In the oppressive silence of the dimly lit Hawthorne manor, the widow, Josephine, moved with haunting grace, her ebony dress swishing softly against floors. A bottle of temporary salvation in her hand, the liquid swaying enticingly. She took a sip of the wine.

Josephine must now run the household, raise her child, and keep up with societal expectations… all alone.

It’s… overwhelming… more than the hollowness of the lord’s room…

…and more than the hollowness of the lady’s heart.