Kathy paused at the threshold, her hand lingering on the doorframe as she observed the scene unfolding. The morning light slanted through the kitchen windows, catching motes of flour in the air, illuminating the tension between the two women. The older servant’s voice reverberated off the stone walls, sharp and reprimanding, echoing with years of authority. The younger woman, clutching her baby tighter beneath the worn blanket, shrank back, her eyes red and swollen, her cheeks streaked with tears.
Sarah hovered behind Kathy; concern etched across her face. For a moment, Kathy considered intervening, but something in the older servant’s posture—a trembling hand, a flicker of regret in her eyes—held her back. It seemed as if the outburst was as much fear as anger, a desperate attempt to reg
