The door opened to reveal Martha Ivers, a thin, grey-haired woman who had been the first servant to accept an offer of employment from the Swifts after their previous staff had all either run off in terror or been horribly killed. Tamara did not blame them for their trepidation and she admired Martha's willingness to ignore previous circumstance. If not for her preparedness to set aside the whispers about the Swift family, Tamara had no doubt she and William would have had to fend for themselves with no domestic help at all. As it was they were still under-staffed for an estate of this size, but everyone was doing their best. "Pardon me, Miss," Martha said with a curt inclination of her head. "I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news."

Tamara's eyelids fluttered with pique. "Yes. I'd thought you might. Well, spare me the suspense, Martha."

The aging maid was often brusque, and she seemed to appreciate Tamara's willingness to dispense with the niceties and forge ahead to the business at hand. A flicker of amusement went across her features.