June 1910, Monte Carlo
Marguerite's training began with an extensive reading list. Gideon had an enormous library filled with books and instructed her to read.
Next, he told her she needed to learn languages—English first, then German, followed by Russian, and she must perfect the accents.
Feeling safe, she revealed that she actually possessed an uncanny talent for languages. Gideon smiled at this revelation, took her hand, and kissed her palm.
"I knew our meeting was destined."
Marguerite spent the entire summer at his seaside house, following a strict schedule. She would start each morning with physical exercise. Mens sana in corpore sano, Gideon would say. First she would go for a brisk run along the shore. Then she would take a swim in the crisp, salty waters. After drying off, she would transition to strength exercises, focusing on building core stability and muscle resilience.
Next came the self-defense training.
"We live in a man's world," Gideon said. "A young woman must know how to protect herself."
Twice a week, they would conclude the training with lessons in fencing.
"Fencing is not just about physical ability, it's about strategy and discipline. It sharpens your reflexes and your mind, teaching you to anticipate and counter your opponent's moves. In many ways, it's akin to playing chess, but with immediate physical consequences."
In the afternoon, Marguerite was tasked to learn history, geography, literature, and philosophy. In the evenings, they would sit together on the terrace, and Gideon would quiz her on what she had learned.
Nothing about this felt too imposing for Marguerite. She devoured each lesson with relish. For the first time in her life, she felt a sense of belonging and that someone genuinely cared for her. Gideon was more than a mentor; he was the father she had never had. Although he saw profit in her development, Marguerite couldn't help but notice the genuine affection in his eyes.
One evening, the sound of a gramophone filled the room as Gideon carefully placed the needle on the record. He extended his arm gracefully.
Marguerite approached hesitantly, feeling the melody start to pulse through the room. Waltz of the Flowers. Gideon loved Tchaikowsky. He gently took her hand, positioning her for the dance.
He was showing her the rhythm and steps of the waltz, but Marguerite was resisting and fidgeting awkwardly.
Gideon said, "I am guiding you to become an independent woman, true, yet in dance, as in life, there are moments when you must allow the man to lead."
After a while, Marguerite started to relax, her body beginning to move harmoniously with the rhythm. They danced across the room.
"Ballroom dancing is a language of its own, a form of communication that extends beyond words. It teaches you posture, grace, and how to read subtle cues from your partner. These are skills that will serve you well in many areas of life. When you dance well, you command respect and attention. It's about presenting yourself not just as a woman of beauty, but as a woman of power and poise."
Gideon was a private man and preferred not to have too much crowd in his living space. The household included a cook, a maid, a butler, and two children. The children were the boy, Armand, who had fetched Marguerite from the beach, and his younger sister, Aurora. They were orphans. Gideon recounted how he had found them on the streets. Seeing how fiercely the brother protected and cared for his little sister, he knew they were made of the right stuff. He took them in, and they followed every one of Gideon's commands without question.
The children naturally grew attached to Marguerite.
Aurora saw Marguerite as an elder sister and as a source of feminine tenderness. She would often come up to embrace her, stroke her hair, or, if Marguerite was sitting on the sofa, Aurora would snuggle into her lap. Marguerite was unaccustomed to such displays of affection and struggled to respond appropriately. She tried to show gentleness to the little girl but wasn't sure if she was doing it well.
On the other hand, it didn't take long for Armand to develop a crush. He followed her around the house like a loyal servant, gazing at her with wide, adoring eyes. At first, Marguerite found his devotion intriguing, but it soon began to wear on her patience.
One sweet day, the kitchen was filled with the heavenly scent of baking cookies. Aurora stood next to Maria, the cook. Her small hands were covered in flour as she helped shape the dough. Marguerite was sitting beside them. She was usually reserved, but the simple domestic scene pulled at something gentle within her.
Aurora looked up from her task and asked, "Do you want to help us?"
"No." Marguerite replied honestly, "But it does smell heavenly. I can't wait to try them once they're out."
"Miss Marguerite is busy with her lessons," Maria explained.
"I am exhausted." Marguerite said. "I need a break."
Maria skillfully removed the freshly baked cookies from the oven and set them aside to cool, then she placed another batch inside. As the cookies sat steaming on the counter, Armand rushed in, eager to grab a few. Maria quickly stopped him, cautioning, "They're hot! And wash your hands first! In the sink, right now!"
He obediently washed his hands and then sat down next to Marguerite, giving her a big, wide smile.
Gideon joined them as well.
Maria handed him a plate of cookies, and he took one, blowing on it gently before taking a bite.
"Delicious, as always, Maria," he complimented.
Marguerite chuckled, enjoying a cookie herself. "She's spoiling us rotten."
"And aren't we due for today's lesson?"
Marguerite sighed, a playful groan escaping her as she glanced at the clock. "Can it wait just a bit longer?"
"Only a few more minutes then. Enjoy your sweet break, but don't forget—knowledge awaits."
Armand, now munching happily, looked up. "Can I join the lesson today?"
"Of course," Gideon replied, "Today we're learning about the strategies of great leaders in history—a perfect topic for a future leader."
Then came the more practical aspects of the training. Gideon taught Marguerite how to distinguish a real diamond from a fake, how to appraise its value, how to disable security systems, and how to break into safes.
One evening toward the end of summer, Gideon, Marguerite, and the children gathered in the library, huddled around a writing desk, under the soft glow of a lamp. Before Marguerite lay three pieces of jewelry: a blue sapphire, a small diamond, and a massive necklace. She was tasked with appraising them.
Aurora sat quietly, her eyes intently observing the jewelry and waiting to hear what Marguerite would say. Armand lay propped on one arm, his gaze fixed adoringly on Marguerite as she examined each piece.
Marguerite picked up the blue sapphire first, holding it up to the light. "The color and transparency are remarkable. No visible inclusions, and the cut maximizes the stone's brilliance. It could easily be valued at around 5,000 francs."
Next, she examined the small diamond. "This diamond, while small, is perfectly cut. The light it reflects is clear and sharp, indicative of high quality. For a stone of this caliber, especially in Paris, it could fetch about 2,000 francs in the current market."
Finally, she turned her attention to the necklace. It was elaborate, studded with what appeared to be an array of precious stones.
"This, my sly friend, is a fake."
Gideon clapped his hands lightly, a smile spreading across his face. "Marvelous, well done! You are destined for greatness. I think it is time we introduce you to society."
At that moment, Marguerite caught Armand's lingering gaze.
"Keep staring at me like that, little boy, and I'll slap you so hard you'll forget how to look."
Gideon chuckled at the exchange. "Don't be so harsh. The boy's in love. Can you blame him?"