Chapter 5. The Storm

Benedict woke up to the sound of commotion outside. At first, he thought it was the wind, but then he heard voices and realized that must be the others getting ready for the early hunt.

For a few minutes, he just lay there, looking at the canvas above, thinking of what happened the day before, hoping it was all just a dream. The overwhelming feeling that took control over him last night didn't disappear with the morning light. It was still there, now sharing a place in his chest with something akin to burning desperation.

"Your lordship?" It was John standing outside his tent. Benedict recognized his long and thin silhouette behind the canvas.

"Yes? Come in."

The valet entered the tent and curtly nodded. "Good morning, your lordship."

"I know, I overslept," Benedict said, sitting up. "When is everybody heading out?"

"I apologize, your lordship, but the hunt is cancelled," John said almost apologetically.

Benedict frowned. "Cancelled?"

John nodded. "There's too much snow, sir. It's been snowing all night, and it still is," he said, running his fingers through his snow-dusted hair. "The hunt master advised against going into the woods. He says the boars will be hiding; besides, the camp might get buried in snow."

"Very well," Benedict said, feeling a little relieved. "So, what's the plan?"

"Everybody's already packing their things, sir. We need to leave for Blackmoor at once before the roads are blocked, or else we risk being stranded halfway."

Benedict nodded. "Thank you for letting me know." He threw aside the blankets and got up. The chilly air sent a shiver down his body.

"You're welcome, sir," said John. He was about to leave but then turned back to Benedict. "Would you like me to help you dress up?" he asked.

"No, thank you, John," said Benedict. "But you can pack my things. I will be out in a minute."

"Of course, your lordship." And with that, the valet left the tent.

***

The snowstorm intensified. It was decided that the family and the guests, accompanied by the dog handlers, would leave for Blackmoor immediately, and the servants would follow soon after.

As everybody mounted their horses, Benedict looked around, trying to find Victor amidst the surrounding whiteness, but he was nowhere to be seen. Benedict wondered if he could have sneaked out of the camp at night because of what had happened.

The nagging feeling in his chest ate away at him from the inside like acid.

Soon, the convoy started its journey back to Blackmoor. The piercing wind brought more snow, whipping at their faces and getting into their chests. Benedict wrapped himself in his coat, seeing nothing around, only the back of the horse a few feet in front of him.

In this weather, the road from the hunting estate to Blackmoor took them a little over an hour. Lilibeth and Maria, with the rest of the house staff, were already waiting for them on the porch when they arrived. Once inside the mansion, the hunters took off their coats and hats and dusted off the snow from their hair before proceeding into the Mermaid room.

"Oh, there you are, my dear," Lilibeth said, hugging Benedict and almost knocking him off his feet. "I heard about the boar! How is your leg?" She looked at it, frowning.

"It's fine, mother," Benedict said with a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. I should change the dressing, but it doesn't even hurt anymore." That was a lie. However, he wasn't about to worry her even more.

"I sent for Dr. Harrod to come this afternoon, but he will probably be late because of the snowfall and all."

"I promise you, I'm well."

"Oh, I'm happy to hear that, dear," she said with a sigh of relief. "I didn't sleep all night after I got the news. I was worried something serious might have happened, and you lot are just trying to hide it from me." She hugged him tighter and lowered her voice. "I wish we knew beforehand that the whole party was going to be here for breakfast, though. I'm not sure if there's going to be enough food."

"Don't worry, mother," Benedict said, trying to wriggle out of her embrace. "It's too early for a heavy meal anyway. I"m sure hot tea and fresh bread with butter will be plenty."

As Lilibeth huffed and puffed about household matters, Benedict suddenly saw Vivienne in the hallway. One of the maids was helping her out of the coat. Benedict froze, his heart beating traitorously in his chest.

What was wrong with him? He was fine before, but it was as though last night, something in him had irreversibly changed.

Vivienne must have felt his gaze because she suddenly looked him straight in the eye. He couldn't read her expression. A second later, she broke the eye contact and proceeded into the Mermaid room after the rest of the party.

"Are you okay, Blackmoor?" Lord Exington smacked him on the shoulder. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Benedict realized he must have been staring fixedly in front of himself.

