Left alone in the kitchen, I marvelled at its spaciousness and the abundance of supplies neatly organized around me. The kitchen exuded a sense of efficiency and cleanliness, with every inch utilized for a specific purpose. On the left side, a long wooden countertop stretched out, sturdy and well-worn, likely crafted from oak or pine. Beneath it, cabinets and drawers offered ample storage space, while baskets or shelves likely held bulkier items. Above the countertop, open shelves displayed an array of pots, pans, and jars, carefully arranged and within easy reach.

To the right stood a large cast-iron stove, its ornate design standing out against the otherwise functional space. The stove featured multiple compartments and shelves, perfect for preparing several dishes at once. A chimney pipe snaked into the wall, a clear indication that the stove served not only as a cooking appliance but also as a heat source for the room.

Natural light flooded the space from a nearby window, making the plain, light-coloured walls gleam in the bright, morning glow. The wooden floor matched the cabinetry, adding a warm, cohesive feel to the room. A small rug near the stove added a touch of comfort and warmth, softening the otherwise utilitarian atmosphere. While the kitchen was primarily focused on functionality, the subtle details—like the rug and the intricate stove—brought a sense of homeliness and aesthetic charm.

As I explored further, I noticed a door near the stove. Curiosity led me to open it, and I discovered it opened to the outside—a row of lush hedgerows just beyond the building. This must be the servant's entrance, I thought, closing the door quietly behind me.

After familiarizing myself with the layout of the kitchen, my thoughts turned to the task at hand: preparing breakfast. My mouth watered at the thought of the bountiful kitchen before me. How I wished I could have a kitchen like this at home. I decided on a hearty spread: bacon, eggs, haddock, fruits, bread, and classic English crumpets. My stomach growled in anticipation as I worked.

With the three plates of food ready, I found myself struggling with how to carry them all. I wasn't a waitress, after all, and wasn't yet skilled in balancing multiple plates at once. I decided to carry two plates at a time, one in each hand, and return for the last one later.

With the first two plates in hand, I exited the kitchen. To my surprise, only two people were sitting at the dining table. Earl and Countess Windsor occupied opposite ends of the table, and I moved first toward Earl Windsor, who sat closest to me.

"Here you are, my lord," I said, setting his plate before him.

He looked up and smiled warmly. "Thank you, Miss Becker. This breakfast looks scrumptious."

"Well, thank you, my lord," I replied, trying to hide my modest smile.

Turning, I walked to Countess Windsor, who had her arms crossed and a disapproving expression as I approached.

"Took you long enough, girl," she remarked coldly as I placed her plate in front of her. "The food is probably cold by now from the time it took you."

"Well, take a bite and tell me what you think," I said, keeping my voice steady.

She hesitated but finally took a bite. For a brief moment, her face softened, a flicker of approval crossing her features. However, her pride quickly overtook her, and she forced her expression back into something more neutral, though not entirely unappreciative. "It is...edible," she declared, her tone begrudging.

I smiled faintly, pleased with the subtle compliment.

"But where is my drink?" she added, her voice sharp. "I require a cup of tea every morning."

"Of course, my lady," I said with a slight bow of my head in apology. "I will be right back with your tea."

As I turned to hurry back to the kitchen, I felt a gentle hand grip my arm. I stopped and looked up to find Earl Windsor's concerned gaze fixed on me.

"Miss Becker, you might have noticed that Viscount William is not here," he said, his voice tinged with both concern and resignation.

"Yes, my lord. Where is he? And why is he not here with the rest of you?" I asked, puzzled.

Earl Windsor released my arm and sighed, his blue eyes heavy with worry. "Viscount William prefers to have his meals in his room. It's been a habit of his for some time now. He's been retreating more and more, and we've tried to persuade him to join us, but..." His voice faltered, and he shook his head, helpless. "We stopped trying to push him a while ago."

I nodded in understanding, my mind already forming a plan. "Thank you for letting me know, my lord. I'll take his meal to his room."

"Oh, and use a tray," Earl Windsor added as I turned to leave. "So his food doesn't get cold."

I nodded again, making my way back to the kitchen. The aroma of the freshly prepared food still lingered in the air as I gathered the final plate. Bacon, eggs, and warm bread—such a stark contrast to the emptiness I imagined in Viscount William's room. Carefully balancing the tray, I made my way through the manor's dimly lit hallways. My footsteps echoed softly on the polished checkered floor as I navigated toward the Viscount's quarters, feeling the weight of my responsibility grow with each step.