As soon as she spied the first hint of daylight, she threw the sheets off her body. There was no need to be in bed if sleep wasn't going to overtake her. The light footsteps of the house staff had been prowling the corridors already, draping a heavy robe across her night dress she left her room.

Firstly to review the day's menu with the kitchen and ensure Zachariah's room was ready for his arrival, and even went for a short walk along her gardens and upon an inspection of her white roses, she returned to the house.

The house was buzzing with activities to welcome the future Duke's arrival by the end of the day. Mrs. Keeps, the house keeper was at her side immediately giving her a run down of activities in place as well as the duties of everyone.

"All things seem to be ready for Zachariah then."

"Yes my lady, the carriage will be sent for the station after breakfast."

"And the Duke?"

"He left the study this morning to freshen up for breakfast your Grace."

"He was in there all night?"

"It would seem so." Was the reply.

"Oh, well. I too should freshen up before I look in on the children."

"Of course." With a curtsy, Nancy replaced her leading the way to her private chambers all the while suggesting the attires she'd laid out for the day, but Maybelle slipped through at the curve of the staircase, her nerves trembling a bit.

He'd confined himself to his study all night. A part of her wanted to take the blame, another part strictly chided herself not to take the blame. Why did he have to be so, so... Barely stifling the groan, she slapped her cheeks and quickly slipped to the nursery.

Her last born child, MarcAnthony James Fitzpatrick Hamilton, was gently prodded awake by his nanny.

"Let me." She said instead and the nanny stepped aside.

"Mama?" Marc uttered as his mother dropped a kiss on his forehead, eyes drowsy from sleep as he tried to get up.

"Yes sweetheart it's me."

"You have returned?"

"How are you my darling?" He was now fully awake, his arms flung around her neck in a hug, she leaned in to give him another kiss, but instead he avoided it and stood on his feet to greet her.

"I'm good mama, umm- mother, and you?"

"Oh." A bit marveled at his response, she asked. "It's mother now?"

He shifted a bit on his feet before replying. "Irene says that mama makes me sound like a baby, and I'm a boy now."

"You are, aren't you?

"B-but, I still prefer mama..." His chubby cheeks couldn't seem anymore cuter Maybelle decided, lifting his off the bed in a tight hug of her own to smooch his face.

"How about we use mama when it's just us, okay?" His grin widened as he nodded, squeezing her just as tight as he could.

"Come along sweetheart, it's time to get ready for breakfast."

**********

The entire family assembled into the breakfast room and took their seats chattering across the table. The twins insisted on being waited upon by their little brother to teach him table manners, Irene had said which held no fault by her father, who busied himself compiling a plate for his wife. He set it infront of her, but almost immediately she turned to address his other daughter, stealthily avoiding him. With a grimace he sat back down to await his breakfast.

"Father," his last born child spoke up, "My teacher says I'm to start with Latin today, but I was getting quite good at arithmetics."

"Sweetheart, don't speak with your mouth full." His mother chided him, wiping away the particles that fell off. He'd tactfully not piled up any bit of eggs for himself. Infact, Irene's plate seemed to be heaped with eggs enough for two persons. This wasn't going to end well.

"But mother -"

"No talking. You mustn't eat such huge helpings and where are your eggs?" Irene attacked her brother, taking in a miniature bit herself.

"It is necessary for you to be well versed in the languages of the world." The Duke replied quietly.

"What for? Why can't everybody speak the same language, it will be awful easier to communicate and we won't have to learn all languages!" Marc insisted.

"That is definitely not possible."

"Not yet you mean. It's certainly been done somewhere."

"Where?" Irene prodded her eyed sparkling in vehemence.

MarcAnthony narrowed his eyes at his plate, almost holding his breath in place till he conceded, "I can't remember, but I'm certain."

"How can you be certain if you've never been there?" In response he stuck his tongue at her.

"Even I for one cannot imagine a place where everyone spoke the same language. It will be highly inconvenient." Madeleine chipped in.

"Exactly." Her sister acquiesced.

"Really, how so?" Marc asked, the attention of the entire house turned to Madeleine, who squared her shoulders, a motion she'd learned from her mother - Malcolm mused and clearing her throat begun.

"It will certainly lead to an all out war, to say the least. Everyone wants to be heard. One language means one set of rules and regulations to follow will not allow for everybody to express their feelings how they may seem fit it know. What do you think would happen?"

There was a little silence as everyone took in the intensity of her words, across the table Malcolm caught the eye of his wife before she turned away.

"Simply put, there will be little to no room for improvements. Various languages mean various histories, cultures and traditions and values."

Irene interjected to defend her sister, "Don't forget fashion as well."

"That too," Madeleine included rolling her eyeballs, "It broadens the scope to life itself. Imagine where everyone around you spoke alike, we'd be shortsighted to say the least."

"Madeleine is right, we can only do so much with one, with more than one we get to appreciate everyone's - what was that word again, yesterday's word?" She asked her sister.

"Perspective."

"Exactly."

"What's that mean?"

"It mean you point of view, now eat." The Duke answered.

The table was a bit silent as everyone pondered on the words in their own way, but Marc still seemed confused, "But everyone around me speaks the same language already."

"And that's why you have to learn more languages." Irene replied.

"Do I have to?" Marc groaned.

"Yes, or we'll just get much better than we already are than you." Irene ended with a a tilt of her jaw, Maybelle almost smiled as her husband shook his head in amazement.

"You only know better because you are older." Marc retorted sulking into his porridge.

"Close enough, but also because I love to know a lot more things than you do, and because you're short."

"Hey!"

"Sweetheart no!" Maybelle grabbed his spoon he lifted as a weapon,  interjecting before an all out war broke, already pushing some porridge into his protesting mouth till he focused on chewing.

"But mama-"

"And you're a baby and -"

"Irene. Stop it. Apologize to your brother."

"But mother, Irene wouldn't have to if he would just eat his eggs." Madeleine interjected.

"Irene. Madeleine. MarcAnthony." The Duke spoke up, and the guilty parties quickly passed apologies to themselves. Maybelle passed a stern look to Marc who passed his plate to his sister to relive her burden of eggs.

Malcolm waited till the conversation on the table shifted to some other topic with Madeleine at the lead before turning to his wife, willing her to look at him. She picked at her plate instead pretending she was eating.

Breakfast was over soon and the children arraigned to their various studies while the maids brushed off the last bit of food off the table, Malcolm watched his wife take the last sip from her cup.

"Mrs Keeps said you were in the study till dawn this morning, you should get some sleep."

He eyed her for a second.  This had been the same attitude she had displayed in the first few years of their marriage he had almost hated her for. This intrusive  display of concern that had taken him a long while to realize that her's was genuinely free of guile, and that it had always been, unlike the numerous times the concern has been displayed to him in idle conversations or just to gain his favor, but this time he frowned at her.

"You know why I couldn't sleep."

She felt more than heard the weight of his words, getting up to round the table to him, "Malcolm -"

His valet walked into the room to announce that a carriage was ready to depart to the train station.

"I have some letters to deliver at the post office on my desk," and with that he strode out of the room.

Maybelle stood for a while and without allowing her thoughts to defeat her, she went after her husband, stepping aside as the valet walked by with the letters, entering the room she shut the door behind her.

***********

Keep your thoughts flowing, perhaps we can whack some sense into the Duke's head.

Authors love.