The dining room was bathed in soft, amber light, the long mahogany table already arranged with an array of steaming, fragrant dishes.
Emma and Madison moved with quiet efficiency, ladling rich soup into porcelain bowls and serving grilled tenderloin alongside glazed vegetables.
Once the plates were set and water poured, the two girls stepped back against the side wall, hands clasped in front of their aprons, standing rigidly at attention.
Victoria picked up her fork, but paused when she noticed them lingering by the sideboard. She tilted her head, looking over at them with mild curiosity.
"Why are you two just standing there?" Victoria asked, gesturing toward the empty chairs across the table. "Pull up a seat and eat with us."
Both girls froze, exchanging a wide-eyed, flustered glance. The thought of sharing a private dinner table with Madame Blackwood felt like an impossible breach of etiquette.
"W-We couldn't, Madame," Emma stammered softly. "We're here to serve—"
