Charlotte sat before the fireplace, the flames crackling softly as they devoured the logs stacked within the hearth. She hadn't moved in what felt like an hour. Several maids stood quietly behind her, hands folded, not daring to disturb the silence that had settled over the chamber. Every few moments, Charlotte's gaze drifted toward the tall, closed double doors before returning to the fire.
Beyond the stone walls, faint sounds drifted in from the courtyard, but nothing of what she expected to hear. Charlotte reached for another piece of firewood resting in the basket beside her and placed it onto the burning pile. The flames surged, and she flipped the logs over with the tongs, burying them under the red coals.
A sharp knock echoed through the room, and her hand stilled on the tongs. This time, she did not look at the doors.
"Get it," she murmured.
One of the maids bowed immediately. "Yes, Your Grace."
