Tabitha looked over the table and hated every untouched thing upon it. The wine had been poured. The biscuits were neatly arranged on silver plates. Bowls of fruit stood between dishes of sugared almonds, little cakes, cherries, and thin wafers that had taken one kitchen maid nearly an hour to prepare under Tabitha's suspicious supervision.
The room should have looked welcoming. Instead, it looked abandoned. Livia sat in a chair near the hearth, outwardly composed and inwardly tangled in nerves. Her fingers rested loosely in her lap, but Tabitha had known her long enough now to see the tension in them.
