Chapter Five

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Chapter Five

Charlotte was forced to keep her eyes out of focus so that her lie was believable. But since Lord William Hernshaw had stepped into her room, not looking at him was undoubtedly one of the hardest things she had ever done. All she wanted was to stare at the man. Since he had entered her room the marquess seemed to be too big for the four walls to contain; his masculinity was too daunting, the planes of his face was too arresting. The very air sizzled with his conflicting emotions and his frown was evidence of his displeasure. But as enthralled as she was by his nearness, his presence coaxed her curiosity. What was he doing here?

Surely even if she was her grandmother to be – Charlotte could not help but to cringe as the thought crossed her mind – her state of affairs were none of his concerns? But observation served that he had not only had a hand in thwarting her plans by cornering her in Hyde Park, now he seemed agitated to discover that she was now inflicted with an illness, as imaginary as it might be, but he was worries nonetheless. And the knowledge that he did, intrigue her beyond belief.

The physician’s arrival caused a pall of silence over her room as conversations were diminished to hushed whispers while the good doctor began his examinations. Charlotte dared to throw a surreptitious glance over to Lord William Hernshaw and saw that he was propelled to linger close to her side as the doctor cupped her face and tilted it to the left, for better view of the bruise on her forehead. Charlotte willed her eyes to dart to the ceiling and stared at it blankly. She needed to appear convincing to the doctor, it was the pivotal point of her plan. If she failed to convince the physician then her scheme would unravel faster than a speeding bullet. 

“Now Lady Alistair, I would like to examine your eyes.” The doctor announced and Charlotte nodded, bracing herself for the blinding light soon directed into her eyes. The light was glaring and Charlotte forced herself to stare directly at it. Of course there were no helping how her pupil would contract under the glare of the light but Charlotte was not ignorant to the workings or structure of an eye. She had an explanation at the ready and when the question she predicted came, she almost smiled in triumphant.

“Her pupils contracted as it would normally.” The doctor announced to the men in her room before turning to face her. “Lady Alistair, are you sure you could not see anything?”

“I could see the light just now.” She said in a voice that contained the right amount of anxiety and despair. Then Charlotte squinted. “If I strain to see, I can make out vague shapes and colors. Oh doctor, pray tell, what is wrong with me?”

Hearing such beseeching plea her father quickly appeared by her side and clasped her hand in a sweaty grip of his own. “There, there my pet. No need for distress. I wager the good doctor will fix you up in a trice!” he patted her hand assuring before addressing the doctor. “Wont you doctor?”

The doctor did not offer any comforting statement to her father’s query. Instead he flashed light a few more times to her eyes – which Charlotte endured strenuously – and examined her bruise on her temple. After dabbing some kind of ointment onto the contusion and swathing it in bandages, the doctor excused himself out of the room and followed by her father and brothers. No one seemed to care that the Marquess of Sheldrake was not following the procession except for Charlotte. Aside from for innate objects in her room, they were scandalously un-chaperoned. Fanny was excused long ago for being too noisy as she was weeping nonstop.

Charlotte amused herself by imagining what her Aunt Lydia would say if she knew. “Simply not done!” the countess would say. “This is simply not done!” Then the Lady Burnham would flutter her fan in earnest as if the indecent scene was causing hot flashes to crawl on her skin. 

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