The main course for lunch was beef bourguignon, made with wine produced by the estate's own vineyard. Pomona had assumed Kreacher would be unwilling to serve Fiona, seeing as she was a Muggle, so she had originally planned to cook herself.
But when she arrived in the kitchen, she found that Fiona and Kreacher got along fairly well. Kreacher handled the heat and seasoning, while Fiona chopped vegetables and washed dishes.
Even in the kitchen, there were distinctions of rank. Pomona chose not to point it out.
"We're eating in the dining room today." Pomona set the baguettes she had bought on the cabinet by the door. "Fiona is our guest today. Treat her properly, Kreacher."
"Is something happening?" Fiona asked nervously.
"You'll find out when the time comes," Pomona said, then left the kitchen.
After passing through a narrow, seemingly endless corridor, she arrived at the dining room. Its decor was nowhere near as dazzlingly lavish as the Palace of Versailles or Venice's Ca' Rezzonico, which they had visited before.
The manor had been built in the Middle Ages, converted from a castle originally intended for military use. Part of one arrow tower had now become an observation deck, furnished with tables and chairs. If the owner was in the mood, they could drink wine in the tower while taking in the scenery of the Loire Valley.
There were no ceiling frescoes either, only simple wooden beams. The furniture was the sole thing that revealed its luxury.
Even with floor-to-ceiling windows, parts of the room were still poorly lit, as though an inescapable gloom lingered there. The only thing that lifted one's spirits was the row of stone arches at the entrance, covered in climbing vines and resembling a green arcade.
There had been no asphalt roads in the