"Come in, my dear." Abigail said when Marguerite showed up on her doorstep. Abigail was sitting in the lounge and there was a cup of coffee already waiting on the table. "I wanted to have a little chat with you; nothing formal, just to see how are you, are you enjoying your time in Avalon, how do you feel about going home, is Lord Roxton treating you nicely?"

"John is being really sweet to me. He's the most adorable man I've ever met. Today he's preparing a romantic full body massage for me. For some reason, I feel a bit tense and he wanted to help me relax."

"Are you feeling anxious about going home and meeting your family?"

Marguerite nodded. "Very. I don't know what to expect from them. I mean I know you say they're amazing and all, but… I don't know. I've spent my entire life dreaming of meeting them and it never happened and now it that is really happening I feel happy, confused and nervous at the same time."

Abigail caressed her cheek. "You look so much like your mother, Marguerite. More than you know. It's not fair that I spent with her so much time and you so little. Lady Catherine is the most wonderful lady."

"Will you tell me about her again, please? I love hearing about it."

"Catherine Blackwell, the Countess of Gillingworth. She has been my friend since 1894, the year you wore born. When I discovered you were the baby who would determine the cause of the war I immediately went to meet your family and see you, but when I got there I was too late. The baby I saw wasn't you. They had already made the switch. Lady Catherine knew they brought the wrong baby from the hospital, but no one believed her. There was no evidence of another baby girl being born that night, but Catherine knew. At one moment she was holding a black haired baby with huge silver eyes and the next moment, the baby was fair haired and brown eyed. She was very stubborn, your mother… For years everyone tried to convince her she was delusional, but she persisted. I visited her regularly and she talked to me. I promised her I would find you, but it took me a lot longer than I expected. However, she is forgiving. She already forgave the people who took you. She didn't want to persue them. All she wants is too meet you and be a part of your life. She's sweet and tolerant and she always sees the best in people."

Marguerite was grinning from ear to ear. She couldn't get enough of these stories. She had always known if she kept searching somewhere down this road she would find someone waiting for her. Years of dreaming just couldn't be wrong.

"What about my father and my sister?"

"Lord Robert Blackwell, the Earl of Gillingworth. He's conservative and traditional and somewhat patriarchal, but a good man, handsome as well, with a fine education. He attended Eaton College and Oxford and read a lot of philosophy. He's compassionate, friendly, intelligent and honorable. He loves progress and has telephones and electricity installed in Gillingworth park. He loves his family and he's a decent employer to his servants. He always longed for a son, which he never had. Ten years after you were born they had another daughter, named Emily. She's twenty now and she's quite a free spirited young lady. I believe "the flapper" is the term to describe her. She loves jazz and cocktail parties. She wears short skirts and she has a bobbed dark hair, and the same eyes as you. I don't know if you will ever approve of flappers, but I know you will love Emily. She's quite a rule-breaker and rebellious, but she's also kind and sweet and always cheerful. She's open about new ideas and changes in society."

Yes, Marguerite thought. If she is all that, I will definitely love her.

"And what about Claire, the woman who took my place in my family and my home and who eventually married Roxton? You said she was missing. Do we know where she is now?"

Abigail shook her head. "No. When she found out the truth, she left, never to be heard from again. She was last seen in Paris a year ago. I don't know if we will ever see her again and I don't' know why she left. Robert and Cate spend 30 years of their life loving her as their daughter and they we're not going to stop now. Their heart is big enough for both of you. They told her so but she still left. Maybe she was heart-broken and needed to go away for a while, until her heart heals. In any case, if and when she returns, you must be kind to her. She's innocent in all of this. She never wanted to take your place."

"Of course. I understand. Do we know who her real parents were?"

"No, we never found that out. They could be anyone. But probably someone poor from the streets who couldn't afford to take care of their child."

If that's the case, no wonder Claire is heart-broken, Marguerite thought. Poor thing, downgraded from being daughter of an earl to a street rat.

She was pondering about it for a while as she took her first sip of coffee. It was still hot but tasted awfully bitter. Marguerite frowned.

"What is it?" Asked Abigail, noticing her scow expression.

"It's bitter."

"Yes, just the way you like it."

"It's more bitter than usual."

"In that case you have milk and sugar on the table."

Puzzled, Marguerite's brow furrowed. She wondered if her tastes had been changed in the night. Was she the same she got up this morning? She could almost remember feeling a little different. Do I drink sweet coffee now?
She added milk and sugar and it did taste better.

"Do you know what I usually say?" Asked Abigail. "All people prefer sweet tastes. The ones who claim otherwise are either delusional or want to appear unusual in their peer's eyes."

"Maybe you're right. And maybe it's the stress. In any case, I should probably go now and have my massage. Thank you for the talk, Abigail. You are so kind to me."

"You're wonderful human being, and you deserve it." Abigail said, with encouragement, caressing her hair. Her words were always so reassuring. "Off you go now and enjoy. But remember: Tomorrow morning we're going back to the tree house so don't stay up too late tonight. The men expressed a wish to go and see it for one last time. We're going to have lunch there and be back here by night. It should be a lovely day."

