Heart's Desire

Chapter Five

Sunlight filtered through Charity's closed lids, turning her waking world red. The next thing to reach her consciousness was the sickly-sweet taste of laudanum. Smacking her lips in distaste, she opened her eyes. They were promptly squeezed shut when blinding rays hit them.

It took some time for her to wake and Charity blamed the drug for her befuddled state. Her servants knew of her intense dislike of laudanum, causing her to wonder who'd dosed her. It didn't take long, even with her mind dulled by the drug to place the blame at Lord Wrotham's door. "I cannot trust him. Or his fine eyes," she muttered to herself.

A new memory emerged. Charity recalled Cook pressing her to drink a toddy after she woke from her faint. The older woman told her that she'd added something for the pain. With a sense of betrayal, she deduced Mrs. Anders had added laudanum. Someone must have kept dosing her after that, for she couldn't say with any accuracy how long she'd been kept abed. Fuzzy memories of being awakened during the night, helped to the chamber pot and put back to bed flitted past. Then more of the opiate-laced toddy was given.

With a renewed sense of resolve, Charity forced her eyes to open. After becoming accustomed to the bright light, she saw the sun was past its zenith. That meant her forced stupor had lasted at the very least a full day.

Sitting up, Charity threw back the covers. Her cheek ached and throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Ignoring the pain as best she could, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose on shaky limbs. A wave of dizziness nearly sent her back onto the mattress. Once her head stilled, she carefully made her way to her vanity.

The first thing Charity noted as she looked at herself in the mirror were the dark circles under her eyes. Gaze lifting, she saw her hair was a mess, not having been properly braided before she was dosed. It stuck out at odd angels and looked to be quite ratted. With a sigh, her eyes flicked back to her face. Against the dark half-moons and wan cheeks, she appeared deathly pale.

With that thought echoing in her head, Charity's angled her wounded cheek for a better look. It was covered by a piece of linen, and she saw that some blood had seeped through since its last changing. With shaking fingertips, she gently felt her injury. When a shudder coursed through her, she winced. The quaver of her hand caused the digit to press too hard.

Sucking in a steadying breath, Charity pulled back the edge of the cloth. It adhered to her cheek with a smear of salve. A red gash was soon revealed as she continued to draw on the linen. Some of the ointment stuck to the wound, making it appear even more grotesque.

Turning more, Charity looked out of the side of her eye. The bullet had grazed along her cheek for about an inch. From this angle and with the salve plastered over it, she couldn't decipher how deep it was. She wasn't a vain woman, she knew others considered her to be quite plain, but she still hoped it wouldn't scar.

The laudanum-laced toddy rioted in her stomach. Pressing a hand there, Charity tried to calm her thoughts. Had the shot's angle been just right, she likely wouldn't have survived.

A soft knock sounded on the door. Before Charity could call out an answer, Mrs. Rogers came bustling in with a maid close on her heels. Various types and colors of cloth spilled over the latter's arms.

"Ah good," Mrs. Rogers' no-nonsense manner came through in her tone. "'Tis good to see your ladyship up and out of bed."

There was no missing her housekeeper's wince when the older woman spotted Charity's uncovered cheek. Or, come to that, the quickly recovered look of horror on the young maid's face. Sticking the scrap of linen back on, she gave Mrs. Rogers a small, one-sided smile.