ONE
Dr. Bloomsbury checked himself. His best Saville Row draped well, his Lobbs were still impeccably clean, yet he still didn’t feel comfortable. How could he? The little staircase he was standing in was cramped and poorly lit. Just ahead of him on the highest riser the footman patiently awaited the little red light in the corner to become lit. It did and they entered.
“Dr. Maurice Bloomsbury, your royal highness.” The footman bowed sharply at the neck and the doctor did the same without thinking. The footman disappeared back into the staircase and as he closed the door behind him, Dr. Bloomsbury’s eyes widened to see that it wasn’t a door at all, but a secret passage, the door being hidden completely in the bookcased wall that ran along the entire length of the prince’s private office. The shock quickly disappeared however. Dr. Bloomsbury was well aware that the visit of such a well-known fertility specialist as he had to be a matter of complete discretion and certainly never more so than now.
The prince extended his hand and as on the previous occasion in his own offices, Dr. Bloomsbury then felt the firm but moist grip of the heir to the throne. Beside him sat the princess, strikingly lovely as always but this time her smile seemed more forced than natural as Bloomsbury felt her carefully read his face. She knew. The news he brought was not happy.
The doctor coughed as he was seated and the princess offered him tea. He came straight to the point. “I am so sorry to have to tell you, but our tests have confirmed the previous tests. I’m afraid nothing can be done your royal highness. You see, the motility of the sperm is so low as to rank sterile. We have doubly confirmed this in a separate laboratory.”
The prince stiffened in his chair but said nothing. His face remained carefully impassive. The doctor couldn’t help but squirm a bit on the opposite couch. The princess glanced at her husband and then smiled at the doctor, “We are certainly discouraged to hear these results Dr. Bloomsbury. Tell me, is there perhaps a treatment or therapy that could correct this? Sugar?”
“No your royal highness. I am afraid there is not. Not here, not in Scandinavia nor the United States or Japan. You see ma’am... and sir... in vitro fertilization still requires that the sperm be active. As it is, there were no living sperm in any of the samples we have taken. I am ever so sorry, but I fear that conception is simply impossible in this situation. Yes, two please.”
“I see, doctor. Thank you for your candor.” Her face was still smiling impassively as if she was watching a mildly amusing television programme.
The prince lowered his head a bit and spoke, “Doctor, the results from my wife. Are they still quite all right?”
Dr. Bloomsbury became a bit more animated now that he was being called upon to be positive. “Oh yes sir! Quite all right. No problems at all. The princess is well able to conceive as any other woman.”
Immediately the prince’s mouth raised at the edges. The attempted smile did not, however, mask the cold eyes above them. “Dear, would you mind excusing us for a moment? There is something I need to speak to the doctor about privately.”
Without skipping a beat or batting an eyelid, the princess rose from the couch. She was indeed quite tall and the doctor thought her statuesque appearance most enhanced by the elegant lavender morning suit and her dark brown hair made into a French roll. “Of course, darling. Please excuse me doctor and thank you again for your assistance.” Bloomsbury watched her as she left the office. He almost thought of what she would be like in bed before the prince rose from his chair, breaking the doctor’s concentration.
The prince’s voice was steady and firm as he retrieved an envelope from his breast pocket, “Dr. Bloomsbury, I believe the sum we agreed upon was £12,000?”
“Yes sir, it is,” said Bloomsbury as he rose and extended his hand. The prince placed the envelope in the doctor’s hand but did not let go.
“Inside you will find £25,000. I must tell you that your continued discretion is absolutely imperative. There is a law, I doubt you’re aware of it, from 1322. It specifies that interfering with the reproductive right of the heir to the throne is punishable by hanging, drawing, and quartering. Of course,” the prince chuckled slightly, “these days such punishment is unthinkable. Gone are the days of, “Off with his head!” The prince extended his hand again taking the doctor’s, “No, no, my good doctor. Those days are long gone,” he stared straight into the doctor’s widening eyes, “Do take care doctor. I do thank you truly, but should any of services here become known, I should worry about you having a fatal accident . So many nutters these days.”
“A-a-an accident sir?”
“Come now! None of that Bloomsbury. You’re the soul of discretion I’m certain.”
“Oh yes sir! Yes I am! Most certainly sir! You can rely on me. I shall destroy all records. Your name doesn’t appear on any of them. No one could possibly know.”
The prince ushered the doctor back to the bookcase as it swung open revealing the footman from before. “Do take care my good man, and thank you again for everything,” and as the door swung shut on the doctor’s pale face the prince added, “do stay safe!”
. Do you see a problem with it so far? Please let me know if you do.
