Whenever they found themselves alone, William and Priscilla would exchange quick, secret kisses. Hidden corners of the garden, trees and bushes — all became accomplices in their tender conspiracy. The possibility of being discovered only added to the excitement. Each stolen moment was a small rebellion.
But like all good things in life, this too came to an end. Specifically, it was the end of Priscilla's visit. As the day of her departure approached, the realization that their sweet romance was drawing to a close, cast a shadow over them.
There was a small consolation in the fact that they were neighbors. They would undoubtedly meet again. There was a quiet hope that another visit could be arranged soon, or that a chance encounter might bring them together again.
Priscilla's mother, Henrietta, arrived to pick her up, driven by their family chauffeur. Marguerite welcomed her into the drawing room, where refreshing lemonade was served and they engaged in a round of light, polite conversation.
When it was time to leave, Marguerite led Henrietta up the staircase. "The girls are in the twins' room, playing with dolls and doll houses. They got along splendidly. We must do this again sometime."
When they entered the girls' room, only Isabelle was there, lying on the bed and reading a book.
"Where are Priscilla and Juliette?" Marguerite asked.
"Jewel's outside, riding a horse."
"And Priscilla?"
"She's around here somewhere."
"She isn't in William's room, is she?" Marguerite asked with suspicion and started moving towards her son's room.
"No, don't go in there!" Isabelle shouted and hurried after Marguerite and Henrietta.
Marguerite reached for the door, giving it a gentle push. The scene that unfolded before them was as startling as it was unexpected.
William and Priscilla were on the floor, sitting with their legs crossed and kissing.
"Oh, my God!" Marguerite gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Priscilla!" Henrietta exclaimed.
William and Priscilla scrambled to their feet, their faces flushing with embarrassment.
Marguerite turned to Henrietta with an apologetic expression.
"Henrietta, please accept my apologies. I have no explanation for this. Believe me, this is not something that happens here or is tolerated. This incident will not be repeated, and William will be disciplined."
"I don't blame William at all. He is a wonderful boy. We've heard all about his achievements from Lord Ashford. Priscilla surely must have been the instigator. Lately, she has gotten completely out of hand, coming up with all sorts of ideas. I can barely control her. Everything was much different when her grandmother was alive. Lady Ashford was a strict guardian of decency."
"But Priscilla was our guest, so we bear the responsibility." Marguerite insisted.
Henrietta nodded, proposing a resolution. "Let's handle it this way: you discipline your son, and we will handle our daughter, and let us part as friends."
Priscilla mustered a small, bittersweet smile. "Goodbye, William. It was nice knowing you."
William nodded silently, his expression somber. "Goodbye, Priscilla. I hope it's not forever."
Both knew that with the likely punishments awaiting them, the chance of seeing each other soon was slim.
After saying goodbye to Priscilla and Henrietta, Marguerite returned to William's room, where the air still felt tense. Isabelle was there as well. She lingered near the doorway, eager to see what would happen and to offer her brother whatever support he might need.
Before Marguerite had fully closed the door behind her, William, feeling cornered and defensive, blurted out, "It's not my fault, you heard her mother, she started it!"
"William, you are the young man in this scenario, and she was a guest in our house. It is absolutely your responsibility. In situations like this it is never a woman's fault. You should have been the protector of her reputation, not the compromiser."
"But it was just an innocent little kiss. Why are you being so dramatic?"
"There is no just a kiss in our position. A momentary lapse can have long-lasting effects on a young lady's prospects and how society views her—and consequently, us. We are held to a higher standard around here. Do we now want them to speak of how this house is a place of indiscretion? Is that the reputation you want for your family's home?"
"No, of course not…"
"I understand that you are young and feelings can be overwhelming, and it is true that your father and I have raised you with much more freedom than what is customary. That is because we both have experienced far more of life than many of our peers and we hold somewhat different outlooks on life. But that does not mean that absolutely no rules apply to us. There are some boundaries that must be respected, especially when it comes to interactions with the opposite sex."
"I'm sorry. I didn't think—"
"That's precisely the problem, William, you didn't think," Marguerite cut him off sharply. "Your actions today were irresponsible, disrespectful, inappropriate and unacceptable. Promises of better behavior are not enough. You are grounded until further notice, and I expect you to reflect seriously on your actions."
