LYDIA

     As I observed Isabella, my dear friend's offspring, retching and grasping her stomach, I couldn't help but feel a tangle of worry knotting in my own belly.

     The maids buzzed around us like anxious bees, attempting to offer assistance in any way they could. One of them suggested it must have been some ill-prepared hors d'oeuvre from the previous night's festivities, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something more was afoot.

     "Lasses, grant us a moment of privacy, would you?" I requested, ushering them away as I moved to Isabella's side.

     The maids complied in a flurry, shutting the door behind them as they exited the room.

     I watched as Isabella heaved once more, my heart heavy with worry. I knew her as well as one knows their favourite pair of slippers, and something about this ailment felt different, more ominous.

     As another bout of nausea seized Isabella, I leaned in, gently sweeping her hair back from her face. I caught the fear and uncertainty lurking in her gaze, and it confirmed my suspicions. This was not your garden-variety stomach bug; oh no, this was a matter of far greater consequence.

     I felt my heart clench as the truth struck home. "Oh, Isabella," I whispered, enfolding her in a comforting embrace. I made a silent vow to be there for her, just as her mother would have wanted me to be.

                                                                         ***    ***   ***

    As I ushered Isabella into the carriage, bound for her father's estate nestled in the countryside, a shiver of dread trickled down my spine. 

     "I shall join you in due course, when the time comes," I assured her, alluding to the moment when the babe would make its arrival. I rested my hands tenderly on her belly, offering a small token of solace. She met my eyes with a nod, but I could see the fear and vulnerability swimming in her gaze.

      A twinge of sadness pricked me, as I watched the carriage trundle off into the distance, carting Isabella ever farther away.

     As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against its solid wooden frame for support, feeling the burden of responsibility settle on my shoulders. Just when I was about to move away from the entrance, the doorbell unexpectedly chimed.

     I swung the door open to find Lewis, the scoundrel who had spurned Isabella and was undoubtedly responsible for her current predicament.

     "I wish to speak with Lady Isabella Brouwer," he declared, a hint of arrogance lacing his voice.

     My ire flared as I regarded him. "And I, sir, wish you a good day," I retorted, slamming the door in his smug face. I knew Isabella deserved far better than him, and I was prepared to do everything in my power to shield her from his presence and the suffering he had inflicted upon her.