Marguerite was comfortably nestled in a cushioned armchair by the open window of the library, her eyes scanning the pages of a well-worn novel. A gentle breeze stirred the lace curtains, filling the room with the fresh scent of the budding roses from the garden. The atmosphere in the room was calm, the sounds of turning pages blending harmoniously with the occasional distant murmur of Avebury Manor's staff going about their duties. Marguerite let out a contented sigh, her mind momentarily drifting away from the lines of her book and through the window. These days life at Avebury Manor was unusually peaceful, there were no grand family events to disturb their rythm of life or burdensome loose ends to stir up trouble. For the first time in a long while they were allowed to simply sit back, relax, and truly appreciate the beauty of their surroundings and each other's company.
Malone stepped into the library, quietly shutting the door behind him.
"How was London?" Marguerite asked, closing her book and setting it aside on a nearby table.
"Busy as ever." Malone replied, walking over to her with a soft smile. "I thought you might like this." He handed her a freshly published book.
"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd! Agatha Christie's latest! Oh, Malone, you do know how to lift a lady's spirits."
"I figured since you're mostly confined to resting these days, a good mystery might offer an enjoyable escape."
"This is exactly what I needed, thank you," Marguerite said, already flipping to the first chapter. "Being in my eighth month has kept me rather sedentary, and there's only so much one can read of the classics before craving something a bit more... exhilarating."
"Anything to make your time of rest a bit more enjoyable."
Over the years Malone had become very considerate of Marguerite. There was a newfound appreciation that hadn't been there before. They shared a special bond, a friendship that was uniquely theirs. While Marguerite deeply valued her friendship with Veronica, who was a woman and with whom she could share womanly thoughts and worries, Veronica's innocence sometimes made it challenging for Marguerite to discuss her deeper, more complex feelings. Malone, on the other hand, was different. He was someone with whom she could explore her darker thoughts, her doubts, and her fears. Malone, having known both her and John Roxton all to well, had a perspective Marguerite found both comforting and insightful. In Malone, Marguerite found the younger brother she had never had and someone she could confide in.
"Do you know when John is coming back from London? How are things out there, considering the situation?" Marguerite asked.
"It's complicated, to say the least. The city is tense, and John is neck-deep in meetings. He's doing his best to navigate through it all. He's hoping to be back by the end of the week. What about Veronica? Where is she?"
"Veronica took William to the village to pick up some art supplies. They're both gotten into sketching lately."
William had developed quite a fondness for spending time with Veronica. He seemed to enjoy their creative sessions immensely, showing particular enthusiasm for drawing and painting.
Feeling his stomach grumble, Malone glanced at the grandfather clock standing tall in the corner of the library. "Ah, it appears I've missed lunch."
"I'll ask Goodwin to set up a table for you." Marguerite suggested.
"I think I'll head downstairs and fix myself a quick sandwich. No need to go through all the formalities."
Having lived at Avebury Manor for three years, Malone and Veronica still hadn't fully acclimated to its formalities. They often found themselves sneaking into the kitchen to whip up quick sandwiches or scramble eggs, much to the household's amusement. Marguerite and John, observing this, didn't mind at all. They understood that the pre-war lifestyle was gradually fading, and it was only a matter of time before they too would have to adapt.
The manor staff, still unaccustomed to the presence of the family in their domain, looked up in surprise when Malone entered the kitchen.
"Don't pay attention to me, carry on with your work. I'm just here for a little sandwich."
The staff exchanged glances but went back to their tasks, each hiding a small, knowing smile.
As Malone was making his way back upstairs, sandwich in hand, he encountered Charles Goodwin, the manor's butler who held a deep reverence for tradition.
"Ah, Mr. Malone, you've returned. I wasn't informed. Shall I set a table for you in the dining room?"
"No need for that, Goodwin. I didn't want to trouble anyone for a full dining room setup. I'm quite happy with my sandwich."
"Very well, sir. If you require anything else, do not hesitate to ask."
Malone stepped out into the garden, the scent of blooming flowers filling the air. He walked along the cobblestone path, munching on his sandwich, and spotted Veronica and William at a distance. They were seated at a tea table, their art supplies spread out before them, deeply engrossed in their artistic endeavors.
He approached quietly, not wanting to disturb their concentration, but William was quick to sense his presence. He looked up and a bright smile spread across his little face.
"Uncle Neddy, look!" William proudly displayed a paper full of colorful scribbles and smears.
"That's quite the masterpiece you have there, Will."
"It's a dinosaur," William clarified, pointing to a blob of green and brown. "Roar!"
"A dinosaur, you say? Oh, it's very fearsome! And what masterpiece are you creating?" Malone asked, glancing at Veronica's sketchbook.
