Since last semester, the dynamics at home had shifted. They no longer had the nanny, as Clara, who had been with them for years, left to get married. Given that the children spent most of the time at boarding school, coming home only for holidays and occasionally on weekends, Marguerite and John had decided against hiring a new nanny. This year, with the children turning 12 and 9, it seemed a fitting time for them to start taking on more responsibilities.
Marguerite and John were prepared to handle the parenting duties during the times the children were home and also expected them to learn to manage themselves without constant supervision. This approach was part of teaching them independence and responsibility.
Although Marguerite and John were generally gentle with them, which was evident in their usual interactions, they knew how to assert themselves when necessary. Whenever the children's mischief crossed the line, they both showed they could indeed become stern if the situation warranted it.
This was one of those times. Juliette took to riding every day. In the morning she would sneak out at dawn to watch the sunrise from horseback, often missing breakfast. Sometimes she would ride in the afternoon and arrive late for lunch. This pattern continued, and on the day her grandmother Elizabeth was visiting, the same thing happened.
"Where is Juliette?"
No sooner had Elizabeth finished her question than the dining hall doors opened abruptly, revealing a flushed and slightly breathless Juliette. She was wearing knee-length shorts and trainer shoes, and her legs and knees were scratched and bruised from her rugged activity.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't realize how late it had gotten."
Marguerite's expression stiffened. "Juliette, really… This is not the stables. One would expect you to show some decorum at our family luncheon."
"We've spoken about punctuality, haven't we?" John asked.
Juliette looked sheepish, her cheeks flushing a rosy hue. "Yes and I'm sorry. The ride just took longer than I expected."
"Please tell me you at least had the presence of mind to wash your hands before joining us." Marguerite said.
Juliette quickly raised her hands, showing them to be surprisingly clean. "Of course. I might forget the time, but I'd never sit at the table with dirty hands."
As Juliette approached and took her seat at the table, Marguerite's gaze fell on her bruised and scratched legs, due to the constant friction against the saddle and not using the appropriate attire.
"Where are your riding trousers?"
"It's far too warm for them."
"That may be, but look at your legs."
"I'd rather not look."
"This cannot go on like this." Marguerite warned.
Elizabeth addressed Juliette with a firm but gentle tone. "Juliette, my dear, your enthusiasm for riding is commendable. But remember, a true lady balances her passions with her responsibilities."
"Yes, Granny," said Juliette.
"In any case, if you're late again, lunch won't be waiting for you." Marguerite said, "Next time you'll be eating in the kitchen."
"As a punishment?" Isabelle asked.
"Yes," Marguerite confirmed with a nod.
Isabelle and William shared a look and burst into laughter. They were both thinking the same thing: the kitchen, with Molly the cook's loving presence and the occasional extra sweets she handed out, was hardly a punishment.
"What is so amusing?" Marguerite asked.
"Nothing, nothing, not a thing," William assured Marguerite. "It's a very proper punishment. A bit nineteenth-century, perhaps, but it has its appeal."
"It's adorable," Isabelle added.
John couldn't help but chuckle. However, catching Marguerite's stern glare, he coughed lightly and straightened his posture.
"Very well, you jesters, you've made your point," Marguerite said. "If my discipline seems so amusing to you, we can always revert to the old-fashioned way. We could bring in a strict nanny and implement a rigid schedule, much like other families do. If that's what you prefer, that can still be arranged."
"I've always thought that was the right way to go," Elizabeth said, "Structure and discipline shape character, and perhaps a stricter regimen is what's needed here."
Isabelle wasn't entirely pleased with her grandmother's comment, so she asked, "Granny, have you spoken to Lord Ashford recently? He's quite worried about not hearing from you."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Elizabeth replied coolly.
Isabelle was about to elaborate but Marguerite cut in, "It is not polite to pry into someone else's private matters."
William offered, "Granny, if you'd like to visit Lord Ashford, I wouldn't mind accompanying you."
John, raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"Of course. Anything for my Grandmother."
"I suppose Lord Ashford's granddaughter has nothing to do with this?"
William replied, "What if she does? She's the granddaughter of the current lord and the daughter of the future one. She has money, lineage, and title—everything that's considered valuable at this table."
"Son, you know that's not true." John reminded him, shaking his head. "We may be many things, but superficial isn't one of them."
Isabelle suggested, "We could invite them over. Priscilla and I had a great time last time she was here."
"Do as you please, but leave me out of it." Elizabeth said. "I'll be busy finding a new lady's maid. Unfortunately Marta didn't work out."
"Marta?" John asked, confused. "I thought her name was Sarah."
Elizabeth corrected, "I let Sarah go a few months ago. She had a problem with closing things - doors, the fridge, liquor bottles…"
Isabelle turned to her mother, "Home come you don't have a lady's maid?"
Marguerite replied, "Well, I like dressing myself in the morning, and at night, I prefer when your father undresses me."
Realizing what she had said, Marguerite quickly added, "Oops, I didn't mean to say the last part out loud. It slipped out. I apologize."
Elizabeth couldn't hide her exasperation. "I swear, you are the oddest person. You want your children to be well-mannered, and then you go and say something as indecorous as that."
"Like I said - it slipped out." Marguerite corrected.
"That doesn't make it any more decorous." Isabelle teased.
