Chapter Five

The doctor arrived a bit after Nanny Byrde had brought Mira a light breakfast of soft scrambled eggs and weak tea. Food helped with her dismal mood a bit so she was sitting up and calm when her nanny showed Doctor Desmona into the bedroom.

Doctor Desmona was a tall, thin woman with her dark hair scraped back into a bun. She had a permanent downturn to her mouth and a deep cleft between her brows. “Miss Priestly?” she asked, giving Mira a dubious once-over that lingered on her face. Doctor Desmona’s brows drew together and Mira knew that she’d been recognized.

Mira limited herself to a nod and wondered just how weird this was going to get now that she knew what people were saying about her around town.

The doctor gave her a measuring look, but came over to the bedside and asked a few questions about the incident, most of which Mira had to ask Nanny to answer. It was when they got to the memory loss that Mira sensed they’d lost her.

“I’ll be frank, Miss Priestly,” Doctor Desmona told her, very crisply. “This sort of attention seeking never works out the way you think it will. I understand you’re in a difficult position with a damaged reputation and few prospects, but you must look for a better way to handle matters than faking sick.”

“So you won’t examine me?” Mira asked. She’d considered the possibility that she’d get this reaction. Andrei did a thorough assassination of Violet’s character in the game in order to cut himself free of his unwanted engagement, so it came as no surprise to Mira that this total stranger had not only recognized her, but had already formed their first impression of her.

Maybe it had even felt justified to Andrei. Not even Mira knew for sure if Violet was actually guilty of the things she’d been accused of, but the consequences were annoying to have to deal with.

“I recommend some rest,” Doctor Desmona said instead of actually answering the question. “I’ll prescribe a sedative if your anxious feelings persist.”

Mira felt her fists clench involuntarily inside the poofy confines of her cuffed sleeves. Fortunately, Mira had a battle plan that she’d been working on since overhearing Nanny’s reluctance to use her name while making the appointment. “Provide me with a letter stating that you have refused to provide an examination and then you may go,” she said, ignoring Nanny’s muffled noise of outrage.

She’d heard of a trick like this in her past life to get past medical prejudice by forcing the doctor to note your records saying that they’d declined to pursue diagnostic testing. Very few doctors were willing to open themselves to litigation like that and Mira had the feeling that, while malpractice insurance didn’t exist in this world yet, lawsuits did. Mira had never had to use this trick for herself, but she was willing to try anything once. If this failed, then she’d call someone else until she found a doctor who was willing to diagnose her.

Doctor Desmona paused and looked at her again, consideringly.

“If you insist on testing, then I will proceed,” she replied at last. She glanced at Nanny Byrde. “Please help her undress.”

The doctor laid a large sheet out on the floor with a circle painted on it. Mira didn’t recognize the exact design nor did Violet’s memories have anything to say about it, but she could sort of puzzle out what it was meant to do based on her previous knowledge of magical systems. The circle provided the framework and directions for a full body magical diagnostic scan. Doctor Desmona had her lay down on it with her head, hands, and feet positioned at specific points in the circle.

When activated, the circle glowed blue and projected pictures and sigils into the air over Mira’s body. Doctor Desmona pulled on a pair of silvery gloves and began moving the sigils and images around until the cool blue of the circle turned a violent and ugly red. Mira didn’t need Violet’s old memories to tell her that wasn’t normal. She could read the urgency in the sudden speed of Doctor Desmona’s movements as she flipped through the various reports that the circle fed to her.

Eventually, the circle died and Mira was allowed to dress again. The doctor took a moment to reassemble her kit before returning to Mira’s bedside with a complicated expression.

“You did not mention your head injury, Miss Priestly,” she said with tension simmering just below the calm surface of her tone. “Why?”

Mira opened her mouth and closed it. She glanced at Nanny and, to her surprise, found her looking deathly pale.

“Nanny?” Mira asked, unsure how to feel. “Did I hit my head when I fell?”

“It’s an older injury,” Doctor Desmona replied for her, also now turning her suspicious look on Nanny Byrde.

“I…” Nanny twisted the front of her skirt in her hands. “…I have been forbidden to speak of that matter. Please do not ask me. Can you treat her with what you already have?”

“Who forbade you?” Mira demanded. “It wasn’t me!”

“It was your lord father,” Nanny explained in a hush.

This novel’s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.