"I'm trying to sketch the garden. It's a work in progress, but I'm getting there."
"It's lovely, really. You've captured the essence of this place beautifully."
Malone set on the chair besides them.
"It's adorable how he's starting to look so much like John every day." Malone said, looking at William's earnest little face as he concentrated on adding spikes to his dinosaur.
"I know, right? Yes, he has Marguerite's eyes but the hair and the nose are John's. I also see it in the little mannerisms. The way he squints when he's focusing, it's like watching a mini-version of John."
"Daddy?" William piped up suddenly, seemingly picking up on the conversation. "When's Daddy coming back?"
"Your Dad will be back soon, William. He's in London taking care of important things." Malone explained.
"Can I show him my dino then?"
"Absolutely." Malone assured him. "I'm sure your Dad will be as impressed as we are."
"Roar!" William declared victoriously, brandishing his artwork like a trophy.
Clara Oswald was the nanny of young William, and though recently she had limited responsibilities due to the Marguerite's hands-on approach to motherhood and the additional help from Veronica and Ned, she still took her job seriously.
Marguerite had hand-picked Clara Oswald for the role of William's nanny herself, drawn to her youth and loveliness, much to the disapproval of Lady Elisabeth Roxton, John's mother. Lady Elisabeth held firm beliefs that a British nanny should be more like a general - someone who commands respect and enforces discipline, upholding the strict traditions and rules that, in her opinion, prevented disorder, catastrophe, and anarchy.
However, Marguerite had her own vision for what constituted the ideal nanny. Of course, discipline was implied, but she wanted someone who was kind, gentle and sweet, someone who would take children on frequent outings, engage them with songs and games, and create an environment of playful learning and exploration. Luckily, she had John's support. He was very pleased with Clara, often joking how lucky William was to have such a sweet nanny, and wishing he had someone similar during his own childhood.
Clara stepped into the garden and her eyes immediately landed on William, who was sitting at a small table covered in art supplies.
She approached the group and politely nodded to Veronica and Ned.
"Master William, it's time for your afternoon luncheon."
"No, Nanny! I want to paint more!" William pouted, his little hands gripping the paintbrush as if afraid someone might take it away from him.
"You can paint more later. Let's go inside now."
With a heavy sigh of surrender, William put down his brush, stood up, and held his arms out for Clara to pick him up. She lifted him effortlessly, and as she turned to leave, she saw his drawing sitting at the corner of the table.
"Shouldn't we take your wonderful dinosaur with us?" She suggested.
"Yes! Dino must nap, too!"
Clara carefully picked up the piece of paper and took a closer look as they made their way back to the nursery. She was surprised at the level of detail, for a three-year-old, William had managed an astonishing representation of a dinosaur.
"William, your dinosaur is beautiful. Did you have help with this?"
"No, Nanny, I did it!"
"Very impressive."
As they reached the nursery, Clara settled William down for his meal. While he ate, she found herself contemplating not just his artistic abilities but other talents she had noticed. William had a set of spelling blocks, and he had already mastered spelling a few complicated words. More surprisingly, he showed an uncanny ability to calculate on his abacus.
Perhaps it was something worth mentioning to Lord and Lady Avebury. It wasn't that they didn't notice their son's talents; rather, they simply didn't have the specific expertise in child care to differentiate between what was typical for a three-year-old and what was exceptional.
After making sure William was comfortably tucked into his bed for his afternoon nap, Clara decided it was an opportune moment to have a brief conversation with her ladyship about William's emerging talents. She quietly exited the nursery, making her way to Marguerite's bedroom where the expectant mother usually took her own rest during these hours.
As she approached the bedroom, Clara gently knocked on the door before entering. She found her ladyship awake, lying on her bed with a few cushions propping her up. Her hand rested on her noticeably round belly, and she looked as radiant as ever.
"Your Ladyship, do you have a moment?"
"Of course, Clara, what's the matter?" Marguerite replied, setting aside the book she had been idly flipping through.
"It's about Master William."
"Is something wrong?"
"Oh, nothing's wrong. Quite the contrary. I've been observing some unique talents in him that I think are worth nurturing. Master William is showing an advanced level of development for his age, both academically and artistically."
Marguerite's eyes twinkled, clearly intrigued. "Really? Do go on."
Clara then detailed William's recent accomplishments with the spelling blocks and the abacus, as well as his surprisingly mature artistic abilities.
"Thank you, Clara. I'll discuss this with his lordship as soon as he returns from London."
"Of course, my lady."
As Clara exited the room, she felt a sense of fulfillment. It was moments like these that reminded her why she had chosen her profession. William had an exceptionally bright future ahead of him, and she was thankful to be a part of laying its foundation.