"I'm fine," he said. "There's just something on my mind."

"Or rather someone, am I right?" Exington said with a teasing laugh. "I saw you looking at Miss LaFleur. Thunder in paradise?"

Benedict didn't reply. He felt a tug of emptiness in his stomach.

"I'll go tend to the wound," he said out loud.

"Good luck," said Exington, clapping him again on the shoulder.

Benedict crossed the hallway and went up the stairs, still feeling Exington's gaze with the back of his head.

***

When Benedict joined his family and guests in the Mermaid room half an hour later, he was shaven, changed, and refreshed.

The room was warm and cozy after the white chaos outside, engulfed in quiet chatter. Lilibeth, Vivienne, Charlotte, Lady Hawthorne, and Emily Ashcroft sat at one end of the table laden with plates of bread, butter, jam, fruit, and pastries. At the other end, Grandfather Henry engaged in a hushed conversation with Percy, Lord Winchester, and his son Thomas. Lord Exington, Erik Winchester, William Thornby, and Beatrice sat at a coffee table by the fireplace, playing whist.

Benedict felt all eyes on him as he took a seat at his grandfather"s side.

"How"s your leg, Benedict?" Thomas said, giving him a friendly smile. He had a mane of curly red hair similar to his father"s.

"Already healing," Benedict replied absent-mindedly, trying to listen to Lady Hawthorne"s conversation with his mother and Vivienne.

"If you don"t have spare clothes to change into, I'm sure Benedict will be happy to share some of his," Grandfather Henry said to the Winchesters.

"Oh, thank you," Thomas said, "but there"s no need. I think we"re already dry, aren"t we, Father?"

"Yes, indeed we are," Lord Winchester said with a smile, and Benedict saw his eyes dart towards Charlotte at the other end of the table. "Furthermore, I think we shall go home soon, right after we finish our tea." He nodded at the porcelain cup in front of him.

"God gracious, go home? During a snowstorm?" Grandfather Henry said with astonishment. "You must be out of your senses if you think you can make it home in such weather, Gregory."

Lord Winchester glanced out the window. Outside, everything was blanketed in snow, and nothing, not even the driveway in front of the mansion, could be discerned.

"Maybe you"re right, Henry," Lord Winchester admitted after a moment, "the weather is indeed dreadful. We should stay until the evening and wait for it to calm down."

"You can spend the night at Blackmoor," Benedict said, casting a glance at his grandfather. "I think we have enough guest rooms, don"t we?"

"I don"t think so," Percy said suddenly, giving Benedict a quick, irritated glance.

"Of course, we do," said Grandfather Henry. "In fact—" He looked around so the rest of the guests could hear him, too. "In fact, all of you are welcome to stay."

A rumble of voices swept through the room, but Grandfather Henry continued, "You"re not just welcome—I insist that all of you stay with us at least until tomorrow. It would be exceedingly reckless to send our guests out in such weather. And if you don"t care to spare yourselves, please spare your horses."

Benedict glanced at the other end of the table and saw Vivienne and Charlotte engaged in hushed conversation. He guessed that they probably had another show tonight, which they couldn't miss, so they were trying to come up with an excuse to leave.

"Perfect," Grandfather Henry said, hearing no objections. "I'll ask Maria to prepare the guestrooms so that you can rest before lunch."

"I'm afraid we still have to go, Lord Blackmoor," Vivienne said carefully. "To be frank, I'm not feeling very well, and I might need to return to the city and see a doctor."

"What is wrong with you, my dear?" Lilibeth said, throwing up her hands.

"It's nothing serious, Mrs. Blackmoor. I think I caught a cold while we were camping," Vivienne said, choosing her words carefully. "But please don't trouble yourself."

Lilibeth sighed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner, dear?"

"I didn't want to bother you, mam."

"You are not bothering anyone."

"I sink itz better vor us to go," Charlotte said, getting up from her chair. "We hev a carriaje, so don't vorrie."

