The Roxton estate was awash with the soft, golden hues of early morning. Birds sang in the trees, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves. Veronica Layton approached the courtyard, her footsteps light on the cobblestones.
"Good morning, Veronica. Ready for a ride?" Roxton had greeted her, leading two beautiful horses.
"Absolutely! I was looking forward to this", Veronica replied, excited about the prospect. She loved horses, but what she loved even more was the chance to leave dresses behind. The comfortable riding trousers felt liberating, a delightful change from the confines of typical feminine attire that she was required to wear these days.
They set off on their ride, enjoying the feel of the wind in their faces and the soothing rhythm of hooves against the ground. Veronica felt a connection with her horse and relished the sensation of freedom. They chatted casually, their conversation light and filled with laughter.
Eventually, they arrived at the standing stones of Avebury, an ancient and mystical site that had always fascinated many. They dismounted and walked among the stones, touching them and feeling the weight of history.
Roxton began to tell a story. "You know, I used to ride a pony here when I was a little boy," he said. "And Marguerite lived here for a short while when she was a young girl. She played among these stones, too. Funny to think our paths never crossed back then."
Veronica listened, smiling at the coincidence and the image of a young Roxton and Marguerite at play. "And then years later, you both ended up in the Lost World together."
They spent some time there, enjoying the beauty of the site and the warmth of their friendship. As they strolled among the standing stones, Roxton asked. "How are you finding life here in England?"
Veronica tilted her head, contemplating the question. "I'm enjoying it," she replied. "But I must admit, the full attire can sometimes be a bit... stifling." She gestured towards her riding trousers with a grin, appreciating the comfort they provided compared to the more formal gowns she often had to wear.
Roxton chuckled, nodding in understanding. "I can imagine," he said.
"And don't even get me started on some of the social norms." she added, her tone light, though there was an undercurrent of bemusement. "The endless teas, the curtsies, the formalities. They can be a little… overwhelming."
Roxton couldn't help but chuckle at her frankness. "Sounds like a whole different kind of jungle to navigate," he teased.
"But all in all," Veronica continued, her eyes reflecting a sense of joy, "I'm having fun. Marguerite is being very helpful."
Roxton looked at Veronica, a warm smile playing on his lips. "I must say, I'm glad to see how close you and Marguerite have become. It's a big change from how things used to be."
Veronica nodded. "Indeed. When we were in the Lost World, I was teaching Marguerite about survival, about life in the wild. Now, back in England, she's the one teaching me."
Roxton laughed at her comment, appreciating the irony. The dynamics had indeed changed, but the friendship between Veronica and Marguerite had deepened.
The ride back to the estate was leisurely, filled with contented silence and shared memories.
Back at the manor, Marguerite and Ned were resting in the cozy warmth of the library, their morning coffee steaming gently beside them. They had just seen Emily off to an early train, and the manor had slipped back into its usual schedule.
Marguerite was leafing through the pages of Ned's latest writings, a somewhat unimpressed expression on her face. "You seem to focus quite a lot on me in these," she remarked.
Malone met her gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You are a true inspiration, Marguerite. Your life, your experiences… Compared to you, everyone else is boringly ordinary."
Marguerite rolled her eyes at him but couldn't help the soft smile that curved her lips. "So you keep saying, Malone. But this isn't a biography of my life."
His gaze still locked with Marguerite's, Malone continued, "I'd be fascinated to know more about your life before 1914."
"Perhaps you should focus more on writing fiction, Ned," she suggested, her tone light but her eyes teasing. She picked up her cup, taking a sip of her coffee and leaving the mystery of her past hanging between them.
The library doors opened and the butler walked in, a neat envelope in his gloved hands. "Your Ladyship," he addressed Marguerite, bowing slightly as he handed her the envelope.
Marguerite took the envelope and opened it. It was a telegram from an acquaintance from long ago. Inspector Albert Wilkins, a man who once led Scotland Yard had long harbored suspicions about Marguerite's involvement with the infamous Unicorn. He had never been able to gather enough evidence to prove his suspicions, but their prolonged game of cat and mouse had bred a kind of mutual respect over the years.
Marguerite read aloud the neatly typed words. "Inspector Wilkins and his wife would like to visit the estate," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. She looked over at Malone, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Interesting," Malone commented, an intrigued look in his eyes. "Who are they?"
"Just someone I knew long ago," Marguerite replied, keeping her response vague. Despite her casual tone, Malone could tell she was withholding details. After all, it was rarely 'just someone' with Marguerite.
Marguerite looked at the telegraph once more, her mind turning over the words. Albert coming for a visit? It was obvious, really. He was seeking her insights and opinions about the new 'Unicorn'. And who better to consult than her? It was almost amusing how the past had a way of intertwining with the present.
She felt a twinge of something like obligation. After all, she had caused Albert so much trouble in the past. The unspoken dance of suspicion and evasion, the lingering glances that spoke of unconfirmed truths. It was only fitting that she indulge him now.
