Character Development - She has a squint.

I've been wracking my brain, trying to remember something I read recently, but I can't place it.  I can remember this much:  It was a classic piece of literature ... maybe C. S. Lewis or Mark Twain.  Or maybe it was Austin, because I'm pretty sure it was set in the Victorian era. 

The point is, the character was a young man looking for a wife, and his complaint about one of the potential ladies is that she has a squint.  I was intrigued.  What if her squint is from poor eyesight?  If she were alive today, she'd wear contacts, and it wouldn't be an issue at all.  My imagination kicked in, then, and I started to wonder about what other quirks people could possibly have, if modern medicine wasn't to the point where those things are taken care of when we're young.

Think about it.  Webbed toes/fingers.  Poor hearing or poor eyesight.  Scars from measles or small pox.  Hunchbacks.  The prompt for this week is to think of character trait like that and write a short piece on your character.

Enjoy!

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My Response:

Marlise whirled around the dance floor, her heart spinning nearly as fast as she was.  Who would have thought that her fourth season would turn out so differently from her first three?  It had certainly started off the same. 

Marlise's family had moderate social status, though the titles had fallen on firstborn sons, and Marlise came from second and third sons.  They had land and a little wealth, but not enough to cause a ripple in the room when her dowry was mentioned.  Her looks were fair, enough to ensure her dance card was full, but her hand remained unclaimed.  If she's attracted any attention in the first two weeks of the season, it was only when people remarked that she was losing the glow of her youth. 

Then the Duke of Kent arrived, and all the matrons whispered behind their fans.  The Duchess, his wife, had died two years prior, but he'd been left with two infant sons.  Rumors ran rampant.  He may be looking for a new wife, but she would have to accept that her own son would never bear the title.

Marlise didn't care.  From the moment he'd laid eyes on her, they'd both been new people.  Now, as they sought out the cool night air on the balcony, Marlise felt she'd never been happier.  She'd forgotten her fan inside, so she pulled at the fingertips of her left glove.

Then she stopped.  It would be nice to wave the glove and feel the rush of air against her skin ... and in the dark, maybe he wouldn't notice.

But no.  Marlise pulled her glove back into position, determined.  Her deformity only reached to the first knuckle of each finger.  Certainly, her hands looked stilted in gloves, but to remove them would be something far worse. 

Marlise sent a quick prayer to heaven, grateful for a civilized world, so she could wear her gloves right up until her wedding night, and her Duke would be none the wiser until it was too late.