"Robert, don't you think it's a little odd that none of the girls have rapped on our door yet this morning?" Cora said as O'Brien set her breakfast tray down before her in bed. From behind his newspaper, Robert thought a moment, then looked over at her.
"Come to think of it . . . it does seem awfully late in the morning for us to have not at least heard a peep from Sybil." The paper rustled as he lowered it, "O'Brien, would you mind fetching Nanny and seeing if the girls are ill?" he turned back to Cora, "Perhaps they've caught cold."
Cora stirred her tea, laughing "Oh, unlikely darling. We'd have seen them far earlier if they were ill."
There was a rap on the door and Cora smiled just as her lips brushed the side of her tea cup, "Their little ears must have been burning."
It wasn't the girls, though. It was Nanny.
"Pardon me, your Lordship." she nodded at Cora, "Your Ladyship. O'Brien stopped me in the hallway and told me you were concerned about the girls. Well, Lady Mary hasn't gotten out of bed, and I can't entice her even with breakfast. Lady Edith is awake and hasn't left Mary's side - I can't imagine what the two of them are up to but I'm certain whatever it is, it's no good."
Robert chuckled, "Yes, and Lady Sybil?"
Nanny sighed, "Poor thing, she must've had a nightmare. She's been crying all morn' but I haven't been able to soothe her. I asked if she'd like to see you, but she said no - she's at the foot of Lady Mary's bed and she won't budge."
Cora and Robert exchanged worried glances, "Thank you, Nanny." she glanced over at Robert, "I'm going to see what the matter is, don't disturb your breakfast, darling." With that, Cora threw back the covers and grabbed her dressing gown. Her hair unkempt still from sleep, Robert attempted to pause her,
"Darling, don't you want to ring for O'Brien first?"
"I hardly think the girls will mind if I look a bit ruffled. And if they're ill I don't want to keep away from them any longer."
Down the hall, Mary lay curled up tightly in her bed. She wasn't asleep, though her eyes were tightly closed and she swallowed hard, trying to quell the urge to moan. She knew she'd already frightened Sybil, and she didn't want to give Edith the satisfaction of knowing that she was feeling so miserable.
"I won't tell Mama that you got your monthlies if you promise not to tell her that I was the one that broke her hand mirror."
Mary winced, "Fine, Edith, I just don't want you to tell her!"
"Alright." Edith said chirpily, "Promise."
Sybil, who was at the foot of bed, looked up over the sheets at Edith, "But I thought O'Brien broke the mirror, Mary?"
"Oh, shut up Sybil!" Mary whined, "If anyone asks you, it was O'Brien."
Sybil sniffled, "Oh, Mary, I don't think anyone will care, they'll be so worried about you!"
"Oh, stop it, Sybil." Edith snapped, "You have to keep quiet about this too!"
"But won't- won't-?"
"Girls?"
Edith and Sybil both turned to the door, where Cora had suddenly appeared. Edith rose quickly and grabbed Sybil, "Come on, Sybil, Nanny's probably wondering where we've run off to. . ."
She tried to slide past Cora, "Wait, Edith. What are you two doing in here?"
"Well, Mary's caught cold so she isn't joining us for lessons today. We- we just wanted to tell her to feel better!" Edith said, smiling brightly, "Do feel better, Mary!"
Sybil sniffled, sticking her thumb in her mouth. It had been many years since she had done so for comfort, and it immediately alarmed Cora.
"Sybil, take your thumb from your mouth at once!"
Sybil whimpered, "Oh, Mama, I'm sorry!" she cried, breaking away from Edith and running to bury her face in Cora's nightgown, "Please, can I stay with Mary? I don't want my lessons today, I want to stay here with her!"
Cora knelt down and took Sybil's face in her hands, wiping the tears from her face, "Oh, Sybil, Mary's just got a cold. She'll feel better tomorrow. Why don't you run along with Edith- you can go say good morning to your Papa before you return to the nursery, alright?"
Edith grabbed Sybil's arm and pulled her out of the room. A bit confused at their display, Cora made her way over to Mary's bed.
