December brought a white landscape to the estate, a serene silence broken only by the laughter and chatter of the family enjoying the freshly fallen snow. John and Marguerite, wrapped in warm coats, held a twin in each of their arms, watching their breaths turn into tiny clouds before them. The little ones gazed at the snow with wide eyes, captivated by the white landscape and the flurry of activities around them.
A short distance away, Veronica and Ned were assisting William in rolling large snowballs. With each roll, the balls gathered more snow, growing in size, forming the base of what would soon become a snowman. William's face was flushed with excitement, his gloves and boots coated in a mix of snow and mud.
"The head needs to be smaller!" Veronica directed, lifting a smaller ball of snow onto the bigger one with Ned's help.
William, ever the perfectionist even at his age, was keen on getting the features of the snowman just right. He carefully placed stones for eyes and a carrot for the nose. "Look, it's almost done!" he exclaimed with pride.
At that moment, the nanny, bundled up in layers of wool, approached them with a maid by her side. "I think the twins have had enough of the cold," she declared, looking at the infants who were now starting to show signs of discomfort.
Marguerite nodded in agreement. "Yes, better to take them inside before they catch a chill."
With careful steps to avoid slipping, the nanny and the maid escorted the twins back to the warmth of the manor.
John, watching the trio in the snow, called out, "Not too long out here for the rest of you either. We don't want any colds during the festive season."
The snowman began to take shape under the diligent attention of William, Veronica, and Ned. As they worked on finishing touches, William stepped back, tilting his head in contemplation.
"It needs a mouth, buttons for a coat, and a hat," William announced, analyzing their snowy creation.
John chuckled, "How about some coal from the shed for the mouth and buttons? And we will ask Mrs. Pottridge to spare one of her old pots to serve as a hat."
John, with a teasing glint in his eyes, turned to Marguerite, "And perhaps the snowman would fancy your cashmere scarf to stay warm?"
Marguerite shot him a playful look and retorted, "You wish!" The air filled with their laughter as they continued their snowy afternoon endeavors.
The snowball fight that ensued right after, with William giggling and dodging behind his snowman fortress, was proof that the winter spirit was alive and well at Avebury Manor.
Upon returning inside, the chill of the outdoors still clinging to them, Marguerite took William upstairs to ensure he warmed up promptly with a comforting bath. The nanny was already prepared, providing the little one with a hearty luncheon, which sent him into a cozy slumber, full and contented.
Downstairs, John was instructing the butler on the placement and setting up of the Christmas tree in the grand hall. The atmosphere was abuzz with holiday spirit, preparations underway for the festive season. The manor, already aglow with warmth and family affection, was readying itself for a celebration to remember.
Emily arrived shortly thereafter, bringing with her an air of city vivacity. She explained that originally, the plan was for her, along with their father and mother, to join together at Avebury on Christmas Eve. However, they had hoped she could escape the hustle and bustle of city life for at least a full month. Finding their own country estate rather dull, Emily opted instead to spend her time at Avebury. She arrived laden with gifts, Christmas decorations, and a collection of new jazz music records, ready to infuse the manor with a touch of modernity and festive cheer. She instructed Butler to set up a gramophone in the grand hall next to the Christmas tree.
Emily rolled her eyes playfully as she arranged the new records, "I really don't understand why Mother is making such a fuss. It's the Roaring Twenties, after all. Everybody is doing it."
Marguerite, offering a supportive smile, responded, "She wants you to be a proper lady. But you are welcome here even if you are the wild one."
Emily, dismissing her mother's concerns, declared, "Well, nevermind her, we'll have our own fun, right here. Ned, Veronica, do you want to learn some foxtrot?"
She swiftly put on the new record, setting the needle down on The Savoy Orpheans' "The Charleston" from the album Fascinating Rhythm.
Roxton extended his hand to his wife with a mischievous glint in his eye, "May I have this dance, my lady?"
Marguerite's laughter twinkled in response, "But of course, my lord."
The room came alive with the beats, as Roxton and Marguerite swayed, with Ned and Veronica picking up the steps in no time. The rhythm was contagious: slow, slow, quick, quick, their feet moved in synchrony.
The atmosphere was electric with joy, the beats of the music echoing through the grand hall. Marguerite and John glided across the floor, their steps perfectly in sync, laughter lighting up their faces. John twirled Marguerite gracefully, her gown billowing around her as she moved.
Across the room, Ned and Veronica were also immersed in the dance, their movements a delightful mix of elegance and energy. Veronica's laughter rang out as Ned led her through a series of intricate steps, their chemistry palpable.