Marguerite was so agitated by the entire ordeal that she needed a moment to collect herself. She glanced at Isabelle, who was standing to the side, clearly amused by the whole scene.
"Isabelle, darling, go to my room and bring me an aspirin from the drawer in my vanity. I'll be in the cozy room."
The cozy room was their family room—a living space designed for their casual family time on the upper floor. There they could be casual and informal, unlike the grand library and drawing room on the ground floor, which were more formal and reserved for official occasions and receiving guests.
After swallowing the aspirin and taking a sip of water, Marguerite said, "I can't believe your brother. Such audacity! Did you have any idea this was going on?"
"Yes," Isabelle admitted.
"And you didn't think to tell me?"
"Well, no. William, Juliette, and I made a pact. We agreed it doesn't benefit us to report every little thing to you. We believe we gain more from supporting each other than from tattling."
"Supporting each other? That's rich. There's a fine line between loyalty and complicity, my dear, and it seems you've crossed it."
At that moment, John walked into the room. Marguerite quickly briefed him on the situation, as he sat beshide her on the sofa.
"His first kiss, eh? He's surpassed his old man by two years," John commented with a proud smile.
"John, we cannot afford to take such a cavalier attitude towards this. It sends the wrong message to all our children of what's acceptable here."
"So kissing is not acceptable?" Isabelle asked, half in tease and half in genuine curiosity.
"No, it's not, not until you're much older."
"Dammit." Isabelle said and rolled her eyes playfully.
"Mind your language, Isabelle, and this isn't a joke. I'm sure none of you would like rumors spreading about us kissing guests in the bedroom."
Isabelle couldn't help but chuckle at Marguerite's choice of words, though she quickly placed her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound.
John nodded in agreement, his tone serious. "Of course not. Do you want me to talk to him?"
"Yes. I think you should. Although, I've already scolded him. I might have even gone a bit overboard."
"She absolutely flew off the handle." Isabelle said. " You should have seen it. It was spectacular!"
John immediately frowned. "Isabelle, be respectful to your Mother. If she was a bit harsh, I'm sure William deserved it."
"Of course, he did." Marguerite said. "This is so typical of children. You give them freedom, thinking they'll appreciate it, but no... You try and you try, and what do you get?" She gestured with her hand. "A slap in the face."
"We'll discipline him." John said. "He'll spend some time in his room, reflecting on his actions, and that'll be it. Now, relax. I don't like seeing my beloved wife upset for too long. What can I do to ease your nerves?"
Marguerite thought about it, then said, "I want us to agree on something. You must not let William see that you are proud of him or support him in any way. That could only undermine my efforts to discipline him. And it infuriates me to think that you might support him just because he's a boy—if one of our daughters had done the same, you would have taken a completely different stance!"
"Of course. Don't worry. We'll present a united front." John assured her.
Isabelle chimed in, "So, just because William is punished, it doesn't mean we can't still hang out with Priscilla, right? We can still invite her over and go to her place?"
Marguerite shook her head. "Do you think they'll just let her come back here after this? I don't think so. I suspect she'll be grounded too. Furthermore, we need to make some changes around here as well. This household has become too chaotic. Juliette acts like a wild cat, and you, Isabelle, need to learn discretion. We're going to start anew and implement some stricter rules."
Marguerite turned to John and said, "I've heard about a rather fearsome nanny from Marlborough. Rumor has it that she disciplines children quite harshly. They call her Miss Trunchbull. I think I'll give her a call tomorrow."
Isabelle's eyes widened at this. Marguerite turned to her and requested, "Go and fetch your brother."
Isabelle immediately complied with her mother's request. Now was not the time to upset her further.
Without knocking, she barged in her brother's room and said, "Well done, William. You've made Mother a nervous wreck."
"What are you talking about?"
"You were kissing a girl in your bedroom and she's beside herself."
"That's not your problem."
"It is my problem because Priscilla was my friend, too. Now she won't be allowed to come. And guess what? Mother is thinking about hiring a terribly frightening nanny because of this. They call her Miss Trunchbull, and she's no joke."
William scoffed. "Those are just empty threats."
