Hey! I've made one minute change to Chapter 3 (Thanks BookRose for your advise) and to answer the question asked about what time this played in, I honestly don't know, probably in the 1400's or so but I don't think my writing would be historically accurate anyway lol. I hope you guys enjoy the next chapter, there's a bit more action in it!

The woman's face emerged from somewhere out of my line of sight. I didn't hear her arrive. The pain was unbearable and all I could do was gasp for air. I tried my best to stay calm but my worry was driving me insane. This wasn't supposed to happen, was it? She only just started kicking, this pain wasn't supposed to be here. Panic started to rise in me and I struggled to control the waves of fear coursing through me. The dark on the edges of my vision were threatening to drown me.

From somewhere above my head came voices. One was the terribly familiar voice of Thomas, the other sounded like another woman. The one bending over me was talking to me, but I barely registered her words. My eyes where rolling back into my head. The pain was beginning to overpower my desperate struggle to stay conscious.

I started to hyperventilate. Another stab of pain across my abdomen made me scream, drawing back the darkness to suddenly let the strange woman's voice burst through.

"…breathe, just breathe, it will be alright. Mrs. Ballyclaire? Can you hear me? It will be fine…"

I tried to respond but my mouth just wouldn't move. Instead I focused my eyes above my head, to where the voices were coming from. I could see Thomas, looking slightly worried for the first time since he'd asked me to marry him, and a plump, dark haired woman. When she noticed that I was looking at her, she bent over me and said, "Mrs. Ballyclaire, I want you to do something for me. You have to choose, I'm afraid, if you live and your child stands a chance of coming to… harm, or whether you stand a chance of dying and the baby has a chance – just a chance – of living. I'm so sor-"

"Save her, please, save her!" I gasped before she could continue. For the amount of red I was only now starting to notice pooling around me, she sounded incredibly calm.

She glanced at my husband, but immediately started to bustle about the kitchen, fetching objects that I would have been scared of on any other day. But not now. Not when my child, the one I had tried to protect from any harm, was in danger. Even if it costs me my life, this child will be safe.

I watched as the midwife and the nurse suddenly turned around as if someone had entered the room. I heard it too: the soft footsteps hurrying into the kitchen. And then I saw him. He moved quickly, murmuring to the nurse and midwife, giving them quiet instructions. He paused only once to take my hand and gently squeeze it. I choked as I gasped – his hands were ice cold.

I tried to find his eyes with mine, but my vision was going black. The last thing I remember hearing was the whisper of voice, perhaps asking me a question, or assuring me of something ridiculous such as "You will be alright…"

The last thing I remember going through my mind, was my baby and whether I would ever see her, or if she would live a prisoner in Thomas' cold home without a mother, without love.

And the last thing I remember feeling, was a strange sense of calm that washed over me when I realized that both of us, my daughter and I, were in the hands of the cold-fingered doctor.