you already had your first wage?"

"Indeed!"

"Isn't it exciting! I'll wager young women like us would never see that kind of money from a father's allowance in a whole year."

"Certainly not. Why, if I had no family to whom I might depend on, if I had to earn my keep here in town, it would take only a few engagements to support myself for a six-month."

"Well, don't forfeit your family connections so soon, my friend," chuckled Rietta. "It's still a hard life for a single woman, even with the cushion of high society paying for your talents."

"I thought you were, by far, the best performer of the whole evening. I'm sure if you are performing multiple pieces, your wage must be higher."

"Not by much, but a bit," shrugged Rietta. "The way this has begun, it makes it sound as though I'm penniless and struggling to win my bread. My position is not so desperate, not as some of the other ladies. If it were not for Lady Herncastle's patronage, the good majority of us would be working in our father's shop, mending and taking in wash, or even much worse. The fortunate ones might return home to a marriage proposal, and give up their art to manage their households. Real artists have not money enough to keep themselves."

"That is a dreadful thing. The reality of it."

"Well, enough about such a vulgar subject," teased Rietta. "Forgive me for starting on it. Actually, Mary, I came to call with a proposition."

"A proposition?"

"Yes. I should probably explain this." The leaflet in hand indicated. "While my instrument and singing have been my two passions, I've dabbled in other interests as well. One of them being poetry. And well… Well, it's my best attempt but truthfully, not worth much of anything."

"Oh, it's in French!"

"You do not read French?"

"I've tried to teach myself, and I'm not a fluent reader, an even poorer speaker. What is it about?"

"It's about a lady in smoke," she explained. "For that's the title of it anyway. In short, it's telling about an old woman, whose fire has burned and is about to go out—therefore the veil of smoke. But she's had such a rich life, traveled the world, fallen in love several times, experienced tragedies, from poverty to riches and back to poverty, you get the idea."

"What a subject! Something of that kind would of the quality and caliber worth publication. Have you not shown it to an editor?"

"I don't dare. I have others but nowhere near this. If I had to present any of them, for the intent of publication, it would be this one, and no respected author goes to a respected publisher with just one, measly poem. Of course, I might try one of the papers, but those publishers don't take writing all that seriously. Even really good writing, overall, is dismissed if it does not bring subscriptions. On the other hand, if it receives favourable reviews, the publishers expect more from the writer. My other poems are not even close, not even ready for that."

"I don't understand though, what is your proposition?"

"As a poem, it's not worth much… but if it were set to music, into an aria that stands all on its own, perhaps it stands a chance in the musical world. Mary, what if we might, together, compose an aria? What do you think? It would be a triumph for us both! London demands to hear more of you, and what a treat for our patrons! But more than that, you'll achieve a degree of fame that will secure you for many years, whether it's here in town, in Bath, anywhere. You might travel to the Continent, and perform there!"

"The Continent?"

"Why yes! Paris, Madrid, Rome, Venice, Vienna."

"Really? In Vienna, Rome?"

"You could be entirely independent in such circumstances, with such fame. Or if you do choose to marry, you may share all the luxuries and adventures with him."

"Anything, so long as I do not become your lady in smoke," remarked Mary. "So, we would compose it together? Then…"

"When it comes time, you would play and I would sing. It would be like a duet, only better. We might perform a few times together, then we may part, and we'll have this work published together. Then, no matter where we might go, it'll be in our own repertoire."

"Well, Rietta… I must say that this sort of projects… sounds delightful! Marvelous! I'd love to, I'd be honoured to do so, but at the same time, I'm sure we must account for my not having ever composed an aria before. Opera is on a level all its own. While I've no doubt in your abilities as a singer, the mechanics of an opera, the music…"

"We can work on it together. I know a little about it."

"Which means you know a good deal."

"Naturally. You have the talent that I do not," she reminded, "the imagination to find original notes, original sound, nobody else in the world could find but yourself."

It was difficult to say no in the face of such persuasion; though truthfully, it did not require a great deal of persuasion or conjoling before a partnership had been formed among the Starlight Circle. An alliance. Both women were delighted at the future prospect, but in view of their positions, Rietta advised that their musical coalition be kept strictly a secret until the day of a debut. If the other ladies knew of her intentions, of having approached the new composer of the society, there might be more demands made by every one of the Starlight ladies, as if composing music were as simple as embroidering a new cover for a chair. Besides that, this sort of thing was never done in the Starlight Circle before, where two musicians, unrelated by family, join together for the purpose of status. Whether Lady Herncastle might take a dim view of this kind of jointure, was not a risk either one wished to take yet. So many unwritten, unspoken rules.

Perhaps, after later consideration, such a prospect would appeal to a true artist. Freedom from the musical society, standing alone and famous in one's own right. Her first composition had already achieved recognition, enough to make her one of the Starlight, but something better, more grand, an aria… She would stand on her own.

On the day after Lizzy received a letter from her mother, Jane received a very similar one herself. Her husband and sister watched many emotions toss her serenity of countenance into a tumult. Fortunately, Caroline did not come to breakfast that morning but requested a tray in her room; otherwise, the contents of the letter would've remained discreet.