Isabelle crossed her arms and fixed William with a serious look. "You really think so? You think she's bluffing? I wouldn't be so sure. You didn't see her face. She's really upset, and when she gets like this, she means business. Do you really want to take that chance? Having someone like Miss Trunchbull around could make our lives a nightmare."
"Isabelle, I think you're overestimating the situation. Mother uses threats like these to regain control, to shock us into compliance. It's just a tactic, not an actual punishment. And Miss Trunchbull? That's probably a reference to some dreadful character from a book. Mother is strategic, not cruel. I believe she's bluffing to make a point. I'll apologize and take responsibility, but I doubt we'll see this nanny."
Isabelle sighed, still a bit worried but hoping for the best. "I hope you're right. Anyway, they want to talk to you now. They're waiting in the cozy room."
"There's no really Miss Trunchbull, is there?" John asked.
Marguerite laughed, shaking her head. "No, I made her up. Well, actually, she did exist once, but I assume she's long gone now. She was my nanny many years ago and was indeed stern and formidable — a real tyrant. It might do the children some good to be a bit concerned and reflective about their behavior. A little scare won't harm them."
"I'm on board with that." John agreed.
William entered the room with a composed stride, masking any nerves he might have felt. There was an air of defiance around him.
"Your father wants to talk to you." Marguerite informed him.
William shifted his gaze to his father, who immediately addressed him. "Kissing a girl on the floor in your bedroom? Really, William, what led you to think that such behavior was acceptable?"
"Maybe the fact that nothing terrible actually happened. It was just a small, age-appropriate kiss. We didn't even use a tongue."
"You didn't use a tongue?!" Marguerite echoed. "What kind of lame and pathetic excuse is that?!"
"Your mother has already explained this to you, William. There are responsibilities that come with our status. We're trying to teach you about them and the realities of our society."
Not backing down, William added, "I find it somewhat paradoxical, not to mention hypocritical, that you both are so upset over such a minor deviation from what's expected, given your own rich histories."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Marguerite demanded.
"You know... Father, the esteemed adventurer, and you, the enigmatic lady of intrigue. One might argue that such backgrounds hardly exemplify the pinnacle of propriety."
"That is quite enough, William!" Marguerite replied sharply. "It is inappropriate and disrespectful to speak to us that way, especially when we are discussing a serious matter of your own conduct."
John followed, "Dismissing your actions as trivial and then criticizing us instead of reflecting on your own behavior is a serious misstep."
"Father, I assure you, my comments were not intended as criticisms but rather as compliments. If I were to criticize something it would be this display of feigned morality."
John's expression remained unyielding, his dissatisfaction clear even as he processed William's clever retort. He responded firmly, "Go to your room, William, and reflect on your words and actions. We will discuss this further once you've had some time to think."
After William had left the room, Marguerite asked, "Can you believe how he described me—an enigmatic lady of intrigue?"
John laughed, attempting to lighten the mood, "Well, I'm not saying he's right to speak to us like that, but he's not entirely wrong either."
Marguerite playfully swatted at him. "Maybe I am all that for my husband, but I certainly am not for my son."
"Indeed," he agreed with a nod, his smile broadening. "But it does show he's got your flair for dramatic descriptions. We'll just have to channel that cleverness into more respectful expressions next time."
"That's his tactic, you know. Whenever we corner him, he assumes the role of this eloquent little gentleman, tossing around intelligent phrases and thinking he can talk his way out of trouble."
"Yeah, he has mastered the art of rhetoric quite well."
Marguerite sighed deeply, sliding further into the sofa to lift her legs and rest her head in John's lap. His hand moved instinctively to her hair, his fingers gently weaving through her locks. This was exactly what their cozy room on the upper floor was intended for - to spend some cozy, cuddly time together.
"I'm having such a headache. Who would have thought raising children would be such a challenge." Marguerite said. "I now understand why so many people leave it to the professionals."
"Yes, but then we'd miss all the joy and, admittedly, the chaos they bring into our lives. Besides, no one could raise our little rascals quite like we can—quirks and all."
Marguerite smiled in agreement and they settled more comfortably into the sofa, lounging softly in the comfort of their cozy room. They chatted about various things—plans for the garden, upcoming events, the children's latest antics—when they gradually, drifted into a light doze.