"Well, I'm off. You sure you're not up for some shopping?" Elizabeth asked tying her hat's ribbon beneath her chin at the mirror. Patricia was at a chair and desk, her feet propped up on another chair. In front of her was a notebook and an ink bottle while she held a quill in the air, thinking.
"Shopping? In Port Royal? Oh, I missed that… but wait… does that involve walking?"
"Ummm, Yes?" Elizabeth answered unsurely.
"Then, uhhh, no," Patricia replied. "Have you even SEEN my feet lately?"
"No, why?" Elizabeth laughed.
"Well, neither have I but they are in a LOT of pain even when I just STAND," Patricia explained. "I'd rather not make you go through my whining and bad moods for the rest of the day." Elizabeth laughed again and put a hand on Patricia's shoulder sympathetically.
"Then the least I can do is ask what you might want, since I am your host."
"Umm... Sweets. I want sweets," Patricia grinned. "Sweets and chocolate biscuits? That is the one thing Will refuses to let me indulge in. I'm glad I'm due in a week or so...I'm going to throttle him if I don't get any sugar soon."
"Will is going to throttle ME if I let you have sweets!"
"Fine... Sweet fruits please? I missed that as well," she pouted, looking at her book again.
"Good, sweet fruits it is," Elizabeth finalized before heading out to the door. "Are you sure you'll be all right alone?"
"Don't worry about me. You have your many servants and maids on my every beck and call," Patricia said shooing Elizabeth away with one hand but not looking up. "And either way, Will is coming up in about an hour. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" she asked biting her lip, still standing at the open doorway.
"Yes! Now get out and get me something to eat, Elizabeth Norrington!"
Elizabeth chuckled and shut the door, then walked down the stairs where one of the men her husband had kept as her escort was waiting for her.
"Ready to leave, Mrs. Norrington?" Andrew asked, offering his hand as a gentleman would. Elizabeth paused for a second, waiting to hear for some sort of distressing sound from upstairs.
"Yes," she answered when none came. "Let's go then."
Patricia dipped the quill and began to jot down names. One column was devoted to female names while the other was devoted to names for males. She REALLY wasn't going to name her son 'Jack'. Not that she didn't like the name; it's just that she loved her husband a little more to let him have his wish... and he was so... determined at swaying her to his way of seeing things, she grinned. Patricia tilted for a moment as she thought about just HOW determined her husband was and then circled a name in each column.
However, she was pulled out of her fantasies abruptly and her hand clutched at her belly in pain. She waited for something else to happen but now the pain receded and the pain was just a memory but her body remembered it well.
Suddenly, it was hot and she was restless. Throwing the book on the table, she stood up with a grunt and made for the stand where a pitcher was kept for her convenience. She suddenly felt a dizzy and she felt exhausted. Patricia knew something was terribly wrong. Her hand clutched a glass and quickly filled it with cool water, hoping that the moisture could fix whatever it was that was ailing her but the water did nothing to relieve her of the heat.
The pain shot through her again and surprised her, making her drop the glass. This time it didn't recede and began to throb and now something splashed under her.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God," Patricia cursed, her eyes widening. "No... No..."
It's too early... It's too bloody early! And Will isn't here... and holy shit... I'm about to have a baby and where the hell is Will?
Patricia doubled over to the floor, clutching her belly for dear life, the involuntary tears of pain making their way out of her eyes. She grabbed the leg of a chair and banged it against the floor.
"Help!" she yelled.
Will had just finished surveying the shops in town and was talking to some men about establishish contracts.
"We've liked your products so far, Mr. Turner: sturdy and reliable. My company will be more than happy to make you one of our primary suppliers," Anderson Wallace said.
"I've very happy to hear that," Will smiled. "If we can make an appointment now as to when we want to have our agreement in writing…"
"Of course," Mr. Wallace agreed. They set a date to meet again and Will turned to board his carriage but he was shoved to the side by several older men, all running towards the shore.
"Sorry, sir. Beg your pardon," one of them shouted back as he clutched his bag to himself.
Will turned to his colleague who had a genuine look of concern in his face as he stared after then men.
"I wonder who could be in such dire need of help," Mr. Wallace wondered aloud.
"Who were those men?"
