With a practiced bow, you retreated from Lady Whiskerton's chambers and made your way to the grand library where the antique weather globe sat atop a mahogany pedestal. The device was a masterpiece of Victorian engineering, its brass fittings gleaming as you gently rotated the celestial sphere. Tiny clouds moved across the miniature landscape, predicting the afternoon's conditions.

As expected for early summer, the forecast showed golden sunlight until precisely 3:17pm when a brief shower would pass through the western gardens. You noted this in your leather-bound planner with a fountain pen, already visualizing which of the estate's twelve sunning locations would best suit Her Ladyship's preferences today.

Returning to the chambers, you found Lady Whiskerton now grooming her magnificent tail. 'The east veranda will have uninterrupted sunlight until teatime,' you announced, 'though the rose garden's stone bench will be shaded by the oak after two o'clock.' She paused her grooming to consider this information with the gravity of a monarch reviewing battle plans.

Her velvety paw extended toward the window facing the south lawn where butterflies danced above the lavender bushes. A subtle hint, but one you instantly understood. 'The southern meadow then,' you amended smoothly, 'with cushions arranged beneath the willow at precisely eleven-thirty?' A slow blink of approval was your reward.