A Lady's Fate

Chapter Fourteen

"Margaret?" called Mary, voice fraught with panic. "Margaret, can you hear me?"

"Mary?" came a faint, pain-ridden voice from inside the house. "Is that you?"

"Yes!" cried Mary in relief, pressing herself closer to the door. "Yes, it is me! Are you alright? I thought I heard a scream."

A brief pause, during which Helena and Mary traded fearful glances. Then, from the other side of the door, a low grunt of effort, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

"I cannot move," Margaret told them fretfully. "Mary, I think - I think the baby is coming."

Time seemed to stop for a moment. It was as if everything had paused momentarily: the icy wind whipping Helena's hair across her face died down, and the clopping of hooves on the street below became inaudible, as Helena's mind was filled with a high-pitched buzzing. This could not be happening; not now! Margaret's time was not supposed to be for another month, at least!

"Margaret? Do not worry, Margaret!" called Mary, attempting to sound composed, but Helena, stood next to her, noticed how her voice shook. "We will be with you in just a moment!"

How Mary intended to get through a locked door, Helena couldn't imagine - but her speculation was interrupted by Margaret's frightened voice.

"We?" she echoed, her voice high and drawn. "Is it - are you with him?"

"Of course not!" snapped Mary, who was scrabbling at the doorframe as if searching for some way to prise it open. "I have brought with me a friend, who will be able to help us."

What Margaret made of this, Helena was not to find out - for just then, another wave of agony appeared to come over the young girl, leading to another blood-curdling shriek which sent Mary into a state of complete desperation.

"We are coming, Margaret!" she cried, having abandoned scrabbling at the doorframe in favour of rattling the doorknob violently - but it was well and truly locked.

"Oh, whatever are we to do?" moaned Helena, clutching her handkerchief to her face.

Mary stood back, panting from her exertion.

"I shall force it open," she said simply.

If she hadn't been utterly terrified, Helena might have laughed aloud at this ridiculous statement. There was simply not a chance that Mary possessed the strength to succeed in opening the door by force.

Yet moments later, Helena was proved completely wrong, as Mary hoisted up her skirts and aimed a solid kick at the door, which flew open with a satisfying crunch.

"How?" questioned Helena weakly.

"The lock was not strong, and the door itself was flimsy," grunted Mary, ankles covered once again by the hem of her skirts, much to Helena's relief.

Without another word, she was gone; barging straight into the house with Helena staggering along behind her.

They found Margaret in the front room, in a very sorry state indeed. Crumpled on the floor clutching her stomach, the young girl's blonde hair stuck up wildly in all directions, a few strands obscuring her reddened face. Her pretty face was screwed up in agony, and there were tears pooling in her brown eyes.

"Mary!" she gasped in relief. "It truly is you!"

Within seconds Mary had closed the distance between them, dropping to the floor and enveloping her friend in her arms.