"Mary, darling, should I call for Dr. Clarkson?" she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and placing her hand on Mary's brow. "You don't feel feverish."
"Oh, no, Mama." Mary said, grimacing.
"Mary, are you sure? You look quite pale. Are you in pain?"
"No, no, I'm sure I'll be fine Mama. I would just like to go back to sleep for a while."
Cora studied her daughter for a moment - then, she knew. She knew that look well, and although she had been having her monthlies for many years now, she almost immediately could remember the first time she had woken with the pain, the fearful sight of blood in her sheets. She had noticed, too, that Mary seemed to have shot up several inches over the summer and some of her dresses seemed to hang oddly in ways that they hadn't before. She gazed down at her daughter now and felt so much empathy, but also a great sadness that her eldest was not a child any more.
"Mary, my darling. . .you don't have a cold, do you?"
Uncharacteristically vulnerable, Mary looked up at her mother and immediately began to tear up. She fought the urge to cry, feeling silly for doing so, but seeing her mother look so kindly at her, she couldn't help it. She just wanted to leap into her arms.
"Oh, mama, it's terrible. I feel dreadful. And there - there's blood, it's on my sheets, and I'm so shameful. I've ruined my night dress. I didn't mean to, I didn't know it was going to happen! I mean, I knew it was going to happen eventually but I didn't know today - otherwise I would have prepared, I promise you, I'm so sorry!"
Her tears flowed freely and she nestled close to Cora who couldn't help but laugh sympathetically.
"Oh, Mary, Mary, my dear girl, you don't need to be ashamed! We never know exactly when it will happen- there will be other times when it surprises you, I'm sorry to say. And you will feel a little dreadful, but eventually, you'll learn how to tolerate it. I'll have a hot water bottle brought up to you - the heat will help you to feel better, or at least, it always helps me."
"I don't want Edith to know I told you, Mama. And please don't tell Papa. Don't tell anyone, please?"
Cora sighed, brushing the hair out of Mary's eyes, "I won't say a word, my darling. Now, have a rest today - I'll have some tea sent up. And I'll have your sheets laundered."
Mary wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"Just another thing to get used to, I'm afraid*." Cora said, rising and heading for the door. She walked back down the hall and headed for the master bedroom, where Robert had dressed and was preparing to head downstairs.
"Everything tip top with Mary?" he asked.
Cora came in and shut the door behind her, ringing for O'Brien as she crossed back to the bed. She sat on the edge of it, taking back her now-gone-cold tea cup.
"She's a bit under the weather today." she said, trying to smile. The truth was, she was emotional - so excited for Mary but also so frightened. Being the eldest, she would now be entering into a world of aristocracy and sometimes unforgivable tradition. Since Cora had not (yet, anyway, though the outlook seemed grim) bore an heir, it was likely that Mary would need to marry Patrick, the heir presumptive, if she were to continue to stay part of Downton and benefit from her mother's sizeable dowry- it was an awfully large fate to assume.
"Darling, are you crying?" Robert said, going to her.
Cora smiled, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand, "Oh, Robert, you mustn't say anything to anyone but -" she locked eyes with him, "Mary has the wound of Eve that never heals*."
It took Robert a moment for her sentiment to register, and when he finally did, he blanched "Oh, well, you needn't worry about me saying anything to anyone- you know I'm terribly squeamish about such things anyway."
Cora placed a hand on Robert's face lovingly, "Yes, darling, I know."
He kissed her softly on the lips - lost in their moment together they didn't notice that Sybil had slowly opened the door just a crack. A never healing wound? Oh, she was certain now! Mary really was dying.
Notes on this Chapter: * The truth of the matter here is, most women didn't actually wear anything like cloth of sanitary napkins - even though it's perfectly disgusting to bleed into your chemise, up until around 1900 that's exactly what they did. You have to wonder, now, looking at those lovely looking ladies on the show - chances are one of them is actively bleeding into those beautiful gowns!
*Indeed, this is a euphemism for menstruation - but I couldn't find out where it originated from, sorry to say! If someone knows I'd love to know the history.