William's mother was already in the entrance hall, which was its own specific thing, Arabella Cross had been managing difficult arrivals for decades, had the particular warmth of someone who understood that the first minutes in a new space set everything that followed, and had deployed that understanding in Isolde's direction before William had even brought her through the door.
"Your room is ready," Arabella said, with the specific warmth that didn't require Isolde to perform anything in return. "There's food in the smaller sitting room when you want it — not the main dining room, which will have everyone else in it shortly. Just a quiet space."
Isolde looked at her.
"Thank you," she said, and the two words carried more than their standard weight — the specific gratitude of someone who had been accurately read.
"The sitting room is through there," Arabella said, indicating the corridor to the left. "Someone will show you your room whenever you're ready. There's no schedule."
