The roast beef sat cold on my plate, the gravy skin hardening into a dull gray film. No one had taken a bite since Liam had come in from the foyer and sat in the velvet-backed chair beside me.
My father sat at the head of the mahogany table, his posture as straight as the high-backed chairs he had imported from England. He kept his hands flat on either side of his plate, his fingers barely touching the heavy silver.
“We are getting married on Saturday,” I said.
The grandfather clock in the hall ticked, a heavy, slow sound that seemed to fill the gaps between our breaths.
Grace, our long-serving housekeeper, moved quietly around the table. She began to clear the untouched soup bowls, her hands wiping repeatedly on her white cotton apron as she avoided my father’s steady gaze. She looked at me with a quick, nervous nod, then vanished back into the dark corridor leading to the pantry.
My stepmother, Miriam, adjusted her gold watch, sliding her thumb along the mesh band before letting it rest. She kept her voice hushed, her face smooth.
“Sarah, dear, you must be joking,” Miriam said. “Liam is the driver. He has a route to finish tomorrow.”
“He is not driving for us anymore,” I said, reaching up to touch my mother’s pearl earrings. “He resigned this afternoon.”
Liam sat beside me, his large hands resting flat on his knees under the table. His blue work shirt was clean, but the collar was frayed at the edge. He did not look at my father, nor did he look at Miriam. He kept his eyes on the center of the table, where the crystal salt cellars caught the light.
My father, Arthur, slowly picked up his sterling silver fork, aligned it exactly parallel to his knife, and set it down with absolute precision. The metal made no sound against the white linen cloth.
“You will not do this,” my father said, his cadence slow and formal.
“It is already arranged,” I said.
“A driver,” my father said, his voice dropping to a level that was barely more than a whisper, yet it filled the room. “A man who cleans the oil leaks in the carriage house.”
