Sarah smooths her hands over her new dress, giving a little twirl. Feeling like a princess. No, like a countess. Which is what she is, now, isn't she? Or she ought to be, being the eternal bride of a count. He does so love spoiling her with clothes and things for her bath, and she couldn't be more delighted at the attention and the presents.

Right now, Georg is off somewhere. Herbert (ugh, she so strongly dislikes her -- stepson, she supposes) said he was in the graveyard, and Sarah shouldn't bother him there. So she's taking the time to explore the castle a little more, wandering from room to room. Occasionally twirling to make the skirt of her dress fan out in a very satisfactory way.