The curtains had not been fully drawn aside, and the winter sunlight cast a small patch of gray-white on the carpet.
The fireplace in the Buckingham Palace dining room was burning brightly, with the occasional subtle crackle from the wood.
Victoria woke up a quarter of an hour earlier than usual today.
The morning's white light poured through the high windows onto the dining table, the silver pot not yet fully heated, and the aroma of tea only faintly emerging.
She gently adjusted her shawl and sat at the head of the long table, her gaze habitually turning to the right, where Viscount Melbourne's seat was.
The chair was empty.
When the maid tied her napkin, Victoria instinctively put down her knife and fork, her tone light yet unconsciously concerned: "Viscount Melbourne still hasn't come today? I recall he was supposed to return to London yesterday."
