Cradle and All

August 1914

She regretted it the moment she had left the washroom. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she felt utter shame. "Sarah O'Brien, this is not who you are."

She felt the urgency rise in her throat as she called out, "My lady, if you could just wait..."

But then it happened. She heard the scream and sickening thud of Her Ladyship as she hit the cold hard floor. Sarah couldn't move. It was as if her feet were suddenly stone. But another groan from Lady Grantham sent her flying back into the washroom, a warm dressing gown in her arms.

Her Ladyship held to the side of the tub, lifting herself off of the floor.

Sarah found herself inspecting Lady Grantham's bare body for any evidence of trauma. The subtle swell of her abdomen was suddenly quite apparent to her. "Are you hurt, my lady?" she asked as she rushed to drape the dressing gown over her ladyship's shoulders.

Still bent over, grasping the side of the tub, Lady Grantham pulled the gown tighter around her exposed flesh and tentatively shook her head.

"No, no...I'm alright." She straightened up, letting go of the tub and grabbing her lower back. "But perhaps I should have a lie down."

Sarah nodded. She helped her into her chemise and then stood awkwardly by as Lady Grantham walked slowly to her bed and lifted her legs into it.

"Oh," she arched her back and grimaced. "I'm afraid I'll be sore come tomorrow! How clumsy of me." She forced a small chuckle that Sarah couldn't pretend to reciprocate.

"My lady, are you sure you're alright? Perhaps I should call for the doctor."

Lady Grantham shook her head. "No. I don't think it necessary, O'Brien. But perhaps more pillows to prop my legs? And for my back."

Sarah nodded and backed out of the bedroom. Images of Her Ladyship touching her still small, but growing belly through her nightgown last night flashed across her mind. Sarah had noticed the glowing smile Her Ladyship had suppressed as she caught her reflection in the mirror. She remembered how Her Ladyships's fingers spread daintily over her stomach. Sarah held the pillows close to her as she made her way slowly back up the stairs. How could she have been so stupid?

She knocked twice and opened the door, but did not see Lady Grantham in her bed. She put the pillows in a chair and then she saw it. Against the stark white sheets was a large stain of bright red. Sarah felt panic set in.

She tried to call out for her, but she couldn't produce a sound. She forced herself around the bed and pushed open the washroom door.

"My lady," she managed as she took in the sight before her.

Lady Grantham, so lovely and fair, stood in the middle of the cold floor, her fingers covering her mouth as she looked down at her chemise, which was saturated with bright red, a stream of it running down her legs and puddling at her bare feet.

Sarah stood stupefied, unable to arrange a coherent thought until she saw Her Ladyship grab her side and double over in pain.

Guiding her back to the bed, she laid her in it, soiled as it was, and ran from the room searching the halls for anyone walking about.

"Anna!" She called after spotting her leaving one of the girls' rooms, "have Dr. Clarkson summoned now!"

"Ms. O'Brien? What's happened?"

Sarah became angry, "For God's sake! It's Her Ladyship!"

She felt the hot sensation of regretful anguish as she rushed back to the room. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real. But she knew it was. It was all too real.

Hours later Sarah watched as Dr. Clarkson whispered to his nurse as he handed her the small bloody bundle. Sarah's eyes then drifted to Lady Grantham. She looked blankly toward the wall, her hair mussed and her face very pale, frighteningly so. A pain registered in her expression for a moment, but she didn't move otherwise. She just laid there, staring.

Sarah was drawn from her observations by a small touch on her arm.

"O'Brien."

She looked at the doctor.

He continued in a hushed tone, "We'll need a basin of warm water presently, if you please."

Sarah nodded and walked into the washroom. After instruction, she mindlessly washed Her Ladyship's legs, but caught herself wondering what the point of it all was. She was still bleeding.

She brought clean, heavy covers over her as the doctor listened to her chest with his stethoscope. He nodded to the nurse, who left the room for a moment, only to be followed back in by Lord Grantham.

She could hear Dr. Clarkson say something to him about "copious amounts of blood loss" and that His Lordship could "see her for a moment", and although Lord Grantham nodded, his gaze was fixed on his wife, who still lay silently staring at the wall away from him. However, at the sound of his voice thanking the doctor, Sarah watched as Her Ladyship looked up and then over to her husband, who now walked to her hurriedly.

Tears finally began to stream down her face, and she shook her head, sobbing. "Oh, Robert. Our baby. It was a boy. It was a boy. I'm so sorry..."

Sarah moved into the corner of the room near Dr. Clarkson and looked away as His Lordship cupped his wife's blanched face, and shushed her lovingly, pressing kisses to her forehead and cheeks.

Sarah had been her maid for ten years. She had seen intimacy between the two of them before. She'd found His Lordships's underthings tangled in Her Ladyships's bedclothes. She'd changed Her Ladyship out of nightgowns that had been turned inside out during the course of the night. She'd even walked in several times to His Lordship standing behind Lady Grantham, hungrily kissing her neck. However, those incidents infuriated her. She could easily recall complaining to Thomas about a "lack of propriety" and if Lady Grantham was a "real lady" she'd be more modest about her marital affairs. The truth was that Sarah saw them, this Lord and Lady, as nearly a different species. They were The Family and she was not sympathetic to their trials and tribulations, unless, of course, it threatened her own livelihood. But now, as she bashfully watched Lord and Lady Grantham cry together, they weren't The Family anymore. They were Robert and Cora. They were merely a husband and wife who had lost the baby boy they had so longed for. And with a grotesque turn of her stomach, Sarah remembered she had caused it.