As was always the case since Lily's passing, dinner was a quiet affair at the Marshall household.

Mary had requested an evening of rest, and so it was a rare dinner with just Faye and her father alone in the dining room. Chelsea had Sundays off to be with her family, so the pair enjoyed the small game hen with rosemary potatoes and bread that Faye cooked after returning from church. Faye poked her fork absently as she stared across the table at her father.

After Henry had left her at the cemetery, she had tried to broach the topic of the previous evening with her father, but he would hear nothing of it. In a way, Faye knew she could understand the way he behaved; she never questioned her father's devotion and love for her mother. But it still hurt for her to see him dote on Mary.

"How is your meal?" Faye asked at last. 

It took Roland a moment to reply, lost in his own thoughts. "Oh. It's fine, dear."

The room elapsed into another long silence.

"Have you given more consideration to my proposition?" 

Roland closed his eyes and shook his head before he even spoke the words.

"I have, but I do not think it wise. I know that you still disagree with my decision, but what is done is done."

As if to underscore the end of the conversation on the topic, Roland shoveled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth and chewed loudly. Faye looked down at her plate, tried to think of another approach. She knew there had to be a way to win her father over.

"How is Mary today? She seemed very anxious after the party."

"Alright, I suppose," Roland stammered. "I think everyone was a little on edge. Mary is very resilient, you know. I'm sure she shall recover with a day of rest or so."

Faye leaned forward, lowering her voice as if someone could hear what she was about to ask. "What do you think happened last night? Was any of that real?"

"I don't know," he said with a deep sigh. Closing his eyes, he continued to eat. 

Faye was growing frustrated.

"You know, this is precisely what Henry and his brothers do, father. They use science and reason to determine the cause of unexplained events."

"Don't think I don't see what you're getting at!" he quipped, pointing his fork at her. "Now, I told you that the engagement was off and I meant it."

"I'm not talking about the engagement. I'm talking about what you can do for Mary," Faye replied, the conviction in her voice sounding almost sincere enough to convince herself. 

"Really? And since when have you cared about Mary's well-being?"

"Since I saw someone draw blood at one of her little parties." 

This shut Roland up immediately. Faye knew she was treading in dangerous waters.

"You know that Henry is a man of reason and sound mind. He would approach an investigation into what happened at Mary's house with the utmost professionalism. Let's not pretend that Mary wouldn't sleep better, knowing whatever it was that caused that terrifying scene last night at the party."

Roland leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "You are making this out to be something bigger than it is—"

"Father, there was blood all over the table! Guests were running out of the room in terror last night. And more than that, none of which is going to help Mary's reputation or yours."

She knew it was a gamble to appeal to her father's pride, but it was the only shot Faye had left. 

If her father truly cared for Mary, he knew how disastrous things could be if her reputation were to be tarnished by the whole affair. Rumors were probably already running rampant within the upper circles of Baltimore's elite. Who knew what vicious things they would cook up to say about Mary or Roland? After a forkful of food and a good measure of thought, Roland reluctantly agreed.

"Perhaps I could call upon Henry for this one favor." 

Faye tried her best to hide her delight.

"I know he would handle it like a professional. You and I both know that."

"But only Mary and I will speak to him. You're trying to be clever about all this and I can see right through it," he grumbled, poking at his food. "Damned if you aren't exactly like your mother sometimes."

"I don't think I need to remind you how much she liked Henry," Faye added, treading lightly. "He took good care of her, right until the end. And he would take good care of me, too, if you let him."

Roland shot her a sharp look. 

"I said there would be no more talk of the engagement. You got what you want, no need to muck around in it," he said, returning to the business of his meal.

Faye smiled to herself, satisfied that the stubbornness she inherited from her father was at least coming in handy. She hadn't been given everything she wanted, but at least now there was hope.