Mary's POV
My cheeks burned as Father's words cut through me like a serrated knife.
How dare he scold me in front of everyone especially that insufferable Catherine? I straightened my silk blouse, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity.
"I'm only trying to uphold the standards of this family," I said, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to control it. "Someone needs to teach her proper respect."
"Mary," Father said, his tone dropping to that familiar warning rumble that had always made me shrink as a child.
"Not another word."
Lucy appeared at my side like a guardian angel, slipping a crystal tumbler of bourbon into my hand.
"Mrs. Simpson, I brought your favorite," she whispered, her fingers briefly squeezing mine in solidarity.
