Read Online A Heart Revealed by Josi S. Kilpack - Free Book Online Page B

maid who carried in a tea tray. Lady Marchent did not stay long and instead simply relayed that Dr. Hankins would attend her in the morning, until then the household had been told Amber was ill and Suzanne had been sworn to secrecy. Amber was hungry for some encouragement, some hope, but it was misplaced. Her mother left her to her own company after only a few minutes. Amber pressed her face into the pillow and cried alone.
    Dr. Hankins came to Amber’s bedchamber at ten o’clock Monday morning. He wasn’t an old man, perhaps not quite her mother’s age, even, and she could not take her eyes off the powdered wig he wore, a reminder of the style of her mother’s time as a debutante in King George’s court.
    The extreme fashion that included wigs and hairpieces was outmoded when the French Revolution drew sharp attention to the extravagance of the aristocracy. France was not so far away from England for English noblemen and noblewomen to avoid taking note.
    Amber had heard tell and seen portraits of face paints and full stays, hoop skirts, and heavy brocade fabrics of vibrant color—the court dress required of each debutante when she was presented, but avoided in every other venue. Amber had often felt grateful to live in an age of greater discretion that, she felt, allowed a woman’s more natural charms to show through the pretense of earlier fashions.
    Now, however, with her natural charms threatened she wished for a powdered wig to hide her truth and perhaps face paint that could further hide her fear.
    “I shall need you to remove the cap,” Dr. Hankins said, sitting down on the foot bench after Amber sat on her dressing table stool.
    At the doctor’s request, Amber raised a hand, carefully expanded the cap, and lifted it off her head, mindful of pulling on the hair she had left. Several strands of hair fluttered into her lap.
    The doctor made no reaction, for which she was grateful, and stood to cross over to her. She closed her eyes in hopes it would lessen her humiliation as he touched her hair, lifted the remaining tresses and making noises such as “Hmm,” and “Ah.” He began pulling on certain sections, and Amber bit her lip, not in pain but in fear he would loosen the strands still connected. She’d been so gentle of them herself, though it hadn’t seemed to make a difference. Lady Marchent stood just inside the door, standing silent sentry of the exchange.
    “And you lose more hair daily?” Dr. Hankins asked, still inspecting.
    “Hourly, it seems.” She swallowed the rising emotion and finally looked up when he stepped away. “What is to become of me? I fear I have contracted something severe.”
    “What of the other hair about your person?” he asked, returning to his seat.
    “Pardon?” she asked.
    “I see that your eyebrows are mostly intact—what of the other hair? It is typical for all of a person’s skin to be covered in fine hair, you see. Surely you are aware of this.”
    Amber nodded but was terribly embarrassed by his question. “I can’t say I’ve been particularly attentive.” Had he said her eyebrows were mostly intact?
    “I should encourage you to be attentive, then.” Finally his eyes moved to her face and met her gaze. His expression was sympathetic, and she felt tears rise in her eyes at his genuine concern.
    “Other than this symptom, are you experiencing any other discomfort?”
    “No,” Amber said, shaking her head and wishing he would let her replace the cap. “I feel quite well, other than the nervousness this has created.”
    Dr. Hankins nodded while looking at her head, his thick eyebrows pulled together beneath his wig. “I am afraid I have never encountered a situation such as this before,” he said. “Hair loss is usually accompanied by other physical symptoms that indicate a severe illness. Without other discomforts—as you’ve told me—I’m afraid I am unaware of what could be the cause of this.”
    He must have seen Amber’s expression fall