"Oh, but no horse will carry you far in such a blizzard, Miss Chapeau." Lilibeth shook her head assertively. "You shall stay with us. Maria will see to it that rooms are prepared for both of you at once. You shall rest, and in the evening, Dr. Harrod will examine Miss LaFleur, should he manage to reach us."

Lilibeth"s tone was so uncompromising that even Charlotte didn"t dare to argue further. She sat back down and busied herself with a piece of toast. Vivienne gave her chaperone a quick, irritated glance but made no more attempts to leave either.

Soon, Maria was called into the Mermaid room and instructed to prepare sleeping accommodations for the guests. As soon as she left, the conversation at the table continued, but Vivienne didn't take part in it, sitting silently and avoiding Benedict's gaze.

She wasn"t the only one to do so. Lady Hawthorne, it seemed, had finally taken offense at the manner in which Benedict had spoken to her in the woods. She was sitting with an air of importance, deliberately ignoring him and speaking to his mother in a loud and languid tone that suggested she knew her place and would not be budged.

"Of course, you must have heard about the marriages in the Russian Empire," Lady Hawthorne said, pausing to sip her tea while sticking out her little finger. "Arranged marriages are the norm there and are often settled when the girl is as young as four years old."

"Four years old!" Lilibeth exclaimed, shaking her head in amusement. "The matchmakers there must be in high demand."

"Indeed," Lady Hawthorne nodded, pride evident in her voice. "Needless to say, over there, the matchmaking services cost a fortune, far beyond what they do here." She sighed. "No wonder—it"s an art form, don"t you agree? Finding a perfect match for a person is not as easy as one might think."

Benedict, who had listened to the conversation up to this point, sensed he was about to be unwillingly drawn into it. So, before that happened, he stood up and moved towards the fireplace, feigning interest in the ongoing whist game. He leaned against the mantelpiece, looking at the cards on the coffee table, his mind elsewhere.

"It"s your turn, Miss Glasscock," Erik said, brushing his hair away from his face. Erik was as handsome as his twin brother with a thick red mane, blue eyes, and a Greek nose.

"Hmm…" Beatrice looked at her cards, biting her lower lip. "Give me a moment."

"Want to join us, Blackmoor?" William Thornby said, giving Benedict a sidelong glance. "We"re almost finished with this game."

"I"m afraid I don"t have a partner," Benedict said absent-mindedly. He was once again thinking about Victor and what happened between them last night, his insides coiling tight. He needed to find a moment to speak with him privately to clear things up.

"We could ask Miss LaFleur to join us too," Thornby suggested, and his round face turned slightly pinker.

"Maybe," Benedict threw a quick glance at the dinner table. He wanted to see if he could invite Vivienne under the pretext but instead caught Percy"s burning glare. He had no idea what had angered his brother now or what wrongdoing he had committed, but he didn"t really care. Sometimes, Benedict felt, Percy had conversations with him even when he wasn"t around.

Benedict strode up to the table and stopped across from Vivienne, leaving her no choice but to meet his eyes. "Would you like to play whist with us, Miss LaFleur?"

He intended to act casual, to offer a genuine smile, but when he looked into Vivienne's dark eyes, he couldn"t, his heart pounding desperately in his chest. He realized he was lost, his mind consumed by the memory of Victor"s lips kissing him last night, Victor's eyes looking at him with desire.

But today, Vivienne"s gaze held a pained expression as if seeing him caused her anguish. "I"m afraid I"m not feeling well enough, Mr. Blackmoor," she said, averting her gaze.

"I want to play," Percy suddenly said, standing swiftly as his anger seemed to dissipate. "You and I can pair up, Benny."

Benedict looked at Percy in confusion but had no choice but to nod in agreement.

"Great," Percy beamed and approached the group by the fireplace, standing by Beatrice"s side.

As Benedict was about to reluctantly join them, he heard Vivienne"s voice behind him, "If you don"t mind, Mrs. Blackmoor, I would like to retire to rest if my room is prepared."

"Oh, of course, dear," Lilibeth said, "but let me call Maria to see you to your room."

"No need, mother," Benedict said, turning back to the women. He realized this was his chance. "I shall go with Miss LaFleur."

