"Why did you change the doctor, Mama?" Anne asked, her voice sharp with suspicion as she entered her father's dimly lit bedchamber. A new, unfamiliar doctor was packing his medical bag, having just finished his examination of the still, silent Baron Henry.
"All done, Baroness," the new doctor said, turning to Augusta with a respectful bow. He looked down at the comatose man in the bed. "There is still no sign of recovery, I am afraid."
Augusta nodded, her face a perfect mask of sorrowful acceptance. The doctor, seeing his work was done, quietly left the room. Augusta then turned to her daughter.
"I was suspicious of something, my dear," Augusta explained, her voice a low, confidential whisper. "The old doctor seemed too… complacent. I wanted a second opinion, just to be sure we were doing everything we possibly could for your father. I had another, more renowned doctor come in to confirm my suspicions, but I suppose I was just overthinking things. His diagnosis was the same."