The bed seemed even more soft and cozy now that Roxton had rearranged the pillows and adjusted it for the massage. He lighted the scented candles and prepared lavender scented aromatic oils that he was now applying on Marguerite's body. It moisturized the skin and provided that nice glide so there were no traction. She was lying still on her stomach and completely nude, apart from the thin silk material covering her buttocks. It was a pleasant and rewarding situation for both of them.
Roxton was amazing with his hands. With gentle pressures he started moving them down her body, applying long smooth strokes from the tops of her shoulders to the bottom of her hips and up again. Then the same path down her arms and again down her back…he used the flat parts of his knuckles to make the soft circles across the tops of her hips. It was very soothing. He repeated the same movement using his thumbs across her shoulder blades, finding nots and tight places and after a little bit of time muscles started to relax and become a little softer. From there he started to move down the back to that juicy place between the shoulder blades and the spine, the area that can build up a lot of tension. He found a tight spot and focused his attention there, applying a fairly amount of pressure.
"Oh, yes, right there." Marguerite murmured.

Again he was down by her hips, using parts of his knuckles to create a broad pressure that felt heavenly but also safe and non-invasive.

"You're so good, Roxton…" She said. "I swear to God, sometimes I would much rather have a good massage than good sex."

"That makes one of us." He joked. "But I'm pleased that you're pleased."

He proceeded to her neck applying small tractions at the base of her skull with his fingertips, to just create a little space and stretch at the back of her neck. He then sunk his fingers into her soft thick hair with the same nurturing, caring sensitivity, for a little scalp massage. It felt so good for both of them. He loved running his fingers through her hair and she really enjoyed his skilled touch.

Once he was finished with her upper body, she turned around and lay on her back, and he covered her with a soft blanket, moving down to her legs and feet. This way he could see her face. She was quiet, but her smile was saying everything. He was using his thumbs to massage into the arch at the sole of her foot. He was massaging all the way across from the inside to the outside and back few times.

For the final crescendo, they were both on the bed, Marguerite's head on his lap and he was performing the most pleasurable face massage. It was very relaxing and very soothing. He was massaging out from the center of her eyebrows radiating towards the hairline. Then he used his thumbs one after another to softly massage the space between the eyebrows and these simple movements felt like literally rubbing the tension away.

"How does it feel?" He asked.

"I love it, and I love you." Marguerite replied, her eyes still closed, but smiling. She loved him but she rarely said the words.

"Ok, now I know. It takes a two-hour full-body massage to make you say the words." He teased. "I must remember that for the future."

She opened her eyes to meet his and set up straight on the bed with a serious expression on her face. "I don't need any motivation to tell you I love you. I'm sorry I'm not saying it as often as you do, but I will try."

"I was only joking, Marguerite. Your actions say more than your words."

"You're right… Well, in that case, let's do some action. I want to show you just how much that is and how grateful I am for this lovely massage."

"Marguerite, I didn't give you massage just to…"

"I know! But now I'm in the mood to make love. We also need to use the time we have left, because once we leave Avalon, there won't be any sex until we're married. Once we're out there, we're going to be civilized."

"Why exactly?" He asked. "No one will know if something is happening behind our closed doors or not."

"Maybe, maybe not… In any case, I don't want gossip. Nothing will happen that isn't properly announced, organized and executed. Here in Avalon we are free to be wild and exotic lovers, but out there different rules apply. You and I never played by those rules and I think this is the perfect time to start. What do you think?"

"Well, why not." He agreed. "We are not wild animals after all and there is something to be said for tradition. Appropriateness and civility are not to be dismissed entirely, plus the anticipation of the act only increases the desire."

Marguerite smiled. "Alright, now that we have worked that out, take off your clothes and come over here, my lord."

"Your wish is my command, my qeen."

In the aftermath they lay in bed, covered with sheets, and talked. Marguerite had never felt more relaxed and at ease in such a long time. Roxton was gently stroking her hair as she rested her head on his chest.

They were discussing Avebury, their homecoming, the wedding, Marguerite's biological family, introducing Veronica to the outside world etcetera. Their adventure in the lost world was coming to an end but the greatest adventure was yet to come.

"John, tell me about your mother." She requested. She now knew so much about her family and so little about Lady Elizabeth Roxton herself. Furthermore, she had never allowed Roxton to speak about the past before, fearing the lack of her own, but things were starting to change. She now longed for family stories. Puzzled, he gazed at her for a few long moments, trying to figure out where the request was coming from, but he saw the genuine curiosity in her eyes.

He began: "She's tough, intelligent, witty, harsh with words at times, and for lack of any other word: a liberal. She values family, charity, education and she strongly advocates for women's rights. She regrets never gaining university degree, but it was a different time back then. The families she was born to and was married into were quite conservative and traditional. In their mind, proper ladies and gentlemen didn't work or get educated. She will be impressed when she hears about your double Oxford diploma." Roxton said, referring to Marguerite's degrees in both linguistics and geology. "She'll love you at once."

Marguerite really hoped so. Being liked by Roxton's mother somehow seemed to be even more important than being liked by her own mother whom she was yet to meet. But if Lady Elizabeth Roxton was just as amazing as Roxton described her, then there was no doubt that she and Marguerite would eventually become really good friends.