As soon as he uttered these words, the room fell into silence. All eyes instantly turned to him. Benedict looked at Vivienne, a question in his eyes. Vivienne gave him a short glance from across the table, her expression inscrutable.

The silence was suddenly pierced by Charlotte"s cry.

"No, no, no!" she exclaimed, her mouth full, and lept to her feet with a pastry in hand. "I vill take my lady to "er room myself!" Her French accent, likely due to the surprise, was all over the place: rolling "r"s were accompanied by softened consonants, making her accent unlike any Benedict had heard or probably unlike any that existed in the whole world.

"I insist, Miss Chapeau," Benedict said in his most charming and persuasive manner. "Please finish your breakfast, and I will escort Miss LaFleur to the guest room."

"Thank you, Mr. Blackmoor," Vivienne said swiftly before Charlotte could object again. "My chaperone must be famished after our journey, so it's best for her to stay and eat."

Charlotte"s puzzled expression revealed that even she was surprised by Vivienne's agreement. However, after glancing at her lady and giving Benedict a sharp, suspicious look, the chaperone nodded. "Fine."

"That"s wonderful," Lilibeth said, clearly delighted by this turn of events. "Benedict, dear, if Miss LaFleur needs anything, call Maria, she will gladly assist you."

Benedict nodded and accompanied Vivienne to the exit under the watchful eyes of his family and guests.

"She seemed in perfect health last night," Lady Hawthorne said behind their backs.

"It was a cold evening," Emily Ashcroft said amiably, to which Lady Hawthorne offered no response.

"Hey! What about whist?" Percy cried from across the room. "You were supposed to be my partner!"

"I"ll be back," Benedict said, though he wasn"t sure he would keep his promise.

Silent, he and Vivienne left the Mermaid room together. For a minute, they didn"t speak a word while they walked along the corridor, passing maids and footmen who stepped aside, bowing and giving them room.

They climbed the grand staircase to the second floor and entered the corridor. It was dark, illuminated only by splashes of light seeping through the partly open doors of the guest bedrooms. Another maid passed them, curtsying awkwardly while carrying a heap of bed sheets. Benedict waited until she had turned the corner before turning to Vivienne to say, "Are you feeling—" But he couldn't finish his question because Vivienne grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him into a nearby broom closet.

It was cramped and cluttered inside, and when Vivienne shut the door, the tiny space left them pressed against each other, their only source of light now gone. They stood in utter darkness, surrounded by the smell of wet rags and mold.

"What…are you doing?" Benedict said with a hitch in his voice.

"I need your help to get out of here."

"Where? The broom closet?"

He couldn't see her face, but he was certain she was rolling her eyes when she retorted, "No, from your luxurious mansion where I'm being held captive."

Benedict realized he was holding Vivienne by the shoulders, keeping himself steady to avoid falling into the mops and buckets behind him. He released her, trying to find his footing.

"What—now?" Benedict raised an eyebrow. "Listen, I know you hate being here among the high society and all, but have you seen the storm outside?" He tried to keep his tone light, yet a knot of unexplained anxiety tightened in his stomach. "It doesn't look like it's going to stop any time—"

Suddenly, footsteps were heard in the corridor outside, and both of them fell silent. For several long moments, they just stood there, their mingled breathing the only sound in the dead silence that enveloped them.

"I can't miss tonight's performance," Vivienne whispered. "Missing last night was a mistake to begin with, but missing tonight is simply out of the question. I need to get to the city before midnight."

"So, how do you propose I help you?" Benedict asked skeptically. "Sneak you out in a laundry basket or disguise you in my valet's clothes?"

"We will wait until dark, and then you'll take me to the city," Vivienne said nonchalantly. "On horseback. We"ll leave the carriage behind to avoid getting stuck in the snow."

"My mother believes you"re ill, remember? Explaining your sudden disappearance the next morning might be a little challenging."

"That"s what I need you for," Benedict felt Vivienne"s fingers brush against his vest. "You"ll have to take me back since I"m not good at riding horses. If all goes well, we should return before sunrise."

"What about your friend?"

"Who—Charlotte? She'll stay here and cover for us in case anything happens."

