October 1926

One day in October, Avebury Manor resonated with a slightly different energy. Lady Elisabeth had come for a visit, and the atmosphere was a blend of cordiality and old-world charm. As the afternoon sun streamed into the grand library, Marguerite approached an old piano that stood there, running her fingers lightly over the worn keys before pressing a few of them down. The sound that emerged was off-key and jarring.

She turned to Lady Elisabeth and asked. "When was the last time this piano was played?"

Lady Elisabeth looked up, pausing for a moment as she traveled back in time. "It was played quite a long time ago, by my late husband's sister," she remarked, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "A more disagreeable woman never graced this earth. The only time I particularly enjoyed her company was when she was at this piano. At least when she played, she didn't talk."

Marguerite let out a soft chuckle, her eyes dancing with amusement at Lady Elisabeth's cheeky remembrance. John, with a mock reproachful tone, interjected, "Oh, mama. You were always so strict with Aunt Eleanor." Lady Elisabeth just raised an eyebrow, her playful smirk revealing that her earlier comment was made more in jest than earnest.

Marguerite ran her fingers gently over the keys once more, the discordant notes resonating throughout the room. "We really should get this piano tuned," she commented thoughtfully, casting a sideways glance at John.

He sighed, looking around the grand library with its vast collection of books and ornate decor. "If it pleases you, I will have it done," he said, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. "Though, with everything going on in the manor, it isn't at the top of my priority list."

Marguerite smirked, leaning in with a secretive air. "Well, it might climb up that list when you hear my plans. I've spoken to the local school's music teacher. He's agreed to come by and teach William a few tunes."

John looked uneasy, his usual confident demeanor showing a hint of worry. "Marguerite, I understand your drive, but I thought we already agreed on this. We were going to introduce new activities gradually as he grows, not rush him too much."

Before Marguerite could respond, Lady Elisabeth chimed in, her voice seasoned with years of wisdom. "Oh, a touch of music never hurt anyone. It would be nice to hear these walls echoing with melodies."

Marguerite grinned, grateful for the unexpected support. "Thank you, Lady Elisabeth. It's just a few lessons, to introduce him to music, nothing more."

Lady Elisabeth gave a knowing nod. "However, I must admit, this new-age concept of 'proper education,' that you are so keen on discussing these days, does bewilder me. In my time, being able to manage an estate and shoot straight were the marks of a well-educated person."

John laughed gently, "Times evolve, Mama. And with them, our ideas about what children should be exposed to."

Marguerite, sensing a turning tide, added, "Imagine the richness it could bring to William's life. A touch of culture, a hint of creativity."

John exhaled, glancing between the two determined women. "Very well, I stand corrected. We'll ensure the piano is tuned."

As their discussion drew to a close, the elegant double doors of the library opened, revealing the nanny in her crisp uniform. She pushed a polished stroller, where the twins lay, bundled up, their soft faces peeking out from soft blankets. "I thought it would be nice for the little ones to get some fresh air," she explained, her voice gentle.

Lady Elisabeth, always charmed by her grandchildren, leaned over to offer a light tickle to each of the babies, earning a coo from one and a sleepy yawn from the other. "Such blessings, these two," she commented fondly.

William, trailing behind the nanny, ambled into the room with a childlike grace that only emphasized his youth. His bright eyes scanned the room, settling with excitement on the faces of his family members.

Marguerite bent down, opening her arms. "There's my clever boy," she beamed. William, giggling, rushed to her, hugging her waist and then moving to offer a hug to John and a polite nod to his grandmother.

Lady Elisabeth smiled down at him, her aging eyes crinkling with delight. "How do you do, young man?"

William straightened up, trying to mimic the grown-up demeanor he so often observed. "Very well, thank you, Grandmama," he replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Marguerite turned to her son, her eyes shining with a mother's pride. "William, darling, why don't you read something to your grandmama?"

With a sense of curiosity in his eyes, William looked towards the table by the window where the newly published children's book "Winnie the Pooh" lay. "John bought it for him on his last trip to London," Marguerite explained to Lady Elisabeth.

Eager to share this newfound joy with his family, William toddled over to the table, grasping the book in his small hands and bringing it over to where they sat.

Lady Elisabeth adjusted her seating, drawing closer to her grandson, her face a canvas of gentle encouragement. "Let's see what you've learned," she said softly.

With a deep breath, William began to read. Each word was pronounced carefully, a product of the effort he had put into learning. Marguerite listened intently, her heart swelling with pride with every sentence her son managed to articulate.

"Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump…on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin." William's voice carried the innocence and curiosity of the text, mirroring the adventures of Edward Bear. "It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh."

Lady Elisabeth looked impressed. "He's reading wonderfully."

Marguerite beamed. "He's been practicing diligently," she replied.

John replied with a mixture of admiration and caution, "Yes, we are very proud. But we're also trying not to be overbearing. A few children's stories and tunes should be alright, I believe."

William's attention span was typically that of a three-year-old, and soon his fascination with the story waned. He closed the book and asked "Can we go outside now?"

Marguerite, ever in tune with her son's moods, gently took his hand. "Of course, darling. Let's go find Ned and Veronica." With that, the two of them ventured out, leaving the library in pursuit of more adventures in the gardens of Avebury Manor.

The gardens were alive with laughter and spirited play. Veronica and Ned, with their inexhaustible energy, chased a gleeful William, who was thoroughly enjoying every moment of the attention he was receiving. The playful shouts echoed through the grandeur of Avebury Manor, contrasting with the serene scene of Nanny gently pushing the stroller along a gravel path.

John, having bid farewell to his mother, descended the steps and entered this picturesque scene. The soft, mellow rays of the setting sun caught the side of his face, lending warmth to his usually stern features. Spotting Marguerite standing by a rose bush, he headed towards her, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

Linking her arm with John's, Marguerite leaned in, her voice a contented whisper. "I think we're doing alright, aren't we?"

John glanced over at their son's radiant face, his eyes reflecting pure, undiluted joy. "We are, my love. Every day is a lesson. We learn, adapt, and grow. As parents, as partners."

She looked up at him, her gray-greenish eyes searching his. "You know, I always wanted the best for him. Perhaps, sometimes, I push too much."

John's thumb caressed the back of her hand reassuringly. "It's because you care. It's because you've seen the world in ways most haven't. But, let's remember, the best part of childhood is the freedom to simply be."

A soft sigh escaped her lips. "You're right. Sometimes I just get lost in the possibilities of what could be, that I forget the beauty of what is."

As the two of them stood there, wrapped in the warmth of each other's understanding, William's laughter rang out, a testament to the joy of living in the present.