"Doctors… Some of the best in Port Royal," Mr. Wallace replied. "Someone must be dying. I wonder who."
"Well, that's a bit of a morbid thing to wonder, isn't it?" Will chuckled but he was ignored. Mr. Wallace was squinting and looking still to the horizon.
"Looks like they're headed towards the governor's mansion…"
"What?" Will reeled back and saw that he was correct. The only thing that went through his head was that Patricia was in that mansion and could be that person that Anderson Wallace was morbidly wondering about.
"Will!" Patricia screamed banging the floor with the chair leg again. She started to sob, wanting the pain that was shooting from where she knew the baby was all the way to her opening to just stop... and now her chest felt constricted. She wanted to take deeper breaths but found that her heart was being gripped like a vice.
She suddenly felt herself being carried onto the bed in the next room. Her head still felt as heavy as a cannon ball but she was vaguely aware of the chaos that was building around her.
"Get the doctors!"
"They're on their way…"
"Someone close that door and open those windows!"
"Let's take off this dress."
"Oh god… There's so much blood…"
"Patricia..." Will muttered as he wrung his hands. The carriage was bumbling up the hill and all he could think of was his wife. On the top by the house, he could see a line of carriages and the sheer number of people scrambling about was enough to make his stress level escalate further.
The moment the carriage stopped, Will ran into the house, bursting into it screaming his wife's name. "Patricia!"
"Will," she sobbed, answering his call when she heard it through the walls. Will came into the top hall, cursing under his breath as he ran into their room. He ignored the protests against his presence as he knelt down beside her bed.
"I'm here now, sweetheart... I've got you," he murmured. He winced as he observed her harsh breathing, the wet dress, and look of pain on her face. "Tricia? Tricia-love, what happened?"
"I... can't... breathe," Patricia gasped, gripping Will's hand in hers. "Heart... hurts..."
"It's all right... I'm right here," Will murmured putting his forehead to hers. He was trying to calm her but he felt his own panic begin to set in. "Just... hold on, all right?"
Patricia's eyes shut but she nodded. Will turned to the doctors who were mumbling to themselves and to the maid, Lucinda. He had gotten a blanket and used a corner to wipe away the sweat that poured from her brow. It was the only thing he could do before he broke down into a heap of helplessness and desperation.
"... You were right, Lucinda," an old male voice said. It was the local physician, Joseph Landau.
"What's going on?" Will asked confused. Lucinda took Will by the arm and led him about three meters from his wife so that the doctor could have a look.
"Poisoned blood, Mr. Turner," Lucinda murmured, letting the doctors and Landau care for Patricia whose breath was getting shallower by the moment. "Disease of those with child... It happens quite suddenly... The heart of the woman is rushed by the bad blood but she doesn't realize it. The baby does, though, and wants to get out all quick-like." Will turned to his wife, suddenly becoming fainter. "Then when the baby tells the mother it wants to be birthed, the mother realizes what happened to her heart... It's awful painful, sir, least what I heard.
"We can give something to her for the pain, Mr. Turner," Lucinda added, opening her hand to reveal a dollop of sticky brown opium. Will stared at the drug, tentatively, then at his wife. He saw her face contort in pain, her fist gripping the sheets.
"Give it to her," he said, nodding his permission. She took the opium and put in some juice, pouring it into Patricia's mouth. In minutes, Patricia relaxed and her eyes unfocused. Her sobs diminished and she limped into the bed like a rag doll.
"She doesn't feel a thing, Turner," Landau said, answering the question in Will's eyes.
"How do you heal her?" Will asked, bluntly.
"Your wife's condition is complicated," Landau sighed. "If she does not give birth within the next two hours, she will inevitably die in the same time given..."
"How long does birth usually take?"
"Since she is a first-time mother?" Will nodded, afraid of the answer. "13 to 14 hours..." Will dropped to his knees beside the bed again and his head into Patricia's flaccid hand.
"So there's no saving her, is there?" Will murmured.
"No..." Lucinda answered sadly.
Patricia is suffering from a complication that I loosely based Preeclampsia and Thrombophilia. Look em up.
If you know someone who's pregnant, make sure they're going to the doctor regularly. Complications aren't uncommon and we haven't come so far into medicine only to have those who could benefit from it not use it. Prenatal care is a biggie.