"You've thought everything through, haven't you?" Benedict said, feeling an unusual thrill in the pit of his stomach.

"What if I have?" Vivienne whispered close to his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "Let's go before the maids catch us." She moved towards the door, her body grazing his, and paused. "Is that a broom handle, or are you just excited about our little adventure?"

"Shut up," Benedict muttered, completely flustered.

Without another word, Vivienne opened the door and stepped out of the closet.

***

That day, under the pretense of being sick, Vivienne skipped both lunch and dinner. Although Maria insisted that a maid handled the task, Charlotte volunteered to bring food to her lady"s room herself.

Meanwhile, Benedict was compelled to join his family and the hunting party for the meals. Dinner was particularly challenging, as his thoughts were entirely on their plan to sneak away from the Blackmoor Manor.

They had agreed to meet by the stables at ten thirty. Benedict normally went to sleep at ten, and his valet, John, checked on him at half past nine. The other Blackmoors usually retired after nine and weren't an issue. However, the servants occasionally walked the halls until eleven, finishing their tasks for the day. Just thinking about how he and Vivienne would manage to sneak past them unnoticed filled him with anxiety.

"Benedict?" Emily Ashcroft's voice brought him back from his thoughts. She was sitting beside him, looking at him with her doe-like eyes. "It's your turn."

Benedict looked at his cards. He wasn"t paying attention to the game.

It was just after dinner, and the clock had struck eight. The younger family members and guests gathered in the Swan Parlor for a game of Loo while Grandfather Henry, Lilibeth, Lady Hawthorne, Lord Winchester, and Charlotte—who appeared as if she had been taken hostage by the latter—remained in the Magpie room for a late-night cup of tea.

"Are you feeling all right there, Blackmoor?" Lord Exington asked, a usual sly smile on his face. "Seeing ghosts again?"

"Don't mind him," Percy smirked, crossing one long leg over the other. "Our Benny enjoys dwelling in his own little world. Don't you, Benny?"

Benedict glanced at his brother, gathering all of his self-control not to retaliate. After all, they were still playing good brothers in front of the guests, and there would be time for revenge after the guests had left.

"Seems the boar's attack has finally caught up with me," Benedict said evenly, laying down a card.

"Oh, right, the grand tale of survival," Percy replied with a smile, his eyes twinkling with hidden sarcasm visible only to Benedict. "Wouldn't dream of forgetting."

"You should go to bed early then," Mr. Thornby said with authority. "Don't worry about the game. You weren't going to win anyway."

"Look at you, Thornby," Lord Exington laughed. "Full of confidence, aren't we?"

"Oh, he is," Erik Winchester said, placing a card on the table. "Thornby has beaten me twice this week alone. And Tommy hasn't won a single game of Loo when Thornby"s been at the table."

"I have beaten Mr. Thornby at least three times," Beatrice said with a laugh. "He"s not as good as you say he is, Mr. Winchester. No offense, Mr. Thornby."

Erik turned to look at Beatrice, his eyes softening. "Well, that doesn"t mean he"s not good, Miss Glasscock. It only means that you are better."

There was a thud as a glass hit the floor and rolled across the carpet, staining it with the deep red of the wine. All eyes turned to Percy, who turned crimson, seemingly embarrassed by his clumsiness. But nobody had a chance to say anything because the parlor doors opened.

Lilibeth peeked inside. "Benedict, dear, Dr. Harrod has finally arrived. He's waiting for you in the study."

Benedict left the room and, escorted by his mother, went up the stairs to the second floor, where the doctor was already waiting for him in the study.

"Ah, here is our unlucky hunter!" Dr. Harrod greeted him with a warm smile. "You're looking much better than expected. I was prepared for the worst after hearing Mrs. Blackmoor's account of the boar nearly turning you into a steak."

"My mother tends to overworry," Benedict said, smirking. "She cares a bit too much about us for our own good."

"Oh, hush, you two," Lilibeth laughed. "Dr. Harrod, please check his leg. He's been concealing it from me, but I've noticed he's limping."

"I will do just that," Dr. Harrod assured. "But I must kindly ask you to leave, madam. The sight of the wound being cleaned might be unsettling for a woman."