Emily, full of energy, executed a solo Charleston routine. Her feet tapped rhythmically, her hands swung energetically, and her expressive face showcased the joy she felt.
Then, the joyous atmosphere received an adorable interruption. The nanny descended the stairs with William, who had clearly been awakened by the infectious music. Without skipping a beat, Emily swooped him into her arms, blending her Charleston steps with playful sways to entertain the young boy, as the room filled with even more laughter and music.
In the drawing room, the atmosphere shifted to a more relaxed and intimate setting. As everyone settled into a state of contentment, Emily turned to Marguerite with a playful glint in her eyes, "I must say, Marguerite, you and John have quite the dance moves!"
With the lively atmosphere continuing, Marguerite playfully chided, "Well, we do try to keep up with the times. John has two left feet, but he's learning!"
John, with a twinkle in his eye, swiftly swept Marguerite into a quick, graceful spin before setting her back by his side, "Two left feet, you say? I beg to differ, my lady." The room filled with laughter at their playful banter.
Veronica said with gleaming enthusiasm. "I must say, I have developed quite a fondness for this jazz and the foxtrot. It's exhilarating!"
Emily grinned broadly at Veronica, "Isn't it just? It's like the music sets your spirit free! I knew you'd enjoy it."
The evening had a touch of magic to it, with the snow outside, the warmth of the drawing room, and the joy of being together. As the laughter from their dance began to fade, Emily turned her attention to William, her eyebrows raised in playful expectation.
"William," she began with a sly grin, "I heard you've been practicing the piano lately. Why don't you play something for us?"
A slight blush coloured William's cheeks, but he nodded eagerly.
The room watched as William approached the smaller piano in the corner of the drawing room. The grand piano in the library had turned out to be too imposing for the young boy, but the smaller pianino was just the right size. He began by playing a piece by Mozart, his small fingers dancing across the keys with surprising agility, drawing appreciative smiles and applause from everyone.
After finishing, William looked up and announced, "I also know some modern ones."
Emily clapped her hands in delight, "Oh, I would love to hear one!"
The room was filled with eager encouragement, and he started the familiar melody of "If You Were the Only Girl in the World." Emily's voice, harmonious and soft, filled the room as she sang along, and by the end of the first verse, John, Marguerite, Veronica, and even Ned joined in, their voices blending in a joyful chorus.
The drawing room, bathed in the light of the fire and the melody of the piano, encapsulated a moment of unity and love, a snapshot of happiness that would be cherished in the heart of Avebury Manor.
It was nearing William's bedtime. The boy protested as Marguerite carried him away.
"Why do I always have to go when it's the most fun?" William complained, a dramatic pout gracing his small features.
Marguerite chuckled softly, stroking his hair. "Darling, even during holidays, young boys need their sleep to grow big and strong. Besides, the faster you sleep, the quicker tomorrow comes, and then you have a whole new day of fun waiting for you."
With that reassurance, the pair made their way upstairs.
As Marguerite gently tucked William into bed, she leaned over, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead and said warmly, "I'm so proud of you, my sweet boy."
William, fighting the pull of sleep, managed a sleepy smile and mumbled, "Love you, Mummy," before his eyes closed, and he drifted into a peaceful slumber. Marguerite took a moment to peek into the crib next to William's bed, where the twins were also sleeping peacefully. Even though Marguerite would have loved nothing more than to keep them in her own bedroom for the entire year, she knew it simply wasn't realistic. The nanny would soon come into the room for the night, keeping a watchful eye on the little ones. Marguerite lingered for a moment, watching them breathe softly before quietly leaving the room, a contented smile on her face.
When she returned downstairs, she was greeted by a lively scene. Emily was stationed at the piano, her fingers dancing over the keys, while John, Ned, and Veronica stood huddled over a piece of paper, singing together in harmony:
"My little Margie,
I'm always thinking of you,
Margie, I'll tell the world I love you,
Don't forget your promise to me,
I have bought a home, and ring, and everything,
For Margie, you've been my inspiration."
Emily had swiftly jotted down the lyrics for them while Marguerite was away, ensuring that everyone could join in on the fun.
Marguerite, with an amused shake of her head, remarked, "You're all crazy! Someone would think you were drunk!"
Malone, observing the atmosphere, chimed in with a suggestion. "I was just thinking we might open a bottle of wine."
John, with a twinkle in his eye, countered, "Champagne would be better."
He gave a nod to the butler, who promptly proceeded to fulfill the instruction. The cork popped, glasses were filled, and the bubbles fizzed, adding a sparkle to the gathering.
While they were toasting and the glasses clinked together, John declared with a broad smile, "Emily, I officially put you in charge of fun in this household."