"Useless girl!" Margaret Ward's voice pierced the silence, sharp and venomous as a whipcrack. She loomed over the table, her bony hands planted on her hips, her gaunt face etched with lines of bitterness and greed. Her greying hair was pulled into a tight, unkempt bun, and her faded dressonce a servant's uniform from better daysclung to her skeletal frame. "The Blackwoods live in a bloody palace, drowning in gold and silver, and here we are, scraping by like rats! Can't you use that thick skull of yours and bring us something worth a shilling?"
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