"My Dearest Jane,

It has been far too long since you've written to me. I hope you are well, and Charles and dear little Davy. I do miss him dearly. He must be walking now by this time. As soon as improvements are finished on the house, I shall not wait a day more to make the journey to Nottinghamshire.

Dear Jane, something most distressing has been brought to my attention, from your poor, little sister Lydia. You must have heard that their last servant has handed in her notice! You cannot imagine what a state your sister is in, with a house, a husband, and both her children to manage. This is most shocking. My daughters were not brought up for attending to duties in the kitchen, or washing and menial work. For once, I'm grateful for such a long distance; if their living conditions were known to our neighbours in Meryton, we could hardly hold up our heads, all of us. All of Meryton would say that the youngest Bennet daughter has been forsaken by her whole family, even her wealthy sisters.

It does pain me very much to hear, Jane, that assistance—which is so direly needed—has been denied. Denied? I could hardly believe it! This cannot be so, Jane. I know you. You've the warmest and most generous heart. Perhaps, it's too embarrassing to ask Mr. Bingley. I hope he would not deny you and your powers of assistance to her. I've written to Lizzy also, begging her sympathy on Lydia's situation. I must confess, for though I love you both so dearly, I am rather disappointed in both of you. Is it so much to ask of Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley to give their poorer relations a little money for the retention of at least one servant? Please, I beg, do be kind to your sister, and your good brother and their children."

Jane could hardly finish reading the letter. Charles asked leave to read it, and the contents of the letter turned the most gentle man Kitty had ever known, almost frightful.

"This… This is an outrage," he muttered.

"I know," agreed Jane, nodding. Her expression, all bashful.

"Jane, my dear, I know we've agreed, with regards to our families' affairs, to handle matters with them directly. But this! I have half a mind to send a reply to Mrs. Bennet's letter myself—"

"Oh Charles, please no!"

"I'm sorry, Jane. But this is unacceptable! For all you've done for Lydia, for all the Darcys have done for them, and your mother has the audacity to accuse you both of hardhearted neglect!" He set down the letter. "Forgive me, Kitty."

"It's quite alright," she demurely replied.

"Charles, I'll address my mother directly this morning. She does not know all the facts, not as we know them."

"Perhaps she ought to, Jane. She has no call to be making such assumptions against you or Elizabeth. And despite her concerns about what neighbours will say, I cannot disagree more. There is nothing shameful about a gentleman that falls on hard times to earn his own living, nor any disgrace in a lady being practical and economizing in reduced circumstances."

"And I agree with you, Charles, but you do not know our mother. I don't speak of our history and our transactions with the Wickhams because the purpose of the endeavour would be in vain. All her sympathies are with Lydia. If I were to tell her the tricks that the Wickhams have attempted to play on us and the Darcys, she will not credit it. I understand, your intent is to make her aware, to stop her from blaming the family. It will not change anything."

"Well, that's one reason why I'd like to answer her myself. Maybe if that's the case, if she won't listen to you, perhaps she'll take it more seriously from me, or even Mr. Darcy. If she sent a similar letter to Elizabeth, I guarantee Darcy will be very displeased, especially at this time. This is no time for Elizabeth to be harassed by her parent or sister."

"… Will she listen to you? Just like Caroline listens to you?"

By this point, Kitty sensed she'd heard enough. They did not mean to quarrel, but now, it was about to happen! Without a word more than 'excuse me,' she dismissed herself. For it wasn't like those she had witnessed at Longbourn, with her mother and father. Their father always seemed to be somehow above it, above being drawn in, not retaliating against protests of cruelty, responding to sour words with bittersweet irony, all the while keeping his temper. And Kitty never feared her mother's anger. Vexing, unfair, too severe it could be, but her mother's nerves were no more intimidating to her daughters than her husband. Charles and Jane did not quarrel. They both endured awkwardness or discourtesy for the sake of politeness and peace. They always maintained perfect civility.

Jane's patience finally met an end. Charles took kindness too far, and now, both were angered. Kitty hastily rose from the table and headed for her chambers, to change and make her escape to the gardens.

So, about Mary, I researched or did my best to find out what doctors knew in that time. Knowledge of the female anatomy was established, but I couldn't figure out if doctors back then knew about this fairly common condition. Actually, this examination, this experience of Mary's in this chapter, is my own. This was how my doctor, both a chiropractor and neurologist, found an ovarian cyst. Feel this side, feel that side, you see the difference? And he checked higher, making sure that none of my pain was the appendix. Fortunately, the appendix was fine. Didn't even need an ultrasound, no imaging, no equipment. He knew what it was, and later when I went for an ultrasound, they confirmed it!

And in the 1800s, doctors knew about the appendix. Surgeries, of course, were much more crude and dangerous in this era, but they could do an appendectomy. Doctors knew about tumors and cancers. Did they know the difference between cysts, fibroids, etc? I couldn't find out for sure.

As for Kitty, though she might not like it, what do you think? Are you thinking FINALLY, IT'S ABOUT TIME! Or, Mr. Bingley and Jane... really, would they? I'm not about to do anything radical to their characters. I promise. I think we can all agree, they're two nice people, but like Lydia, Caroline was bound to cause her fair share of friction after P&P.