In the days that followed, life at the Roxton estate found its usual rhythm. For Veronica and Ned, their days were filled with walks through the picturesque gardens, afternoons spent horseback riding, and evenings filled with laughter and tales of adventures past. Their love grew stronger with each shared memory.

Marguerite and John, on the other hand, spent their days within the manor, cherishing the moments with their young son, William. John was every bit the doting father, teaching him to walk, his proud and happy eyes never leaving the child. Marguerite would watch them from a distance, a soft smile on her face, her heart filled with an emotion she had never felt before – a mix of love, peace, and fulfillment.

"Look at him, Marguerite," John would say, a sparkle in his eye. "He's going to be quite the explorer, just like us."

"God forbid, John. I'd rather he inherit your resilience and my wit."

John looked down at William, his gaze full of tenderness. "He's definitely got your spirit, Marguerite."

Marguerite laughed softly. "And he certainly has your charm. He has the maids and the nanny wrapped around his little finger."

"I don't mind it," John confessed, chuckling. "It's a good thing, learning how to win hearts early."

"Yes, but he should also learn to respect those hearts," Marguerite added thoughtfully, "and also to know that not everything he wants, he'll get."

"He has the best teacher for that," John said, reaching over to gently squeeze Marguerite's hand. "You'll teach him to navigate the world."

In a fluid motion, John gathered his son into his arms, hoisting him high, earning a fit of baby giggles that filled the room with a sound sweeter than any melody. With his other arm, he drew Marguerite close, holding his small family close to his heart.

They stood there, a family united, sharing a moment that was simple yet profound. The child's laughter, the loving looks exchanged between husband and wife, the way they fit together as if they were pieces of the same puzzle. It was a moment that spoke of love, of family, and of a bond that nothing could break.


On the rainy day that followed, Veronica and Ned were nestled in the manor's library, surrounded by the comforting scent of old books and the soft pitter-patter of rain against the window. The crackling fire added an intimate warmth to the room as they engaged in light-hearted conversation.

"Why does everyone keep addressing John as 'Lord Avebury' and not 'Lord Roxton'?" Veronica asked the question that had been bothering her for days.

"It's quite simple, really," Ned started, his gaze reflecting the dancing flames in the fireplace. "You see, 'Lord Avebury' is John's courtesy title. When his father was alive, John was known as the 'Lord Roxton', the heir to his father's estate. However, when his father passed away, John inherited the family estate and along with it, the title of 'Earl of Avebury'. 'Lord Avebury' is thus a more formal and appropriate way to address him."

"Oh, I see," Veronica nodded, taking in this new piece of information. "Every day here is a history lesson."

Ned smiled, "And each one tells a story, about the people, the land, and the culture. It's a rich tapestry that continues to braid itself as time goes on."

Veronica furrowed her brows, thinking about another question, "Ned, I heard the servants talk about Marguerite's family, the Carnahans, as the 'new money'. What could possibly that mean?"

Malone responded, "Ah, 'new money'. That's a term used to describe people or families who have recently acquired their wealth, in contrast to 'old money', which denotes wealth that has been in a family for generations."

"So it's like the term 'nouveau riche'?" Veronica queried.

"Exactly," Ned affirmed. "And often, those with 'new money' are looked down upon by the 'old money' crowd. They're seen as lacking the traditions and refinement that come with longstanding wealth."

"But Carnahans seem well-accepted among these circles," Veronica pointed out.

"Absolutely," Ned continued, picking up on Veronica's train of thought. "In fact, part of their charm comes from their intellectual curiosity and rich experiences that set them apart. However, their journey into archaeology and travel wasn't born out of a desire for wealth or status. They embarked on those paths in a quest to find Marguerite."

Veronica sighed in wonder. "Such an extraordinary life, turned into an adventure by circumstance and bravery."

Ned leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. "Speaking of extraordinary... one can't help but wonder what our extraordinary friend, George Edward Challenger, might be up to."

Veronica laughed. "Isn't he in Scotland"?

"He is," Ned nodded, "The last I heard, he'd gone off on another sudden, mysterious journey. Scotland was his destination, but what he's actually doing there, well... that's anyone's guess."

"With Challenger, everything is possible." Veronica replied. "Anyway, Ned, what are our plans for the upcoming few weeks?"

Ned, setting down his tea cup, answered with a smile, "We have quite a schedule. Next week, we're heading to London. There's a lot to see – the lush parks and gardens like Hyde Park and the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, and of course, the famous museums like the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert Museum."

Her eyes lit up, "London has always been on my list. That sounds delightful!"

Ned nodded, "And there's more. The last weekend of August will find us in York. Some of Roxton's family friends traditionally host a weekend party at this time of the year. The first day involves a garden party, lots of socializing, games, and enjoying the outdoors. And on the morning of the second day we will be participating in a pheasant hunt."

Veronica felt uneasy. "A pheasant hunt," she echoed. "I had thought we left hunting behind in the Lost World, Ned."

"I understand how you feel, Veronica. The hunting we did there was about survival, not sport. This must seem very different to you."

Veronica nodded, her expression distant. "Yes, it does. In the Lost World, every action, every decision was about staying alive. Here, hunting is done for entertainment. It's a bit obscene, to say the least."

Ned observed Veronica's troubled expression and, after a moment of contemplation, offered a solution. "Tell you what, Veronica... we don't have to participate at all. There are no obligations for us to join the hunt. Instead, we can stay back at the manor, perhaps explore the gardens or enjoy a good book in the library. The day could be just as enjoyable."


Upstairs in the nursery Marguerite and John were enjoying an afternoon with their son, William. John was seated on the carpet, helping William stack building blocks into a critically leaning tower, while Marguerite occupied a nearby armchair, watching them with fond eyes.

She turned her gaze to John, her expression becoming more serious. "John," she began, her voice soft yet conflicted, "I need to tell you about something that's been bothering me."

John glanced up from his playful duties, immediately giving her his full attention. "What is it, Marguerite?"

She quickly told him all about the Albert - Aiden situation.

"I feel... torn," she confessed. "Albert has been after Aiden for quite some time now, and he wants my help to catch him. Part of me feels I should help Albert, as a form of atonement, perhaps, for all the trouble I caused him."

She paused, her voice barely more than a whisper, "But Aiden... I can't just betray him, John. He's my former protegé. I feel responsible for him."

John listened quietly, understanding the depth of her dilemma. After a moment, he reached over and took her hand, offering a comforting squeeze.

"Marguerite, you're a woman of extraordinary courage and intelligence. You've navigated more difficult situations than most could even imagine," he began, "But this situation isn't about who you were. It's about who you are now."

He gestured around the room, to their son playing on the carpet, to the comfortable life they had built together. "You are no longer that elusive figure in the shadows, but a wife, a mother, a friend. You don't owe Albert anything. And as for Aiden, it is not your responsibility to shield him from the consequences of his actions."

As he spoke, Marguerite's eyes softened, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over her. However, a small knot of worry remained, a tiny voice echoing in the back of her mind, for Aiden. She mentored him and guided him, and even though their paths had diverged, a part of her still felt a connection to him.