Mariana's POV
I stood in the sunlit parlor, the soft hum of the estate buzzing in the background. The delicate scent of fresh lavender drifted from the bouquet I'd arranged earlier that morning. I ran my fingers along the edge of the porcelain teacup in front of me, lost in thought, when Abigail hesitantly approached the doorway.
"Ma'am," she began softly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
I looked up, startled by her tone. Abigail was one of the quietest staff members in the house, rarely speaking unless spoken to, which made her presence now all the more curious.
"Abigail," I said gently, straightening in my chair. "Is everything alright?"
She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder before stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind her. That alone sent a ripple of unease through me.
