Deviating from the original plot

Chapter seventy-seven

Everything unravelled into chaos after that. The Marquis, pale with panic, swept his daughter into his arms and rushed her away, Evelyn and Celeste hurrying close behind.

"Summon the doctor at once!" he barked the moment they crossed the threshold of the manor, his voice breaking with urgency as he carried Victoria's limp body through the grand hall.

Servants scattered, some running to obey while others simply stared, wide-eyed, at the sight of their young lady unconscious, her gown stained with blood.

The Marquis laid her on her bed, brushing damp strands of hair from her pale face with trembling hands. "Victoria... hold on," he whispered under his breath, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Celeste sank to her knees at her friend's side, clutching her hand tightly. "She'll be alright, won't she? Tell me she'll be alright..."

"She must be," Evelyn said firmly, though her eyes betrayed her worry.

A few moments later, the chamber door burst open as the physician hurried in, his satchel clattering against the floor. He bowed quickly to the Marquis before rushing to Victoria's bedside.

"Please, my lord, my ladies—step back," the physician urged, his voice tight with focus as he began his examination.

Evelyn gently laid a hand on the Marquis's arm. "My lord, give the physician space. Standing over him will not aid her recovery."

The Marquis faltered, his jaw tight, then finally stepped back, his fists clenching at his sides. Celeste, though unwilling, loosened her grip on Victoria's hand and stood, her worried eyes lingering on her friend.

At last, they stepped out of the room, leaving the physician to his work. The Marquis exhaled heavily, the weight of guilt etched deep across his face. "If I had known... I should never have brought her with me. What if she—"

Evelyn spoke. "My lord, tormenting yourself with what-ifs will serve no one. She'll get through this."

The Marquis exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as if the weight of the world pressed down on him. "I should never have let her attend any gathering at all in the first place. I knew she disliked these things, yet I insisted. And now..." He broke off, his voice thick.

Celeste stepped forward, her small hands balled into fists. "None of this was your fault, my lord. That creature—whatever it was—would have attacked no matter what."

Her words brought silence to the corridor. The Marquis closed his eyes briefly, the truth of it cutting through his despair, though his features remained drawn with worry.

Moments later, the door opened and the physician emerged, his expression unreadable. Evelyn straightened immediately. "Well? How is she?"

The physician inclined his head. "She's simply resting, my lady. Her pulse is strong, her breathing steady. But I must confess..." His brows knit together. "...I found no trace of the wounds you described."

The Marquis stiffened, his voice rising. "What are you implying? That my eyes deceived me? I saw her torn and bleeding! Her gown is stained with it. Are you calling us blind?"

"No, my lord," the physician answered cautiously, measuring his words. "I do not doubt what you saw. I, too, noticed the blood. But upon examination, there is no wound to be found. The injuries are... gone, as though they never existed."

Celeste snapped. "Impossible! We saw it happen—the beast clawed her arm, and it bit her shoulder! How can you claim otherwise?"

The physician gestured toward the chamber. "Then you should look with your own eyes."