John gently took Marguerite's hand and kissed her palm. "You're the spark that keeps our flame alive, my dear. I adore it, and I adore you."
That evening, Marguerite went to check on the twins before bedtime. She wore her pajamas, white pants with a fluffy section around the ankles, and a simple yet chic white spaghetti strap top.
Each twin was comfortably nestled in their own bed, surrounded by soft pillows and colorful summer covers. They looked up from their beds, their faces curious.
"Already washed and ready for bed?" Marguerite asked as she entered, glad to see they were sticking to their nightly routine.
"What's that?" asked Juliette, noticing a small jar in Marguerite's hand.
"It's a special ointment that helps heal injuries faster. A secret recipe from China."
"Neat. Where did you get it?" asked Isabelle.
"Let's just say I've had my share of rough play, too. But fortunately, I managed to get my hands on the recipe for this concoction."
Marguerite sat on Juliette's bed and examined her legs more closely. She then gently applied the ointment, her touch careful and reassuring.
"A lady's skin should be tender and well-cared for." She said as she finished.
"Maybe I don't want to be a lady." Juliette replied.
"You are the daughter of an earl, which makes you a lady, whether you want it or not."
Juliette sighed softly, her youthful face conflicted as she absorbed her mother's words.
"Promise me something." Marguerite added. "Stay off the horse for a few days. And afterwards, make sure you wear proper riding attire."
Juliette made a face. "But what should I do until then?"
"We'll invite Priscilla over and you'll play with her."
"I don't really like her that much."
"Really?" Isabelle asked in wonder. "I like her a lot. We have the same taste in clothes, and when we play with dolls, she always comes up with some juicy plots."
"Juicy plots?" Marguerite asked.
"Yeah. I realized I've been playing with those dolls all wrong. Priscilla started making up love stories, like, they go on adventures and meet princes or have secret romances. There's always a twist, like a secret love letter found in a book or a mysterious suitor showing up at a ball. And sometimes, there are misunderstandings that they have to solve."
"It sounds like you have turned your playtime into quite the dramatic saga."
"What can I tell you. I live for drama and intrigue." Isabelle declared confidently.
"Well, I don't know about those, but it's wonderful to see you exploring your imagination like that. Maybe Juliette could add some ideas too. What do you think, sweetie? Could be a fun way to spend the afternoon, don't you think?"
Juliette considered her mother and sister's enthusiasm. With a tentative nod, she finally responded, "I suppose I could give it a try."
Marguerite nodded, her smile lingering. "Alright, let me tuck you in," she said softly, carefully pulling the covers up, ensuring Juliette was comfortably nestled in. She leaned down and gently pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Good night, sweetheart."
Then, smiling, she moved across the room to Isabelle's bed to give her the same loving goodnight kiss.
As she approached, Isabelle stretched out her arms eagerly for a hug. Marguerite leaned down, wrapping her arms around Isabelle in a warm embrace. "Good night, my dear," she murmured softly, planting a kiss on Isabelle's forehead before straightening up to leave the room.
Next day, in the library, John attempted to engage William in the intricacies of estate management. Despite his efforts, William seemed far away, leaning on his arm with a broad smile, clearly lost in his own thoughts.
"William, are you there?"
William nodded absently, not fully diverting his attention from whatever daydream held him captive.
John sighed. "Ah, the power of women. They bewitch you in an instant."
William, slightly defensive, straightened up a bit. "I'm not bewitched."
"Of course not. Shall we then focus on the maps and numbers in front of us?"
William tried to engage, his eyes scanning the papers, but it was futile. He shook his head. "It's no use. My brain isn't functioning. May I be excused?"
John nodded. "Alright, go clear your head. But tomorrow, I need you here, fully present. We have decisions that can't wait."
Marguerite entered the library and immediately noticed her husband: head in hand, rubbing his forehead thoughtfully, but a slightly amused smirk was there as well.
"What are you grinning about?" she inquired, leaning against the edge of the desk.
"William has impeccable timing. He's found himself smitten right as I was going to seriously involve him in managing the estate."
Marguerite scoffed and crossed her arms. "These Paddingtons seem too keen on our family lately."
"And there's that. I support William, of course. He's young and this is part of life's journey. But my mother… Lord Ashford is a decent man, but their growing closeness after all these years—it's not without complications."
"John, she's a grown woman and deserves her happiness. We shouldn't meddle."
John pondered her words, then asked, "You think we should support her?"
Marguerite shook her head slightly. "I'm saying we shouldn't interfere. We should focus on our son instead. I don't like how his head is in the clouds."
"It's just an innocent little crush. He'll get over it in a few days."
"I would prefer it if he showed a bit more maturity."
John reached out and gently took her hand, his tone reassuring. "Don't worry, I'll have a talk with him."
Marguerite nodded, a slight smile crossing her lips. "Good, I'll leave you to it, then. I'm off to meet with a few ladies from the village. They want me to join the board of the Avebury Women's Network or something. Apparently, they believe having me involved would add some weight to their initiatives."
"That sounds like a full day."
"Roles and responsibilities," she said with a roll of her eyes. Before she left, she leaned in, cupped his chin gently, and gave him a small, but delicious kiss.
John watched Marguerite as she left the room, her hips swaying gracefully with each step. He marveled at how he had managed to find someone who was both so elegantly sophisticated and irresistibly sexy.