Amelia’s footsteps were crisp and decisive, cutting through the opulent silence of the manor. She bypassed the formal dining hall, her eyes fixed on the glow emanating from the back of the house.
She found the kitchen a hive of activity, smelling richly of roasted coffee and the faintest hint of lemon polish. Mrs. Davies, the head housekeeper, a woman whose stern demeanor was legendary, stood near a marble counter, her silver-grey hair pulled back in a severe, neat bun. She was directing a pair of younger, flustered maids with an economy of gesture that spoke of decades of service.
“Mrs. Davies,” Amelia said, her voice clear despite the tremor she felt deep within her chest.
Mrs. Davies immediately straightened, her expression instantly respectful. “Good morning, Madam. Is everythin