"Fine," Lilibeth sighed heavily. "But after you"ve attended to Benedict"s leg and checked on Miss LaFleur, I expect to discuss Lord Blackmoor's health with you. He's being equally secretive, and it's killing me with worry."

"Of course," Dr. Harrod said with a hint of discomfort. "However, I must remind you of doctor-patient confidentiality. If Lord Blackmoor wishes his affairs to remain private, I am bound to respect that."

Lilibeth's expression tightened.

"We shall see," she retorted. "Benedict, dear, would you escort Dr. Harrod to Miss LaFleur's room after you finish? She seemed a bit pale when I saw her earlier."

"I really don't think an examination is necessary," Benedict said, glancing between his mother and the doctor. "I"m sure she"ll be fine in the morning."

"Better safe than sorry," Lilibeth said, her gaze uncompromising, before exiting the room.

"Please come here and remove your shirt, Mr. Blackmoor," Dr. Harrod instructed, pulling a stethoscope from his bag. "How are you feeling overall?"

"I'm fine. Whatever my mother might have said, doctor, the boar merely knocked me over and scratched my leg."

"Very well, very well." Dr. Harrod placed the cool disk of the stethoscope against Benedict's chest. "Please take a deep breath in. And breathe out."

Benedict followed the instructions.

"Excellent," Dr. Harrod said, wiping his hands with an alcohol-dampened cloth.

"Doctor," Benedict hesitated, unsure how to proceed. "Despite what my mother might have told you, I think Miss LaFleur is all right."

It seemed as though Dr. Harrod didn"t hear him. "Any pain in your chest?"

"None."

"Any trouble breathing?"

"No, doctor."

"Good. Please put your shirt back on and show me your leg."

"Thank you." Benedict dressed and sat on a chair, rolling up his trouser leg.

"And who is the young lady in question?" Dr. Harrod asked casually.

"She's a friend of mine," Benedict said, unwrapping the bandage and straightening his leg.

Dr. Harrod pushed a chair in front of him, sat, and began to treat the wound with a cotton ball soaked in a yellowish liquid.

"It"s likely just a cold, isn"t it?" Benedict tried again.

He knew Victor would be furious about him letting the doctor in, but couldn"t think of any more plausible excuses to keep the man away.

"Could be." The doctor shrugged. "Pale complexion and dizziness could be signs of various illnesses."

"Illnesses?" Benedict echoed anxiously.

"I"ll need to examine the patient before drawing any conclusions," Doctor Harrod said sternly. He then quickly wrapped Benedict's leg in a clean bandage and tied a knot at the end. "Now, show me the way to the young lady."

They left the study and proceeded through the candlelit gallery to the rooms in the left wing. As they neared the guest bedroom, Benedict cleared his throat.

"If you don"t mind," he said, turning to Dr. Harrod, "I"d like to speak with Miss LaFleur alone first to let her know that you"re here."

The doctor frowned and looked at Benedict with a touch of suspicion.

"Mr. Blackmoor," he said, lowering his voice. "I understand that the norms and rules of high society might seem a bit restrictive…even outdated when it comes to relationships between young men and women. And that passions may run high…which can lead to various actions and consequences."

"What?" Benedict frowned, not catching up.

The doctor coughed uncomfortably before continuing. "So, if a pregnancy is possible, I need you to inform me straightaway."

Benedict flushed, taken aback by the insinuation. "It's not possible."

"These things are not as rare as one might think, Mr. Blackmoor," the doctor said, his tone suggestive. "I can assure you that I will keep your secret to prevent any damage to your reputation…"

"Nothing of the sort happened between us, Dr. Harrod," Benedict interrupted.

"As you say, sir." The doctor nodded, though he didn't seem entirely convinced.

Benedict knocked on the door while Dr. Harrod stood a few steps back, waiting patiently. The door opened slightly, allowing Benedict to see part of Charlotte's pinkish face as she peered out with one eye.

"What?" she said without formalities.

"Can I speak to Miss LaFleur?"

"No."

As Charlotte moved to shut the door in his face, Benedict quickly wedged his foot into the doorframe. "The doctor's here," he said.

