The small Pembroke dining room, though modest, was filled with a warmth it hadn't known in months. The flickering candlelight danced off the polished surface of the "good silver," and the air was rich with the savory scent of Mrs. Pembroke's carefully prepared beef stew. For the first time in a long time, she felt a genuine sense of hope.
Victoria took another delicate bite of the stew, her eyes closing in pleasure for a moment. "Mother, this is so good," she said, her voice full of a sincere, unaffected delight. "It's the best I've ever had."
Mrs. Pembroke, who had been watching her with the nervous intensity of a hawk, felt a wave of relief. "Really?" she asked, a pleased smile spreading across her face.
"Truly," Victoria insisted. "You must have worked so hard to make all of this for my visit."
"Not at all, my dear," Mrs. Pembroke lied smoothly, a practiced hostess falling back into old habits. "This is how we usually eat. A simple, hearty meal."
