Closed According to My Observations
@Ezra Maksimov

The seance was over, and Dr. Dietrich was left with more questions than answers.  Kelvin’s odd behavior.  The strange effects in the room.  The specific callouts, strangely prompted by the Marquess himself rather than the entertainer… medium they had brought in for the ceremony.

Fortunately, Ezra had been taking notes- detailed ones, the doctor hoped- while he had been wrapped up in the whole experience of the spectacle.

The morning was crisp and cool, a welcome reprieve after the oppressive humidity of the summer.  The library has become is working space, and it was starting to get somewhat cluttered because of it.  Oliver sorted through the books, returning them to their place of the shelves while he waited for Ezra to get up.
The tactic he had employed for preserving his wits had been to keep his focus on Kelvin and nothing else. So fie to the floating objects. Not relevant. He mentally closed off his peripheral vision and let fly the pen to document. It wasn't that dissimilar to how he operated upon any number of things he did not, at that moment, want to understand. Ignore it.

That did little to help him in the aftermath though. Sometimes it left him reeling from feelings unfelt for far too long until it was too late, and irreparable damage had been done, to someone, something, or himself.

But these were good notes.

He found Dietrich in the library and set his stack of paper on his desk in front of him. "Doctor, I trust you are in good health after the strange shenanigan."
“Yes, yes.” Dr. Dietrich waved his hand. He set down the books he had under his arm he was in the midst of sorting and drifted over to the stack of papers that Ezra had brought. “I’m fine. Lord Madswitte is… well, not fine, but certainly better than he has been.”

The lines on Oliver’s forehead creased. He had hoped that the spectacle would have disappointed the Marquess. He may have sunk into a depression, but at least when he climbed out of it, it would be with some clarity. Now Kelvin was more excited than ever about the fanciful ideas about spirits. It had him active, but still quite delusional.

“Yourself, Ezra?” The doctor asked. “I hope the charade didn’t frighten you too much.” He added cheekily.
"I have been quite occupied introducing my colleague Chandan to the manor. But assured I have all my notes here. Believe I missed a particular thing about a tea set flying that day. I was too much looking at his Lordship to see amiss things." He shook his head, not particularly bothered by it either way. "But the most queer thing indeed must have been Madswitte's clarity of speech. As if he were declaiming Beowulf, you think?" Taking a seat in a nearby armchair, looking out the window ponderously.
“Ah, of course.” Dr. Dietrich had met Mr. Chandan, but he was afraid he may not have made a terribly good impression. Admittedly, the doctor didn’t have a particular fondness for him. It wasn’t often that he met someone he found more aloof than himself, but the trait was infuriating in others. Blimey, he didn’t come off that way, did he?

Oliver shrugged. He didn’t care much for recording information about the flying objects and other flashy nonsense. It was nothing more than illusions as if at a magic show, he would get to the bottom of that rubbish once he visited Ms. Emory. “I agree.” He said, tapping his chin. “His diction was curious, in the sense that his faculties are not beyond repair. Stunted, hindered, yes, but not damaged.” He flipped through Ezra’s notes, looking for any sign of a shift in his mental state through the ordeal.

“Have you ever seen anything like it before?” He asked, turning to his colleage. Ezra’s feild of research might actually cross paths with a case like this, more than Oliver’s own. Surgery concerned the body, and this ailment was clearly in the mind.
"Of case study, in person, I have never done. It is not my trained specialty. But I read often the works of German school of Wundt, and notes of Greeks who knew something of philosophy." Reaching over to thumb through to a marked page. "I write here what I think; he became mad after his wife died, new one is obligation only. He wishes so to see Lady Senka, he sees her obsessively everywhere. Simply broken heart, but somehow he thinks he spoke to her. And so his true nature is seen somehow, his more wordy er... Ar-articulated?" He struggled with the word, ironically, himself. But hoped the point came across.
“The Greeks.” Oliver repeated skeptically. He had an immense respect for them, particularly for everything he had learned about the ancients from Henry’s studies, but he was sure to take their studies with a grain of salt. After all, much of what they practiced as medicine had been shown to be based on false assumptions.

Dr. Dietrich didn’t look up from the papers, but his eyes fell out of focus. It was hard to hear Ezra describe it as simply a broken heart. There was nothing simple about it. Losing his own wife had been the most difficult time in his life, and if Oliver was honest, he knew it still haunted him like a shadow. “A broken heart is no diagnoses from losing track of the distinction between fantasy and reality.” Dr. Dietrich said, standing to look at Ezra at last. Reconciliation could help, perhaps, but the lord knew Oliver had no clear path towards that.
To that, he gave some pause. Lacing his fingers together and straightening his back in his chair. Studying Dietrich's face with more tenderness than he'd anyicipated. "No. Of course Is much more. But that is starting point. What one thing is in forefront hides the history of the man. L-like spider net. Many happenings connect to the middle that is his heart." Smiling vaguely. Hoping that he hadn't made offence by it. It was fortuitous in fact, to hear that the man had more complex understanding of the mind. Medical doctors oft had no need to venture past the physical body, and thus paid the soul no mind.
Dr. Dietrich steepled his fingers at his mouth. “You mean like a catalyst?” He asked, more prone to understanding scientific metaphors than poetic ones. “And yet… do you think it could be reversed? That spark of clarity we saw at the seance, what do you make of that?”
He nodded, beaming. "Was curious thing, yes? I think he found satisfaction in it, like he was when the family saw him at first wedding, so they tell me. Best experiment is to do this thing again, observe the transformation enough times that it is factual. Encourage he speak to dead wife. If only in his mind, it may give him peace to do it. What is saying? Erh, 'give him humour'."
Dr. Dietrich gaped. “Humour him?! I think not!” It was preposterous to ask dozens of perfectly clear headed people to play along with madman’s delusions. “It is an insult to the household staff’s time and intelligence.” He pinched his brow, shaking his head. “And it wouldn’t be fair to the Marquess, subjecting him to such nonsense just to research how he’d react.”

Of course Oliver liked cutting-edge medicine, but he had to be certain, reasonably certain that a treatment would be effective before he was comfortable putting it into practice. It was why he dug up cadavers, why he studied and practiced endlessly on dead tissue, so he could be certain of himself when the time came for a live operation. He knew less of the mind, but he assumed the same rules must apply.
He straightened his back and blinked, surprised at such a strong reaction, "No staff need be involved. How else can we confirm which of states is his truth? I suppose I can interview him. Yours seemed not to reveal much." Forgetting whether or not he'd actually asked Dietrich about the check-up. He'd simply listened at the door himself. But he needn't know that...
The lines on Dr. Dietrich’s face deepened, but he didn’t argue. “I suppose I can’t stop you.” He was the Marquess’ doctor, but he couldn’t exactly forbid the two from speaking. “Perhaps you can get something out of him.” The doctor paused, wondering for a moment if he had told Ezra how unsuccessful his attempt to get to the bottom of Kelvin’s illness had gone. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing he would discuss over dinner, Dr. Dietrich was accustomed to patient privacy. The manor had a way of making things into a blur, however- he must have mentioned it in passing.
Mildly relieved that Dietrich didn't seem to question his knowledge of their interview, he exhaled, smiling, "I see no way it will further hurt. I will see him and take notes. It will further my purpose of family study anyway. Chandan may not agree, but I think a new approach is needed to how a history is studied. It is nearly new century after all. Why not try new things?" And with that he seemed to glow with hopeful anticipation. It was rather against what he'd agreed to do regarding the book, Oxford might not be pleased either, but the whole academic world needn't know. He would return with his accomplishment, a case study of his own, and maybe then he would be respected.

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