For a second, Charlotte hesitated, but then, at Vivienne's command, "Let him in," she reluctantly stepped aside, displeasure written on her face.

Benedict entered the room. It was a spacious bedroom, illuminated by a single oil lamp, with a large rug at its center. To the right was a grand canopy bed with a bedside table and a wardrobe; opposite the entrance, a writing desk. Outside, the snowstorm raged on, leaving the windows blanketed in snow.

Vivienne was lying in bed with a book on her lap. She appeared pale and genuinely ill, although she might have applied too much face powder.

"Dr. Harrod's here," Benedict told her immediately. "He's come to examine you."

"Here?" Panic flickered in Vivienne's eyes.

"My mother insisted he check on you," Benedict said. "Oh, and he's concerned you might be pregnant."

Vivienne"s eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"So, how do you suggest we handle this?" Charlotte cut in, her tone harsh. "This mess is your doing!"

"Charlotte, lower your voice," Vivienne told her with chagrin, then turned to Benedict. "She's right. This is on you."

"Pretending to be ill was your idea, wasn't it? Just tell him you're feeling better."

Right then, the door creaked open, and Dr. Harrod poked his head into the room.

"Everybody decent?" he asked, stepping inside. "Good evening, ladies."

"I"m much better now, doctor," Vivienne said hastily, pulling the blanket up to her chin. "I just need some sleep."

"Oh, you do look pale," Dr. Harrod observed, pulling a chair up to the bed. "Don't worry, this won't hurt." He sat, placing his medical bag on his lap.

"I"m fine, truly."

"Open your mouth, please."

With reluctance, Vivienne complied, shooting Benedict a sidelong glance.

"Very well," Dr. Harrod murmured, examining her pupils and checking her pulse. He then took the stethoscope from around his neck and turned to Benedict. "Mr. Blackmoor, perhaps it"s best if you leave the room to give the patient some privacy." He looked at Vivienne. "I need you to remove your shirt, dear."

In the thick silence, Vivienne seemed to grasp what was coming. Her gaze darted to Benedict"s, a silent plea written in it.

"Dr. Harrod," Benedict began, searching desperately for words. "Do you really think it's necessary…"

"Zis is against ze French tradisyons!" Charlotte interjected in her deep baritone.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Vivienne said, backing away from the doctor to the edge of the bed. "I…I find this inappropriate."

Dr. Harrod, shocked by the chaos they had created, froze with the stethoscope in hand. Then glanced at Benedict one last time, seeking support, but Benedict simply shrugged, indicating there was nothing he could do.

"Very well," the doctor said, visibly unsettled by their reaction. "I"ll check your temperature then if you don"t mind."

"I don't." Vivienne took the thermometer and placed it under her tongue.

The next few minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence. Benedict took place by the window while Charlotte remained seated on the edge of the bed, her glare moving back and forth between him and the doctor.

When Dr. Harrod completed his examination, he carefully stowed away all the instruments into his bag and rose to his feet. "Well, it seems to be a minor ailment," he concluded. "Rest is crucial, so sleep well, keep warm, and stay hydrated. Time and patience will be your best remedies." He turned to look at Benedict. "I shall go. Your mother must be waiting for me."

"I'll show you out, "Benedict said with a nod.

As they exited the room together, Dr. Harrod said, "There"s nothing to worry about, Mr. Blackmoor. But do let me know if she doesn"t improve within a few days."

"Of course," Benedict said, feeling relieved that Vivienne's secret hadn"t been revealed.

"I didn't want to mention it in front of the ladies," Dr. Harrod said evasively, "but from what I observed, her condition is most likely a symptom of a very common condition in women, known as "female hysteria." You"ve probably heard of it."

"Female hysteria?" Benedict nearly choked on the words.

"Yes, sir. Many women suffer from it, but there"s no cause for concern. Just ensure she gets plenty of rest and fresh air." Dr. Harrod paused for a moment before adding, "And I would also strongly recommend...marriage." He cleared his throat. "In most cases, marital…activities greatly help women with such conditions. Have a good evening." With that, Dr. Harrod hurried back to the study.