[Meredith].
Some minutes later, I stood before the iron door underground.
It loomed heavy and unwelcoming, its surface cold even before my knuckles touched it. I knocked twice, evenly, then waited.
After a brief pause, the door creaked open. The caregiver greeted me with a respectful bow and stepped aside without question. Draven must have informed her of my visit in advance.
I offered a brief nod and entered the small living space, the air noticeably cooler and faintly damp compared to the upper levels of the estate.
I took a seat on the sofa as the door was locked behind me.
"Mrs. Oatrun has just finished bathing," the caregiver said, turning to face me. "She is about to have breakfast."
I glanced around, my eyes flicking instinctively to the small clock mounted on the wall. "It seems she woke up a bit late today," I observed mildly.
The woman hesitated, then nodded. "She was restless last night. She didn't sleep until very late."
