Molly's morning was better. The pains came and went, as she breathes through them, knowing she would need to push out the cast and then pray not to bleed. She's prayed solidly, begging Theus not to do this to Morgan. She missed him desperately, but she didn't want him to see her crying with the pain, or vomiting through it. She wasn't alone. Marta did a wonderful job at reassuring her,  as much as anyone can reassure a medic in danger. Molly had asked to know the risk. 30% that she would not survive it. That is a scary number. Another 10% that she will live to endure knowing her husband is getting pleasure inside a mistress and then having to see him with a child that looks nothing like her. The farewell letters provide distraction, as do the maids. They are all so supportive and kind, especially Ana who has birthed two children so understands the horrid sensations in Molly's body. They hold her hair when she is sick, give her sips of water, and generally pamper her. She's incredibly grateful. Between the pains, she lets them take turns at trying on last night's ball gown and gloves, and they laugh and joke and swan around in it. It takes Molly back to the simpler times of her and the other staff at Tawstock, and helps her get through it. 
Her little notes too and from Morgan are treasured,  as is seeing him. There's hope then that it will not be much longer.

But as the afternoon wears on, and the pain increases with no desire to push, and she stops engaging with the maids,  turning inwards. Molly gets very scared, and she knows with every passing minute the 30% increases. She debates on whether to send for Morgan. Marta starts watching the clock and looking more tense. Molly tries to hide from the unproductive pain, and what it will likely mean.

She is twenty. She has never birthed a child. She's barely lived yet. Fucking Alarice. She doesn't want to leave Morgan alone, and she doesn't want him broken again. And she doesn't want to die without his face being the last thing she sees. The pain increases, so frequent and hard to bear, and she needs to see and talk to him before it is too late. 

She asks Marta what the chances are now, after so long, with so much blood. It is terrifying to hear that her chance of survival is under 10%. There will be almost nothing that can be done very soon. She rings the bell.