Investigation VII: Gossip and Garlic

As their investigation proceeded, Amelia and Samuel moved towards the back of the living room, into the kitchen, a room seemingly untouched by the disorder that had overtaken the rest of the house. Nestled to the far left of the room, a well-worn, sturdy stove held its ground, its iron surface blackened and battle-scarred from years of use. Above it, a variety of pans hung from an iron rod, their sizes varying as much as the meals they had once helped to prepare. Each pan, with its dents and scratches, told a silent tale of hearty meals and shared laughter.   Adjacent to the stove, under a window that allowed soft rays of sunlight to spill in, stood a large wooden table. Its surface was adorned with an assortment of spices, their vibrant colors and intoxicating aromas lending an exotic touch to the room. The spices, some snugly encased in quaint glass jars, others tucked into rustic paper pouches, resembled a painter's palette of culinary adventures, waiting to be embarked upon.   Opposite the table, against the far wall, were the cupboards. Crafted from sturdy oak and polished to a soft sheen, they echoed the room's rustic charm. Their wrought iron handles, reflecting the sunbeams that sauntered in through the window, cast playful shadows onto the stone floor.   Shaking off her thoughts, Amelia moved towards the large blackened stove in the corner of the room. An iron kettle sat atop it, its once gleaming exterior now dulled and tarnished by relentless use. She traced her fingers over its cool surface, her mind wandering into the realm of the past.   Breaking the comfortable silence, Samuel's voice gently pierced through Amelia's thoughts, "What's on your mind, Ami?"   Amelia turned towards him, her fingers still resting on the kettle. "I was just thinking about the housemaid's story," she confessed, "About how she used to have breakfast with Edmund every morning. It's so at odds given the image we've been painted of him."   She took her hand off the kettle, crossing her arms as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "It's quite a beautiful sentiment, isn't it?" she mused, "Maybe, over time, they really became good friends. Spending so much time together, sharing experiences, just getting each other without saying a word."