When Mary turned seven, her mother got sick. At first, it seemed like a little cold, and Isabel insisted to both George and Mary that it was nothing. But after a few months of coughing and sneezing, she began to start sleeping fitfully and withering away before her husband and daughter’s eyes. Her skin turned pale and papery, and she was ice cold to touch. After a few days of boldly putting on a brave face, she collapsed in bed and couldn’t get up. A doctor was called, and George talked to him. Mary wasn’t allowed in the room, but the few things she heard from outside the door didn’t sound good.
Isabel stayed in bed for weeks, not allowed to get up or miss a single medication that the doctor had prescribed. Mary worried constantly, and Isabel in turn worried for her daughter. A seven-year-old should not be this concerned in something, especially not her mother’s health.
Mary walked to Isabel’s room one day, when it was particularly bad. Isabel was barely awake, struggling to hold onto consciousness because Mary had found a time to see her. Ever since the king had insisted she start her studies up, finding time for her mother had been difficult.
Mary arrived to see that Nicholas and Miss Cecilia were already in there. Miss Cecilia was tending to Isabel while Nicholas stood off to the side, his young, blue eyes filled with concern as he stared at Isabel. She was like a second mother to him, and he hated that she was sick.
“Mother.” Mary sat herself down on the chair beside Isabel’s bed.
“Mary.” Isabel’s hand feebly reached out, and Mary took hold of it. It was thin and cold and Mary dared not squeeze too hard for fear it would crumble away in her hand.
The room was quiet for a few moments until Mary, unable to stand such horrid silences, said, “How is it?”
Isabel opened her mouth to reply, but before she could even draw in the breath to do so, a racking cough took over her. Miss Cecilia answered instead, her large, brown eyes staring steadily at Isabel, “She’s alright, honey. No change. Same as yesterday and the day before that.”
Mary’s heart sunk, but she did her best to put a smile on her face, for her mother and for Nicholas and Miss Cecilia. No one ever smiled in this room unless Mary did.
Isabel’s eyes fluttered, and she fought to keep them open.
“If you’re tired, you should rest, Mother,” Mary said softly.
Isabel wanted to argue, but found she couldn’t. Her eyelids were too heavy to hold open, and sleep too persuasive to fight off. Mary caught one last look at her faded brown eyes before Isabel tumbled into the darkness that called out to her.
Mary knew she was asleep, but she didn’t leave. She stayed by the bed, her eyes on her mother’s face, not begging her wake up, but simply memorizing. It was obvious to anyone that the queen was fading, and fast too. Her bones stood out against her pale skin, which seemed to barely fit over her body. Her hair was stringy and stuck to her forehead, and her whole body was white as a ghost. Mary wondered if she had already left, and this was her ghost that they were all seeing.
A large, warm hand landed on Mary’s shoulder, and the girl looked up dully into Cecilia’s eyes, which were shining with tears.
“It’s time to go to bed, Mary.”
“Miss Cecilia . . .” Mary trailed off, biting her lip. “Will she still be here when I wake up?”
Cecilia’s eyes softened. “Of course, honey. I’ll even wake you up extra early to see her before your lessons, all right?”
Mary sighed, and relaxed slightly. “Thank you.”
Cecilia nodded, and brought Mary to her bed. Once she had helped her dress in her nightclothes and tucked her in, she left.
Mary lay awake for hours, not able to sleep a wink. She knew it wouldn’t help if she was tired tomorrow, but she also couldn’t sleep by herself. Standing up, she contemplated going to her father, but that would undoubtedly get her a severe scolding and possibly no breakfast tomorrow morning. So instead, she wandered down the hall into the servant’s quarters and tapped Miss Cecilia’s shoulder.
The woman started awake quickly, but relaxed when she saw who it was. Nicholas was already on one side of her, but she moved him gently and set aside a space for Mary, who crawled into bed gratefully. No words were exchanged because of the others in the room, but Mary was just glad to be in company of others who knew what she was going through and cared. She fell asleep quickly after that, and Cecilia, true to her word, woke her up extra early to see her mother in the morning, who only looked worse if anything.
